Avalanche

Curse ye foul fiends for the havoc you wreak upon us! Etheswitha cursed bitterly as she in vain tried to keep up with her main group of travelling companions. The wind battered and sieged through the chill cold of Caradhas the Cruel, swatting Etheswitha around endlessly. She smacked her head in her foolishness. This wasn't what she had expected! How was she supposed to survive this weather in nothing but cold armour and a steel Greatsword, whose blade could shatter at any moment?

I am lying on the soft grass at the Dúnedain site, just a few metres above Muil's favourite spot. Her favourite spot is a giant stone in the pond, so I've decided it would be better to lay her down on something more comfortable. My whole body aches, as I've carried her all the way from the South Guard Ruins, where a battle took place.