When Brian arrived at the wildlings' main encampment, he was startled to see a giant erecting a tent post.
"Don't stare at 'im," Ygritte warned. "Giants are shy, but also quick to anger."
Two gnomes walked over to the group. "Who's this?" one of them asked.
"A crow come over," said Rattleshirt. "He was afraid I'd take his bones as well as Halfhand's." He shook his sack of trophies at the gnomes.
"He slew Qhorin Halfhand," said the Manotaur.
"Shmebulock!" said the second gnome.
Brian bent down and shook his hand. "Hi. I'm Brian Griffin."
"Shmebulock!" the gnome said again. It seemed he couldn't say anything else.
Brian smiled at that. "Ha. He's hodoring."
"What's hodorin'?" Ygritte asked.
Finally, Brian knew something she didn't. "Back at Winterfell, where I come from, there was a guy named Hodor who could only say his name, Hodor. Looks like this gnome is the same way."
"Let's see what Mance has to say about you," said the first gnome.
As they headed for Mance's tent, wildling dogs surrounded them, barking and growling at Brian. The head gnome screamed for them to be quiet, but they paid him no heed.
"They don't seem to care for you very much," the Manotaur said to Brian.
"They're dogs and I'm a wolf," said Brian. "They know I'm not their kind." No more than I'm yours, he added inside his head.
Then a rock hit Brian in the head. He snapped his head to the side and saw that a child had thrown it.
Ygritte shooed the child away. "Sorry about that," she told Brian. "Some of the kids around 'ere lack discipline as they 'ave no fathers."
"What happened to their fathers?" Brian asked.
"Mostly killed by White Walkers. Some killed by crows. Like you." She noted the uncomfortable expression on Brian's face. "Oh, don't worry, Brian Griffin. If Mance likes you, you'll live another day."
Rattleshirt and Ygritte brought Brian to the command tent. A bearded man was in there. "What's this?" he said. "A crow?"
"This one come over," explained Ygritte. "'E slew Qhorin 'Alf'and with 'is own paws."
"This dog?" The man was angered by the news.
"Actually, I'm a direwolf," said Brian.
"The Halfhand should have been mine to kill. Do you have a name, wolf?"
"Brian Griffin, your grace." Brian bowed, thinking this was Mance Radar.
The bearded man burst into laughter. "Your grace? Do you take me for a king?"
"I took you for Mance Radar," Brian said, baffled.
Another man stepped out from the back of the tent. "I'm Mance Radar."
"Who's this then?" Brian said.
"His name is Tormund Giantsbane," said the real Mance. He dismissed the other wildlings from the tent.
Alone with Brian, Mance regarded the direwolf. "Tell me your story."
Brian obeyed, telling the tale from beginning to end. When he was finished, Mance said, "So, you killed Qhorin Halfhand. Qhorin was my enemy. But also, my brother, once. So… should I thank you for killing him, Brian Griffin? Or curse you?" He gave Brian a mocking smile.
"You ought to thank me for killing your enemy," Brian said, "and curse me for killing your friend."
"Well answered," said Mance. "So, tell me truly, Brian. Are you a craven who turned your cloak from fear, or is there another reason that brings you to my tent?"
Brian knew he'd only have one chance to come up with a convincing story. "When we came north and stopped at Craster's Keep, I saw a White Walker take one of Craster's sons, and Mormont did nothing to stop it. I decided then that I want to fight for those who support the living. Have I come to the right place for that?"
Mance's face broke into a broad smile. "You're gonna need a new cloak."
