All was set. Zorzimril stood up at the tower as she looked down at me, the sun peirced through the clouds not letting look her over for a final time, though we said our goodbyes. Navdakel walked beside me, looking forward into the swamp, much of the host already were marching into the pass, to deploy around the steps of Gram. We hoist the banners of Carn-Dum, aswell as Rhudaur here, each warrior with a rounded shield slung over his shoulder, axe at his belt, the bright bronze of their armour gleaming.
"You've married a daughter of one of the North tribes. Our kin, yes. But we have never known them." Navdakel said, always doubting those who are not Creoth. "They are kin, but we never saw them fight, and when armies of orc come down at us from all sides,will they hold true? We might all die." she walked off at that point,obviously unwilling to listen to retort, though loyal to march with me.
Strange, at the Steps of Gram, there seems to be a bustle of activity, Uruks demanding where we go, and whatnot,,Blogmal, by their banner. "Why not just support the assault, hmm? Whose in fuckin' command!" growled the Captain, I stared the Uruk down, and he returned the glare, "Finally joinin' the war, then, eh?" he said, snuffling, the orcs behind him sneering. Though we said no words, and just pressed on, the pack mules in the center. None others bothered us, as we unfurled banners of Carn-Dum.
Arradors End, cold as fuck, and we're going ever more north. We may stop in the mines, though not in the mood to be caught up with the campaign here in the Ettenmoors, and eager to get away from prying eyes. The Snowreaps have been staring at us, though they let us past without a fuss. We are eight hundred in total, don't think none of these orcs want to have a go with an ally.
Luckily enough, though we've packed enough damned skins and furs, because the pass is COLD. Climbing this, and beyond will be Forodwaith, to which we will march a few miles northward to wheel westward. The men do not seem to entirely mind the cold, Barcain and Grun have been scouting ahead with their lads, though all seemed..Well, blank. Empty. No game, no trees, nothing. The cold winds so cold that it burns on impact. We shouldn't stay here longer then we should, can't survive here anyhow.
Finally beyond the mountain, though, took us little over two days, and every few hours or so I'd see Navdakel glaring at me, obviously she doesn't like the cold. Shit, I don't like it, not when the winds send slaps of ice and snow to your cheeks. Damned snow getting caught in my beard too.
The White. We were a host of red, though the snow..We are grey. Gave the command for us to stay together, lost four men already. Not to frost, but cause we cannot see. The snow is too much, and we have to be careful for the shaggy mules. A man cut off one of his ears, I think it was Rhodri, because the cold was stinging.
Snow, the wind, heh, I miss home already and it's been three days. I miss Zorzimril the most. She's warm.
