The light of the clear autumn evening was now glowing in the valley. The noise of bubbling waters came up from the foaming riverbed. Birds were singing, and a wholesome peace lay on the land.
After several minutes, Jon and Galadriel came to the porch that served as the entrance to the gardens, which was patrolled by several soldiers who, seeing Galadriel, bowed deeply and allowed them to pass though as they walked the path, a single clear bell rang out.
"That is the warning bell for the Council…." Jon said vexedly.
"Then let's pick up the pace, my Wolf. I don't like being late", Galadriel said, and he nodded with a smile.
The Council of the Last Alliance had begun.
They were welcomed to a large chamber with high glass windows and floors of silvered stone; at the centre of the room sat a great stone table; on the left sat the Elvish delegation, while the Men of Westernesse sat on the right and resting on the table were several maps of Middle Earth.
King Gil-galad was there, and seated about him were Elrond, Celebrían, Círdan and Glorfindel, while to the right of the latter sat a seafaring elf named Galdor and finally the Elf now known as Nestor who had sought them upon their coming to the valley.
Opposite him sat King Elendil, who was joined by Isildur, Elendur, Loras, Robar and lastly, his grandmother, who smiled upon seeing him though her countenance soured upon seeing Galadriel on his arm, but she hid it well.
"Finally, now, if you, please have a seat…." Ordered King Gil-galad as he motioned to the last two seats at the table at the end of the table
Following courtesy, Jon held a chair for Galadriel, seating her next to Nestor.
"Thank you, Jon," said Galadriel gratefully, her eyes alight with love.
He thought it best to seat himself next to Loras and Robar though as he sat down, Jon saw that Círdan was eyeing him with keen interest. 'Did he suspect something?' his mentor though of prodigious age, saw further and deeper than any other in Middle Earth.
"Finally... all are here; we can begin," King Elendil said wearily.
"Without the Lady Írimë?" Prince Elendur asked curiously.
"And without Arianne and the others?" Jon asked, intrigued that he didn't see any of them there.
"Forgive her, Prince Elendur, that my aunt is not a warrior and has little interest in these meetings; if she was invited to this Council, it is likely that she has decided not to attend," Galadriel said sagely.
"Furthermore, I spied Lady Írimë happily tending to her strawberry gardens," Lady Celebrían said with a smile, her gaze falling on him, while Robar and Loras sniggered in amusement.
"I didn't know Lady Írimë was so passionate about growing strawberries", Galdor said as Loras and Robar burst out laughing.
"It is not that Lady Írimë is particularly passionate about strawberries; rather, she does it for someone else," King Elendil said merrily, inclining his head towards Jon, who had turned as red as the berry he loved so dearly.
"The Lady Írimë is very proud of her garden and cares for them as if it was her own child," Lord Elrond said.
"It's true, we can ever rely on Jon to ease the tension, but now our minds must be set on other matters," King Gil-galad said with a smile.
"As for Rhaenys and the others, they wished to attend, but I thought it best they should be elsewhere lest they start a fight and delay the proceedings," said Rhaella wearily.
"So, I bid them help my sons organise our hosts; I thought that would keep everyone out of trouble," Isildur said merrily.
Jon just suppressed the urge to bang his head on the table repeatedly in embarrassment as he heard his beloved Estrella's laughter in his mind.
"Well, now… is their news from Greenwood and Lorien?" King Gil-galad asked Elrond, and he nodded.
"Yes, Kings Oropher and Amdír have sent missives to Imladris. It seems they have the wisdom to see that peace shall not be achieved until Sauron is cast down and defeated.' said Elrond wisely.
"But they won't come to Imladris?" Lord Círdan asked in astonishment.
"No,' said Elrond. 'They insist on readying themselves for war although they assure us that they will join us when the time comes,"
Yet as Elrond spoke, Jon felt a great shadow had fallen upon the Elves of the wood. 'It seems a dark gate may away them yet.' Jon thought gloomily.
While King Gil-galad shook his head, surely exasperated by the stubbornness of both monarchs to avoid cooperating with the Noldor as much as possible.
"Those two are fools, but there is little we can do save hope they shall answer when the time comes," said Gil-galad vexedly.
"I share your sentiment, my friend. But, alas, that is beyond our power; perhaps we should take stock of our men and provisions," said Elendil glancing at his grandson and Rhaella, who brought forth several hefty leather-bound tomes.
