All of your efforts whisper secrets to me
I laugh at their frailty
I see all
Where will you go when the mountain impedes you?
I am the harrowing voice in the wind
I am the White Wizard
I am the tongue of flame that tastes the breast of the 
mother
She will quake in her pleasure
and bury you beneath her
It is unwise to face the fingers of the deep
You should have risked the western way
The doors of Durin have remained sealed for an age
starving the dark remains of Moria
The era has ended
that place is a forgotten tomb
your names will echo through
the halls of the Dwarrowdelf