The Wind is a Cruel Master

Today my imprisonment continues as it always has. The wind howls outside the castle even as I write this, and I lie awake at night listening to it, imagining what monsters might lie out there, waiting for one such as I to foolishly venture out into its wastes.
The trolls keep me entertained as ever. We play chess, checkers, draughts, and backgammon in our spare recreation times, and I read in the quiet of the libraries. Such activities calm me, and take my mind off the reality of my incarceration. I eat roasted flesh in the huge eating-halls of the King, while the trolls feast upon the raw flesh of gargantuan beasts. With all the luxuries that are lavished upon me, I feel like a visiting prince, though it is always present in my mind that I am merely an inmate here.
Today I climbed to the peak of the south-battlement. Were it not for the window-glass, the wind and the snow and the cold would make being up there unbearable. All the land surrounding the castle is a bleak wasteland, fit only for the most savage and tough of creatures. There are many jagged mountains all around, and the ruins of towers and entire cities dot the landscape. It is wonderful and horrible at the same time how it seems that towns, even metropolises rise and fall with the whims of the wind. I wonder what towns they once were. I must ask Kaldugor, my friend in the courts.
The snow drives so heavily against the castle walls. I cannot see the gates from the battlement, for they are buried in the white. And the wind, oh the wind! It was all I could do to keep myself together, for the noise was almost unbearable. It shrieked like a dying woman, yet for all its crying, it did not die, but kept hammering against the stone and glass like a relentless tide.
I marvel at the design of the windows; for all the onslaught of the wind and the snow the windows do not crack nor chip.

As per usual, this is a work in progress. There's more that I will add later.