"What's that?" Loras asked, horrified by so much paperwork, no doubt remembering his time as Commander of the guard.
"They are the count of men, horses, weapons, armour and provisions of the soldiers who came from Arnor with us," Jon's grandmother said amusedly as she saw the expressions of the young Tyrell.
"According to these books, a quarter of our men only bear good ring mail, good swords and stout shields; we've only twenty thousand horses as well, counting ours, of course," Prince Elendur said pragmatically.
"In other words, we are not prepared for war even if we have organised", Robar sighed.
"Yes, that's a good way to sum up, our situation," Isildur's son said.
"And also, most of the soldiers are very green with no experience," Loras said.
"Fortunately, our soldiers aren't lacking for experience though we are fewer in number, and it has been many long years since we marched to war", Lord Glorfindel admitted sadly.
"Then our first priority will be to arm all the soldiers of our host in the fashion of our forebears," King Elendil said.
"It seems so; however, I must confess here in Imladris, we do not have enough materials to make enough weapons for such a large army, so it will be imperative to contact King Durin to get materials such as steel and iron..." said Lord Elrond and all nodded in agreement.
"Also, the number of horses will be a problem; most of the army will be infantry; we shall have to look to the men of Rhovanion to make up the difference," Glorfindel said, eyeing the maps with great interest.
"We can solve that at another time... The most important thing now is the weapons and the training of the soldiers..." King Gil-galad said.
"We have talented blacksmiths both here in Imladris and those who have come with us, and although it will be a long task to arm such a host, I feel it best we prepare as best we can," King Elendil said, glancing at him intently and Jon felt honoured by the trust his King had for him.
'It is trust well earned, my dearest wolf; our armies are fortunate to have such a smith in our ranks', Galadriel said merrily, and Jon was filled with pride.
'I thank you for your faith in me, my dearest star.' Jon answered.
"Another noteworthy issue to discuss is the number of soldiers in Imladris at the moment," Nestor said, drawing the council's attention.
"Speak clearly, Nestor", said Elrond sagely.
"My Lord Elrond, I know the importance of this war, but Imladris cannot hold so many; the fortress is too small... Many will sleep in the wild; we need to expand our halls and walls... As well as strengthen our defences should the enemy be bold enough to attack us unawares," Said Nestor bringing forth the plans he had made for the defences of the Last Homely House.
"It seems to me that it would be prudent to heed Lord Nestor's guidance and not neglect the defences of this bastion both for the safety of our troops and our people," Galadriel said suddenly, and others nodded in agreement.
'What are you up to, Galadriel?' Jon questioned nervously, but she merely giggled, and he at once knew her scheme.
She wished to take revenge for hiding Elendil's book, but before he could escape her vengeance, Lord Elrond offered his voice to the council.
"If the Lady of Belfalas believes it best, it will be wise to heed her word, and I believe it will be the best for Imladris and those of us who are sheltered here…" Lord Elrond said, who couldn't help but give a quick glance at his wife who turned away.
"And we have a great architect and builder among us…." Isildur said proudly, looking at him while Loras and Robar suddenly looked at each other and smiled.
"It's true; our brother-in-arms is not only a talented armourer and jeweller but also a great builder", Robar seconded loudly.
"The words of your son Isildur and Robar are very true, my King; Jon is wholly suited for this task," Loras said, delighting in his brothers' torment.
"I know Jon's skill with weapons and jewels, but I did not know that his skill with rock work would be held in such high esteem by you, my son," King Elendil said, stroking his beard.
"Aye, if uncle Anárion were here, he would say much the same; thanks to the skill and knowledge of Prince Jon, Osgiliath has become the grandest City of the Dúnedain in Middle Earth," Elendur said with serenity.
"In that case… do you agree, Jon? Although I would like that you attend the forges with Lord Elrond's blacksmiths, it seems that your talents are needed elsewhere…." King Elendil said, glancing at him, and he nodded.
"Yes, if it is the will of the council, I shall see it done", Jon replied, bowing low, although he was displeased, for these labours would be long and difficult.
In the same way, Jon was already beginning to plot revenge against his brothers in arms and his beloved Estrella.
'Oh, my sweet wolf, you brought this misfortune upon yourself; perhaps your weariness shall wisen you to not keep such things from me.' Galadriel said softly, but he felt the contentment of her spirit.
'I won't forget this, my Star; you can be certain even if I have to wait centuries, I shall repay this slight', Jon swore bitterly, but he was answered only by laughter.
