Tormund Giantsbane
No sooner had the Tall-Talker finished his song than the party arrived at the Northern Village. They'd made haste down from Thenn after collecting the last of their people, and been intent upon making a final stop along the western face of the True North.
From there it would be back to the forest for a final regrouping, and then
We March South.
Mance had spared no expense in bringing the greater strength of the free folk together over the past two decades. In his time so many had been brought together that none might've believed it possible before.
Not bad for a Flown Crow with a Skinny Cock.
In truth Mance was more than just a man, he had to have been for such a diverse multitude of people to follow him. Tormund had once aspired to call himself King among the Free Folk, yet Mance had earned that title and put the Giantsbane into place. Many might've hated a man for such displacement, yet the Hornblower was happy to call his King a friend.
Some of the others might've had second thoughts though.
For while Tormund had followed the former crow for years by this point, some had followed Mance for less than the past six moons. Some hardly followed their King at all, yet sooner or later, everyone would fall in line.
The Husband of Bears had! Such a thing might've been the greatest testament to Mance's leadership and patience.
In truth though Mance hadn't become King for personal benefit or selfish ambition, but out of singular necessity.
Not everyone knew it, but Tormund Tall-Talker could keep a secret,
And Mance had trusted him with a tale he'd not shared with another soul.
Not even Dalla whom Mance had taken to wife, nor the babe he'd named in honor of some Crow who spared his life. Instead the King-Beyond-The-Wall had entrusted his most loyal lieutenant, and the first man whom had fallen behind Mance.
Our Kings seen whats out there. Saw it good and close. Not just in the dead of night...
Such thoughts were out of place, and due for another time.
It was then that he remembered his place, and Tormund found that the free folk party had been approached by three village elders.
A half giant stepped forth and made the strength of his voice clear.
"Halt, come no further. State your business from afar before you enter Kikur's Brood!"
Their party slowed, but did not halt. Time was of the essence.
And It was the King who spoke in response.
"Greetings, to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking too?"
From beside the large man strode a moon pale maiden, with hair milkier than that of the ground around her.
"I am Nerva by the grace of my mother, but my dear husband has named me Snowbraid."
Nerva Snowbraid.
Such a sight was she with her long milky hair and large brown eyes that Tormund might've risked his life for a woman one final time.
Who is her weakly husband? And where is he so that I might steal her from him?
"This is my husband, Konungur Stor Pikk" she pointed to the massive man who'd called forth before.
I'm a bit to old for all that, Tormund decided. Perhaps Toregg could take her though.
He'd not wish such upon his son, for even though his eldest boy had been renowned for his great height, this man stood clear above him.
And if Tormund had not ridden with a Giant, he might've mislabeled the man before him as one.
Yet another stood next to the couple, and though the Snowbraid was about to grant him his due courtesy, it was he who spoke next.
"I am Mikhail, brother to Nerva and leal chieftain of these lands."
He's the chieftain? Tormund nearly bellowed at so much irony. How could he defend his land, I know he didn't defend his sister when the beast next to him came calling.
Mance was of a different temperament to Tormund though, and so he remained composed and spoke.
"Do you know who I am Good Chieftain Mikhail?"
The man shook his head, almost like he knew his time as High Lord of these Lands had come to an end.
Never before had Tormund ventured this deep towards the Shivering Sea along the Haunted Forest.
As such all people here were foreign to the Giantsbane's grace, but he felt a certain compassion for them, something that Mance probably felt ten fold.
All he wanted was to save everyone.
"I do. You're Mance Rayder, a deserted crow and you've made yourself King."
"Make no mistake, my wings were clipped if every the existed. And I never asked for any title, everything I've done has been born of necessity friend."
"Then we are likely to be of a mind then?"
"If you'll hear me out."
The Chieftain looked at his two companions and nodded.
"We shall, but we've no food to spare such a party."
Mance smiled at them, and probably flashed them his bard brown eyes.
