Through the din of the overflowing Great Hall, Lohgun barely heard the wolfish growl as he popped his claws. Snickt! Immediately a friendly hand snapped out to restrain one of his flexed forearms. Then suddenly William Dustin's cautioning hand shot into the air to deflect the trenchers, goblets, and silverware flying off the table the Greatjon had just kicked over in a violent fit part test, part tantrum, and part bully.
"Gods damn you, boy!" the Lord Umber roared, snatching out his great two handed sword as easily as a squire unsheathes his dagger.
Lohgun, the other lords feasting in Winterfell's Great Hall, and many of the nearby select bannermen; Umbers and Boltons, Cerwyns and Hornwoods, Tallharts and Glovers, surged to their feet, all instinctively grabbing for steel. The scent of adrenaline charged sweat filled Lohgun's nose and he felt the slim barrier separating the Lord of Tumbledown Tower from the Badger start to dissolve. Still, a calm part of Lohgun's mind watched young Robb hardly stir at the whirlwind of violence threatening to encompass him, but simply murmur a command to his new constant companion. And in a blink Grey Wind bowled the Greatjon on to his back, leaving the hulk of a man weaponless and shy a few fingers.
The stunning reversal to Lord Umber's outburst silenced the tension filled hall so quickly that Robb's subsequent words, pitched so softly you'd almost think Roose Bolton was speaking, easily carried over every table and even up to the rafters. "My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord, but doubtless Lord Umber you only meant to cut my meat."
A few nervous chortles filled the air at their Lord's heir's witty words, while all watched to see how the bull chested man would react as he rolled to his feet, sucking at two bloody stumps protruding from his left hand. The whole time the Greatjon kept one eye on Grey Wind, who now sat placidly, licking the remnants of a sausage sized meal off his muzzle, and the other eye on the calm, commanding face of the current Stark in Winterfell. The hint of a smile started to show at the edges of the Greatjon's pursed, sucking mouth and then to everyone's surprise the huge man removed the gory stubs to bellow in a laughing voice, "Your meat is bloody tough!"
The sparse sound of anxious titters was quickly blown away as the entire Great Hall resounded to peels of merriment at the Greatjon's predicament and jolly acceptance of having his challenge to Robb's authority slapped down so neatly and painfully. The men sat back down on the benches and calls promptly went out to the serving girls for more ale and mead. The Lord Umber somewhere found a mug still standing and lifted it high, near screaming, "The young wolf!" Echoes of the "The young wolf!" soon reverberated from throats not already guzzling Winterfell's liquid bounty.
"Just watch," William shouted in Lohgun's ear. "That great ox is gonna become Robb's greatest champion. Ned'd be proud."
"And Cat," Lohgun replied, causing the Lord of Barrowton to bob his head in agreement.
"The boy's shown balls calling the North, and big hairy ones at that. But how will he do once we march? There won't be any turning back then, will there?" William asked.
"He's a Stark. And why are asking me?" Lohgun growled back.
"Ah, you can take the Mad Badger south of the Wall, but he always stays wary," William snickered.
The Lord of Tumbledown Tower didn't answer, just stared hard at his friend.
The Lord of Barrowton returned a steady gaze until he finally snorted in exasperation at Lohgun's icy demeanor. "I've only been here two days, but I'm not blind. Who are the last two to leave Robb after any council? Who greets Robb before he's broken his fast? Who follows him around all day like a shadow? For all I know, who puts him to bed at night? Maester Luwin and you. So don't play the maiden with me, we've known each other and Ned too long. Tell me!"
Lohgun leaned close to William's ear. "He worries that no matter what we do, Ned'll get his head chopped."
"Tis true. And if we march, so might all of us, either in battle or if we lose then on the block," Lord Dustin said grimly.
"Luckily, he's too young and been busy playing the Stark at Winterfell, dealing with all you piss-ant lordlings, that he hasn't had time to think of it yet. But he will, he's clever enough and it'll scare him hard."
William Dustin slapped the Badger on the back. "That's why I sent my levies ahead to Moat Caillin and came here myself, to help the boy. Ned'd have expected it of us."
"Joy," saluted Lohgun.
"Joy," answered William with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
"Hodor," called out the giant man boy, gathering many an eye in the Great Hall to where Bran Stark sat uncomfortably at table. The simple servant picked Bran up, his slender legs dangling useless beneath his body, and placed the boy in the large wicker basket strapped to Hodor's thick chest.
"There's one I'd help if I could," said Lord Dustin, hiding the depth of his feelings behind his hard northern exterior.
Lohgun lifted a mug and took a large swallow of ale before answering, "So would I bub, so would I."