'If you're certain, I will use my time to enjoy an interesting book I found among your maps of Gondor, my beloved fool', Galadriel said wickedly.
'My book!' Jon groaned in horror.
'Perhaps you have learned I am not one to be trifled with? Again, I have to clean up your mess… And inform Shiera of this book; I'm sure what she will be most pleased to learn you kept it from her,' Galadriel chortled.
'I've already learned a lesson; I won't keep any more secrets from you, my love… Jon promised sadly.
'I hope so, my Beloved Wolf, because if not, I shall pursue you to the boarders of Arda and beyond; you are mine you have been, since you proclaimed your eternal love, under the stars of Varda in this same Valley more than half a century ago, and it is not right that couples keep secrets' said Galadriel lovingly though her words bore the weight of centuries.
'Well, I'll have to ask Lalwen and Dany to attend with their healing touch… Jon said with satisfaction sensing Galadriel's surprise and jealousy.
'What did you say, my Wolf?' She growled.
'Yes, thanks to your machinations, my beloved, I shall toil many days and nights to see this Valley safe. But, alas, my body and spirit shall be wearied beyond measure, and none may soothe it so keenly as my beloved aunt and Lalwen. It seems your plots benefit me as well, my Star,' Jon replied merrily.
'You haven't learned your lesson yet, my Wolf… Have you?' Galadriel asked furiously.
'No, I won't keep any secrets from you again, my beloved Star; you made sure of it, but it seems that you haven't learned the lesson you ought to have during our time in the East.' Jon said proudly.
'And what lesson is that, Jon?' Galadriel asked warily.
'YOU ARE MINE, MY STAR!!!' Jon growled, his voice sufficed with love unbridled, and Galadriel swiftly reddened.
'My Wolf!!!' Galadriel said lustily, yet their moment was ruined as she felt a sharp pain from Jon's mind; it seemed her beloved's had his foot trampled.
Jon glowered at Robar furiously as he was the only one who might have done it, but his brother-in-arms shrugged and pointed towards his grandmother.
His grandmother didn't possess magic like he did, but she knew him well enough to know when he spoke through his will.
She was gazing at him, her eyes alight with jealousy and then swiftly turned away.
All Targaryen women were jealous and possessive of what they considered theirs, and his grandmother was no different.
'Okay, it will be better to wait to avoid problems, my Star…' Jon said, and Galadriel nodded, amused by Rhaella's audacity.
----------
The Council of War lasted little more than an hour until, in the end, everyone felt that everything that was in hand at that time had been done and planned, and they were invited by Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían to a great breakfast.
As they rose and made ready to leave the council hall, they were stopped at the doorway by Lord Elrond, who seemed quite pleased.
"Jon, Lady Galadriel, Queen Rhaella, wait a moment, please…." Eärendil's son said stopping them.
"Do you wish something of me, my Lord?" Jon asked, and the Lord of Imladris nodded.
"Indeed, I was wondering if you could accompany me to a secluded place?... There is something I want to show you, and I desire to speak in private... It won't take long, I promise," Elrond said sagely.
Jon looked at his grandmother and his Star for their approval, and after a few moments, they both nodded.
"Don't be long, Jon", his grandmother sighed, no doubt wishing to spend more time with him.
Galadriel was much the same as she wondered why her son-in-law wished to speak to Jon alone.
'You better tell me what you and Elrond speak of my Wolf', Galadriel said warningly.
'Yes, my Star, I shall keep nothing from you again', Jon answered sadly, and he could hear the melodious laughter of his beloved in his mind.
'Well, in that case, after breakfast, I'll start reading Elendil's book. But your grandmother is right, don't tarry; my aunt wishes to pamper you with strawberry tarts...' Galadriel said, and he felt nought but joy and hunger at the thought of those delicious tarts.
I promise I shall be swift,' He promised before bidding his family farewell and following after Lord Elrond.
He tarried behind the Lord of Rivendell, admiring the beauty of Imladris before they came to a flight of stairs that he hadn't remembered being here on his previous visits.
'These stairs weren't here before,' Jon thought; ascending the stairs, they came to a great chamber filled with many statues and tapestries.
"Here it is... The Hall of Memories," Lord Elrond said, extending his arms, and Jon could see why it was called that...
