A/N
This is just a quick little thing I wrote up because somehow Groot and Hodor having to meet came into my mind.
Beyond the Wall.
Hodor's breaths came out frantic and thick in wispy puffs as keening howls echoed in the deathly stillness of the winter air.
Above the stars did not exist. Instead a turgid shroud of blackness that made his skin crawl every time he glanced upwards, fear spurring him to continue on, fragmented memories of Old Nan's tales chilling his simple mind.
The giant lumbered through the cold night, his heavy-footfalls sinking deeply into the ever thickening pale drifts that stretched in every direction, without end, with the long dead skeletons of a forest stretching upwards as if they were the yearning bones of a giant from beyond the Wall.
The cruel chill of the wind seeped through his patch-work and tattered fur coats, landing deathly kisses on his body that threatened to slow him down even further.
His piglike eyes were focused solely on the scant footsteps he took, each one marking a breath that rushed cold air into his throat, hurting him.
The wind picked up with a sharp howl, buffeting him from behind with such force that it almost managed to lift him from the snow. He toppled forwards, too drained and too cold to even fell the hardness of the snow against his face, scraping his cherry red cheeks and leaving a numbness.
He breathed in through his mouth, trying to hold onto the stark grey halls that he loved so much.
Hodor's desperate grasps on the halls of Winterfell allowed strength to surge through his tired limbs with a great burst. He pushed off from the snow, stumbling to his feet and continuing on.
But the wind was too powerful. The air too deathly. The night too dark for his strength to last.
The giant collapsed at the base of one of the trees, his mouth opening and closing as he mumbled the only word he knew without end, in between great raw gasps of air.
The tree itself was odd compared to the other skeletons of the forest. It's bark had a strange sheen to it, covering the trunk in a series of thick plates. The top of its trunk ended bizarrely, in a large chunk of wood that was separated by a thin section of twisted roots.
It was then that two cuts in the wood on the 'head' of the tree creaked open.
The creaking wood made Hodor open his eyes, looking upwards to see a wooden face looking down at him, its eyes black and deep.
It tilted its head with the sound of branches rattling in the wind.
Hodor yelped, scrambling on his hands and knees out from the shadow of what was a leafless tree.
He remembered Old Nan's tales of the Long Night and its nightmarish creatures, and the pictures Bran drew of them for him whilst shuttered in the Great Keep during a dreary day.
His breaths quickened as the tree giant uncurled two twisted lengths of thick roots from its trunk, looming over him with a curious expression.
It was silent, and Hodor was silent.
The wind picked up again, forcing a shudder through Hodor's gigantic frame as he drew his tattered fur cloak tighter around his shoulders, the sight of a living tree forgotten in face of the cold.
His breaths left stabs of pain in his chest as he lost feeling in his fingers. The tree giant tilted its head and frowned.
It's broad chest lifted and rose, creaking as the roots contracted and expanded as it closed its black eyes.
A second later, before Hodor's eyes, a single dot of light rushed out of a crack on the tree giant's shoulder.
Hodor saw that it was a little creature, buzzing away as it shot about in the cold air. More and more of the little flying lights rushed out of every crevice and gap in the tree giant's body, filling it with a yellow glow as it opened its eyes and smiled at Hodor.
Hodors breathing stilled as he stared at the tree giant, feeling the warmth provided by the fireflies.
The glow of the warm little flies suffused the cold air with a shining golden brilliance, casting the snowdrifts in a pale yellow sheen.
The tree giant gave a single nod, a gentle rumbling moving through its roots.
Cautiously Hodor began to crawl forwards, taking deep breaths of the warming air. Hodor tipped his head back against the smooth bark plates of the tree-giant's chest.
He dreamed of warmth. Of laughter bouncing about in the dreary grey halls of the Great Keep. He dreamed of wolf pups. And hoped they were safe and happy in this world.
Meanwhile, Groot dreamed of the stars.