The next day Torrhen stood in front of the lift with his head up, his neck straining as he tried to see the top of the Wall. "This must be how Tyrion feels talking to...anyone." He said to Rhaegar, who was looking up at the same time. The eyestrain and the biting wind made his eyes water but still, he looked. It was as if he had to take the time to really commit it to memory since over the last few days the Wall itself was the last thing on his mind. But now that so much had been resolved, he found himself drawn to the massive structure. Seven hundred feet tall and three hundred miles wide, it stretched from one coast to the next slicing the continent in half. He couldn't even begin to imagine how such a structure could be raised. He remembered all of Old Nan's stories of how Brandon the Builder, the first King in the North, used an army of giants and the magic of the Children of the Forest to create it. While he found himself skeptical of such tales, there was a part of him that believed that such things may have been possible. Who knows what really happened eight thousand years ago?
"Hell of a sight, isn't it?" Uncle Benjen's rough but warm voice shook him from his trance. He slowly turned his head, so as not to hurt his neck, and saw him climbing the steps to stand beside him.
"It is. Hard to imagine men building this."
"But they did. Did you know that quite a long time ago, the Watch made it a mandate to constantly add to the Wall?"
"That's news to me."
"I suppose it is. These days, we've barely enough men and materials to maintain the damn thing."
"You seem to be doing alright by the looks of things." The sarcasm wasn't lost on the First Ranger and the two shared a laugh.
"Have you been to the top yet?"
"I haven't had the chance."
"Well, now you do. Come on, it's something you should do at least once. Why not together?"
"What about Jon?" Torrhen asked, looking over his shoulder to see Jon giving instructions in swordplay to his fellow recruits. From his posture and authoritative but gentle tone of voice, it was clear he had taken the advice given yesterday to heart. This brought a smile to his face.
"This time is for you and me. It's not often I get to have a quiet moment with family." Clapping his shoulder, Benjen led him and Rhaegar toward towards the lift and all the while he silently prayed to the Old Gods to protect them. But then he realized they technically weren't climbing, just traveling to the top via the lift. Suddenly Torrhen felt rather silly and confidently joined his uncle on the lift, but making sure to hold on to something secure. Just in case. With the clanging shut and a quick hand signal to the wheelman, they slowly rose into the air. As they left the ground, Torrhen kept his eyes closed and allowed himself to feel their ascent. Rhaegar, perfectly relaxed, was curled up at his feet. About halfway up, he opened his eyes and lost his breath. It seemed to him that the entire North was displayed before him and as the ascent continued the view expanded. By the time they reached the top, he thought that he could just make out Moat Cailin.
"The view never gets old. Seventeen years, and I'm still impressed."
"I can see why."
"Come on. I'll show you what it looks like from the other side." They exited the lift and immediately Torrhen wrapped his cloak tightly around him as the biting winds hit him with their full fury. Benjen softly chuckled. "First time's always a shock. But the view is worth it." As they walked the trench-like battlements, Torrhen found himself dreading having to keep watch for a night. Even with his heavy furs and cloak wrapped around him, it felt as if the wind was cutting through him like a Valyrian steel blade through silk curtains. Suddenly, they entered one the pillboxes and he forgot all about the cold. As far north as he could see, the entire landscape was not just covered but enveloped in snow and trees. The forest covered everything from the coast of the Shivering Sea in the east to the peaks of the Frostfangs mountain range in the west which obscured the Lands of Always Winter where the snow never stopped falling and no man had ever returned from. Words could not describe what he felt at that moment, looking upon such savage and untamed grandeur.
"It's...beautiful."
"Yes, it is. There's nothing like it in the whole world." At "whole world" Torrhen grimaced. As far as he knew, save for the Tournament at Harrenhal, Uncle Benjen had never left the North. And since he took his vows, the Wall was his whole world. "I know what you're thinking."
"You do?"
"Indeed. But this is my world, Torrhen. The North is my home. The Wall is my home, and I wouldn't want it any other way."
"The North is my home, too. But there is so much I want...need to see. I want to see the world, Uncle. Not just Westeros, but the entire world. I want to see the Free Cities, the Rhoyne, the Summer Isles, and everything in between! All of it!"
"I know. You've got the same wanderlust your great-grandfather Rodrik had. She had it, too."
"Aunt Lyanna?"
"Yes. Out of all four of us, she was the wild one. She was more comfortable in armor with a sword in her hand than in a dress with a sewing needle. Father hated it; He wanted her to behave like a proper southern lady if only to improve her marriage prospects."
"She didn't agree with that, I imagine?"
"Not for a moment. Oh, she tried, mind you. Just not very hard. Through all those smiles and courtesies, you could see the real Lyanna. Never afraid to speak her mind and go her own way." Looking at his uncle, Torrhen could see his eyes cloud over as bittersweet memories of happier times came back, long pushed aside to focus on the present.