One of the statues held in its outstretched hands the brazier of Maltagil that he had forged for Lord Elrond decades ago with the fire of Vhagar still burning merrily and bright; another bore the sceptre of Turgon that he retrieved many years past in distant Dorwinion, and finally, there was a mural of a beautiful Elf Lord clad in fair raiment's leading his kin into battle.
"It is King Finrod Felagund when he led his troops in the Dagor Bragollach, he is the brother of Lady Galadriel, and the only other save Glorfindel who was absolved from the Curse of Mandos, now according to the stories his father is walking, under the trees of Eldamar," Elrond said noticing his interest in the mural.
'He is the brother of my beloved Star, ' Jon thought, marvelling at the majesty of the most beloved son of Finwë.
"I have never been in this Hall, Lord Elrond", Jon said confusedly, he thought perhaps he had missed it during his stays here, but that could not be the case.
"No wonder I had this Hall built for you; since the King of Arda called you to Middle Earth, many relics and knowledge from the Elder Days have resurfaced, and most of them have returned to our hands; that is why I ordered this chamber built so that we may not forget our traditions," Lord Elrond said proudly.
"Thank you, Lord Elrond", Jon said sadly, and the Lord of Imladris laughed.
"No, thanks to you, Jon, if it wasn't for you, this Hall wouldn't even exist, I had the idea of building it after Lady Galadriel delivered me my Great-grandfather's sceptre and you gave me the books of the great blacksmith Enerdhil, thanks to for this I have felt closer to my father's family than I have felt in all my long life… That is why I summoned you here, to thank you," Lord Elrond said, bowing low.
"You need not thank me, Lord Elrond, for you have given me much chiefly Lòmerocco," Jon said, grateful for the mighty gift Elrond had given him.
"It was a pleasure… That horse came here as a little foal from the Anduin Valleys. He was brought by some emissaries of King Amdír along with several of his brothers as a gift… For many years he dwelt in my stables, and he would take no rider, not even myself; often times he would run free through the Valley, and none could catch save if he desired it," said Elrond looking at him, half puzzled and half amused.
"And he allowed me to tame him? Me?" Jon asked, intrigued.
"That horse is mysterious and difficult to handle, but it is of a noble lineage... Noticing his refusal to accept riders, I sent emissaries to Lorien regarding the horse, and they apprised me he was of the house of Nahar," Lord Elrond said with a sigh as Jon stepped back in surprise.
Nahar was the legendary horse ridden by Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar. Nahar's coat was said to be white under the Sun but to shimmer in silver in the night, and his feet were shod in gold.
Jon recalled that Lalwen and Galadriel, spoke of the fire that was stricken from the hooves of Nahar was the first light that returned to Valinor.
"My steed descends from the mount of the Hunter of the Valar..." Jon whispered in wonderment; he hadn't thought his steed would be of such high linage.
As Lord Elrond nodded and smiled. "Yes, according to the legend in the Valleys of Anduin, Nahar sometimes visited the mortal mares and left them with many foals,"
"Well, Lòmerocco has courted Galadriel's mare on several occasions," Jon said, amused when he realised the similarities between his horse and himself.
"Yes, I noticed it too… Your horse makes no secret of its intentions, your horse's true parentage is a secret here in Imladris as only King Gil-galad knows of his lineage, and even he was dismayed when the horse chose you as its rider… "said Elrond recalling the bitterness of his King because he longed to have the descendant of Nahar as a mount, but the horse chose Jon.
"King Gil-galad desired Lòmerocco for himself?" Jon asked, discerning Elrond's emotions to the latter's wonder.
"I see that now you read hearts and minds better," Elrond said, eyeing him in mirth.
"Forgive me. I hadn't thought to intrude," Jon apologised with a bow.
"Yes, I shall forgive and answer your question; my King hoped to claim that horse, but he chose you and you him though you hadn't met him yet," Elrond said as Jon looked at him confused.
"What does it mean?" Jon asked carefully.
"When you and Lady Galadriel went to Dorwinion following Elendil's will, there was a moment before her departure when you visited the stables; it was only a moment, but the stable keeper noticed that Lòmerocco was watching you, and when you walked away, he tried to follow you, that was strange, and much later when I gave him to you it was in part to make certain what they had told me was true... And if it was, you did not tame that horse... Rather he chose you as his rider for some reason we don't understand yet… You are blessed, no doubt," Lord Elrond said solemnly, and Jon nodded.
"Not even King Elendil and his sons know of Lòmerocco's true nature?" Jon asked, even though he already imagined he knew the answer.
