Sorry about the delay, folks. Fraught times at the turn of the year, and things have only become worse since then. However, since we are now on lockdown, I had some spare time, so I have reread the story and taken it up again. I am also rereading "Baker Street" to do the same with it; it's just taken a whole lot longer.
Don't take any chances, folks...please stay home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:
Present time.
"Brienne's expecting a baby," Oona said.
Arya cried: "She didn't tell me that!"
Oona gave her a look. "She didn't tell anyone that," she said. "But we all knew it. Even Tormund."
Tormund, who was sitting at the table, his head in his hands, looked up. "Was that a shot at me?" he muttered.
"No, Tormund, it was a compliment," Oona said. "For a male, that is."
"You've got a tongue on you like an adder, Oona," Tormund said.
"You should be so lucky," said Oona, stone-faced, so that Arya wasn't absolutely sure she meant what it sounded like. Thought to judge by the smirks on Hjordis' and Jon's faces, she wasn't alone in that thought.
"Like many people who are very strong physically, she doesn't look after herself enough," Hjordis said. "So from now on, Arya, you're to keep an eye on her."
"What do I know about pregnancy?" Arya cried. "Nothing! I didn't even know she was pregnant!" Hjordis didn't call me Lady Arya, either. I hate being called that, but I resent *not* being called that just as much. It's very strange.
"Ignorance is no excuse," Oona said, with a sigh. "You'll learn the basics from us, and a midwife, and you will make yourself useful. I don't want to hear anymore whinging about it, either, not now. We all have to help her. You'll also have to take over the riding instruction."
"How am I supposed to do all that?" Arya cried.
"Welcome to the real world," Hjordis muttered. "Most people do 'all that' as you put it, and more, just to eat."
Arya looked to Jon for support; and he looked back at her, eyebrows raised. No support there. Everyone seems to think I'm a spoiled brat. It's totally unfair.
"And what if I collapse?"
"You're easily replaceable," Hjordis said.
"Nice of you to say so!" Arya said, irritated.
"Any time," Hjordis snapped back.
At this point, Jon did intervene. "Arya - everybody's worried."
"You think I'm not?" Arya all but wailed.
"I know you are," Jon said gently. "We're all fond of Brienne, aren't we?"
"Yes," Arya said, sniffling suddenly. "I want her to be well."
"We all do, because she's a remarkably good person. One of the few any of us knows." Tormund made a choking sound.
Arya glanced at him briefly and then nodded.
"Because your mother entrusted the care of you and Sansa to her, she will accept your presence better than she will most of us." Jon paused delicately.
"I'll take over the riding instruction," Tormund said, "if you'll just keep an eye on her, little wolf."
"I'll spell you on that, Tormund," Jon said. "Half and half." Tormund nodded.
"Hjordis and Oona will teach you what to look for and how to make things easier for her," Jon said. "It won't be light task, because she finds it difficult to admit that she might ever need help. We trust you to be patient. And vigilant."
"I will, Jon, I promise!"
"I trust you, little sister," Jon said, coming over to give her a hug. "Brienne needs our protection just now. We need to work together, and you have to admit it if you need some help, too."
"I'll call you if I do, Jon, right away!"
"Not just me," Jon said. "Tormund and Hjordis and Oona, too."
To Arya's surprise, Hjordis and Oona, both rather flushed, then came over and hugged her as well. Arya thought that she might have even heard a muttered 'sorry' from the former. Or perhaps not. Tormund patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
As Jon had predicted, it didn't prove to be an easy task. When Arya saw Brienne the next morning, she found that she was thoroughly humiliated by her collapse. She had tried to get up, but found herself too dizzy to rise. Arya pushed her back into her bed, and snarled: "Stop that!"
"I have to get up," Brienne muttered.
"No, you don't!" Arya said.
"The riding lessons -!"
"Tormund and Jon have taken over that, don't worry about it."
"They have other, better things to do!"
"I'll help them, Brienne, I promise," Arya pleaded. "Just rest."
Brienne relaxed back on the bed, but her anxiety level still appeared high.
"So when did you plan to tell me about this?" Arya asked her, folding her arms.
