Brienne did not like horses, actually. Armor, it made her feel protected. It hid her ungainly body from herself and others. A sword, it gave her power and control. The damage it could do, while she never relished it the way a sadist would, did seem to deaden a hurting and insecure thing inside her.
These parts of being a warrior, and others, Brienne found a comfort. A horse, on the other hand, she found to be a discomfort. It made her more aware of those things about herself she did not want to be aware of. Her size, taller than most men, a horse made her even taller, and she could not help feeling she was a greater burden to the creature than a smaller man. Her lack of charisma, even beasts seemed not to respond well to her awkwardness. Her dependence on those who did not care for her.
Lately, she had to face the uncaring of others more than ever before, first with Renly, then Catelyn, then Jaime. It was not that they did not value her, more that they had no warmth for her. Hell, any value they ascribed to her was unwarranted anyway. Renly dead. Catelyn dead with children unreturned. Jaime maimed.
Brienne sighed. This horse was hungry and tired. Probably she would have to abandon it or watch it die between her legs. She looked over to Podrick on his horse. Somehow his horse's situation did not seem to be as dire.
Brienne felt some kinship with the boy. They were both socially inept. But the longer she knew him, the more this feeling of kinship faded.
Podrick was shy, bashful the way an inexperienced child could be. Brienne, on the other hand, was not bashful, only her every word and action was met by disdain, like a monster being in turns feared and derided by the smallfolk. This had made her self-conscious and anxious about social situations, but this is not exactly the same thing as shyness.
Also, Podrick was good with horses, good with people even, in his way. He had gotten on well with Jaime's brother, Tyrion. He had met Sansa and, from what Brienne could glean, made her feel unthreatened by him despite his relation to the king's justice Illyn Payne and his association with the Lannisters.
Brienne wanted to say something, something that would make her and Podrick feel close, the way she had sometimes felt close to Jaime, when they were journeying together. See, it was even affecting her, this way Podrick had of drawing people in with his vulnerability.
What brought Jaime and her together?
"Podrick, have you any skill with that sword?" Brienne halted her poor horse. (Maybe she was imagining it was more exhausted than it was? How does one tell when a horse is tired? The animal, like all emotional creatures, was mainly a closed book to Brienne.)
Podrick looked at first surprised by Brienne's question, or possibly even surprised by her having spoken to him. He actually seemed to have started to look around to see who else she might have spoken to.
"Ser Aron trained me a little. I don't know that I'm very good, really." Podrick did not know why he did not tell about the things he experienced in the Battle of Blackwater. On some level he still did not feel as if it happened to him, or as if he had done anything besides try really hard not to die and barely succeed.
Brienne dismounted and gestured to Pod to do the same. The boy shyly yet deftly climbed off his horse. He stood there uncertainly, looking alternately at Brienne's torso and his own feet.
"Well, draw your sword then," Brienne prompted. Yes, they were very different, she and Podrick. Brienne, even at his age, could always do a thing. Expressing herself, making people act toward her the way she would like, these things did not come easily to her. They did not come to her at all.
Podrick drew his sword and held it in front of him in something approximating an appropriate stance. His limbs shook, like the position was an awkward and unfamiliar exertion to him. Plus, he was just scared. He could not help but be scared of the large, dangerous woman. He thought of the fearless, clever Tyrion and wondered what he would be saying and doing in Podrick's place.
Brienne hesitated and did not draw her sword. Even though she was not good at reading emotions, and she was unaccustomed to finding any emotion directed toward her besides disdain, as a warrior she was sensitive to signs of weakness and fear. She walked toward Podrick.
Even with sword sheathed, her approach frightened him even more. Podrick somehow felt more afraid now than he ever had in his life. He felt more afraid even than he had at Blackwater. That had happened so fast, and with such chaos that he did not have the time or wherewithal to think or feel. Here, it seemed like time was unmoving. It seemed like he felt hyper-present.