"No, unless Celebrían reveals it. I don't think even her mother and great aunt know, though it is not a secret that need be kept; you may tell them if you wish," Lord Elrond said.
"How could this horse get to Imladris? I can't believe someone would part with such a prize," Jon asked, confused.
"I agree; perhaps Amdír thought it a gift for Celebrían as she and her mother lived for a time in Lorien before the Fall of Eregion, where they were both held in high esteem by the Silvan Elves, but seldom could I glean the King of Lorien's intentions" Lord Elrond assured.
"Very well, thank you, Lord Elrond, for revealing this truth to me; I feel honoured for having entrusted me with such a noble companion", said Jon before bowing low.
"Think little of it, Jon. I owe you a far greater debt, for you have returned to us the books of Enerdhil and much more; my smiths have been beside themselves in joy and laboured greatly desiring to learn the arts of Aulë," Elrond said, and Jon laughed.
"I have no doubt those books are a great source of wisdom... though I must ask have you found any use for Dragons fire?" Jon asked, glancing at the brazier, and Lord Elrond sighed.
"Only that fire is a source of magic capable of enriching the abilities of those who use it, granting them the ability to use magic even without possessing it naturally, similar to Rings of Power… Like this one," Lord Elrond said, revealing upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone.
Jon instantly recognised it from his first lessons from Lord Círdan; Vilya, one of the Rings wrought by Celebrimbor in Eregion, also called the Sapphire Ring, the Air Ring or the Blue Ring. Vilya is the mightiest of the Three Rings of the Elves, originally given to King Gil-galad, but it seems the great King thought his herald the worthier wielder.
"Vilya, the Ring of Air, one of the Three Rings… And, like the other two, it has the power to prevent decay through the effect of time and postpone the weariness of the world, although the time has not come to use it," Elrond said wearily as if the mere fact of possessing such an artefact was exhausting.
"The bearers of the Three Rings are in Rivendell…." Jon acknowledged with fear if Sauron knew of their location, all would be lost.
"Do not allow fear into your heart, Jon; although your fears are reasonable, Sauron still can't attack us here; we'll be safe," Elrond said quickly, stowing his ring away.
"My Lord has entrusted me with a great secret, and I will not break that trust… I swear on my honour," Jon said, bowing and Elrond nodded with a smile.
"I know, I trust you, my distant kin; that is why I revealed Vilya to you... Now, back to your question regarding dragon fire... It certainly burns truer than common flame; I haven't dared to bring my ring nearer, also although I can clearly perceive the magic emanating from those flames, I cannot control it without suffering hurt myself as I do not possess the Valyrian magic that makes you and Princess Daenerys immune to fire" said the Lord of Imladris revealing his right arm where Jon could see to his horror an almost completely healed burn.
"Nevertheless, using all my willpower to ignore the heat of the flames, I managed on one occasion to use a bit of your dragon's fire to enhance my foresight... They became more powerful, even greater than Círdan's own, though that was a mere pittance; I haven't used Dragon fire since then, nor do I think I will ever do so except out of fierce need as it seems as if the Most High deemed your kin the only ones worthy of taming Dragons" Lord Elrond said sadly as if the mere memory hurt him.
"I understand, my Lord, I understand better than you imagine… It will be better to change the subject," Jon said with a sad smile, and Lord Elrond nodded.
"Or I have a better idea; let's join the others in the dining room, I'm famished, and I'm sure you are too," The Lord of Imladris said kindly, and Jon nodded.
The talk of Lòmerocco, Vilya, and Vhagar's fire had made Jon forget how hungry he was, and he followed Elrond through the halls and gardens again.
"Jon, I have a request… though I beg your pardon as it is one that might seem foolish," The son Eärendil said with some embarrassment.
"Yes?" Jon wondered curiously at the expression on the usually serene and impassive face of the Lord of Imladris.
"The silver crown Lady Galadriel wears is one of your creations, is it not?" Lord Elrond asked, and Jon nodded.
"Well, my wife Celebrían has been completely enchanted by your work and has begged me to beg a silver crown similar to her mother's…." Lord Elrond said, his countenance reddening in embarrassment.
"It will be a pleasure, my Lord, to forge a crown for your wife, although I hope that this will not arouse the ire of your Artisans according to Lady Galadriel, she, nor my beloved, have requested your artisans to make jewellery for them in a long time." Jon said with a smile while Lord Elrond smiled amused.
