Chapter 4: Wandering Minds

"What? How could you possibly hear what I had said so far from here? Not in this wind is it possible." Jon then peers at her ears concluding these malformations must have some effect on her ability to hear. He picks up the gown from her bed and hands it to her, gazing at her long slender and bare arm. He has seen women naked, thanks to Theon - constantly urging him to lose his "maidenhood" as he would joke, but often he just had no urge to lose it to a woman so eager to give it up to a stranger. Here is a woman, at least she appears to be one, with a body unscathed by northern relentlessness. How old is she? How does she not even know what it means to be a crow? Are wildlings that stupid?

"I heard you say to Lady Stark you were to become a crow? Are you to be a wizard's apprentice? You are certainly not a druid, at least, you are too old to become one. What is this right of passage that takes you from your home and family?" Ilsenia takes the gown from Jon, turning away from him but also giving him the eye over her shoulder that he should do the same. For sometimes being labeled as a dolt, he catches her message clearly and turns away sheepishly. "Magic, there is no magic in all of Westeros, not for a thousand years, at least what Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane say. Though, I believe she says it with a darker turn on events to frighten Bran and Arya to stay in line". He chuckles to himself. He used to eat up the stories as much as Arya does now. Her arm reaches toward Jon and taps his shoulder to motion that she is dressed and ready to depart from the dwelling with him. After he brings food and materials, he often escorts her in the woods outside of Winterfell to collect more unique items to work with and additional herbs for her cooking. Mostly, he enjoyed whatever would aid in him getting away from the walls with the ability to brandish a sword in case of wildlings and poachers. As out of nowhere, Ghost appears at her doorstep awaiting her usual greeting and embraces.

The wind calms as they near the dense woods and the hum of leaves and branches invite them to wander in the moonlight. Ghost jumps through and under foliage, and over turned logs and debris. Jon's eyesight is fairly keen, with young and accustomed vision for staying outside all hours, but functioning only on moonlight makes it challenging to keep up with the woman and his own companion before him. Ilsenia senses his hesitant footsteps behind him as they deepen further into the wooded lands. With comfort of Jon's company, and reassurance she means not to run from him, Ilsenia pulls the cowl down from her cloak to reveal the gift her hair brings when moonlight shines upon it.

The radiance of the lunar globe dances upon Ilsenia's follicles. She sparkles with light and metallic flecks. Never has he seen such a celestial oddity in his entire life. Never had he even imagined in wildest dreams from the tales of old of such a creature as her. "Your hair," he stumbles to say, "what what is making it do that? What are you really? N-n-never have I seen such a thing in my life". Ilsenia chuckles, "your life? You have barely lived and from what I have gathered, it has existed the most of its time behind stone walls. Would you even entertain a single thing I would tell you of myself, my people, and where I come from?" Their footsteps continue to a quiet brook, the same brook Ghost was pulled from his dead mother to Jon's embrace. He offers his arm to her to help her down the steep ledge onto the earthen bank. With respect to his offer, though not needing it in the least, she takes his hand and walks to the bank and kneels to the water. There her clay vessel collects large volumes of fresh water that sings great energy of fortitude. As the container nears filling, she turns her head to Jon who continues to stare at her back, "I am an elf of Ithilien, an eastern kingdom of Gondor. My gifts come from my dark elf heritage and that of the nature and lands that surround me. The light of my hair has been passed down for generations, though my daughter's was more golden than silver." The utterance of her child as a past being brought her hands numb, almost letting loose the vessel into the stream. The sudden slip pulls her back to focus and she brings it to her side covering it. "I am not human, and I am fairly certain I am not what Maester Luwin theorizes as a child of the forest. However, a thousand years is time enough for humans to muddy the truth and distort history. As you have said, it has been used to scare children to order or lull them into dream at night." The conclusion of this last statement brought her eyes to wander upon the rocks dwelling deeper in the water. There her memories flowed of terrors she had lived and fought against, both material and abyssal. "Is it possible for me to gain more books and scrolls to read? Though they may seem like children's stories, I would surely appreciate educating myself of Westerosi traditions and folklore." Without bothering to insult Ilsenia with his inherent doubt of her ability to read, he nods and aids her collecting the roots from beneath the stones of the stream.