So it was that they rode into the villages heart. Mance had brought a company of twenty to this meeting, yet the hearth that they entered could've fit them all, had one among them not been a giant. So it was that Tormund's shit speaking friend remained outside.
He's probably more comfortable there, and his Mammoth most certainly wouldn't have fit.
It was the largest hall Tormund had been sheltered under since they'd departed from Thenn, yet it was not so great as Mance's polar bear pelted tent.
But it had a fire, and the party had brought there own mead.
So it was adequate enough.
Among the participants had been several of the most notorious members of free folk society. Half a thousand chieftains might've kept Mance's company at all times had he allowed such, yet he preferred to keep them separate enough so as not to kill one another. Instead he'd brought with him the more troublesome figures, and so amongst them were many infamous individuals.
Yet instead of keeping their company, The three village representatives sat opposite Mance's collective as they all took place around a central fire pit. Before they'd been to far away for Tormund to get a good look at them, yet now with nothing obstructing his view, the Tall Talker could purposefully gaze them over.
Naturally his stare had fallen upon the milky figure of this Nerva Snowbraid.
Deciding that he could not have her though, Tormund began to wonder.
Whomever her mother was must've been quite the sight, Perhaps she's lonely and needs a man for her bed.
Such wishful thoughts were Tormund's favorite.
Besides her synonymous hair, which was curled into a half halo, the girl had a slender figure with lively brown eyes. Her hands were small, as the gloves upon them proved testament. Yet when she looked upon her husband the width of her mouth far surpassed them in size. The teeth in her mouth were plentiful, and near so pale as her skin. And it was that she smiled long and often.
How could one blame her? If Tormund had looked as such he might've strode the world grinning ear to ear as well.
Yet the bulk of her smiles came from the sight and sounds of her husband. Several times she busted into laughter, whilst also consistently groping the lucky fellow.
Tormund wasn't so great a speaker of the Old Tongue as Mance, but he knew the words well enough.
Stor Pikk might've been a title the Giantsbane could've been bestowed had his people spoken the Old Tongue more. Instead though Tormund had too spread about the truth of his members size himself, rather than being given a title for it.
She must be very pleased,
Yet she seemed to be walking perfectly fine, so Tormund was unsure as to the mans skill with his sheathed blade. Perhaps I could show her what he's supposed to be doing...
The burly monster moved to gaze at Tormund, and so the Giantsbane gave a hardy laugh, raising his mug as he did so.
At first he'd thought the man dense, yet this Konungur raised a horn of his own and together they gulped down that which they drank.
Fine fellow that one. Aside from his great height, the chieftains good brother had the look of a proper fighter, with long dark black hair that curled ever so slightly at the end, hazy green eyes and at his side was a real sword.
Not the cheap brass kind that a Thenn might've crafted, but proper castle forged steel.
The kind you could only get by killing someone important.
Tormund truly wished to observe such a man more, yet the villages nominal leader finally spoke.
"I know not who has traveled with you, and I know little of you Mance, save that you would see me depart the lands of my ancestors."
Mikhail was a stocky man, and he'd been born with normal looking brown hair, evidently the magic of his parents had only went to one child.
This man before them hardly resembled his sister, for where she was slender he'd been thick, where she'd been beautiful he'd been plain, and yet his eyes haunted in a way that could not be said of hers.
For instead of the lively brown eyes of the sister had been replaced with cold pale grey, the kind that might've brightened the room had fire been denied.
Yet at such a sight Mance did not balk.
"That's fair enough, and I could see how you would be led to believe such a thing. Doubtlessly though you'd feel more at ease should my companions be introduced, and so I'd see that done before we talk further."
Kikur's chieftain nodded with no sign of hesitation.
"Very well, for such a task there could only be one man worthy."
Mance pointed directly at Tormund, whom had been just about to knock back another horn of ale.
