The Dividing Line – Chapter 6
They rose early the next day. She had set out with Bran, Jon, and the rest, and with a horse big enough for Hodor.
Nearly an hour into the ride she noted the banners with the gold field and stag start an approach from the rear, with several wagons and their retinue following.
She saw many before him. Some of her friends in the Brotherhood galloped faster. She saw Hot Pie waving from a wagon, with bundles of goods stacked around him. She guessed it was foodstuffs and supplies. Lem, Harwin, and others nodded their heads as they fell into line with some of the Stark bannermen behind Bran's men. She knew it was Tom because she heard his singing before she saw him. He was on another wagon grinning over at her, as he strummed a lute.
Eventually some of the men made a clearing so Lord Baratheon could catch up. He didn't speed up to ride next to her. She was surrounded by her brothers. He smiled and let her be, but he was about 3 horses' length from her. She noted how much better on a horse he was since she had met him. Well, as an armorer's apprentice in King's Landing he saw more metal than horses. And he had no access to any horse and didn't know anyone who owned one at the time. Not even his master. Nor would he have been allowed.
They landed at another clearing and their banners and servants began to hammer away at spikes for tents and to unload the wagons. There would be another meeting of the lords and their banners along with Lord Baratheon, his advisors, and Bran. Bran made it clear that Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch would appear later in the meeting to sit at the high lords' table to discuss other issues. Arya was so proud of Bran but not surprised. He loved Jon too. And others would follow his example. He was the King in the North anyway. There would be no question of Jon joining them.
Arya had not been invited to sit in on this meeting, which she sort of understood. It was just for the lords. She was Lady Arya. Her brothers knew she would get involved in the thick of things whenever that may come, and she was also on hand to help train some of the newer boys, and had been at Winterfell. She had told Bran and Jon all of Syrio, Braavos, and most of what had happened to her, including much of the training she had picked up. Only her mother knew less, and others even less than they did. Those that were not attending the meeting decided to practice their skills after all was set up and they had settled. Arya watched their numbers grow. When some had heard the clacking of wooden swords, they had peeped their heads out of their tents and then rose to come and see.
But she got bored easily. She picked up a wooden sword as most of the newer younger boyds did when they sparred with her and the other men at arms there that were training. Needle was held by Hodor. She trusted him. Bran had asked him before he left to guard Arya's sword. He replied "Hodor," and did.
So they sparred. And were having such a good time of it they hadn't noticed that an hour or two had passed.
And the time passed. Out of the corner of her eye and through the smoke and glare of the fire that had been lit, she saw Greatjon Umber come over to sit his bulky, wooly form down on a log used as a makeshift seat. As he watched her spar he grinned with the few teeth he had left and roared with approval. Arya hadn't expected a cheering section when his men with him nodded and commented that The Ned would be proud of a daughter that could defend herself. She delighted in the fact that Arya Underfoot was not uttered with remembrance.
Ned…my father…The young squire got her in the shoulder with the wooden sword. It tore her jerkin a bit. With the sleeve hanging over her shoulder in a torn arc loosely, she removed it and carried on with her cloth tunic. She jumped over the fire nearby, undaunted, and swiveled to face him. He looked at her in shock which gave her time to press her attack until he was on the ground saying he yielded.
Umber laughed himself silly. She noted that Jon had quietly emerged from the meeting. He said nothing. He told her that Bran was being assisted by Hodor whom he had sent to find Bran with his lords in the main tent. Bran was tired and wished to nap. She knew better. Jon did not say that most likely he had seen something. He was going to try and dream. Summer accompanied him everywhere.
And so it went on. For a time she stopped with the other more experienced men to look at the young. Correcting stances, twisting wrists, fixing grips; her own water dancing stance making her stand out from the others. It always had. During a break, she noted the difference in the men's face. Men from other places had their interest piqued, she was more of a curiosity. The Northmen were unfazed, even more so since she had been home for awhile. They were used to this when they had visited Winterfell. Also, they were used to the ladies Mormont, the elders, who had noted her Aunt Lyanna as a girl, and some others thought nothing of her being a girl either. She would never be a part of their family, never their daughter or sister in law. They had tried months earlier. Lady Arya Stark would marry none of their boys. She had made it very clear that she wished to marry no one. Some had even taken to calling her Wolf Maid.
Ayra loved sparring, she always had. She jumped up from her seat and tied her hair back at the sides with twine for the hundredth time. A young squire, nearly a knight, had offered to spar with her. She knew this one. He had only rudely commented the other day that she should be in skirts. She had waited for the chance the show him why she shouldn't.
She noted that the meeting had ended and many others were flocking to the fire. She needed to be more prepared. She believed this one had also awaited a chance to make a mockery of her. She gritted her teeth and summoned for her maid. Why, oh, why hadn't Bran and Jon agreed yet that she did require a squire?
And her maid looked at her in shock but said nothing when she asked her to fetch her direwolf breast plate and her helm and Needle. Jon made a motion to stop her but knew better not to and kept silent. He knew he would never hear the end of it later.
