Book 1: Blood in the South

Chapter 5: Northbound

Joran

"Three…four…five," a shirtless Joran counted out loud to himself as he pushed his body away from the floor, his arms fully extending at the top of the exercise. It had been five days since he had visited Bran Stark and had been visited himself by Tyrion Lannister, and every one of those days, the young man with his headaches being a constant companion to him while he healed refused to remain bedridden during all of them. So, whenever he was alone in the room, no Maege or Maester Lewin or other visitors to bother him, Joran committed himself to a simple regimen that had been given to him by Maester Lowther when he was younger to build up what the older man called, 'athleticism.' The days' work consisted of press ups, squats, sit ups, bag lifts with just his present belongings in them considering there were no stones or wood blocks handy, and air strokes with his axe and sword for repetitions, while mauling his headaches at the same time.

It wasn't breaking down a dummy or going out of his mind and fighting whoever was in front of him, but it was suitable for Joran's purpose of remaining to some form of physical capacity. He knew that seven days in bed wouldn't kill him. What Joran did know though, was that somewhere, near and far, there was someone else keeping their sword arm ready and their blades sharp to do bloody work. If it was him that they had in mind for such work or someone else, it didn't matter. They were out there, and Joran had to be ready for them by whatever means available to him.

"Fifty…fifty-one," after he had passed the halfway point, Joran heard a knock at the door to his room. His head pounding and the muscles of his arms tight, he called out in a growl, "come in!"

Maege Mormont entered the room and upon seeing him didn't bother commenting on his state. The first, second and third time that he had been caught by his aunt, Joran had argued with her, and by the fourth encounter, had made the older woman give up on telling him to stop.

"The group going north is getting ready," Maege said grimly. "As is the party going to King's Landing. You say goodbye to the boy?"

"Yes," Joran said, knowing that she meant Bran, before doing one more rep and standing up from the floor. He had gone by earlier to bid his farewell to the sleeping child, and even went on to promise him that he would come back to check on him. Joran silently hoped the boy heard him. "Holt and Wylar ready the woman?"

"Yes. Are you sure you're up for the journey?" Out of all of the children that Maege had taken care of over the years, Joran swore that she worried about him the most.

Turning from Maege and taking his wool shirt from where he had thrown it atop the bed that he had slept in for most of his stay at Winterfell, Joran said as he put it on, "Aye, I'm sure." Moving over to her then after tucking in his shirt, the younger man wrapped his aunt in a tender hug.

"I'll send a raven when I arrive at Castle Black."

"You better," Maege warned. "And you better give Jeor my love."

"I will."

Once he released Maege, Joran adorned his gambeson, chainmail byrnie, scarf mask, sword, long knife and cloak, picked up his travel sack with his axe and shield tied to it and walked out of the room without another word.

…

Picking up Osha from his old room on his way, her rope bindings exchanged for iron cuffs and chains, Joran dragged her through the castle, ignoring the looks that came his way as he went, and walked out to the courtyard. The place a bustle of activity, more so due to the departing Royal Party with the addition of a contingent of northerners that would serve under the newly appointed Hand of the King Eddard Stark, Mormont swept through the gathered bodies until he found Benjen beside a pair of horses, saddled and packed for the journey. When the black brother's eyes found him, they brightened somewhat, until they landed on Osha.

"When I heard that you'd be traveling with me, I wasn't expecting you to bring, let alone have the informant?" Benjen said suspiciously as he inspected Osha. "Nor would I recommend it."

Knowing Benjen meant that he wouldn't recommend bringing a wildling woman to The Wall, where most of his celibate brothers there would see her as a feast for either death or sex, Joran said in response, "she's tougher than she looks, and as long as she's in my keeping, she'll get along."

"I hope so. I'd still keep one eye on her."

"Don't I already know it," Joran growled, turning his gaze to look briefly at Osha, who just turned her eyes to the ground.

"Oh yeah, that too," Benjen said, bringing Joran's attention back to him. "What I mean is watch out for her just in case another one of our traveling companions gets any ideas."

"I thought it would just be us?"

"No. I plan on picking up some new recruits along the way. Not to mention my nephew, Jon Snow is coming along."

"Heh. He has a mind to take the Black?"

