From frost and granite, cold and true,  

The dwarves arose with skin of blue.  

No fire forged their ancient line  

But winter’s breath and rock divine.  

Their bones were shaped in glacier’s womb,  

Their hearts did beat in crystal tomb.  

The first were chiseled, not from flame,  

But from the depths whence no man came.  

They woke beneath the frozen skies,  

With mountain dreams behind their eyes.  

No sun to warm, no stars to guide  

Just earth and echo, deep and wide.  

They sought not gold for pride or throne,  

But gems that whispered in the stone.  

Each ruby sang a tale untold,  

Each sapphire held a fire cold.  

Their hands were rough, but art was kind  

Each hammer fall a sculptor’s mind.  

They built with love, they carved with grace, 

And left their mark in every place.  

They are the dwarves with skin of blue,  

Born of ice, of stone, and dew.  

Their forges blaze where none have known  

The mighty dwarves of ice and stone. 

Special thanks to Pantheon for inspiring this work.
Source: The Dwarves