Brienne blushed a brilliant red and muttered - "I didn't know myself."
"Well, that explains a lot," Arya said. "What about your courses?"
"They're never very regular," Brienne said.
"And that explains more," Arya said, as cheerfully as she could. "I take it Tormund is the lucky man?"
Brienne turned her face to the wall, and said nothing. There were tears in her eyes.
"Brienne," Ayra said. "What's the matter?"
"I remember what he said to me, the last time I saw him," Brienne said.
"Tormund?"
"No, not him."
"You mean...Jaime Lannister?"
"Yes. He said: 'I don't love you. Nobody could love you.'"
"Charming," muttered Arya.
"He was right," Brienne said.
"Bullshit!"
"Arya! What would Lady Catelyn say if she could hear you?"
"I suspect she'd say "Bullshit!" too. At least, I hope she would."
Brienne gave a watery laugh. "I can't imagine that Lady Catelyn would say any such thing."
"Why should you take Jaime Lannister's word for anything, in any case? He cuckolded his goodbrother, sired three children on his twin sister, and shoved my eight-year-old brother out a window with the intent of killing him, thus starting a chain of events that ended laying waste to a whole contintent. Some knight!"
"He saved my life," Brienne said. "And he saved King's Landing from Aerys."
"The Lannisters are like old eggs, if you ask me. Probably still edible, but they certainly do stink. Tyrion's just the same."
Brienne laughed a little, and Arya's heart lifted. "Tormund's a good man," she said. "He thinks you're special, and he's right."
Brienne's face clouded. "It's not fair to him," she muttered.
"In what way?" Arya asked.
"He thinks I love him," Brienne said.
"Don't you?"
"I don't think so," Brienne said.
"My parents were complete strangers when they got married," Arya pointed out. "My mother wanted to marry my Uncle Brandon, and my father wanted to marry Ashara Dayne. They spent just one night together after their wedding, before my father had to leave to fight in the War. My brother Rob was the result. They were happy, though, despite everything. They had to become aquainted first, of course."
Brienne's mouth twitched a little. "Of course."
Arya sat down on the bed. "You know what I mean, Brienne. Don't decide until you get aquainted. You may have put the cart before the horse, but that doesn't mean the ride necessarily has to be bumpy."
Brienne laughed this time. "I see," she said.
"Check him out and see what kind of father he is, for starters," Arya said.
"What kind of father he is?" Brienne repeated, staring at her. "He's got children?"
"Two little girls, I think," Arya said. "I heard Oona say that they're being cared for by their grandmother."
"I didn't know that," Brienne said, rather bewildered. "He didn't tell me."
"Ah, the prefidy of men," Arya muttered.
But by way of distracting Brienne, she decided to arrange a visit by Tormund's daughters to her bedside. A few days later, Hjordis delivered them to Arya, whispering that their grandmother would pick them up in two hours.
They were a pale, skinny pair, their brilliant red curly hair constituting the only vibrant thing about them. One was eight years old, Hjordis told her, and the other was seven. They stared mutely at Arya. Hjordis did not know their formal names: "Tormund calls them Big and Little."
Big and Little were then left in Arya's care. They accepted this with ill-grace or maybe it was just plain terror; Arya could not really tell. She tried to take them by the hand - they pulled away. They might have escaped into the street if Arya hadn't beaten them to the door first, and bolted it firmly. Baulked, they then decided to scream, loudly and in unison. Arya marvelled at the amount of noise emanating from two such spindly little creatures. That and their hair were their only resemblance to their father.
"Shut up!" Arya yelled, without any noticeable effect.
The interior door creaked open, and Brienne came through it, blinking a little at the scene before her. "What's all the noise?" she asked Arya, mildly enough.
Both Big and Little's mouths fell open at the sight of her, and their shrieks died on their tongues.
Arya didn't blame them. Brienne was wearing a dark-coloured bedrobe, which did nothing to disguise her imposing height and the breadth of her shoulders. She was also, true to her profession, wearing a sword. The children ran to the door and Big hoisted Little on her shoulders so that she could reach the bolt. Alas for this attempt at escape, as much as she tried, Little was not strong enough to slide it open.
