Land of the King
Chapter 19: The Watcher on the Wall
The crows had greeted them when they had arrived.
Immediately after Ostoher's trial, Cirion had said his farewells to his family and friends, before boarding a ship for Barrowton. He had been immensely touched when many of his friends and soldiers had made the decision to follow him.
By the agreement he had with Amlaith, only Cirion himself would be punished for his treason in the rebellion. All those who had followed him, almost a thousand in full, had made that decision voluntarily, out of their loyalty and respect for him.
The ships had borne them hence to Barrowton, a port town situated on the confluence of two rivers flowing south to the Saltspear. It was the greatest port on the western coast of Formenor and was even considered a city by the Northmen.
When Cirion had seen the city, he had felt underwhelmed. Barrowton was the main trade port and largest city in the Kingdom of Winter which had much trade in wood and furs with Arnor, yet in the eyes of Cirion and his fellow Arnorians, the 'city' was nothing more than a modest town. It was not even completely built in stone, as large parts of the city were still built in wood.
It was perhaps more than a little unfair to judge it so. Of course Barrowton would look small and insignificant in their minds when compared to the glory of Annúminas.
From Barrowton, they had moved north until they finally arrived at the Nightfort, a cluster of towers and buildings before the Wall, a massive seven-hundred-foot monstrosity of stone, ice, and Earth.
The great wall of ice reached up to the heavens, almost indescribably huge and massive. The moment Cirion had laid eyes upon the Wall, all his previous underwhelming feelings in Barrowton dissipated like the morning dew.
Windblown dirt covered the ice of the Wall, making it appear a pale grey or dull white. Yet when the sunlight struck, the Wall turned blue and crystalline, shining with a magical glow.
Cirion had been awed. For a prince that had grown up in the golden city by the shore of sunset, that was no small feat. The Wall was truly something. Not even in Arnor could a structure of sufficient size be found to rival it. It was truly one of a kind.
As they entered the Nightfort, the black brothers of the Night's Watch gathered to watch them. There had been Dúnedain that had joined the Watch before of course, but never had they come in such great numbers. By Cirion's own count, nine hundred and fourteen had volunteered to follow him to the Wall.
Cirion noted that the Nightfort had no true outer walls on its east, west, and southern sides. Either it was hubris on the part of the Night's Watch or some other reason, he could not believe that any such fortress would be left unfortified in this way. Cirion was not sure if all the castles on the Wall were built in a similar way, but if they were he resolved to change it as soon as he was able.
Ah. There he was. Cirion had to remind himself that here he was a nobody, a lowly recruit. He was no longer a prince who commanded thousands but an exile and traitor who commanded none. It was neither his place nor right to change the ways of the Night's Watch. Perhaps if he ever rose in rank he may recommend such but until then Cirion would remain an obedient soldier and subordinate to his new superiors.
Lord Commander Wylis Woodfoot greeted them as they entered. Cirion was introduced to not only the Lord Commander, but his highest ranking officers, First Ranger Sygerrik Crowl, First Builder Bennard, and First Steward Hother Umber.
The Lord Commander and the rest of the Night's Watch seemed both pleased and surprised to see such a large host of recruits. By his order, Cirion and his fellow recruits gathered in the courtyard of the Nightfort.
"I hear that all of you are exiles, volunteering to join the Night's Watch as a penance after your defeat in a civil war in your homeland. It matters not to me or anyone else here. Here in the Night's Watch, we care not what you were before. Be it a soldier, a vagrant, a thief, a lord, or even a prince." Lord Commander Wylis looked directly at Cirion as he said that last part.
"When you join the Watch, everything that you once were is cast aside. A sacrifice you make for the service you have committed to. Tonight we shall feast in your welcome. On the morrow, all of you will be split up and some of you will be stationed on the other castles along the Wall. The Nightfort is not so large to host all of you here for a significant period of time. I understand that most of you have volunteered. Know that you may leave as you please during any stage of your training, but remember that you surrender your right to come and go as you wish once you have sworn your vows. From that point on, desertion of your post is punishable by death.
Some of you may be wondering what our order exists for. We are the shield of the realms of men. Every night that passes, we watch for the return of our enemy, and until the day comes that they may return, we man the Wall and defend all the lands behind us from the terrors beyond.
Wildings, giants, shadowcats, direwolves, and all other manner of beast or foe. This is a service for life, we in the Watch sacrifice all ties of loyalty or family outside the Watch. Your family is the Watch now, and we will serve on this Wall until the day we die, so that those we have left behind need never face the foes we face."
As the Lord Commander gave his speech, Cirion finally understood. For years he had struggled to understand why men would voluntarily choose to freeze to death serving on this Eru-forsaken Wall. Now he understood. It was a calling to serve, a sacrifice more noble and honourable than any other cause he knew. And to Cirion personally, it was a chance to redeem himself.
Here on the Wall, Cirion could atone for his sins against his people and kingdom by defending them against the foes that may lurk beyond.
That night, the former men of Arnor shared songs and tales with their new comrades. Telling tales and singing songs of the Realm-in-exile that they themselves were now exiled from.
It was ironic in Cirion's mind. For they were now exiled from a realm that was itself made up of exiles from their lost homeland.
The next day, most of the host that had followed Cirion to the Wall was dispersed, assigned to the other fourteen castles on the Wall. Cirion and ninety-nine others remained in the Nightfort.
