41

Chapter 41: Part XLINotes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for a while.

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"Anybody that thinks the White Walkers are emotionless has never seen them up close, I soon learned you can read their expressions pretty well if you watched out for them. Personally I always enjoyed that look in their eyes when they realised that the reason their advance was going so well was because it was actually an ambush and the smug, overconfident twats had fallen right into it."

Legate-General Beric Dondarion – 315AC

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Craster's Keep – Beyond the Wall – 299 AC

Normally a woman's scream of pain would have resulted in more response, even amongst the still hungry and exhausted, not to mention jaded men of the Night's Watch but they knew that the cries coming from the small hut set away from the main keep were not ones of distress. She wasn't being mauled by a wild animal she was bringing a new life into the world.

"Oi, Tarly" one of the men called out. "Once she's squeezed it out maybe you'll be able to put another one in her belly before her father does" he said to laughter from a few of the others.

Samwell Tarly ignored the laughter, which was easier to do than it was to ignore Gilly's screams. It wasn't like he could do much anything to help her anyway, she had to endure the pain of childbirth much as she did her repulsive father.

At least his rumbling stomach and the smell of cooking gave him something else to fixate on as the day gradually headed towards night. He didn't know what was stewing in the great iron pot set upon a fire one of the other brothers was stirring but it smelled good enough, and at least it wasn't porridge again. "What are we having?" he asked, approaching the cook.

It would have been too crowded for everyone inside the Keep so while it was still daylight they were milling about outside instead where they weren't forced cheek-to-jowl. There was plenty of wood available to build fires at least, so they could warm themselves when they got cold and some of the men were even sharpening swords or repairing their clothes as best they could.

"It's salt pork and beans" the man doing the cooking told him. "There's a thrice-baked biscuit for each of you to have with it but make sure to break up the biscuit and put the pieces in the stew because they're hard as bloody iron" he advised.

Even the thought of the hardtack alone would have been enough to make Samwell start to salivate in anticipation, but the pork and beans sounded delicious. "How long before it's ready?" he asked eagerly.

"Just have to make sure the meats cooked through, and the beans are done soaking up the water and pork fat, they were bone-dry going in" the cook replied. "The Lord Commander will let you know when it's time to queue up for your share."

"Back of the line for you Tarly" one of the others called out. "It's not like you couldn't stand to miss a meal" he said. "Or ten" he added provoking some laughter from his fellows.

"Everyone gets an equal share Rast" the Lord Commander responded loudly from where he had been sat nearby on a log resting weary legs.

"Equal share? I'll bet those high-borns are going to be eating better than we are" Karl Tanner retorted from where he was leaning against a tree next to Rast.

Mormont laughed. "I'll take your money Tanner, Lord Beric is just having the biscuit, he says we should give his share of the pork and beans to Bannen and the other wounded that need it most" he announced. "His squire is doing likewise."

"And what about the Lannister knight?" Tanner wanted to know.

"He's trying to get Craster to give out more food, offering to pay for it himself out of his own purse" Samwell spoke up. "I heard him talking to Lord Beric not long ago."

Tanner snorted. "Must be nice to have enough money you can splash it about."

"Gods, are you just looking for something to bloody whine about or what?" Eddison Tollett interjected himself into the conversation, he was supposed to be the cup-half-empty one. "We're alive, we're about to have a hot meal, we've got somewhere warm to sleep tonight and before long we'll be back on the safe side of the Wall where we won't have to worry about getting a spear shoved up our arse by a bloody corpse."

"Who's to say the Wall will stop them?" Rast wanted to know.

"Because the people that beat them the last time they marched south built the bloody thing to keep them out" Lord Commander Mormont told him flatly. "They knew exactly what they were dealing with. They must have because they won" he told them, hoping to raise morale a little.

"At least we know why they made it so tall, the Wall I mean" Samwell observed thoughtfully. "It always seemed like a waste of effort but now I'm wondering why they stopped at seven-hundred feet."