"This gentleman is known by many names and even more monikers. I style him Tall-Talker, Horn-blower, Breaker of Ice, Husband to Bears, Mead-king of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods, and Father of Hosts. But he's earned the titles of Giantsbane and Thunderfist, though most name him Tormund."
After such a round of niceties Tormund belched once, and while the chieftain did not laugh, his sister, good brother and Mance had a chuckle.
"That's the name me mother gave me after I'd weaned one tit down so far that she'd lost her balance for all time."
"So Tit Milker it is then, here's to you!" said the half giant whilst raising a horn and downing it.
Fucking cunt, better not steal my thunder.
Yet Tormund bellowed at the prospect of having another moniker.
The Giantsbane rose from his seat, and began a round about the room in response to the prior request from his King.
He moved first to his son,
"This fucker right here is me eldest boy, Toregg the Tall folks call him." Tormund shook his son by the shoulders, whilst the man laughed.
Gods the days have gone by, seems just yesterday he was sucking at the She-Bear's teat.
Tormund didn't stay long though, instead he circled around the crowd.
"This axe toting hooligan is none other than Soren Shieldbreaker. He's not much to look at I know, but a man'll shit his breeches if he gazes upon him in battle. And this old sack of shit is my dear friend Ygon. Oldfather we named him, he's got a fighting force of near one hundred men, almost all fathered from his saggy trousers. He's taken no less than eighteen wives don't you know! I can hardly stomach one, yet time and time again he's scaled the damn wall in search of somewhere to stick his prick!"
Next came the fourteen year old boy Quort.
"So this strapping Lad is named Quort, yet I've dubbed him Youngfather. Four and Ten he is, yet a wife and two babes does he have! If we had more fathers like Old and New they'd be the only ones we need to supply our damned free folk fighting force!"
Tormund desperately wanted to call the next man by his mocking epithet, yet he knew that starting a fight wasn't what Mance desired from this mission.
"It would be detrimental to the cause Old friend." He'd been like to say.
So it was that Tormund lessened his tone and gave no affection to the man whom he called forth.
"This it the Lord of Bones, he's a goat horse to him, and indeed that is a giants deteriorated skull that he's taken for a helm. Just don't tell the big man outside."
"I'm certain you didn't miss our large friend, and he most likely can't hear from in here, but he deserves all the songs we sing of him. Mag the Mighty his people have named him, and..."
"You've brought Giants to your cause?" asked the Snowbraid.
"It's not just my cause. I've not come to you with selfish ambition, I only desire two things from you and your people. First is that you allow my friend to continue, he's quite entertaining I'm afraid."
Tormund nodded at the gesture, and so once more made his way about the room.
"This is Alyfn, he's been dubbed Crowkiller for his past deeds. Yet he's more of a threat to father children on your wives than any man I've ever met. By the Gods, A son in each village he has! Next to him are the mighty warg sons Vaeron and Vaekar, and their father Varamyr whom you might know as Sixskins. You probably saw him ride into the village though, hard to miss the giant fucking polar bear he was mounted atop!"
Giantsbane was now well within the territory of people whom he had a distaste for, yet he harbored such notions within his throat, and did his best to show unity amongst people who, but through Mance, could've never been such.
"Gerrick has been kissed by fire, as have all his children. Gerolt might make for a great man one day, and I've been hoping my sons might take a crack at his daughters Genna, Gael, and Galenna for a time now. They claim Kingsblood about them you see, for Gerrick is the great grandson of King Raymun Redbeard's younger brother."
Tormund had never thought Gerrick anymore a King than a Giant might've, yet all he did was flaunt his heritage.
Yet what good was it to be descended from the King's younger brother? Especially when the Red Raven earned his epithet because it was the only thing that rhymed with Craven?
"Here is the great spearwife Harma, she hates hounds so keep her from the kennels. This blonde watery eyed man is the Weeper, he's renowned for his great scythe and for claiming the eyes of his victims. The earless cunt beside him is Styr, and yes he can hear you, surprising as it may be. You might know him as the Magnar of Thenn."
