Ymir of Bruma is strange by all accounts. Looking at the man in front of me I'm greeted only by the massive bear cloak that rests on his shoulders. He spoke with an unfamiliar accent and told stories better than any bard. He had been quiet however since we had left Deepwood Motte. No boisterous stories of honor once gained or challenges given just odd silence. Even in his full armor he made little noise; the only sound was the chainmail shifting agents itself.
"Are you alright?' I called him. The only response I get however is the sound of birds chirping and the trees rustling. The quiet at this point was deafening the only thing I could focus on and it was infuriating. "Ymir!" I reached up to grab his shoulder but as I was reaching he spun quickly grabbing my own shoulder and pulling me down beneath him. Suddenly the distinct snap of crossbows filled the air followed by at least three dull smacks into Ymir.
"Cunt knew we was following them. You idiots Kill 'em! Come back with there loot or don't come back at all!" a deep gravelly voice called out.
"Get up, there's at least eight of them and stay close." Ymir said his voice barely above a whisper. Together we stand my blade coming out in a high screech as metal met metal.
Standing side to side with Ymir I see that he was close on his guess of how many men were. The three crossbowmen were in the midst of pulling back the strings on their crossbows as the other five charged at us with axes and swords. Moving quickly Ymir's massive blade left its sheath a thin trail of fog leaving it as he swung it catching one of the men off guard. By the sheer size of the blade he was cleaved near in half with one swing. His body being torn from his legs by the forward momentum. I myself clashed with one of the cutthroats. Out faces inches from each other dirty moppy hair and foul smelling breath greeted me. He spoke with a crazed smile.
"Were gonna take everything you've got!" He swung wide giving me an opportunity to send my blade piercing into his jugular, his lifeblood flowing down the blade and up my sleeve. Turning I get a glimpse of Ymir grabbing one of our attackers with a free hand by the collar of his furs and throwing him into one of the others.
"Fuck! Shoot 'em already!" and once more the distinct thwack of a crossbow strings filled the air and something hard hit me in the chest knocking the wind out of me and knocking me on my ass.
"Jeor! Fuckling bandits, WULD!" Once more the world shook as he spoke and I felt a gush of wind and heard the panicked calls of the crossbowmen being cut off suddenly.
After laying in the snow for a short time that stupid fucking helmet of his was in my face. His concerned eyes are the only human thing about him there.
"Jeor? How are ya lad? How's your breathing? Can you see? What's your father's name?" I chuckle at his mother hen attitude. Silent avatar of death one moment and a new mother whose only son tripped the next.
"I'm fine Ymir, the bolts are so dull that it didn't get past the gambeson." I sit up the bolt hanging loosely from my chest. Letting out a sigh of relief Ymir pulls the bolt from my chest looking at it. The head wasn't even metal but was instead a small piece of flint chipped into shape. With a sigh of relief he tosses the bolt away and stands up straight holding a hand to help me up.
"Apologies for giving you the cold shoulder the last few hours my boy. But I needed to stay focused to keep track of them." I smile up to him only to see behind him one of the men he had thrown earlier. I call out in warning "Ymir!" and with a swiftness unbefitting him the large man turned his open hand now clenched in a fist sending a powerful backhand into the face of the attacking man sending him falling in a heap. Shaking his hand sending splats of blood onto the cold fresh with snow dying it red. Standing I can see the carnage of our confrontation. Well is say our but truly it was Ymir's ferocity that won the day.
The three crossbowmen were missing their heads, having fear forever entrapped on their faces. The man who had been hit with one of his compatriots was groaning in pain seemingly having hit his head on something on the way down. The bloody mess of a man who foolishly tried to attack Ymir was laying in a pile of crimson snow his nose and face caved. But truly the most terrifying thing was the half a man face first in the snow, a trail of entrails leading to his legs laying face up. The single man I killed seemed tame in comparison.
"Don't worry about them. The crows will deal with 'em." Ymir says to me as he removes his helmet. His face set heavily in a scowl. "What should we do with him?" he says, looking at the remaining man. I frown at that. I had not expected him to let me decide so I had not considered what to do with the man. After a moment of thought I answer.