As former soldiers of Arnor, the Dúnedain's training and equipment was far superior to any other at the Wall. In recognition of this, their trainers had shortened the usual combat training in favor of survival training for the lands beyond the Wall, teaching them of the Wildling and Giant clans, of the flora and fauna, and notable landmarks.
Cirion's main partner in these exercises was Aglaran. Aglaran was a former member of the King's Rangers and he and the other rangers under his command had served under Cirion since his father's very first war against Garth Goldenhand on the Misty Isles.
During the War of the Three Brothers, Aglaran and his fellows had betrayed their Ranger oaths to defect to Cirion's side. As such the Lord Commander of the Rangers had refused to welcome them back after they were pardoned by Amlaith and they had elected to follow Cirion to the Wall.
Cirion was thankful for Aglaran and the other Rangers' loyalty and companionship. Though they had not been the closest of his friends, that honour had belonged to Aratan of Minas Ithil and before his treachery… his late brother Ostoher, Aglaran and the other Rangers still had a close bond with Cirion. With their aid and expertise, Cirion quickly adapted to the survival training and he felt confident in doing well beyond the Wall with Aglaran and the others watching his back.
Finally, after a month of training, the time had come for them to swear their vows. The night before, Cirion had stood atop the balcony of the room he shared with Aglaran. As he heard his friend coming closer he asked him a question.
"Do you regret coming with me?"
Aglaran frowned for a while, before answering, "No. I will never regret following you…my liege."
Cirion smiled sadly. "Don't call me that. Do you still not regret it? Even after everything was revealed to be a lie? That I had lead you all into treason, had been so foolish so as to believe his-"
"Do not say it."
Cirion looked up. Aglaran's gaze was stern.
"It was not your fault. Don't you dare suggest that our loyalty was all for naught, that my loyalty was for nothing! It was our choice to follow you, because we love and honour you. Our brother, our captain, and our king."
"But why!? Why do you love me so!? Why don't you regret having ever followed me!?"
Aglaran sighed. "To be honest I did, for a time. I wondered how you could have done that to us, lead us all into treason for a lie. Yet I realized then that it was not your fault, that I should not regret having followed you and doing what I thought was right."
Cirion had become too emotional now. "But why? Why?" he cried as he broke down on the floor.
Aglaran did not comfort him, not in the way Cirion expected.
"Don't. You'll regret it. If you begin to regret, you'll dull your future decisions and let others make your choices for you. All that is left for you then is to die. Nobody can truly foretell the outcome. Each choice we make holds meaning only by affecting our next choice. I made the choice to follow you, and no matter what you think, I will never regret that choice."
Aglaran walked away, leaving Cirion to think on his words.
The next morning, Cirion, Aglaran, and all their fellow recruits gathered in the Nightfort's godswood. The Dúnedain did not believe the weirwoods to be the eyes of the gods but rather the eyes of the Maiar who served Eru. As the difference in those two beliefs was negligible, the godswood had been chosen still for them all to swear their vows.
As Cirion knelt on the ground before the weirwood, a great white tree with a twisted trunk, gnarled branches, and blood-red leaves, he briefly gazed into the face of the heart tree.
It seemed to pierce into his very soul. The mourning face judging him for his sins, judging him for the blood he had shed and the war he had brought to the people and kingdom he had sworn to protect.
Traitor! Murderer!
He could hear the words in his mind, reminding him of the face of every man he had killed in his selfish quest for power. Holding back his tears, he strengthened his resolve. This was his penance, his redemption.
As one, Cirion and his recruits swore the oath they had memorized, Eru, the Maiar and the Weirwood as their witnesses.
"Hear my words, and bear witness to my vow. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come."
As they remained kneeling before the Heart Tree, Lord Commander Wylis and their other new brothers distributed the black cloaks saying, 'Rise my brother' as they handed them out.
When Cirion received his black cloak, he wrapped it around and clasped it at his neck, a sense of pride filling him as he rose. He was no longer Prince Cirion of Arnor. Now he was Cirion of the Night's Watch, and he was proud and honoured to serve.
A week after they swore their oaths, Cirion and Aglaran took part in their first ranging beyond the Wall. As Cirion strode out into the frozen lands beyond, he was astounded by the beauty.
Trees and hills as far as the eye could see. The creations of Yvaine and Valkas in full splendor, untouched and unspoiled by men. A thin blanket of white snow covered the land, and as Cirion beheld the breathtaking views of the snowflakes cascading from the grey sky, he thought to himself.
'I've never understood. Even if I believed in my own strength…
Even if I believed in the decisions of my trusted friends and brothers…
Nobody can foretell the outcome.'
In front of him, Cirion espied Aglaran surging forward, his ranger experience serving him well.
'Yet you Aglaran, you have your eyes set on a future I can't see anymore and yet you place your trust in me. Fine then… you win. I'll move forward into the future with you.'
As he stepped forward to walk astride Aglaran, his final thought was…
'I will never regret this choice… for as long as I live.'
And together, the two brothers marched into the wilderness of the Lands Beyond the Wall.
Author's Note: The Arnorian rangers are based off of the Rangers of the North and Ithilien Rangers form canon LOTR and the Araluan Rangers from Ranger's Apprentice.
