[CaptainofDespair]

“So...cold...”

His chest was heaving, as it tried to resist the pain of breathing in the icy hot air. He had been delirious the past few days, stemming from a combination of snow blindness and the nothingness that surrounded him in every direction. He barely managed to keep warm now, with his heavy fur and clothe cloak in tatters. Only his singular goal kept him going on; self preservation.

He had been wandering for…forever. He had lost track of time, and counted only how many times he had eaten, which was meager, at best. A lonesome sword, stained with animal blood, hung at his side as he plodded slowly across the land, dreading every wet, freezing step. His leather knee-high boots had already begun to fall apart at the seams, leaving only the largest sections of his legs and feet protected. Yet, he had not succumbed to frostbite, or to any predators lurking about. He clung to his mission, his quest.

He felt damned, as he thrust past a layer of snow and ice that had blocked his dragging feet from progressing. He fell; face first, into the snow. After picking himself up, he decided it best to take a little rest, and sat down upon a nearby log. He brushed off the snow, and perched himself on it. How had he fallen so far, so quickly? Nothing made sense anymore. Whether that was because of the hallucinogenic qualities of his mind reacting to the vast expanse of bleak landscape, pot-marked only by mountains and a few trees, or this entire situation was, by its nature, like a confused child, he did not know. He had been there, as the party reached the Ered Luin in relative safety. He wondered where he had gone wrong. He began muttering to himself, speaking aloud, hoping someone would answer his questions. “Was it the refusal to enter those damnable caverns?” He paused, swaying with a cold breeze, seeking an answer from the northern winds. No response came from the cold, only more shivers and shudders. But, he continued as if the wind had indeed said something. “No, you are right, it couldn’t be. I am a counselor, not a war-maker.” He sighed, and went deeper into crazed, delirious thought, putting his face into his palms. His frozen eyebrows began to twitch, and he looked up from his icy grip. “Ah-ha! It must be…yes…it must be.” The wind picked up briefly once more, and his eyes lit up. “Thank you…what was your name again? Oh well, it doesn’t matter, does it? No, you’re right, it doesn’t.” He shook his head, and took in a whiff of the icy atmosphere, to give him new life. He stood up, realigned his cloak, and marched off. What direction he was going, he did not care. As he left the sight of the log, he uttered one last message to his invisible muse, “Yes, you were right, all along. Good bye, my friend.”

But, as he marched himself away, with a new aura of haughtiness and purpose, he tripped on the root of a tree stump, hidden by the snow. As he collapsed to the frozen earth, he slipped into a dreary unconsciousness, left to elements…