"You miss her?"
"I miss all of them; I miss my brother who always looked out for us, ready to defend us at the slightest provocation. I miss my father, for all the things I should have said and never did. I miss my mother, whom I watched waste away while I held Winterfell for your father. And I miss her, with all of her courage and passion. Women like her don't come into this world often and when they do, they leave too soon."
"I'm sorry if I'm prying, Uncle."
"Don't apologize. One of us should tell you these things and I know Ned's not much of a talker."
"He never likes to talk about the past. He barely even talks about what happened during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Most of what I hear about that war is from Theon. Heavily embellished, of course."
"Of course. Growing up, everyone in Winterfell called Ned the Quiet Wolf and with good reason. He spoke very little but when he did, you listened."
"I can believe that. Did Uncle Brandon have a nickname?"
"He was the Wild Wolf, Lyanna was the She-Wolf and I was…" He abruptly stopped, as if realizing he had already said too much. Torrhen wasn't having that, of course.
"You were what?"
"The Pup." At this, Torrhen burst out laughing with Benjen joining him. For several minutes their laughter rang out over the Haunted Forest.
"The Pup! Are you serious?"
"Sadly, yes. Strangely enough, it seemed to fit me."
"I wonder if anyone will give nicknames to me and my siblings."
"I'm sure someone will. Just be patient." And with that no more was spoken. The two men let the winds fill the silence as they gazed out on the vast landscape.
"I'm glad we can have this moment. I'm enjoying myself."
"So am I, Uncle. It's a shame you can't visit Winterfell more."
"It is. But like I said before, the Wall is my home. And my work is out there." He said, pointing his finger northward. "I'll be leaving soon."
"You're leaving?"
"I have to go looking for a ranging party that disappeared a few weeks ago. The same party that Will was from."
"The deserter my father executed." Benjen nodded in reply.
"Same man. Ser Waymar Royce was leading the party, and he and the other Ranger haven't been seen or heard from since they left Castle Black. I have to find them, alive or dead. Though dead is more likely." He sighed with resignation as if this was common for him to see Rangers ride out only to be brought back slung over a horse, half frozen from the cold. Even after seventeen years, it probably didn't get any easier.
"Is Jon going with you?" He asked, with a small tinge of fear creeping into his voice.
"No."
"He won't be happy about that."
"Whether he's happy or not doesn't matter. He's still a recruit with a lot to learn. He's not ready for what's out there, and just because he's my nephew doesn't mean he gets an easier ride."
"I'll have to admit, for a moment I thought it would."
"Things work differently at the Wall. Here, you get what you earn when you earn it. Past deeds or family ties mean nothing here. True, men of nobility do have some advantage here but even men of low birth and no renown can make something of themselves here."
"So how long will you be gone?"
"A few weeks, two months at most. Hopefully, we'll find something before then, but I'm not so sure. Besides, there have also been reports."
"What kind of reports?"
"The kind I really don't want to believe." The edge in his voice betrayed his apprehension to Torrhen, so he decided to play his hand.
"Anything to do with the White Walkers?"
"Nothing for certain. Mostly movement among the wilding tribes."
"Movement? Are they planning to attack?"
"I won't know until I get out there," Benjen said with an unpleasant finality, his shoulders lowered and his eyes closed.
'He doesn't want to go.' Torrhen thought to himself as he watched his uncle. He certainly couldn't blame him. This was summer in the rest of Westeros, and he would be in the freezing cold for two months. "You know, you can come visit Winterfell when you get back. We would be more than happy to have you with us again."
"That's very kind of you. I wouldn't mind sitting in front of the hearth in the Great Hall. I would have to ask Lord Mormont."
"As long as the Wall isn't under siege, I sure he could spare you for a few days."
"You're probably right. But still, I will have to ask." With a nod the two stood silently, gazing out on the endless white horizon. "Well, I better get back down. Lots to do before I go."
"Should I come with you?"
"No need. You stay up here a while, enjoy the view. We'll talk later." With a reassuring pat on the shoulder, Benjen left Torrhen standing there, looking out on the vast expanse clutching Dark Sister's hilt tightly and offering a silent prayer to the Old Gods to watch over his uncle while Rhaegar let out a howl that rang across the forest and beyond as if offering a prayer himself.
(-)
As the lift descended, he saw Tyrion waiting for him at the bottom. Disembarking, he took each step slowly as if he was allowing himself to get reacquainted with solid ground. Rhaegar patted forward to greet Tyrion, who rubbed behind his ears much to his delight.
"I take it the view is worth the trip?"
"None like it in the Seven Kingdoms," Torrhen said, grinning widely. "Going up?"