Morning

The thunder of the hunting party echoes far from the walls of Winterfell. The bastard returns the unwanted horse tackle, shovels the shit of the King's horse that waited ages for the fat man to mount the poor beast. The lines of Lannister hoofprints stare back at him in the mud to remind him of what money and a name can entitle you with. Time can not pass soon enough for Jon to depart from the scours of Lady Stark and the secretive praise of his father. It is time for him to be an equal and be a hero to the seven kingdoms. More time than naught he spends his time in the courtyard sparring with a dummy, near to the library. The request runs through his mind at that moment, 'perhaps I can borrow some more books to learn of Westerosi history and the folktales that used to keep you up at night when you were a child'. Shoveling the last batch of steamy hot shit, Jon peers up at the library tower to see if he can grant that request.

A short sharp whistle to Ghost and they were both off to Maester Luwins study grounds in the castle library. "Jon, where're you going with Ghost? Are you off to see the witch?" young Brandon Stark with long floppy hair trotted upon Jon on his way to the library. Behind him frolicks his dire pup, Summer. "The witch?! Bran who's filling your head now? No, there's no witch. I'm going to the library, to look for a...er...um book or two. I can't be just hacking at ol' straw Barney all day and night. I need to keep up with my reading and writing too. Just like you little brother. Come with me and maybe we can find you some more stuffy books on lords, ladies, and their fancy sigils." Jon pokes Bran in the shoulder smiling and Bran sticks his tongue out in disgust, "I want to learn more about the wall. One day I want to climb it. You know the maker of the wall was…" "King Brandon Stark or Bran the Builder, yes I know. You tell me every time you talk about the Wall and everytime you talk about climbing the walls of Winterfell looking for White Walkers and Giants". Jon kneels down to Bran's height and looks him in the eyes, "I'll tell you what, I'll find you one of the old drawings of Winterfell's design and the Wall's design if you promise me to work on your aim in the archery post and stay out of trouble while I look for them". Bran looks down and remembers what his mother said to him about how she knows when he is lying by how he looks down before speaking. In that moment, he catches himself and decides to tell a half truth to his brother by looking at his forehead while he replies, "alright, I'll try to stay out of trouble".

With a click of his boot heels, Bran is off with Summer to the archery range. Jon watches him for a moment and then proceeds to the library tower. When Bran sees that Jon has disappeared, he turns right away back toward the first keep to the abandoned tower to try and spy any Wildlings coming from the North.

Jon makes his climb without Ghost to the main part of the library. He has no certainty he'll find anything he's looking for and knows that he should be down watching over the yards. Maester Luwin's presence is empty when Jon reaches his study quarters. There, Jon sees scrolls of the first men, the children of the forest, the fist of the first men, and the building of Winterfell. He cannot just take what is clearly in process of studying on Maester Luwin's desk, but he also spies where he had taken the scrolls from and collects some surrounding books and maps in hopes they will suffice both of his needy readers. A shimmer of light catches his eye from the table filled with scrolls and books. There pressed between parchment paper are strands of white hair. Some look exactly like the hairs if Ilsenia, shimmering and metallic. The others are shorter and possess a yellow tone to the wavy white strands. 'What are these for? Why does he need Ilsenia's hair?' Jon questions in his mind. One scroll falls from the folds of a book he is leaning on. It is the royal Targaryen family lineage. 'Could Maester Luwin possibly believe she is in relation to the Targaryens? Is that a Targaryen's hair? Which one's?' Jon gently strokes the hairs in wonder and is suddenly disrupted by the howl of two desperate Dire Wolf pups. As Jon rushes down the stairs a shriek of sheer terror echoes throughout Winterfell, "Brrrrraaandon! My baby! Gods no! Not my baby!"