A woman and a violent aggressor, in one person, was coming toward him. He began hyperventilating. His heart pounded. He felt faint. He was maybe crying. His sword fell. He fell.
Brienne was holding him up. Strange, she was aware she had not held anyone except in aggression, in . . . her entire life? Could that be right? What to do now?
Still, battle was the only social interaction she did not find alien, the only social interaction that did not seem to flee her grasp like fruit from the reach of Tarthalus of legend. Slowly she drew her sword.
Podrick gasped. He should reach down and get his sword. She was still trying to sword fight him for some reason. Where was that rush of action that he had been swept up in at Blackwater? Why was he now so helpless? Surely she would not actually hurt him. Her arm under his was almost gentle. Wasn't it? Her movements were so slow and calm. She placed the hilt of her sword in Pod's hand, and she gripped his hand with hers.
Hand firmly on his hand, keeping Oathkeeper held upright, Brienne stepped around to Podrick's back. She moved her other arm to the outside of Pod's left arm, and guided his left hand to the hilt. The boy still seemed fearful, and now confused too. Brienne thought she should say something, something so there would be a thing in the boy's head besides this panic.
"When I was about your age, I met a man I was engaged to be married to." Brienne started uncertainly. Why this? What did it have to do with anything? It just came into her head because Podrick was the age she was when it happened. She should have told him about Jaime, at least Podrick would have some interest in that, having spent so much time with Jaime's brother.
As the woman spoke, she guided Podrick's body into a stance that felt to Podrick sturdy and right. He was immovable and yet coiled to spring in any number of directions. Her voice was strange when she spoke.
"I had already been rejected once. Well, I was rejected many times by many people. But I was already rejected once by a would be husband." Brienne stepped firmly on Podrick's right foot and swung the sword in his hands in a wide, clean arc, that seemed to originate from his right heel and travel up through his body and through the blade. "This one I did not have hope for either. He would reject me like everyone else. I knew."
Brienne was silent, thinking, while her body worked to drive Podrick's body through the motion of the swing into the position of greatest potential, ready to defend or attack again. Again she wondered what was the point in telling him this. She felt embarrassed.
"There was a speech I was supposed to recite. I mean, a thing I was supposed to say," Brienne said from somewhere far away as Podrick continued to spar with an imaginary foe. He realized he was not afraid now, but he did not know when the fear had left him. It felt good, to move like a warrior, and it felt good to be guided by Brienne's strong presence. Like a parent. Like a father and a mother in one. "It wasn't anything as official as a speech, but it was the sort of thing ladies are supposed to say to men proposing marriage. Someone had written it down for me because I was so hopeless with matters of etiquette."
She noticed as she gently held and moved Podrick's body that she felt, what was it, less burdened than usual. She felt less that the only thing that could give her life meaning was to die for some cause. Even with Jaime, talking late in the evening like companions, she had still felt barred from human warmth and closeness. Here, she supposed, she had kind of taken him against his will, but wasn't Podrick allowing her to be close to him, to feel his warmth?
"It was something to do. It made sense at least. Memorize a series of words. Recite them well. I could complete this task." Now Brienne's motions were completely unthinking, guided by warrior's instinct, training, and muscle memory. Podrick felt as if he were initiating the maneuvers himself, as if her were leading and Brienne's tender body more like a protective spirit than a forceful man driving a horse in front of a wagon.
"He rejected you, but it wasn't your fault. You did everything that was asked of you," Podrick said in a quiet, clear voice, matching Brienne's cadence the way one sometimes does when engaged closely with another person. He did feel close to her, in a way that he was not close even to Lord Tyrion, who talked to him and mentored him but never knew him. Podrick knew Brienne now, though she was not like him. They were the hilt and blade of the same sword, or a horse and its rider.
By making herself vulnerable to him, and hearing her next words from his mouth, Brienne felt like she knew Podrick the way she had never known anyone. Was it the feeling behind his words that were so revealing? She had the feeling he had never spoken to anyone so directly and boldly. Somehow she had said and done the right thing to care and receive care in return.