"Yeah," Benjen said, seeming conflicted with the notion. "I'm hoping he'll change his mind though when we get there. Wall's a lot different than what he's probably heard about."

"It'll be his decision in the end." These were similar words that Joran's grandfather had told him back when he had tried to take the Black himself. How different things could've been if he had.

"He's not the one I'm worried about getting frisky though."

"Really? Who else is coming?"

"Tyrion Lannister and a few guards," Benjen said this with a hint of contempt to his voice. "And between him, his guards, and what recruits I do grab on the way, you never know who'll pop out first."

"What in all hells would a southerner want to go up to The Wall for?"

"Far as I know, piss off the edge of the world," Benjen said before spitting to the side. "His words of course."

Shaking his head in bewilderment, Joran said, "fucking southerners."

"Aye, and considering he's the queen's brother and Tywin Lannister's son, I'd rather you keep a tight leash on your Wildling. More for his sake you understand."

"I'll keep double tight then, for both our sakes." Joran said this grimly. He knew Tyrion's reputation with women, and he'd rather not come to find the little man had his dick bitten off by Osha.

"Joran."

Turning to the sound of his name, Joran came face to face with Eddard Stark.

"My Lord," Joran said with a nod of his head.

"Like I've told you before, lad. Call me Ned," Eddard said before looking over the horses, wildling and back to the younger man and his brother. "I came to see you off before we went our separate ways. Make sure you had what you needed."

"From what I've seen, everything seems to be in order here…Ned." Joran said before switching the subject. "I appreciate the concern."

"You're welcome," Eddard said. "Good luck on your trip north. Give Jeor my regards."

"I will, Ned. Thank you." Joran said sincerely.

"Benjen, we need to talk a moment," Eddard said to his younger brother.

The two men leaving him with the horses, Joran, thinking that conversation, though short, could've gone worse, turned to Osha and said, "might as well get you on the horse now before we set off."

Not saying a word, Osha allowed Joran to help her up onto the horse that didn't have Benjen's effects on it. Remaining on the ground, Mormont figured he'd lead the horse out of Winterfell by the reins before mounting up himself behind the wildling. His intent on his positioning being to keep a consistent hold and eye on the woman as they traveled. As he was settling Osha, Joran noticed the approach of another body from the bustling courtyard and turned to find Jon Snow leading a horse towards him.

"Hello Jon," Joran said in greeting while turning from his charge.

"Hello Joran," Jon said with a look of confusion on his face. "Are you coming up north with Benjen and me?"

"Aye, I have some business up there to attend to, and a visit long overdo with my grandfather," Joran answered. "I hear you plan on taking the Black."

"Aye."

Although Joran could commend the boy's initiative to get out of Winterell, he couldn't rightfully say that that initiative was going in the right direction. From what he had learned later on about the Wall from letters with his grandfather to what he had been told by Maege about the Night's Watch slow decay, he found that staying on Bear Island was the best thing for him. But that was Joran, and his feelings on the matter aside, he wasn't going to dissuade Jon until his opinion was wanted.

"That's good." Joran lied.

When Jon's eyes found Osha, the younger man asked Joran, "and who's this?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, pup," Osha said in a tone that was playful.

"That there is the business," Joran said before Jon or Osha could say anything else. "Business that is best left alone, Jon."

"Alright," Jon said after a curious pause.

"Ah, Jon," Benjen's voice came from behind the lad, drawing both his and Joran's attention to the First Ranger.

On his approach, Benjen said to the boy, "your father would like you to ride out with him until the Kings Road. Says he wants you by his side before you part ways."

"Alright, thanks uncle Benjen," Jon said before walking off with his horse in tow.

"Time to go, Joran," Benjen said as he moved to his mount, took the reigns and began leading the horse towards the gates.

Looking up to Osha, Joran said in warning, "if you want to survive this trip with a tongue, wildling, you better keep your mouth shut."

When she answered his statement with silence, Joran started leading his own horse towards the gates and out of Winterfell.

