Found:
The last two days have been spent in the mountains, and I'm not through yet.
Despite the cold, the knee-high snow, the treacherously icy paths, we made good progress, Steel and I. Alas, a snow storm in the High Pass forced us to seek shelter rather than move on.
An old Dwarven outpost, Hrimbarg, served us well enough for the night. It was there, barely half an hour after my arrival, that Atharann sought shelter of his own. He was out seeking a bounty, apparently. Some Bree-land criminal fleeing justice but finding naught but a frozen end in a gully. Stupid bastard.
We talked for several hours. He didn't press or pry and I told him only what he needed to know. He told me a story, of oaths taken by his kind, of sacrifice for others. I think it was supposed to sound noble, to put some sort of emphasis on the deeds of such men and offer comfort to those left behind.
All I could think of was how selfish it is!
He gave his life for my safety. He gave his life so that I needn't lose mine. He gave his life that I would remain whole, unharmed. At least, that's what Atharann believes. But that's not nobility. That's not courage. That's fear. It's cowardice! It's throwing away what you have before you lose it on the off-chance that you lose it later!
I can only hope that this speculation is not even approaching the realm of truth. Better to think that he died chasing his redemption or trying to save the world than out of some misplaced belief that he could protect me from something that was, at that time, no threat at all.
The thought of it was enough to make my blood boil.
I left that place as soon as the storm died down
I needed to build some snowmen, and then smash them with a stick. It didn't help.
So, we continued on, me and my most loyal companion. Through the seemingly endless white. Over the rises, down the slippery paths and back to where the snow gives way to mud frozen solid. And all along the way I wondered why.
Why him? Why not me?
After the life I've led, the situations I've been in, the mistakes made, the damage done, why am I the one still living? I should have been dead over a decade ago. I should never have made it as far as I have, but I'm still here.
It should be me.
And if I believed in the Valar or some form of higher power, I'd wish to exchange places. I'd gladly offer myself for that: he did more good in this world than I ever have or ever will. It's a better place with him in it. I don't deserve to be here, but he does, so take me in his stead!
But if they exist, which I sincerely doubt, then they are callous, cruel and unconcerned with us mere mortals save as playthings to be used, abused and discarded on a whim.
At least the Chaos that I have always known is uniformly indifferent to pleasure or pain, joy or suffering. The world I know is harsh and bleak, but it is mine and I know how best to laugh at it.
Now, if only I could do so today.