"Probably because the folks that saw the White Walkers for themselves had been dead for long enough that people started to think it were just a legend" Tollett suggested. "Could be before long people stop believing in dragons too."

Grenn grimaced. "You don't think the White Walkers really do ride giant Ice-Spiders do you?" he asked rhetorically. "I bloody hate spiders" he muttered to himself.

"All I saw them ride was dead horses" Tollett replied. "Which I thought was scary as buggery until you just put the image of them riding a giant fucking spider in my head so thanks for that" he added sardonically.

Samwell got on alright with Edd and Grenn so he wandered over to join them. "Pork and beans" he said happily, ignoring another scream hailing from the birthing hut.

Apparently Tanner and Rast still wanted to have their fun at Samwell's expense because the former was pointing in his direction. "Would you look at the size of him?" Tanner remarked. "I heard the reason they sent him to Castle Black instead of Eastwatch-by-the-Sea is because if he got that close to the Shivering Sea an Ibbenese Whaler would stick him with a harpoon" he said loudly, resulting in more laughter.

Despite plenty of experience at ignoring such jibes that one hurt Samwell a little, not so much his feelings but rather that he felt aggrieved the joke was at least a little clever. It was easier to ignore insults if they were coming from drooling imbeciles because the opinions of morons counted for less than those of a thoughtful man.

"I'll give him his due, that was a good one" Samwell reluctantly admitted to Edd and Grenn.

"Rast probably gave him the idea" Ed theorised.

Samwell looked doubtful. "Rast isn't that clever" he replied.

"No, I mean he looks Ibbish" Edd explained his thinking. "Kinda short and stocky, eyes real close together…" he paused. "Big furry hands and feet" he added eventually.

Samwell and Grenn both cracked up laughing. It was Tollett's deadpan delivery that really sold it. There was a reason they all called him 'Dolorous' Edd.

Another scream from the Birthing Hut immediately stopped the laughter.

"I wish I could help her" Samwell admitted.

"Nothing helpful in all those books you've read?" Edd asked.

"Maester's say that giving Milk of the Poppy to dull the pain is dangerous during childbirth" Samwell responded sadly.

Dolorious Edd Tollett shook his head. "No, I meant ways to murder her father and hide the body without getting caught" he clarified his question.

Samwell blinked as he was struck by a horrible realisation. "I've been reading the wrong books" he muttered to himself in dismay.

Inside the keep Ser Damion Lannister tightly clenched his right fist, partially as an attempt to keep himself under control but mainly because if the man before him didn't start cooperating he was going to punch him in the face. Guest Right be damned. "Once again. They're half-starved, some of them more than half-starved and they have wounded" he reiterated the point he had started with. "We're giving them the lion's share of the provisions we had with us but they'll recover much faster, and be ready to head back to the wall sooner, if you show some decency and open your larder."

"And I'll reply the same way I did before. I'll need that food for myself and my daughters now that winter is here" Craster responded, still unmoved by the argument. "I already handed out some bread. That was generous, very generous."

Stood beside Ser Damion Lord Beric Dondarrion sighed. "And we gave them half the oats we had with us for the horses" he spoke up, diplomatically not mentioning the complaints that Craster's daughters had seemingly mixed some sawdust into the flour they made the bread with, "but they need more than bread and porridge" he stated firmly. "They need meat as well, meat and cheese. Much more than we had brought along for ourselves."

"You'd let my daughters starve to feed grown men?" Craster retorted dismissively.

"I already made a vow to return here from Castle Black with wagons carrying half again as much as you give us" Ser Damion replied somehow sounding far less angry than he felt. "You like wine from the south? They'll be a barrel of Dornish Red on one of the wagons too, you have my word."

Craster sneered. "And why should I believe the word of a man from the South?" he asked.

"A Lannister always pays his debts" Ser Damion told him, his delivery of the words making them sound almost like a sacred oath. "If that phrase doesn't mean anything to you up here North of the Wall then ask the Lord Commander or any of the men of the Night's Watch if it means something where they're from and they'll tell you it does" he said with utter certainty.

