journal

What luck. I must've been about halfway through this valley and the blizzard showed no signs of stopping. I was about to lay down and die, when I saw a faint light through the haze. I hurried to it, and came across a few Dwarves hunting. They were wary at first, but seeing my state they took me back to a nearby camp.

It's been a day or so since I last wrote. I had to heat up the ink, that's how cold it is. I don't think I have enough food to last much longer, about a day's worth, I'd probably die of starvation if I tried to get through the pass, if the cold and snow alone don't kill me.

I'm sitting next to Herdo while writing this. Clearly he's dead, got an arrow in his throat. He was a fine steed, and I wish I had time to bury him. Alot of other dead horses too, a few on top of their riders, but a few of the corpses are still visible. Lots of Dunlending. Lots of them, all over the place. I wish that meant we'd won, but it doesn't. If we had, I wouldn't be sitting here, and all these corpses would be in a mound. I guess I was knocked out. My helmet's dented, so I must've fallen from Herdo, been knocked out and been left. Must've thought I'd died.