Fungrim looked at the young hobbit and smiled, for the first time in ages with no hint of bitterness in it. Only sorrow.
"That song tells of the greatest of our cities of old, the great hold of Khazâd-Dum." He gave a deep, heartfelt sigh before continuing.
"You must be wondering about my weeping. Many years ago I was bannished from the hold of the Iron Mountains for failing to protect.. a dear one. The song served as a bitter reminder of what I had lost, and for that I wept. I wept for the life that I lost all those years ago."
He rubbed the tears away with the back of his hand and turned to Hamfst again, smiling sadly. "If you wish, I can teach you more songs of the old days, but not tonight. My heart is too burdened with sorrow. But now, I guess you have other things to do than to sit and listen to my life story."
Hamfast went back inside, and Fungrim stayed sitting on the bench from which Hamfast had found him. It seemed as if the burden had been eased when he had talked to someone, someone compasionate and willing to listen. He felt a strange, sorrow like joy. The wound, after festering all these long years, was begining to heal.
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Herein, it is said, the power of Ulmo was shown. For he gathered tidings of all that passed in Beleriand, and every stream that flowed from Middle-earth to the Great Sea was to him a messenger, both to and fro
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