"I'll do that" Craster replied after a little consideration. "If Mormont vouches for your word then I'll open my larder" he agreed. "But I'll also want a couple of good steel axes and one of those fancy castle-forged swords"

"Agreed" Ser Damion accepted the terms.

"And two barrels of wine not just one" Craster requested.

Damion Lannister narrowed his eyes. "Agreed" he said once more, this time through gritted teeth.

Craster looked like he was going to ask for something else as well but the expressions on the faces of the to southerners made him reconsider. Get a man riled up enough and notions such as 'Guest Right' start to become shaky.

Craster spat on his hand and held it out to shake. "Agreed" he said. "On the proviso that the Lord Commander vouches for you" he added.

Ser Damion spat on his own hand to imitate the uncouth wildling and shook his hand to close the deal.

"I'll go talk to Mormont" Craster announced, striding towards the doorway that led outside leaving the high-born southerners behind.

"You going to wash that hand Ser Damion?" Dondarrion asked the knight from the Westerlands sardonically once Craster had left earshot.

"I'm tempted to cut it off like I would if I'd touched a man with greyscale" Ser Damion replied, shaking his head sadly. "Odious man" he opined. "Two, or perhaps three days of half-way proper meals and Mormont and his men should be able to travel again."

"We'll still have to put the sick and wounded on the horses, I hope you don't mind walking back to the Wall, Ser Damion?" Dondarrion checked.

The Westerlander smiled. "Ask me that question again after fifty miles and with sore feet, My Lord" he replied just as another scream rang out outside. "At least they won't hurt as much as that does" he observed wryly. "I remember my wife yelling the house down the first time she gave birth."

Beric Dondarrion chuckled mirthlessly. "If she has a girl do you think Craster will call it his daughter or his granddaughter?" he asked rhetorically, and with some distaste.

Ser Damion grimaced. "Hopefully he'll die before he calls it 'wife' instead" he replied. "I hope you told your young squire not to dash to the woman's rescue thinking she's being attacked by some wild beast."

"I already explained what was happening when the other women took the girl to the birthing hut" Beric replied. "I should go check on him though, I asked him to make sure when the stew was done that only the men that needed it the most got a second serving until we were sure Craster was willing to part with more than bread."

"Salt pork and beans isn't much of a stew, but I imagine they'll find it delectable under the circumstances. Hunger always makes for a great sauce and it is surely an improvement over the porridge they had earlier" Ser Damion reasoned. "Their morale doesn't seem high which is understandable I suppose" he observed, following Dondarrion when he set off outside. "You know I don't mind telling you that when we were first dispatched to investigate tales of White Walkers and such I thought it was a Snipe Hunt at best."

"You and me both, Ser Damion" Dondarrion agreed. "Honestly, I doubt if we didn't have a Northerner sat on the Iron Throne as Regent we would have ever ended up here" he supposed. "Who else would merit the rumours with any credence?"

"Indeed" Ser Damion concurred. "I would have liked to see the proof first-hand, but the Lord Commander's word, plus the reality that our ancestors must have surely raised the Wall to keep out something a lot more dangerous than mere Wildlings, has me fairly convinced."

Dondarrion shrugged. "Between us I'm still finding the idea of a vast army of undead Wights hard to take" he replied honestly. "The very notion of a man being raised from the dead simply strains my incredulity somewhat" he admitted. "It'll be crowded inside tonight" he noted. "Still I suppose it's better than freezing our balls off outside."

"You may be underestimating the smell of all those bodies crowded together" Ser Damion warned. "I'll wager that bloody direwolf they brought with them probably smells better than they do."

The stew was starting to be dished out by the time they joined the men outside, a long queue of hungry Rangers and Stewards having formed up to collect their share with a lone squire stood watch over them from a distance.

As they started to eat word spread that the girl, Gilly, had birthed a son and for some reason this news greatly disquieted Jeor Mormont, though initially he appeared loathe to explain why exactly.