…

The multiple parties that left Winterfell, stretched far along the road through Wintertown towards the Kingsroad. At the front of the massive column, was the Royal party. The largest portion of the exodus, it consisted of an army of servants and soldiers to attend and protect the King and his family. Second, rode the party that would follow Eddard Stark south to Kings Landing. Neither extravagant or large like that of the royals', the Warden of the North's portion of the caravan consisted of a paltry number of servants, with the majority of its mass being guardsmen. The third portion consisted of a number of the multitude of northern lords who had attended the feast, along with their own guards and serfs. The only ones not among this group being the groups of Lady Maege and the Glover brothers, who would be taking the Wolfswood to Deepwood Motte and Bear Island respectively. At the end of the line, rode Benjen Stark, Joran Mormont, Tryion Lannister and two guardsmen of House Lannsiter.

Reaching the Kingsroad by noon, the small party turned northwards. A few other groups of northmen ahead of them, their homes lying in the same direction, the small group kept pace with them and made good time despite the traffic. By nightfall of the eighth day, the parties had come in sight of the woodland surrounding Long Lake and had set up camp off the road.

During the night, Benjen Stark mingled and spoke with the lords, as he usually did, about obtaining new recruits, no doubt from their dungeons; Joran made his own fire away from Tyrion's lot and enjoyed the silent company of Jon Snow. After supping with the lad, he turned in early and kept one eye open on Osha until morning. Barely sleeping a wink, Joran arose early, packed up his tent, relit his fire, ate a cold breakfast with the wildling in silence, and waited for Benjen and Jon to awake so they could continue.

Leaving their small camp as the sun began to rise, the party followed the larger group through the forest by Long Lake. At noon of the second day of their journey through, Joran beheld the large body of water on the east side of the road through the trees. Switching his gaze between the road and Long Lake as they went, the young Mormont soon found that they were exiting the woodland area. Beholding the northern half of the lake without the trees to block his view, Joran saw that, without so much as a breeze, the body of water looked almost like it was frozen in the daylight.

Taking another two days to bypass the lake, the companies crossed the northern bridge of The Last River on the third and once there, the larger mass split from the smaller, with mountain clansmen turning west, and the Umbers and Karstarks turning east towards their holds. A day after this parting though, their group gained more numbers. A wandering ranger by the name of Yoren met up with them, and with him, a group of undesirables bound for The Wall. When Joran noticed the look of dismay Jon had when he saw the men, he felt sorry for him. These, criminals, would be his brothers soon if he kept on his course. With any luck, Joran thought, perhaps the boy will change his mind.

On the eighteenth night of their journey, the inns and settlements of the north had long since grown thin and non-existent, forcing everyone else to join Joran in making camp for the third night in a row. While he worked though, Mormont caught one of the new recruits looking at Osha with hungry eyes. The minute he saw this, Joran beat the man bloody. Yoren would have tried to stop him, but luckily Benjen had the sense to hold him back and speak with him about the situation, as well as what would happen if he attempted to assault the young Mormont. After he had made his point abundantly clear to the derelicts, Joran set back to work and when he was finished, he was asked by the First Ranger to go fetch his nephew and Tyrion for supper.

As he approached the two, sitting with each other Jon facing him and Tyrion's back to him, Joran heard them talking. The subject was that of the Night's Watch, and little Lannister was in no subtle way explaining to Snow the hard truths that came with the noble calling. Coming upon them the minute Jon asked Tyrion to stop, Joran immediately found his path blocked by a white direwolf, that had crept out of nowhere like a shade. Knowing it to be Jon's companion Ghost, Mormont had attempted to establish a friendly connection with the albino wolf the first night when he had camped outside of the first village they had come to. Other than a few times when he had fed Ghost a portion of his campfire dinners, Joran hadn't really been able to gain the wolf's trust. The evidence of that fact was plain before the young Mormont, as red eyes bored into him, warning him to stay away. For the short amount of time he was standing there, Joran could only stare back, one beast to another. Neither willing to back down from the other.

"Ghost," Jon's voice came from behind the direwolf, drawing its attention from Joran. "Come here boy."

When Ghost turned away from him and moved over to Jon, only to stand vigilance beside his master, Joran looked to the two and said plainly, "supper's ready. Benjen and Yoren are waiting on you two."

"Aye, thank you Joran." Jon said before standing up and moving in the direction of dinner with Ghost in tow. Noticing the scowl on his face as he walked past, Joran hoped that Snow didn't take Tyrion's words too badly.

When Tyrion stood up from his place on the ground and turned to face him, Joran was met with a kind smile from the little man and a positive tone to his voice when he spoke. "Ah, Mormont. Glad to see you, feels like ages since we last talked with one another."