"We'll see Jon because I'm afraid my blacksmiths enjoy indulging Celebrían's whims…." Lord Elrond said as Jon sighed as they both walked towards the dining room, with Jon eager to taste Lalwen's delicious strawberry tarts.
His beloved sunflower would never pass up an opportunity to spend time with him, and if she hasn't seen him since they arrived in Imladris, Jon is sure it's because Lalwen is preparing a surprise for him.
------------------------
Westeros (Winterfell)
In her life, Val had heard some things about Winterfell, and although she did not always pay attention to them, sometimes her curiosity was triggered, and she discreetly listened to the stories of the few explorers who returned to their homes, the last of which was Mance himself.
Stories are one thing but seeing it with your own eyes… Val could hardly believe that something like this could be built by human hands, and seeing the Castle and the town outside of it, she felt bitter envy against those kneelers while her people barely had what was necessary to subsist and even had to dig holes sometimes to keep out the cold while the luckier ones had flimsy wooden houses that gave no real warmth,
the southerners lived comfortably in stone houses.
'Although now I have a chance to live better even if I have to put up with the kneelers and their customs, and that's something considering that I almost killed some crows when I was trying to escape from the Wall, ' Val thought bitterly resigned as she listened to her nephew wail loudly.
It was night, and heavy snowfall in Wintertown turned the landscape into a frozen wasteland, albeit a pretty one compared to those North of the Wall; luckily, she and some of her people were under a stone roof with fires keeping away the cold, all while Val was currently cradling her nephew hoping to soothe his sadness.
Her beloved sister Dalla had died a few days ago… exhaustion due to childbirth as she was called by the one they called Maester, a chubby man and somewhat cowardly, however intelligent, so Val could not help but accept that he was right.
Dalla's labour began just as her army was defeated by a now-dead Southern King if what she heard was right.
One night after they had been allowed passage over the Wall, they were taken to the Castle of Winterfell; whether to die or accept servitude, they had a little inkling, but there was little they could do.
Once there, believing they had power over their people, they were taken inside the Castle, where they walked through the vast corridors. She was enamoured of the place, noticing how the Castle seemed to be hot even without fire; however, she and Dalla came to a hall where there were many fierce-looking men, at first, they looked at them with revulsion and anger, but then they looked at her with lust and desire, something she was used to.
However, she was surprised when she realised that the one who directed all those men was apparently Benjen Stark's little nephew, a boy named Rickon, although he did not look like him because the little brat had a sullen appearance and was also red-haired according to what had been said. She found out that he had an older brother who was a cripple; although many on the Wall claimed that he was some sorcerer, Val did not have time to think about it anymore because he discovered that a red-haired and haughty woman was the one who really ruled there, the mother of the child or as Val was forced to call her… Lady Catelyn Stark, Dowager Lady of Winterfell.
But by the Old Gods, Val hated that cocky, pushy bitch…
From the first moment, that despicable red-haired witch treated them both like rubbish with the excuse that they should be thankful they weren't locked in a dungeon or executed. Finally, however, they reached an agreement where their people could settle on the outskirts of Winterfell, occupying the mostly deserted town in exchange for serving as guards for the North, almost abandoned by its wars and working the land till Spring came.
So hungry, tired, and with their best fighters on the Wall, they all agreed to the terms, hoping to start a new life away from whatever had wiped out the Others.
Sometimes Val and her friend Ygritte were taken to the Castle where they could watch various soldiers train, such as a supposed Knight with golden hair who had but one hand and from what Val and Ygritte had seen, he was not doing well as the other soldiers laughed at him whenever he missed, or the sword fell from his hand.
Another of the soldiers training was a skinny boy with fine, straight hair and a thin neck who sometimes trained Benjen Stark's nephew by practising with a stick, always under the watchful eye of the largest woman Val had ever seen.
The kneelers called her Brienne of Tarth, and she was so muscular and stocky that even some of the Free Folk youths who went with them tried to steal her many times to found a new clan. Still, the woman was mighty and killed or castrated any foolhardy enough to try claiming her, but all that only made her more desirable as they all wished for children as strong and sturdy as her, and when she discovered their intentions, Brienne was half furious, half embarrassed, much to their amusement.
But among all the men of the Free Town, none wanted her more than the idiot Tormund Giantsbane who looked at her with undisguised lust when he saw her train with the soldiers or she went out to the Town alone to later tell others about a night in the village tavern she stared back at him, swearing that the Old Gods had punished stupidity in failing to recognise what a great treasure Brienne was for the mighty children she could sire.