"Take him with us to Winterfell. Lord Stark will have questions for him." Ymir said nothing. He simply put his helmet back on and walked over to the downed man and picked him up and held his arm behind his back in what looked like a painful way. The next half a day was spent finishing out the trip to Winterfell with only the minimal complaining from our prisoner due to Ymir's firm grip on his arm. When we finally arrived at the walls of Winterfell Ymir let out a whistle and mumbled to himself something along the lines of. "What in oblivion do ya need walls that high for?"
Walking through the town I found myself looking around in awe. Very rarely did we Mormonts leave Bear Island spending our lives defending our people and the greater North from raiders either from the Wildings or Ironborn. To see the seat of Stark is always a pleasure. And to see so many people all in one place truly gives a sense of purpose to see the men and women we fight for always swells my heart with pride.
"A Lot of folk round here. How many you think there is?" Ymir said more to himself then to me. A trend I've noticed. Walking through the busy Winter Town lead us eventually to the gate of the Great Keep where we were met the Captain of the Guard. One Brandon Cassel a man of six and thirty who in the previous times I had visited with my family had been reluctant to train with my sister. But in his defense at the time she was here she was about seven and insistent in using live steal. Standing five foot ten inches broad and thick his hair was cut short to the scalp and clean shaven with a relatively plain face. Brown eyes looking to his companions behind me.
"Lord Mormont." He greeted curtly" I suppose this is your guest? But the message that Measter Walys said you'd have one guest not two." He said. His voice was higher than one would expect but distinctly masculine. Before I can respond Ymir speaks for himself.
"I would be the guest of the Mormonts. This waste of hide attacked us with seven others. However, there was a eighth man but he fled." He shoved the bandit ahead of us so he fell on his knees in front of the guardsmen who quickly pulled him away.
"Well I suppose we owe you lads thanks. Come inside, Lord Stark is currently in Whiteharbor to speak with the Manderlys about pirates who have been attacking the Eastern shores. Well, that and Summerhall."
"What happened to Summerhall?" I found myself asking. I knew very little of the Southern castles but even I knew of the pleasure palace of the Targaryens. Brandon's eyes widened before softening.
"Suppose you wouldn't have heard as far off as you are. Summerhall took to flames twelve weeks back the realm is reeling. Kings Landing is in mourning as most of the royal family is dead as is the king. Lord Edwyle is preparing to head south to offer sympathies. And attend the coronation of Jaehaerys II" couldn't help but grimace. Even if I had never personally met any of them, a large portion of a family being killed in an instant is something any man with a heart can sympathize with regardless of ambitions or relative geography.
"That is beyond unfortunate. To lose a monarch loved or hated will have an effect across the land. Though it may be from a foreigner you have my sympathy." Ymir said downcast he had removed his helmet at this point and his face held genuine sorrow on it. Brandon smiled.
"It's matters not for you to give me sympathies Sir, it not my family at got set to torch. But the fact that wherever you are from has the basic empathy to mourn a loss that is not your own. Well, that speak quantities on your character as a people." He motioned into the main courtyard. "Now then why don't you lads come inside? I don't know about you but my bollocks are about to fall of there so cold." Ymir chuckles as we follow him inside.
We spend the rest of the afternoon speaking with Brandon having shown us to the guest rooms personally, both of us receiving a single room on the same floor on opposite ends of the hallway. My own room was simple befitting of the North but still had the wealth and status of a Lord Paramount behind it. A double bet covered in furs ranging from wolf to wooly sheep covered a mattress with a single feather pillow resting at its head. A chest for any belongings I had with me for storage and a clean set of clothes had been laid out. Changing into them I looked into a mirror placed next to the door. They were a deep green set of simple cloth that had been made to the highest degree of craftsmanship possible in the North. Built to keep heat in but allowing for a large range of movement and the material was light and soft. To make it even more personal however was the small bear's head that was on my right breast, its mouth agape poised to strike. After fixing my hair (I had not had the chance to do so for the last few days) I moved out in the hallway only to be greeted by the chest of my large traveling companion.
"Apologies Jeor but one of the servants was sent to get us but since I was here I offered to get you. Lord Rickard Stark wishes for us to have dinner with him this evening."
