The darkness of the night soon melted into softer blues and the near silence of the woodlands, excluding the heavy snoring of the fat boy that threatened 'Arry, was just now being broken by birdsong and with the sounds of the earliest rising merchants upon the Kingsroad. Gendry stared into the branches above him; it was just light enough for him to watch as their shape and form changed in the gentle morning breeze, but still too dark to pick out any details. How in seven hells am I going to survive the Wall if I'm too bloody cold here, he thought to himself with a shiver. He was a blacksmith through and through: he loved the heat of the roaring fires in the armoury and the clear ring and sizzle of his steel when he beat it with his hammer or dropped it into water to temper it. Out here, in the middle of woods, it was too cold and too quiet.
What did I do wrong? Gendry muttered to himself as he thought back to the events that brought him to this point. Two Hands of the King had visited him, him specifically, and within a few weeks they had both died, that can't be chance could it? He was just some bastard from Fleabottom he knew that, but what could they have wanted from him? He remembered as Lord Stark leant close to him, studied him and then made a face that he would have sworn was one of recognition – what was it Lord Stark had seen in him? Nothing, Gendry sighed, I'm just a bastard boy who wants to feel special – Lord Arryn died of fever, probably because he was so old, and Lord Stark betrayed the crown, neither death was to do with me. I wasn't even enough for my own Master to want to keep me. He didn't understand why Tobho Mott, a man who'd sung nothing but the boys praises and had raised him for nearly 10 years, would just send him away. What did I do wrong?
His thoughts were broken by an almost noiseless whimpering nearby, coming from the thin bundle of furs that belonged to 'Arry. Gendry thought him most peculiar, his voice hadn't broken and his features were still soft and round compared to the rest of the men – he was more like a girl than a boy, and if he doesn't stop crying, he won't get through this. Gendry had already woken the boy twice when he started thrashing about in his sleep: the second time the boy had lashed out and caught him on the mouth drawing blood. 'Arry was a truly horrifying sight, there was a horror in those sunk back grey eyes, a horror he hadn't seen in anyone else's; an anger that blazed hotter than wildfire. Whoever this boy is, whatever he's seen, may the gods help him, Gendry thought, returning to trying and picking out the branches above him from the night sky, because I can't.
By the time Yoren called out in his gruff angry voice for them to get up the darker blues had given way to light blues in the sky and before long Gendry could see the greens of the trees and the first tinges of the orange of the dawn. Truth be told, Gendry was happy to get walking again – even if he ached from the uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, something I had better get used to. After an uninspired breakfast of stale bread and a few swigs of water they had gathered from the local stream, Gendry took a quick piss before returning to the column to search for 'Arry. The camping ground was a mass of activity, the fat boy and his scrawny friend were fetching water from the river, others were loading carriages with the furs and more still were using the stream to wash the worst of the mud from their bodies.
He eventually caught sight of 'Arry returning from the woods – his face was pale and grey with dark circles formed under his bloodshot eyes; the water that he went on to splash on his cheeks did very little to hide his obvious fatigue. Gendry couldn't help but pity him; whatever this boy was going through was tearing him apart, there was a weight above him pushing him down. The sight of this boy made Gendry's own worries seem far less important and it was only after a few moments that he realised 'Arry was staring back at him.
"How'd you sleep?" Gendry blurted, eager to break the awkward silence but regretting his choice of words as the boy winced in reply, "that bad huh?"
The boy nodded slowly, his mind clearly somewhere else before his grey eyes focussed on Gendry's blue ones and he said quietly, "thank you… for-"
Gendry shook his head in response, "T'was nothing," before shooting the boy a slight smile and then, after another awkward pause, looking forward and saying "it's too bloody cold."
'Arry smiled back and for a brief moment Gendry thought something strange about the boy, his features were not that of a boy's at all, but the moment was gone as soon as it had come when the boy's face dropped back to that grim expression it seemed to be most comfortable wearing. Gendry stepped down to the stream and stripped off first his blacksmith's tunic and then his small clothes; he washed his own face, wiping the grime from under his eyes and attempting to wake himself up before quickly running the water over his armpits and around his groin; making a vague effort to tidy himself up before the day's walking began. He only noticed 'Arry still watching him after he had put his clothes back on and, if he had not looked so grey, would have sworn the boy had flushed crimson.
It then became clear 'Arry wasn't looking at Gendry at all, but rather behind him – the red flush seeming to be one of anger. The fat boy was walking towards 'Arry flanked by his scrawny blonde friend, Gendry took a deep breath as he saw 'Arry's hand fly instinctively to the handle of her sword, Gendry remembered that he'd said the sword was a gift, the familiarity with which she handled the blade did suggest perhaps she hadn't stolen it, or maybe she'd stolen it a long while ago. Either way he walked towards 'Arry's side, leaving the fat boy in no illusion as to where he stood. 'Arry shot him a thankful glance as he stood beside her and they waited for the two other boys to approach.