While thinking about all that, her nephew finally calmed down and fell asleep when Val laid him down and covered the little bundle with warm sheets.
'At least he still has his father', Val thought, saddened to remember her sister's death.
Yes, Mance Rayder, the King Beyond the Wall, was still alive; she and Dalla had mourned Mance's death when they saw him burn by order of the one whom the Kneelers called King, but seemingly the witch The red that accompanied him and her god of fire had their own purposes, and although they did not know what they were, they involved Mance.
And although she distrusts the red witch, Val had to admit that this is a good magic trick to make Mance appear as Rattleshirt, unfortunately, it did not serve to give her sister joy since Mance cannot reveal himself to others for fear of being discovered, her people were many things, but tight-lipped was not among them.
But despite all this. Val had her family, and she had never been happier until Dalla perished of fever; Mance succumbed to grief, often spending his time hunting, or drowning his sorrows in ale. Val does not blame him for hiding his pain, but if he continues like this, sooner or later, they will find out who he really is, and Mance will be killed, leaving her and her nephew alone in the world.
At that moment, the door burst open, and a blizzard entered, extinguishing the little fire that Val had managed to light; at first, she thought it was Mance, but then she realised that he was much shorter and had a shock of red hair.
"Ygritte…" Val growled angrily, covering her nephew with her body as her friend closed the door.
"Damn… I'm finally done with my job tending the stables in that damn Castle…." Ygritte cursed, and Val glared.
"I'm warning you if he wakes up, you'll take care of him..." Val threatened with a frown, and Ygritte glared at the small bundle.
"Fine, I'll keep my voice down..." Ygritte promised, averting her gaze.
"What are you doing here?" Val asked, stoking the fire, hoping the embers would roar to life again.
"I came to see how you were… Ever since your sister died, you've been alone," she said gently though Val glowered at her.
'I have a warm home, and it's not that hard to find food on this side of the Wall... I've even started to learn how to read and write thanks to the Maester," Val said, and Ygritte snorted.
"What?" Val asked, annoyed by her friend's mockery.
"Nothing, just now, you almost look like a Southern Lady…." The red-headed idiot said, and Val sighed.
"I just want to have the best possible life. I don't want to be one of those ridiculous Ladies in dresses", Val growled, looking at his sister's son.
"I know... I merely jape, I had a terrible day; I heard that the damn red-haired witch and her son are returning from the South today and the Kneelers are in a panic to make everything ready, it's not what I expected when I decided to come here" said Ygritte furious to work for others.
"I don't know, we have stone houses with fire and food, that's enough... So, for now, I have no intention of kneeling before anyone, but our people are weary, hungry and our best fighters are on the Wall..." Val said matter-of-factly, sitting down on a chair.
"For me, they can stay there, like Sixskins. I still remember that he wanted to tame us like his beasts..." Ygritte said with rancour, and Val growled at the twisted lustful man.
"That's true, but we are more vulnerable too... So, we must be careful and learn about the kneelers' lands," Val said, and Ygritte laughed.
"You sound like Mance..." The redhead acknowledged, and Val laughed too before hitting her on the head.
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A month after that talk, Val was finishing gathering firewood one morning for his home when he could see in the distance a pile of rags with many emblems and men on horseback approaching.
"Banners?" Val wondered, confused as she remembered what kneelers call those rags and realised that the bloody red-haired witch Catelyn Stark must have returned to the North.
"Great... My peace is over," Val cursed, returning to her tiny house.
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She was not mistaken; when all the knights arrived at the gates of Winterfell, Val and others from the Free Folk came to see what caused all the commotion.
And they weren't wrong because when that red-haired woman came out of her… Caravan? With the help of Brienne of Tarth, they dragged down another woman, only this one was in chains.
She was a woman with black hair, somewhat thin, mature and quite pretty because men already looked at her like a piece of meat that they wanted to sink their teeth into.
"Get on the ground, you damn whore..." Catelyn Stark bellowed before hitting the chained woman again, causing her to fall to the ground and covering her with mud, Catelyn looked at the crowd as if she were looking for her, and indeed it was so because upon seeing her, the red-headed bitch nodded in acknowledgement.
"Well, you're here..." Catelyn Stark said, looking at Val with hatred that, for the first time, she felt fearful though it seemed that the hatred was not meant for her; rather, the woman clapped in irons.