"No, just looking for you. Glad to see that Jon is taking our advice to heart." Tyrion said gesturing to the now empty training yard. Slowly, the made their way over to the King's Tower.
"So am I. He looked...comfortable out there. Like he had a purpose. Maybe that's why he wanted to join. Here, he actually has something to give."
"Let's hope you're right. So what did you and your uncle speak of?"
"Home, family, and the fact he's heading out beyond the Wall to look for a wayward ranging party from a few months back."
"Good luck to him." The warmth of the fireplace greeted them as they entered their room, with Rhaegar bounding up onto Torrhen's bed and laying down while keeping his head up to observe the two men. Tyrion pulled a wineskin from his saddle bag while Torrhen sat down, placed Dark Sister beside him and removed his boots to rub his feet, hoping to get some warmth back in them.
"What were you up to?" Torrhen asked while Tyrion grabbed two mugs from the nearby table and filled them both with wine.
"Having a rather enlightening...and depressing chat with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon." Tyrion responded grimly before handing Torrhen a full mug, which he accepted graciously.
"What about?" Torrhen asked before drinking deeply. He noticed a spicy aftertaste in the wine. 'Dornish?' He asked himself before pulling his attention back to Tyrion.
"Nothing good. The Night's Watch is undermanned and the days are growing shorter, which means that summer is coming to a close. And since this summer has lasted almost ten years..."
"Long summers give way to longer winters."
"Correct. So, politely with a pinch of desperation, they have asked me to bring their case to the attention of King Robert. Though I doubt it will do any good; He barely listens to his Small Council, so why would he listen to his dwarf of a brother-in-law?"
"He might not listen to you...but he would listen to my father." A grin covered his face as the idea took shape. "If the son of the Hand of the King were to come to King's Landing and personally inform him of the deplorable conditions, then he would have no choice but to bring the matter to the King personally."
"Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?"
"It would give me the chance to see my father and sisters, and enjoy the wonders of the capital."
"I definitely could show you a few wonders they don't speak of in polite society."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Torrhen responded, while Tyrion's face broke out into a grin of his own as he imagined all sorts of mischief.
"Well then, a toast. To a successful journey. May the wine never stop flowing, the brothels never close and our mortal forms never tire."
"I will drink to that." The two men knocked their tankards together, forming a silent pact, before drinking deeply. "Is this Dornish wine?"
"Yes, actually. You know your wine."
"Not really, I was just guessing. But it's really good."
"There is even better waiting for us in the cellars of the Red Keep, I can promise you that."
"I'll hold you to that, my friend."
"Of course you can. A Lannister always pays his debts. By the way, while I was speaking with maester Aemon I couldn't help but notice how he spoke about you. Apparently, he thinks very highly of you."
"Really?" Tyrion nodded. "Well, I think very highly of him. He's like the grandfather I never had since I haven't seen my mother's father since I was a baby and my father's father…well, you know that story."
"I do, sadly. I never knew my grandfather, the late Lord Tytos, either. He died before I was born. The story I'm told is that his heart failed him as he climbed the stairs to his chambers to visit his mistress." Tyrion said, chuckling lightly.
"Good a way to go as any, I imagine." Torrhen grinned as he thought of it.
"Not if you're an old man and almost as fat as Aegon the Unworthy," Tyrion added and Torrhen grimaced as the image came to mind.
"I think I need more wine."
"I think we both do."
(-)
Two days later, Torrhen walked to Aemon's chamber for the last time. Yoren was heading to King's Landing to scour the dungeons and alleys for new recruits and both he and Tyrion were accompanying him. He had already said his goodbyes to Benjen, who had left the day before, and Jon, who was on top of the Wall with Tyrion right now. He had even spoken with Lord Commander Mormont, promising to speak with his father on behalf of the Watch. Aemon was the last and probably the most difficult. Torrhen had grown very fond of him and was afraid that this might be the last time they ever spoke. Unable to out it off any longer, he rapped his knuckles on the door. The door opened to reveal Chett, a steward of the Watch and Aemon's caretaker. Torrhen involuntarily grimaced as he looked at this young man whose face was pockmarked with boils and a rather large cyst on the left side of his neck.
"Yes?"
"I'm here to see maester Aemon. Is he awake?"
"He is. I'll tell him you're here."
"No need, Chett. Come in, my boy." Chett stood aside and allowed Torrhen to enter. Aemon was sitting by the fireplace. "Leave us, Chett." With a nod, he departed while closing the door behind him. "Take a seat."
Torrhen sat down next to him, placing Dark Sister next to him. As he did, he saw Aemon holding something wrapped in cloth on his lap. He was holding it gently, as if with reverence. "You are leaving tonight, yes?"
