[!]Bitter Cold

An intense wind stream had wound its way through the mountains as I was passing through, I had to bunker down in a large cave in order to wait for it to pass. The winds brought cold air from the distant north, dropping the temperature to freezing overnight. I had to stay for longer than I had hoped, so I chose to venture further into the cave, since it seemed to expand deep into the mountainside.

At the end of the path was a stone door with eyes etched across the surface, which wouldn't budge regardless of how hard I pressed on it, though I did feel tired after coming into contact with it. As I made my way back toward the entrance of the cavern, I was greeted by a figure that loomed at the entrance. Skin wrinkled and a pale blue, a frost-bitten beard that stretched to its waist, and standing so tall that it could touch the top of the cavern. It called out to me in the tongue of giants, and it was then that I knew what stood before me.

I responded in its native tongue, and it began to laugh, impressed that someone my size could speak its language. As it strode over, the floor thumped with each step. I couldn't move, the frost giant's presence glued me to the floor. Luck appeared to be on my side as it told me to relax. The giant was old and didn't wish for any problems, he apparently comes to visit this place because he suffers from recurring insomnia, resting at the door at the end of the cave because it makes him able to sleep for some odd reason.

We kept company for the few days that I was trapped here, speaking of our cultures and family. It turned out that my mentor, Elder Muse, was an acquaintance of some of the giants in this area, finally answering my question as to why he would bother teaching me this language. As the winds died down, the giant accompanied me down the mountainside. Saying our goodbyes, the giant pointed out paths which would help me get to the path that connects to Hrorilad, where I am writing from now.