Her maid returned trying to balance all three items unsuccessfully. They fell into a heavy heap at their feet. Arya ignored it and asked for the breastplate first. The girl lifted it awkwardly, probably wishing she had been asked to only comb out her hair. But maybe not. It was done so infrequently…
She was all thumbs as she tried to shut the clasps on the direwolf breast plate. Umber lead a cheer that Tom and Hot Pie took up and Tom sidled and Hot Pie ambled over to the Umbers. Hot Pie looked over apprehensively but sat down, munching on a cold pastry that had been left over.
With assistance from Arya the breastplate was enclosed. She looked down and Noticed the onyx and mother of pearl eyes, the snarling snout in which one could only imagine the slaver dripping down before a direwolf was about to attack. She thought briefly of Nymeria and how she missed her. The maid banged her head as she tried to place the direwolf helm over her head. Arya shrugged it off and put out a hand to stop her next more. Arya thought it more prudent to pick up Needle herself, to not risk getting injured before the sparring. Also, there was the off chance that her maid would try to fix her hair and that just wouldn't do right now.
Lem shouted out that things were looking up or certainly the squires were certainly getting more attractive looking, even pretty. The men in the crowd shouted out laughter and Arya's maid ran over to where Hot Pie was seated. Arya guessed he didn't look threatening enough.
The boy was apparently a banner to Storm's End. Some smaller house… But he was willful for his place. He eveb had assistance from a man in the banners who thought it was a hoot to be a squire again. When he was ready he nodded at Arya and they both raised their swords and moved wordlessly to a free space near the fire.
Arya's mind raced. A few things…
He was young and wanted to prove himself, perhaps be knighted earlier…
A young man whose father was a banner to Gendry…looking to impress and move up. The idiot should have figured out Gendry was a good friend. She wasn't sure he had.
He most likely was going to fight dirty. She knew that the day he started making comments about her sex. He wouldn't want to lose to a girl even if it was for sport.
She knew what to do. She would make it look effortless.
He lunged first, as she knew he would. She stepped back. The weight of his armor made him stumble forward. She slapped him in the back of his breastplate with Needle and he went down on one knee. She reared back into the elegant water dancer's stance. He merely yelled out that if he had wanted to dance with her he would have asked earlier. But first she needed to don a skirt. She noted Jon grimace from the sides, knowing he should never have said that to his sister.
She noted Lem doing commentary from the sides and had to smile despite her smirk at the boy's audacity.
Tom called out to everyone that he would perform a new song he wrote "The Dance of the She-wolf," and Hot Pie continued…"Yeah, but first let her knock him on his arse again." The crowd roared. Hot Pie turned red and gave a lop-sided cautious smile.
That only made the boy angrier. She saw that. She also noted after a few sword strokes that he had been well trained by a man at arms. She was ready. Tire him out first….she thought.
More men had gathered but she pressed on. She noted Umber tell someone after a particularly nice disarmament that he had once seen her young aunt do something like that and her heart soared. She loved Lyanna, her memory really, because she knew Ned had. And then it hit her. Everyone said they were alike. She could only imagine what her father's life had been with his sister growing up. Then she knew why he had treated her the way she liked. So different from Mother and Sansa… Why she had always felt like he understood her more? How he was willing to accept her. And she felt the tears. She tried to will them from falling further. And the boy would only tease her and the men too. They would not know her thoughts, they would think she was tired or hurt or even worse intimidated.
She yelled out and moved forward. Her sword swung faster. He dived with his trying to get her down with force, she rolled to the ground. She saw her maid roll her eyes as the mud splattered over her white and light gray tunic and breeches. She felt her hair burst from the twine and it spilled out a bit from below her helm. She landed on her feet effortlessly.
Arya and the boy circled each other again, both wanting to land the final blow. She knew she could have taken him down faster but she had been distracted today, by her people and her friends. She looked over and saw Gendry as his men shifted over to make room for him. He had watched from farther back for awhile by himself before he decided to sit. She met his eyes. He didn't break the stare. She looked back at the boy quickly.
Let him tire himself…and then Syrio's words popped into her head or some of them.
By now the boy was sweating profusely, growing impatient and cursing. When they grew closer he grabbed at the back of her knee and tugged. She fell to the ground. It grew silent. She wished they would laugh. She was still a lady and they knew it was a hush of concern. It annoyed her. She didn't want it from the men. She wanted respect. She wanted to be both. A girl and a warrior…
She always had. She had never liked being mistaken for a boy. But it had saved her from situations at times.
When he called her a foul name because she wouldn't go down…it did it. She didn't know how it happened. This last time she got that angry was when the Hound pulled her off the Tickler. But nobody knew that besides her and the Hound.