It all became rather clearer when he had a change of heart and bade Dondarrion and Ser Damion to join him in stalking Craster when the man took his newborn son off into the woods alone the following night.

It was something he knew they needed to see for themselves.

Of course it all turned out very differently than Mormont had expected. No sooner had the White Walker appeared to collect the child Craster had earlier left on a tree stump before walking off back in the direction of the keep than Samwell Tarly appeared from nowhere yelling and swinging his sword around. He was apparently much stealthier, not to mention braver and driven, than might have been expected of the man.

The unarmed and entirely unphased White Walker simply caught hold of the blade Samwell swung at him and after a couple of seconds ice formed upon it and it shattered to fragments.

Not being willing to just hide there and watch the creature kill one of his men Mormont bellowed in fury and came charging out of the darkness himself sword held aloft, the White Walker turning to face the new attack, ignoring Tarly.

Before Mormont could reach the White Walker however the younger and swifter Beric Dondarrion sprinted past him and slammed his own sword into the ice demon first.

The point of the blade failed to penetrate its cold flesh and Dondarrion realised he had made a terrible mistake a moment before Samwell Tarly stabbed the White Walker in the back.

The demon shrieked in pain and flailed about before it dropped to its knees and then exploded into shards of crystal ice.

"I'm so glad that worked" Tarly said eventually as the others stared at him. "Dragonglass" he explained voice trembling. "The Maesters call it Obsidian. I found some knives made from it at the Fist of the First Men" he told them. "There had to be a reason they were there. At least I hoped there was."

"Is there anything else you haven't bloody told me Tarly?" Mormont said eventually.

"Well I was planning to desert with Gilly and her son if I got him back but I'm hoping you won't chop my head off for that now" Samwell replied awkwardly.

"What in the Seven Hells are we going to do now?" Ser Damion wanted to know, joining the others.

"Go back and make a report like we were supposed to" Dondarrion replied. "But before we do let's hang Craster."

"We can't. Guest Right protects him" Mormont protested.

"The only crime deemed as bad as violating Gues Right is kinslaying and wouldn't sacrificing your sons qualify?" Dondarrion asked rhetorically. "It's not like the Night's Watch is going to be ranging North of the Wall and will need shelter here for a while" he pointed out. "We have several high-born witnesses that can testify against him right here" he noted.

Mormont opened his mouth to disagree then closed it again. "I favour your interpretation of the law, My Lord" he said eventually. "Tarly, take the boy and when we get back quietly give it to its mother and then find a rope but don't tell anyone why."

"Will do" Samwell replied happily. "But I'm not very good with knots" he told the Lord Commander apologetically.

"Tarly, how are you the first man of the Night's Watch to kill a White Walker in thousands of years and yet also the most [I]useless[/I] man of the Night's Watch in thousands of years?" Mormont asked him incredulously.

Samwell considered the question. "Dumb luck?" he suggested with a shrug.

Notes:

Note from the Author:

Oats for half-a-dozen horses is porridge for a lot of men but although better than in canon their food supplies are not sufficient to feed everyone with access to Craster's stores. Salt-pork, dried beans and hard-tack biscuit have been staple foods for armies on the march for quite some time due to how well they keep.

One note as regards the timeline. While in theory each season of GoT is supposedly one-year long Gilly was known to be pregnant already in episode 2x02 but gives birth in episode 3x03 so there cannot be twelve months between them. That's why I've had her giving birth in late 299AC not 300AC.

Although considered to be men rather than beasts the Ibbenese seem to be more akin to neanderthals rather than modern humans. They're civilised enough, farming and living in towns and are particularly known for their whaling vessels which sail the Shivering Sea but they look different enough for that to be noteworthy.

Samwell still gets to shank a White Walker but has more witnesses this time around (and ones that are going to be regarded as more credible than Gilly the Wildling).

According to the in-universe book 'Justice and Injustice in the North' The two worst crimes in the North are violating Guest Right and Kinslaying. In this case majority opinion on the ground is that the latter is worse and who's going to argue?