Taking the sarcasm in the smaller man's voice with some guilt and a grain of salt to make it taste better, considering he had been avoiding Tyrion the entire journey, Joran responded with, "aye, it does seem that way doesn't it."

"Indeed. Must have been a few rough weeks for you and your woman. Making camp away from every village we passed, avoiding a warm bed and proper shelter. Honestly, I don't know how you've been able to do it."

It wasn't a secret that Tyrion Lannister didn't like the outdoors, or was even close to adept enough to tolerate them like his northern companions. Joran even pitied the small southerner for his lack of experience. "If you do something long enough, you learn how to get good at it."

"Like your reputation, perhaps?"

Taken aback by the forwardness of the little man, Joran quickly gathered himself and responded in agreement, "aye, like my reputation."

"Tell me, master Mormont," Tyrion said, waddling up closer to Joran. "What is it like?"

"What is what like?"

"Being loved for what you are?" Tyrion said this in a voice that seemed almost distant. As though he and Joran were alone someplace comfortable, where thoughtful insights were available for expression. "A monster that uses his skills against other monsters."

"Hm," Joran didn't understand where Tyrion was trying to go with this kind of talk, but he decided to humor the dwarf. "I wouldn't say loved. More along the lines of feared."

"I didn't get that impression from your friends," Tyrion said, no doubt in reference to Benjen and Jon.

"They've had time to actually become my friends. Talk to any other northman, who doesn't know me outside of my, work, and they will all be the same in their answers."

"Which are?"

"That I'm nothing but what you said, a monster who looks like a man. A beast that relishes battle above all else." Joran wouldn't deny the image that everyone painted of him. Because that's all it was and that's all that he wanted to be known for to anyone who didn't have his trust or best interests at heart.

"In my opinion, monsters are quite useful." Tyrion said as a smirk began to form on his face. "I know a few such useful creatures. But none of them are as calm and collected as the one in front of me. And I find that, admirable in people like you and I."

"People like you and I?"

"Freaks, Joran," Tyrion said.

Cocking a curious eyebrow at the statement and the fact that Tyrion presumed to use his name, Joran said, "You and I are as different as summer and winter, master Lannister."

"Call me Tyrion," the little man said, his smile never wavering. "And you and I are more alike than you would admit."

Scoffing, Joran gathered himself again and said, "well, Tyrion, other than the fact that we two aren't much to look at, I doubt that-."

"My mother died giving birth to me," Tyrion suddenly said. "And from what knowledge I've gathered about you, you lost your mother too."

Stunned by the revelation, and the fact that Tyrion knew about what happened to his own mother, Joran growled in warning, "I'd watch where you tread, dwarf!"

"I meant no offense," Tyrion said, lifting his empty hands in surrender. "I just wanted to state how you and I aren't so different from one another. Save, the obvious differences in height, strength, and temperament."

"Hrrgh," Joran growled. He had a mind to punt the little man back towards camp for his forward words. But, given the fact that Tyrion gave as much about himself as he did about Joran, the younger man decided to let it slide. "You said that you found me admirable. Why?"

"Isn't it obvious," Tyrion said, lowering his hands back to his sides. "You take what the gods cursed you with and turned it into something useful. Protecting what's yours and those that you care about."

"And you don't?"

"Sadly, I have neither the strength or ferocity of a lion. Unlike you, I'm not gifted in fighting. But I have found that there are other ways to be useful. To utilize weapons available to me that others take for granted."

Curious, Joran asked, "like?"

"My mind, Joran," Tyrion said before producing a book from within his cloak. "It is my greatest weapon and in order to use it to the fullest extent, I read. For a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone."

"Heh, I never took you for the reading type," Joran said in reference to Tyrion's reputation for being a drunken whoremonger.

"Believe me, I paint a very bland picture of myself on purpose. The more any enemies I have believe me to be less of a match for them in their schemes. The better advantage I later gain from their lack of effort in dealing with me."

"Not a bad way to go about it," Joran said before extending his hand out to Tyrion. "Mind if I see what you're reading?"

"Of course, its just a little something I borrowed from the Winterfell library." Tyrion said before handing the book to the larger man.

Looking at the cover to find that the book was a copy of the The Dance of Dragons, Joran raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Dance of Dragons? I haven't read this book in years."

