Authors Note:

Thank you again for all the support, you guys are fantabulous :) Here's Chapter 4, enjoy!

Chapter 4 – Two Brothers

Eilya

Taking a step back, she held out her arms and looked to her brother. 'Well, what do you think?'

Dannard, with his arms folded across his front, looked thoughtful again.

'You look good, actually.' He circled her, pulling forward the sheepskin hood that skilfully hid her long hair, which was now in a tight bun at the back of her head, tied in place with leather straps. It felt as though her hair was being ripped out of its roots, but she didn't say anything.

'So you reckon I look convincing?' she asked hopefully. Along with her hair, they had smeared dirt across her face to hide the feminine dimples in her cheeks, dressed her in an extra pair of breaches to make her legs look thicker (tied around her small waist with rope, as Dannard was wider set and easily half a foot taller than his sister), and added an extra woolen jumper under the sheepskin cloak in an attempt to thicken her body a little. If nothing else, at least she wouldn't freeze.

'You don't look like a twenty year old man, though,' said Dannard, straightening her hood again, as Eilya batted his hand away. 'But you could pass as being a bit younger, say about fifteen?'

'As long as it's believable, I can pretend I'm fifteen again,' Eilya said, nodding defiantly, the large hood flapping around her delicate face. 'Only, as a boy this time.'

Picking up the leather bag, Dannard led the way out of the back room of the inn, where they had been changing Eilya into Iestyn. A couple of miles from where they had first laid eyes on the wall, they had found a village, called Mole's Town. It was in a bad way, some of its buildings had recently been burnt to the ground. It was a small, dirty looking place, and the inhabitants had appeared to shy away from them as they walked towards the nearest inn. But after they explained their situation to the old inn keeper and his wife (that they had travelled for days to find their uncle at the Wall after their village had been raided by a gang of thieves), they were quickly offered food and a room.

'Please, we don't have much, but we have bread and wine, and you can stay here if you need to. Us smallfolk, we have to look out for each other. Ain't no one else that will, that's for sure!'

'Thank you, but we must get to uncle. If we could just sit down, my sister has hurt her ankle, you see…'

Finishing her piece of bread, which was a bit stale, but which she had practically inhaled she was so hungry, Eilya smiled to the inn keeper's wife. 'Thank you.' She quickly bowed her head as the wife squinted at her dirty face, and hurried past to avoid any awkward questions.

'We have given your horse some water,' said the inn keeper, as they all stepped outside onto the frozen ground. 'He's over by the stable-'

'Keep him,' said Dannard, waving a gloved hand. 'For the bread, keep him.'

The inn keeper thanked them profoundly as they left. Suddenly feeling nervous, Eilya realised that the next stop was Castle Black.

'My name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen, my name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen,' she repeated, as they trudged closer to the giant, iron gates.

'I'll do the talking,' Dannard murmured, silencing his sister as he banged his fist hard against the iron plates.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a panel in the gate slowly slid to the side, and a pair of dark eyes stared out at them. 'Who goes there?' a deep voice questioned.

'I'm Dannard Canann, son of Rodrick Canann. I wish to join the Night's Watch.'

The eyes narrowed, looking between the siblings. 'And who's that?'

'My brother, Iestyn. Can we pass?'

The pair of eyes looked them over once more, before disappearing behind the iron panel. There was a creek, followed by the sound of a hundred bolts scratching and crunching as the massive gates began to open. Dannard stood, his defiance not once faltering. Eilya stood beside him, fighting the urge to cower behind her brother, or to turn on her heel and run. As the gates opened, a tall figure wearing a black cloak and black leather armour strode towards them, followed by a few other men, who were also wearing black. He had thinning grey hair, and wore an expression as cold as the falling snow.

He stopped short of the siblings, his grey eyes boring into them, one at a time. 'I am Ser Alliser Thorne. First Ranger. Master of Arms. Acting Lord Commander,' he said slowly, his voice gruff and threatening. Eilya wanted to flinch, but kept herself steady. 'What business is it of yours to join the Night's Watch?'

'We are smallfolk of the village of Dead Weather, six miles from Deepwood Motte. Our home has been destroyed. We have nothing. We offer our services to the Night's Watch, to protecting the Wall.'

Dannard didn't blink, holding his head high, even as Alliser Thorne snarled at him. They were the same height, their eyes at the same level, but Ser Alliser somehow appeared to tower above Dannard. 'And what 'services' can you offer, boy?'

Dannard opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by another man in black, wearing a leather and sheepskin hat, who came running through the throng, stopping by the three of them.

'Ser, it's Lord Snow, he returns. Without the Wildlings.'

Jon

Jon strode out of the tunnel, his five brothers close behind him. As they reached the courtyard of Castle Black, other men appeared to greet them, shake their hands, welcome them back.

'The Wildlings, Ser?' Ollie asked, suddenly appearing at Jon's side, carrying a large wooden sword. The young steward had been training again with the other men, and had gained a large bruise on his cheek. Other than that, he looked unharmed. Jon smiled awkwardly at him. His brothers were staring too, wanting to know of the Wildlings, whether they would be sharing their land and their food with the people they had sworn to fight off.

'The Wildlings wish to remain as free folk beyond the Wall. They have chosen not to fight with us,' said Jon, loud enough for everyone to hear. There was a hum of conversation. A couple of men cheered.

'Wildling scum!'

'Keep the fuckers where they belong!'

Jon sighed, bowing his head and staring at the ground. No one seemed to understand that all was lost without the Wildlings.

'Lord Commander.' Alliser Thorne had arrived in the courtyard. Behind him, two men Jon did not recognise. One was tall, with an unruly mop of chestnut-brown hair, carrying a broken leather bag. Next to him, stood a shorter, younger boy, wearing a large sheepskin cloak, the hood so large it appeared to engulf half of his face. 'These two arrived at the gate. They are peasants. We have no place for them here, I-'

Jon waved his hand to silence him. Ser Alliser glowered at him, his brow wrinkling into a frown, but he stopped. Jon knew he needed this man on his side. But the last few days had been difficult and disappointing, and right now he just did not need his insolence.

'Can you wield a sword?' he asked the tall one wearily.

'I've used axes and spears back in my village,' he replied. 'My father never had a sword, but I can learn. I want to become a Watcher of the Wall.'

Jon nodded slowly, and turned to the smaller one. 'And you?'

'My name is Iestyn and I'm fifteen,' he said quickly, in a small, nervous voice. Jon nodded again. This one was young, but he could be trained. For now, however, they looked tired and hungry.

'They need rest,' said Jon, ignoring Ser Alliser's sullen expression and instead turning to Edd. 'Take them to their quarters, and make sure they have food. They can start training first thing tomorrow.'

'I wish to become a Watcher of the Wall, too. I want to help fight the Wildlings,' said the boy. The taller one quickly laid a hand on Iestyn's shoulder, and shot an uneasy look at Jon. Jon couldn't help but smirk. At least he was eager.

'There are worse things that Wildlings out there, Iestyn,' he uttered, turning towards the barracks. 'And we're going to need all the help we can get.'