"Who is this?" Brienne asked Arya, eyebrows raised.
"Tormund's daughters," Arya said, wishing she had not thought of the notion in the first place. "I said that you had to determine what sort of father he is, didn't I?"
Brienne bit her lip, and looked as though she would like to laugh, but didn't dare do it, given Arya's stormy expression. "How...thoughtful of you," she said.
"Don't give me that," Arya snapped. "It wasn't thoughtful at all. It was a damned stupid idea, as you can see."
"They don't seem too happy, that's for certain," Brienne said, observing Little, who was still making desperate attempts to move the bolt. "Perhaps we could feed them? Would that help, do you think?"
Arya hoped so; luckily she had laid in some supplies for the children, and went over to the table to unpack them. Brienne sat down, which seemed to ease the children's terror of her somewhat. They still huddled at the door, staring at her with wild eyes.
"They're so...small," she said to Arya.
Arya laughed. "Not their voices," she said. "And really, they're actually tall for their ages. They're just terribly scrawny."
"So I see," Brienne said.
Arya began brewing chocolate, and the children's noses twitched at the smell. "I've got fresh cream to go with it," she said to them, with a weedle in her voice, hoping for a positive reaction.
She didn't get it. Big scowled and Little shivered.
Brienne watched as Arya set out the food: broth with onions and rice in it, a roasted chicken, thickly buttered fresh bread, fruit from the greenhouse, and cups of chocolate. Arya then sat down and proceeded to carve the chicken.
"I guess we're going to have to eat all this food by ourselves," Arya observed casually to Brienne. She looked at the children. "Unless you'd like to help us with it, perhaps?"
Neither child responded.
With some difficulty, Brienne got to her feet and went slowly over to them. They stared at her, too mesmerized to flee.
"Come along," she said, firmly, taking each one by their arms, and leading them to the table.
They sat down, staring at the food, but not touching it.
"Start with the broth," Brienne said, pouring it into two small bowls.
The children picked up the bowls, as Brienne indicated they should, but they sat staring at her until she drank hers, at which they downed their portions in a gulp. The chicken and bread went the same way, as did the fruit; then they drank their cups of chocolate. As long as Brienne ate or drank her serving first, they were content to imitate her.
"What's your name?" Brienne asked the elder child, after a pause.
"Big," said Big, in a voice to match, startling Arya. "And she's Little," pointing to her sister.
"Pleased to meet you both," Brienne said, making no comment upon the absurdity of their names. "I'm Ser Brienne of Tarth. And this is Lady Arya Stark."
Big nodded, and when Arya poured her a second cup of chocolate, drank it. She seemed to be relaxing a bit. But Little was still shivering in between courses, and holding on tightly to her sister's hand.
"Is Little all right?" Briene asked Big.
"She's just cold," Big said casually, reaching for more bread.
Arya reached over to finger Little's clothing, and discovered it was quite thin. She raised her brows and looked at Brienne.
"Get my cloak, would you please, Arya?" Brienne murmured. "It's in the other room."
The cloak was fur lined and when wrapped around both children, gave Little some relief; she stopped shivering.
"Who looks after them?" Brienne asked in an undervoice.
Big thought this question was addressed to her. "Grammy," she said brightly.
"Is that your da's mother or your ma's?" Arya asked.
"Ma's," said Big, stuffing a piece of bread with chicken, and giving it to her sister.
"You don't live with your Da, then?"
"No," said Big. "Grammy says not. She says Da is a bad man."
"Does she?" Brienne said, without infection.
"Yah," said Big. "She does. She says he can't visit us at home. He comes round to the school instead."
"I see," Brienne said.
"Why does Grammy say your Da is evil?" Arya asked.
"He kills all his wives, Grammy says," Big answered, in a noncommital tone. Arya could not tell if Big understood all of what she was saying or not.
"From what Hjordis said, dear old Grammy is coming to pick them up in less than an hour," Arya said to Brienne. "So we are goint to get to meet her."
"Good," said Brienne ominously. "I'm looking forward to it,"