Finally Tormund returned to those whose company he enjoyed keeping. He strode right up between the love birds and decided to introduce them separate like.
"This dark haired raider is Jarl, he's a veteran of half a dozen climbs and I'm not talking about the Wall, I mean he's scaling his way past men like me own son by finding his way into bed with this beauty!"
Giantsbane pulled the two together as they smiled,
"Here we have the honey golden haired Val, whom stole Jarl right from his village! She's also A capable rider, or so I've heard!" Tormund smiled and reeled away before she had a chance to hit him.
"Her sister this one is, Dalla their parents named her. The babe at her breast is Aemon, named so for a man whom once spared Mance's life."
"And of course we have our King-Beyond-The-Wall, Mance fuckin Rayder. Who through twenty long years brought us all to where we are now."
Mance smiled and thanked his dear friend for the theatrics. Whilst the King and lieutenant exchanged pleasantries the burly half giant laughed before downing another horn. Yet his wife seemed intent upon something else.
"You spoke of desiring another thing from us and our people."
Mance turned back to face her, and he once more became the deathly focused King he needed to be.
"I did, and since you were so kind to alot me my first, I hope you'll hear out my second. What I want is for your people to travel with me and mine, I would see you leave these lands not for my sake but for that of yours. I would see your children live to have their own, and I'd see them spared what's coming."
She seemed pleased by his manner of speech, yet she also saw fit to push further.
"Our people have never ferried themselves from these lands, they know nothing but the life that has been put before them. The coast has provided well enough, yet you speak with compassion for our people, whose like you've never known."
The King could only curl his lips at such a statement.
"You're husband is quite the lucky man, to have someone so beautiful and intelligent is a rare enough thing." Mance turned to his own wife and hugged her, before planting a kiss upon the babes head.
"I would count myself in similar company, and I've a family of my own now. I may not know the everyday dealings of your people, what they drink, how they eat, or when they make jokes but I know that your blood is every bit the same as mine. That our knees don't bend, and we are damn proud of it. I will never ask anyone to kneel for me, and I wouldn't ask for your people to pack their things for my sake."
"No, there is something far more worrisome out there, and I mean to save your people along with my own. You've an understanding I'm sure, seeing as how you'll be a mother soon."
Snowbraid seemed shocked, Tormund hadn't noticed such a thing, and he'd most definitely looked at the girl more than Mance had.
"How did y..."
"Simple!" Mance smiled,
"I've seen what beauty such a phase brings!" Once more the King planted a kiss to his wife's lips.
Konungur looked shocked as well, even frightened. This was his wife though, he'd doubtlessly stolen her and would not be likely to leave her. Such was the great beauty she possessed, that finding another like her might prove more difficult than imaginable.
"What else can you tell us Rayder? Shall it be a boy or girl?"
"Ah friend, no man can know the truth of such a thing, but rest assured revelation shall come soon enough!"
For his part the big man leaned over and pulled his wife into a tight embrace, before finally releasing her and returning to the business before them. It was the man's wife who spoke though,
"So you would swear that as King, our people would be protected? That you would see us spared the coming storms?"
"I'll fight for your family same as I shall do for my own."
Snowbraid rose to her feet, and proclaimed her allegiance to Mance.
"I shall not take such a thing lightly, and will do all within my power to see the intended outcome done."
Yet now Mance had to face the Snowy haired woman's burly wife in a battle of words.
"Indeed, yet I must know what you intend for our crossing to the South. How many of our people must march with arms to see warmer days?"
"The people of your village will do no more than any other, what we are doing is a risk in of it self, yet a necessity at that. No longer can we remain in these lands, and as such we should be willing to do whatever is required in the process."
"How many men are available to you?"
"Over One Hundred Thousand people travel among my camp."
"Of those, how many could bear arms?"