She took off her helm and threw it to the ground. She wanted him to see her eyes. That she was a girl, her determined face, that her hair was long, just not as perfect as Sansa's… She just knew…it worked. The icy gray Stark stare, many have talked about it. How much she looked like Ned and Lyanna. Lem remarked that the helm throw down was now at two and counting for this campaign. The Northmen who had heard about it secondhand had cheered. Somebody had now struck up "For the Ned," and others caught it up. The North didn't give a shit what the Westerman And Sothroners thought. "For the Ned…for the Ned….for the…"
She moved closer. He looked apprehensive now. She smiled at him. He looked confused. She smiled more and closed in, Needle pointed at him. He raised his own sword out further. She crouched down in a blink of an eye and grabbed at his cloak. She pulled down and forward. He slipped and fell backward on his arse and into the mud. She waited for the fall and leapt on him. He fought back, she got a cut on her arm as he struggled. She saw the blood, she kept going. With some force, that she had always managed to pull from nowhere when she had too….She pulled off his helm and held Needle an inch from his neck. It was so fast he had never seen or heard her raise it.
"You know the words. I am a girl so I might not. No, wait, I just never had to yield yet."
He looked up at her. "I yield." The men gave out a cheer.
Her maid ran over nearly tripping over Hot Pie. "M'lady you're bloody." She clucked and fussed over her. This was not the reception Arya wanted but she let it be.
Umber ran over and threw her over his shoulders onto his thick neck. She let them parade her around to a chorus of the "Dance of the She-Wolf." He jounced her around and with her tiny stature she looked like a ragdoll. She held on to his furry cloak for dear life.
Gendry got up suddenly. He pushed through the raucous crowd. She looked down at him. "I think you lost this." He smiled. "Accidentally of course, but maybe I should make you an extra?" He gave her the helm. She raised it and the men got louder
She smiled.
He looked at her arm. "I have a maester nearby, why don't you have that cleaned?" he stared at her arm with concern.
"Fine. In a minute…" The boy was being attended too. He pouted, but he did grudgingly salute her and told her he was honored to fight by her side and that of all the Starks and their banners.
"Arya," Gendry pulled gently at her sleeve so she looked at him. "Lommy….my maester." He was stubborn and wouldn't leave her until she did. She knew.
He snapped her back. "Ok. Greatjon put me down, please."
He nodded and placed her on the ground. Gendry shook his head and took off his cloak. He put placed it on her shoulders and left an arm around her and walked her back to the log so his maester could tend to her wound right away.
Many more sparred after her and well into the night. Gendry was quiet. He looked over and smiled at her from time to time. Arya noted that he smiled a lot but hadn't said too much today. Well, no one had really. Most were engrossed with the fighting.
For some reason she hadn't noticed what was really going on. And how it was necessary; the sizing up, the North and the rest. How those with Lord Baratheon needed this. And Bran's banners too. They were going to King's Landing. They would fight side by side. They had to feel it. That they were brothers and that they could trust. It broke the ice for they were fighting for Ice….the North, and the new young Stag.
As mead and beer and wine flowed later it became more genial. Umber versus five men was good practice. He defeated them all and gulped down horns of ale well into the night. The Brotherhood and others in their cups challenged any man near them even the young ones too. And other banners recounted the glory days of fighting beside a young King Robert and asked Lord Baratheon to wield his own hammer for sport and for the hell of it.
Arya watched closely. She was curious. She had seen Gendry fight. She had fought with him. It made her a bit nervous. When they were younger he was all brute force. It was just natural. He had received no training, had grown up with no man at arms. He just hit people they had encountered so hard, they rarely stuck back. He was just so strong. There was no need to perfect the defense of his person, because they rarely were in a position to strike back once he had smashed them. But she had heard he had been receiving training, as she had since last they met.
A newly knighted man stepped forward. Gendry's squire removed his cloak. He took off his armor too much to the dismay and disagreement of his advisors and his men.
"I don't intend on killing anyone or being hurt. Just for practice, right?"
The man was given a light blunted sword. Not Gendry. He had since been trained with swords, to just be trained with them. He preferred a hammer like his father. This one was lighter.
Arya laughed that he hadn't changed much. He balked when people prevented him from taking his shirt off. When the man was ready they faced each other. Nobody moved. The man was anticipating his move, Gendry made that stubborn face where his brow furrowed and his expression was blank. Arya remembered it well.
Lem said, "I never could figure out if the was thinking about what to do next or if he couldn't empty his bowels…still does it when he fights."
Arya and the Brotherhood laughed with affection. Jon had moved where she was seated and leaned over to whisper to her. "Arya, he is still Lord Baratheon, people may think it is disrespectful." She thought of how they might and quickly closed her mouth. They would never understand what they had been through on the road before.
It was over in two minutes. The man yielded. Gendry gave out five hard swings before the man landed on his back and held out his arms to be lifted up. Gendry said nothing and returned to his seat. His squire gave him water because he refused wine and he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders because it had grown dark and colder. He had barely broken a sweat.
"Glad that is out of the way…"
"Yes, I guess we can all be friends now? The who is bigger contest is over, I imagine," said Lem.
Jon smiled at the comment. "The Night's Watch takes no part in these things."
"The Night's Watch is noble but it sure is boring,"replied Arya winking at him. "Well, I would be bored."
"Let's feast!" roared the Greatjon. "To our new brothers…" The crowd yelled. "To Lord Baratheon , king Robert's heir and the King in the North," rumbled the Greatjon.