"I'm sorry," the fat boy said as he walked over to the two of them, slightly out of breath, "I was… I was out of line yesterday, you were right I'm not a fighter – I'm a baker, or I was anyway… the name's Hot Pie, well it's not, but that's what they used to call me, and I quite like it" he said, nervously trailing off before extending a grubby hand towards 'Arry, "truce?"
There was a silence between the two groups and when neither 'Arry nor Gendry made a move to shake the boy's hand he withdrew it sheepishly before turning towards his thin friend with the flowing golden curls. "This is Lommy, Lommy Greenhands."
"I'm sorry too," Lommy said, looking first to 'Arry and then up to Gendry, "I didn't mean any disrespect."
Gendry looked at them, and then to 'Arry, relaxing a little as he saw the boy drop his grip from the pommel of his sword. "I'm 'Arry," he heard the boy say before 'Arry gestured towards him, "this is Gendry, he was an armourer's apprentice." That was all that needed to be said and the two boys went back to gathering water further upstream, 'Arry sighed a breath of relief and looked towards Gendry, shooting him a quick grin.
Once they were back on the road, they walked a while in silence, this time it was not awkward, it was the type that two companions, old friends, would walk in – both mutually appreciative of the company. It was difficult to find things to talk about – 'Arry seemed desperate not to talk about his past to Gendry and Gendry wasn't rushing to say any more about his old life as a Blacksmith's apprentice – there wasn't exactly much left to tell. He settled on asking her about the sword she carried.
"They say all the best swords have names," he said after a while.
"It's called Needle," 'Arry replied with a hint of sadness and hint of pride in his voice.
"Well that certainly fits," he smiled, "but do you know the first thing about real combat?"
"Stick them with the pointy end," 'Arry replied, drawing the sword and performing a surprisingly good thrust into the air.
Gendry laughed to himself, the slight boy he walked with probably knew more about swords than half the men who had bought ceremonial armour from him back in Fleabottom. "That is the essence of it, I guess," he replied but was surprised to see his comment met with silence, when he turned to look at the boy he had a furrowed brow as though he was remembering something, caught in the same troubled horror he had seen on 'Arry's face the night before.
They spent the next couple of hours in silence with 'Arry walking in front of Gendry, he watched the boy wondering what it was that he was remembering, what was haunting him. Figures, Gendry thought to himself exasperated, all the recruits I could have befriended and I get him. 'Arry was strange, that much was clear, most of the people around him were strange, but 'Arry in particular seemed to be hiding something more important. He remembered the boys grey eyes, how they burned with anger and hatred, how they were full of darkness and the promise of death, how they had seemed somehow familiar. The whimpering, crying boy was only a part of 'Arry, the subconscious part that rose only as he slept, the steely, hardened and fiery part now walked just a few feet in front of him with a will of iron. He caught himself being caught watching the way 'Arry walked, drawn in by the roll of the youth's hips, seven hells.
Lunch was a dull affair; stale bread with stale cheese and water from another nearby stream, Gendry figured that he'd just have to get used to this and that it probably wouldn't seem too bad after a while. It was only after he'd finished that he realised 'Arry had disappeared again, same as before breakfast, he scanned the treeline for him, even checking further down the column to make sure he hadn't gone and eaten with other people but the fat boy and Lommy were on their own, seeming slightly too jovial, and 'Arry was nowhere to be seen. He was just considering asking Yoren when the boy popped back into view from behind a nearby tree adjusting his belt.
"You shouldn't wander so far off," he joked, "they execute deserters you know."
"Only after you've sworn your oaths," 'Arry shot back.
He couldn't place it, something was off; something was different and yet familiar about 'Arry. He looked at the youth from top to bottom, noting that the boy wore breeches that were too big for him, had short roughly cut dark brown head of thick matted hair and yet, despite seeming old enough to be able to grow some, had no facial hair at all. He looked past the age where his voice should have broken and whilst some boys did have a softness to their features, Gendry remembered hearing about listening to stories about some of the Lords in Kings Landing and the young boys they hired, 'Arry's features were less soft and more elegant, though admittedly that could just have been how gaunt the boy looked… that wasn't what it was… perhaps it was the eyes? He felt like he recognised those grey piercing eyes from somewhere, but where from? He watched the boy's hair as parts of it fell over his ears while others were cut short enough that the skin underneath could be seen – there was quite a stark contrast between the tanned skin of her face and the bright white skin at the back of her neck, the boy used to have longer hair. He kept watching, thinking about the way the boy spoke, the words he chose and the way he had walked and sat against the rocks. What kind of a boy would name his sword after a sewing instrument? His eyes travelled across 'Arry's face, along the small of his neck and down across the youth's chest before being drawn yet further down to the boy's curved legs, too curved.
Seven Hells!
It dawned on him.
'Arry was a girl.