As Elrond stood at the threshold of Khazad-dûm, the ancient halls of the Dwarves loomed before him, their grandeur both awe-inspiring and haunting. The intricate carvings and towering columns, though shrouded in shadows, whispered tales of a time when laughter and camaraderie echoed through the stone corridors. Memories surged within him like a tide, each wave bringing forth the joyous moments he had shared with Durin, his steadfast friend. He could almost hear the echoes of their youthful laughter, the sound of their voices mingling with the clinking of mugs and the hearty songs sung by the Dwarves around the fires.

Yet, as he stepped further into the heart of the mountain, he sensed a shift in the air. Durin, his old friend, stood at the entrance, arms crossed and brow furrowed. The years had etched lines of responsibility upon his face, and the weight of leadership bore heavily on his shoulders. Elrond could see the flicker of disappointment in Durin's eyes, a reflection of the long years that had passed since their last meeting. The distance between them had grown, not just in miles but in the unspoken words and shared experiences that had slipped through their fingers like grains of sand.

Durin's initial instinct was to turn Elrond away, to let the Elf feel the sting of absence that had marked their friendship. After all, it had been far too long since Elrond had graced the halls of Khazad-dûm, and the Dwarf felt a pang of betrayal at the thought of his friend’s neglect. However, just as he was about to voice his thoughts, Disa, his wise and compassionate wife, stepped forward. Her presence was a balm to the tension that hung in the air. With a warm smile, she extended an invitation for dinner, her voice a soothing melody that cut through Durin's frustration.

“Come, let us not dwell on the past,” she said, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “We have much to celebrate, and the hearth is warm. Let us share a meal and rekindle the bonds of friendship.”