"The true number doesn't matter, instead what's important is that the Watch shall be overwhelmed at such a host's approach. In addition the Stark in Winterfell cannot supply a force sufficient enough to risk battle with such a large contingent. Regardless of the legitimate size of our fighting force, By the time they could realize such a thing we'll have crossed the Wall and anything is possible then."
"Very well, yet would you risk combat for the elderly or woman folk?"
"I seek no combat, yet as a realistic man I must plan for such an inevitability. I shall let those who wish to fight follow their desire. With that said, I would not put untrained soldiers on the front lines, rather have them stand amongst reserves and bolster our numbers."
"So you mean to allow glory for those who seek it, whilst allowing honor to still be kept for those who don't?"
"We all desire something, many want to be remembered forever, others want a memorable death, all I want is to live long enough so I can see my boy have one of his own."
The half giant looked down towards the floor in acknowledgement of such a statement, Mance you fucking genius.
Only the King-Beyond-The-Wall could be so clever and on the spot regarding a transgression.
Who knows if she's actually pregnant, it only mattered that they could sympathize with Mance because of it.
Had this been another village, or this burly Konungur not been so lovingly wed, Mance might've had to fight such a man for the villages submission. Despite his Kings skill, Tormund doubted that such a victory could be an expected outcome.
"Honor resides upon your tongue Rayder, I've half a mind to follow you now. Though I'll let it be known now that I alone shall muster our peoples forces, and it should be I who leads them into battle."
"So long as your command does not deviate from my battle plans I shall allow it, same as I've offered for the multitude of tribes who've joined before you. I will not deny you such a thing, and I shall offer your people weapons should the need arise."
"We have weapons, a great many in fact, yet we have little skill about our village. No less than five thousand live amongst us, yet only half that number are fighting age, and even less are true warriors."
"That is not a problem friend, many of my lieutenants shall be available for your peoples instruction. As I've said, I will not throw unskilled men onto the battle fields forefront."
After such a statement the Half giant agreed before the fire that he would follow Mance Rayder into battle, and call him King if need be.
Still though, the most important figure in the hall had as of yet been unconvinced.
"You are very wise for this Mance, I can deny you no courtesy in such regard. Everything you've said is true, yet I must ask how you plan to see us south of the Wall. It's no secret that free folk armies break upon that icy monstrosity like waves along a shore. And we've never left these lands since our ancestors first settled it. Not when Joramun rallied against the Crows, nor once Gendel and Gorne shared the title of King. We did not stir for the Horned Lord whom offered a magical passage, and Bael the Bard did not lull us into his camp with the frivolous songs he made for his southern exploits. You even brought Raymun's blood before us, yet we once turned him down as well."
"No pattern has eluded us Mance Rayder, the Free Folk gather before a singular leader, and march southwards. History has provided varied results with the Crows, yet always has the Stark in Winterfell come to break us."
Tormund looked at his King, such a problem was the type of thing Mance was an expert in.
It was the exact reason he'd been made King, instead of the Giantsbane.
Had Tormund been in charge he might've done exactly what so many had tried before, but Mance had cunning.
And he'd once been a Crow himself, So it was that he had insight no other King could've.
"As I am so often reminded, I was once a sworn brother of the Nights Watch, despite my taste for all things free folk. With experience comes knowledge though. The Wall is not manned so well as it had once been. Now there are too few Crows perched atop her frozen peak to defend its entirety. Along its length are nineteen castles, but never in its history has the Watch manned more than seventeen. Yet when I flew down only three were still kept."
"And is that your intent? To sneak us through where they shall not be present?"
"No, I'm aware that such a tactic was used by the Redbeard not so long ago. No Giants shall scale the Wall, nor their mammoths, and to ride without them would be a folly. Only through a main gate could we hope to bring a unified army to the South."
"So you mean to take one of the utilized castles by force?"
"I don't want to take anything, but we must get south before the Cold winds blow harder. Else no one will ever hear of our traditions, and it would be as if none of our ancestors ever lived."