"Yes. Yoren is heading south for new recruits and Tyrion and I will be joining him."
"I see. It's a shame that you must leave. I must declare that I have become used to having you around in the short time we have had together."
"I feel the same. I will miss our conversations."
"All the same, this is your path and it would not be right for me to try and divert you. However, I'm afraid I can't let you leave empty-handed."
"Aemon, you don't have to give me any…"
"Hush, my boy. Let me finish." Torrhen immediately shut his mouth and looked on patiently. "After you allowed me to hold Dark Sister one more time, I knew it was time for me to give this to someone who would use it properly." He picked up the bundle and extended it to Torrhen, who took it gently from Aemon's frail hands. Torrhen slowly unwrapped it to reveal a scabbard made of ironwood and gilded steel with a sword belt of rich, black leather. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship.
"Dark Sister's scabbard," Torrhen whispered.
"The second one, actually. The first one was lost after the Dance of the Dragons since Prince Daemon used it and his body was never found. This scabbard was made by House Forrester on the order of Lord Cregan Stark as a gift to Aegon III. And now it is yours." as he slowly stood up and fastened the belt around his waist. It fit him well, after some minor adjustments. Picking up the sword, he slowly sheathed it until a satisfying click signaled that the blade was all the way in. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "How does it feel?"
"Good. Very good. Like it belongs. But I don't know how I could accept such a gift."
"I do. Repeat after me: Thank you." Torrhen chuckled at this, admitting that Aemon was quite right.
"Thank you. I will treasure this, and I promise to tell my father all that I have seen here. You have my word. But..."
"But what?" Torrhen returned to his seat next to Aemon, interlacing his fingers and rubbing his thumbs together.
"But what if they can't do anything. Even if we gave my father detailed testimony, I doubt he could do anything except send out a summons for knights who could be persuaded to volunteer. And the likelihood of that is the same as finding snow in Dorne."
"That is possible. However, I find that in such situations the best thing anyone can do is simply have faith in themselves and what they intend to do."
"I wish I could believe as strongly as you do."
"Faith comes in many forms. You will find yours when you are ready for it."
"I certainly hope you're right."
"I certainly hope so, too." A comfortable silence followed as the two men enjoyed the warmth of the fire, needing no words.
"Well, I should be going. Tyrion and Yoren are probably waiting for me. Thank you again for the gift." He rose and began to walk to the door.
"Torrhen, wait. There is something I must say." That stopped him dead. He turned to see Aemon slowly rising from his chair to face him. "As you know, our order prohibits us from marriage and children. In order that we might pursue our duty to the Watch without...distraction. In all my years of service, I have never regretted that decision. Until now. I would like to think that if I had married and had a son of my own that he would have been just like you." Suddenly, Torrhen felt his eyes begin to water. No one had ever said something like that to him. Ever.
"That's funny. A couple of days ago I told Tyrion that I thought of you as the grandfather I never had." Aemon smiled at this and shuffled forward, laying his hands on Torrhen's shoulders.
"What a pair we make. Well then, would you allow an old man one indulgence?"
"Anything."
"Let me embrace you as a father would a son." The two men came together, hugging tightly. Torrhen fought to both keep from squeezing Aemon too hard and tears from spilling.
'This is how my grandfather hugs me.' He thought as they stood there. Two men who were both missing something vital in their lives that they had never thought of until this moment. Slowly, they parted until they were at arm's length. Torrhen saw tears in Aemon's eyes.
"So that's what it feels like. Thank you, Torrhen Stark. You've made an old man very happy."
"Likewise. Well, I should probably get going. Tyrion and Yoren are probably waiting for me. Thank you again for the scabbard...and the hug. I hope our paths cross again."
"I'm certain they will." Another embraced was shared between them, with no more words needed. Torrhen then turned towards the door, opened it and walked out into the cold. He did not look back once.
(-)
His timing couldn't have been better. The horses were ready and Tyrion had just emerged from the lift. Silently the two men made their way to their mounts, not really needing a reason to talk, but Tyrion did make a grunt of interest and approval at Torrhen's new scabbard to which Torrhen nodded. At the stables, Torrhen scratched behind Rhaegar's ears and brushed Swiftwind's mane slowly, feeling his mount's need to get back out and run after so many days inside.
"You ready, boy?" A snort of confirmation was his response. With practiced grace, he swung himself up and gathered the reins. With a gentle nudge on his flanks, the destrier ambled towards the gate following the others. Before he passed through he looked back up at the Wall, wondering if Jon was looking down at the same time. Turning away with a silent farewell, he kicked Swiftwind into a gallop through the gate and down the Kingsroad with Rhaegar bounding close behind. He joined the others and silently prayed that between here and King's Landing, nothing would go wrong.