It was for the woman on the ground…
"Pick her up…." Catelyn barked once more before striking the woman across the face so hard it split her lip.
"Look, look at your new home, surrounded by savages… When Lord Tyrion told me about your participation in the Red Wedding, I understood why your brother was sent to the Wall, and I thought of keeping you in Winterfell in a dungeon with Walder Frey… But no, you don't deserve to even set foot in the halls of my son, the son you helped kill... Damn, ungrateful and treacherous snake, so I thought and thought, killing you is out of the question... You don't deserve the relief of death. But then, I remembered how they told me you were proud, arrogant and eager for riches and power... That's when I understood your punishment... Your punishment will be degradation..." Catelyn Stark said, looking at her with a sick smile.
"What?... What do you mean?" The fearful woman quivered.
"SILENCE WHORE!" Catelyn Stark yelled, now searching Val with her eyes.
"You! Wildling Princess, come here!" Catelyn barked, and Val was vexed, although it was more out of curiousness than fear.
"For the last time… Lady Catelyn, I am not a Princess,' Val said, peeved that she was mistaken for one of those insipid and silly women.
"That doesn't matter... I bring a gift to your people..." Catelyn Stark said, looking with pleasure as the woman's face filled with terror.
"Gift?... Don't make me laugh, that woman is very skinny, and her fingers are delicate, clearly, she never works, and she's already a little older... At most, she will only give birth to one or two children." Tormund laughed, walking towards them with a mug of ale and looking at the chained woman who was now gasping in horror.
"Maybe, maybe not... You will find out... I imagine that the prostitutes who decided to come here with you have been to your liking," Catelyn Stark said with disgust looking at the men to feel and laugh.
"What do you suggest?" Val asked curiously.
"Tell the whores that they have a new partner... A noblewoman, Sybil Spicer or Westerling, tell them that she will bring them great profits, but they should not give her any tea to prevent pregnancy," Catelyn Stark laughed as the women's face turned to one of horror.
"NO!... MERCY! MERCY!" The woman screamed, but Catelyn Stark hit her again.
"Did you have mercy on my son? You dirty traitor bitch… My son turned your daughter into a Queen, raising the precarious position of your miserable House… And you and your disgusting brother conspired to kill him when you should have kissed his feet for sparing you," Catelyn Stark said, spitting in her face.
"I did what I did for my family… Haven't you done something for yours? … You know what's wrong, but you know what's best?… Your son didn't stand a chance against Lord Tywin from the start, and you know… He put the pieces of his fall in order; my brother and I just ensured that my daughter Jeyne didn't bear him a child." The woman said, crying.
"But you knew what was going to happen, and you let us go to the Twins; you are as guilty as everyone else, but for your ingratitude, your punishment will be worse… So now you will live among the Wildlings as a broodmare… I was going to send you to the whores of Mole's town so that you were close to your brother Rolp, but that would have been counterproductive since both could conspire together again… So, you will stay here, devoid of your title and last name… You are just one more bitch" Catelyn said, getting into the caravan again.
"Damn you!... I HOPE YOUR SON BURNS IN THE SEVEN HELLS!... Since you escaped from them, I discovered you died in Walder Frey's house, witch... A demon brought you back to cause more pain and misery," Said that woman spitting blood at the caravan, and Catelyn knelt and looked at the woman with sickening joy like a lion playing with its kill.
"You are not mistaken… I was brought back to avenge my husband, son and daughters as well as to protect the two I have left and take revenge against you who brought us suffering… So, enjoy your new life as a whore and broodmare of the savages… I hope you are a better mother to them than to your daughter Jeyne" Catelyn Stark said with a sick smile as the chained woman was dragged away by free men.
"Let me go, animals!... Let me go! Don't you dare touch me!" Sybil screamed in rage.
"Now she's yours... Make her behave as you want, but I don't want her to die soon, to live a long-life bitching and giving birth," Catelyn Stark said, looking Val in the eyes, and after that, she returned to her caravan, and the doors of Winterfell opened allowing the procession to enter.
"What do we do with her?" Tormund asked, taking a sip from ale and watching the men fight for the right to "taste the woman.
"Don't ask me; I'm not interested... But they should do something with her, or those idiots will kill each other, and it's better not to let that woman escape if we don't have Catelyn Stark here yelling at us," Val said, returning home, listening as Tormund does his best to keep the rabble in line as they each wish to sample the southern fruit.
Notes:
Thanks to great_red