"His words are unclear, but they call to you. His voice comes with the soft rustle of fallen leaves, with the

"His words are unclear, but they call to you. His voice comes with the soft rustle of fallen leaves, with the woeful wailing wind at the mountain pass, with the roar of the raging blizzard... and it calls you to strike out on the road. Onwards, always onwards, over the pass, over the bridge and further along. Up ahead, where the edge of a grey robe flashed, and a candle sputtered for the last time before dying... Onwards, always onwards, until your feet can no longer carry you..." Harrim falls silent, submerged in his own thoughts.