"You read?"

"Aye, or at least I did," Joran said before opening the book and flipping through a few of its pages. "When I was young and taking my lessons under the maester of my house, I read, and when I took up my own command I read. When I had a mind to form the Oathbound, I wanted to learn more about strategy and soldiery. The material remained the same in some parts and changed in others, but I took what I needed from it all and learned a thing or two."

"Well then. I suppose that gives us more than one thing in common."

Removing his eyes from the pages back to Tyrion, Joran nodded in agreement and offering the book back him said, "aye, suppose it does."

After Tyrion took The Dance of Dragons back, Joran, quick to leave the talk at that, said, "best be getting back. Supper's probably going to be gone or frozen by now."

"Quite right," Tyrion said, his wide eyed and admiring demeanor changing back to its usual uncaring and jovial one. "Better to go to bed on a stomach full of some food rather than no food I always say. I wonder if what's being served will go well with my wine?"

The two men making their way back to camp, where food and a fire were waiting for them, they never once mentioned their talk to anyone else when they arrived and avoided each other for the rest of the night.

…

After five more days of travel, the small party came in sight of The Wall, and upon seeing it for the second time in his life, Joran halted his horse and felt his breath escape him. The sight of the seven-hundred-foot structure was amazing and never failed to impress those who sought its view. Letting the wonder at seeing The Wall leave him, Joran urged his steed onward after the others towards Castle Black and his grandfather.

…

Hello everyone, just writing to address something that came up in the review section from a guest reviewer in regards to the Ironborn pirates attacking Bear Island. The folk of the Iron Islands have a society that revolves around piracy, and are born and raised on seafaring due to their religious beliefs around the Drowned God. In my mind, they need piracy in order to function as a region due to the fact that they can't really farm on the islands, due to the sparsity of good farming land on the very rocky and windswept places there. And sure, they can't attack the Seven Kingdoms openly and can probably make it as sea traders or smugglers. But, as insulting as it would seem to these crazy bastards, what could they trade except others toils from the mainland and any amount of fish that they catch on the open ocean, which might not even be a profitable venture for many due to the fact that all the high lords of the islands would take the best fishing grounds for themselves to increase their own wealth. The fact that these guys no doubt tax their own people is another issue that all smallfolk have to face as well. How can they remedy this? Why raiding and piracy of course. Sure, they can't raid the Seven Kingdoms, but they can raid elsewhere in the world, since no one owns the narrow sea where they could simply use and abuse easterners on the ocean or get into scraps with other pirates and take what they have after. If they win that is. Moving along as to why they would raid Bear Island, or even elsewhere for that matter in Westeros. If an Ironborn crew of poor folk who banded together to man a ship and go raiding and get some loot to pay off a lord, they could obviously disguise their ship and crew just to look like regular pirates to southern vessels on the sea, or, even go so far as to dress up as Wildlings if they wanted to go ashore in the north, since Wildling raiders are a common occurrence up there. If they were recognized as actual Ironborn, which is plain since Joran knows, then ever single lord in the Iron Islands can claim that they didn't know such expeditions were occurring since it was smallfolk doing the raiding, and hell they'd lie about knowing just to make sure the money kept flowing into their pockets from these secret raids on the high seas. But I'm just going to come out and say it plainly since I believe it won't come up until book three, Maege knows about the raiders and decides not to inform Eddard about them and yes, I know that loyalty to Eddard is paramount to Northerners because he is a great lord. When you have a rage machine like Joran around however, there comes the fact that he may need more than just Wildlings to satiate his darker personas appetite. I mean for crying out loud, he locks himself up to keep everyone else safe. From Him! Now, onto why more Ironborn would continue to go to Bear Island. It's simple. The Ironborn are based off of the Vikings, like the Vikings they may have an unspoken code of honor where if one family member is killed, then their death must be avenged by either the family or shield brothers of the deceased. Obviously not getting the message of stay the hell away if you want to live, the Ironborn, if not as a full people then as a multitude of small groups, have a secret feud with the Mormonts, Joran specifically and they want what they are due for the loss of their men and womenfolk. Sor if I sounded like I was ranting, I just wanted to paint a picture for readers who may be wondering why there are Ironborn raiding when they aren't allowed to raid. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I only own Joran.