It is our last night here in Sûri-kylä, the northernmost Lossoth settlement on the Ice Bay. I cannot wait to come south again, where I can breathe the air without feeling as though I am going to choke on it. I have been fortunate to be given lodging by the Lossoth in their claustrophobic huts of snow and ice, heated inside by a candle, with furs and hides as bed and blanket. Thalya at least has that enormous cat of hers, Steve, to keep her company.
The great lodge, a pavilion made of bone and hide, is large enough for a bazaar and fire pits, forges and workshops. It seems so foreign and barbaric. I must learn to refrain from passing judgement on their kind. The lives of Men seem shut to me, except as an observer.
I leave tomorrow to return to the darkness of Moria, deep underneath the mountains. I do not want to admit this… But I am somewhat afraid.