Looking up at the large man he was once more in the elaborate grey-blue finery he had worn the other night at Mormont Keep. His brown hair looked shiny and a little wet and he had seemed to have braided it on the sides of his face to keep any offending hair out of his eyes. His beard looked freshly trimmed having been cut at a uniform length just an inch or so off of his chin. He still had on the strange necklace but only the simple gold band remained on his left hand.
"Ever the busy body aren't you?" I sigh as I squeeze by him. "Well come on then it's not polite to be late and we've been invited by the acting lord of the house." As I walked Ymir followed a respectful distance behind me but still close enough that I could feel his presence.
"What can you tell me about Rickard Stark?" Ymir asked, likely to pass the time.
"Lord Rickard is the only child of Lord Edwyle Stark and Lady Marna Stark formally Locke his. As such he's lived a life set to rule he's equal parts kind and ambitious. It is said that he heeds the counsel of Measter Walys a little to frequently."
"What's wrong with seeking counsel of a learned man?"
I chuckle at his question the innocence in it seeming out of place on the large man.
"Besides making him look indecisive as a lord? It is also worth noting that Walys is a bastard of High Garden a palace of vipers. The lords are just worried that he's filling the young man's head with southern ambitions when his place is in the North." Ymir grunts in understanding. "Tell me Ymir, you mentioned back at Bear Island you were a Thane. I've never heard that title what is it?" Ymir looked at me for a moment taking a deep breath before he explained.
"Traditionally speaking, a Thane is an influential land owner in one of the Holds of Skyrim. They may own several buildings or businesses that give them a place among the honored clans of a city. I myself was a land owner in every major city across the Provence and due to the nature of my work I was also well known. By adding me into the court a Jarl was able to increase there own prestige at no risk. And seeing as I never attend court to muck things up in front of them it was a good deal. I got a place to rest when I was in town and the Jarl could say I was apart of there court. Eventually after the Civil War I was named "Shield Thane of Skyrim" by High Queen Elisif. Making me the de facto protector of Skyrim and her interests and by being a Thane in ever hold. Well to say I had a large amount of sway would be an understatement." I let out a low whistle.
"Sounds like you won that game that the Southern lords love to play." I say to him. He snorts
"I was given honors by being an honorable man, a cunning warrior, and an excellent leader of men. I didn't do it for any other reason then it is simply who I am." He scolded again. "I'm not some Imperial Count or Bretton Barron. I'm just not suited or interested in tip toeing around words and subjects just because who ever I'm talking to might take offense and try and have me killed years later." He shakes his head. "Its just not the Nord way. Its not MY way." I perk up at Nord. This was the first time he had referred to himself as such. But before I have the chance to ask him what he meant by Nord we arrived at Rickard's solar. I turn to Ymir.
"Now I know you just said you aren't one for edict but for my sake can you behave yourself? This is a different set of circumstances that when you arrived in Bear Island." He smiles at me.
"I may not like this dance that you nobles have to play but that doesn't mean I can't." With that confirmation we head inside.
Well there we go. This is the first chapter written outside of Ymir's POV and I hope i was able to portray how eccentric he can be. I also wanted to give Ymir some more info on Ymir's role in Skyrim politics beyond *Thane of everywhere* and shield and Sword Thanes are a thing in ESO but there basically just guards so I'm treating it like an old title that hasn't been used in a while to show his Importance and give him some political clout beyond being Dragonborn. So I'm next time were going to meet Rickard Stark Ned's father and someone who actually has a decent bit about him on the wiki. I'm hoping to get down to the nitty gritty of the story soon. Within the next three chapters or so so things should be kicking up. Fights, drama, and some more familiar faces. If you have any suggestions send me a pm. If you wanna leave praise or corrections then leave a review (to the guest who pointed out that Azor Ahai isn't Westerosi in origin I'm actually going to use that as a bit of conflict so thanks!) But other then that I hope you have a good whenever your reading this and hope you stop by for the next chapter! I'd also like to thank all of you for getting this story to over a Hundred follows and almost a Hundred favorites just seeing that little notification makes my day.