"Your meaning is not lost upon me Rayder, but the lands is..."
"Land is Land! There is plenty of it south, but your concern is not an unusual thing. Yet I would tell you that should your ancestor be forced to chose between the lands which he cultivated or the descendants he fathered, then that would be no decision at all."
For a moment it seemed the two had reached an impasse, yet finally with a sigh the village chieftain spoke once more.
"Long have my ancestors withheld from offers of allegiance or fealty, yet if you speak truly then you stand alone amongst your predecessors."
Mance laughed at such an analysis.
"Truly I'm an amalgamation of them! Joramun did not ride south for selfish ambition, but instead he meant to see an end for the treacherous thirteenth Lord Commander, and it was that the Stark of Winterfell joined in arms with him as it was the King's own brother whom ruled the Watch its said. I would see myself on Lord Eddard's side when the time came to face what cold awaits us in the woods, yet I must see our people safe from harm first."
"Gendel and Gorne could be said to be inspiration for my plans, for it was they whom sought underground passage through the Wall. Yet I know of such treacherous caverns more than they might have ever, and for the Horned Lord I've not forsaken magic. I am not weary of wargs or skin changers, and yet I would not use that which might cause our destruction, for such a bellow would hearken the end of man."
"The Bard is truly whom I desire to emulate, for he was a free spirited fellow much the same as myself. And like him I've visited the ancient home of House Stark, in fact twice now. Once as a sworn brother, and another time as a traveling singer just like Sygerrik of Skagos. I've plucked no flowers, nor seen the crypts though, the later I might seek to rectify."
"Like Raymun I seek to take advantage of the Watch's dissipating numbers, yet I know that Sleepy Jack Musgood is no longer in command, and the Lord of Castle Black shall instead be a watchful old bear. Nor should i allow my host to become divided or slack discipline until our mission has been complete, and our people saved."
"So you see, I too have learned from the pattern of those who came before me."
After such a monologue Tormund thought he'd fallen asleep, yet the mention of old bears had made the grizzled man's member throb for one he'd known. Yet Mance was captivating despite his long spiel, and Mikhail, chieftain of the Kiruk's brood seemed resolute.
"Glory, Riches and Fame are not desires that you would seek on our journey?"
Mance did let out a chuckle at the notion.
"If a pot of gold fell in my lap I doubt I'd deny such a favorable occurrence, but I'd not risk the lives of yours or mine for such a stake. Only for survival would I risk this venture, and that alone is my desire for our people."
Such an exchange brought about recognition to the chief's face, and he knew what must be done. He rose to his feet, much like his sister and good brother had, and offered once more allegiance.
"You are truly a singularity amongst the True North Mance Rayder. Not since the Wall's construction have our people followed a King southwards, and for no other have we answered a call. Yet righteousness is at the core of what you seek, and so it should be that we shall march behind you."
He continued on with more offers of fealty and oaths of allegiance, yet he finished strongly.
"My people are under your protection now Mance Rayder, do not fail us."
"I won't."
They rose and shook hands upon a bargain well struck, sincerity upon both of their faces as the act occurred. Chieftain Mikhail would abandon the soon to be overrun lands of his ancestors, in the process taking Mance for his only superior, and in return the King would work tirelessly to see the village folk protected.
"We shall all see a sunnier tomorrow" Mance might've said, yet Tormund bellowed at the joyous occasion and raised a toast to their newest companions. The call was well met, and ale went up throughout the hall. Instead of drinking, Mance went forth to Dalla and took his son within outstretched arms, holding him in place of a mug.
Such a gesture was symbolic of course, for Mance was nearly so double layered with his actions as he was his words.
As a King everyone of Mance's subjects where his children, each a cranky babe constantly stepping in or out of line, and despite the ass pain they must've brought upon the Flown Crow, it was for there survival that he fought for.
And that is exactly what a King should do.
That's why Tormund followed Mance.
Because only he held the larger collectives best interest at heart.