A Springmoon wedding feast in Last Hearth in 296 AC
It was the late morning of the third day of the wedding feast days and Eddard Stark, who had woken up barely two hours ago with a terrible headache after a long night of drinking with most of his major Lords in the Greatjon's large main hall, was already dreading the next feast in the upcoming evening.
He groaned miserably as he heard the way too bright laughter of his youngest brother nearby and wished not for the first time that he would have the same alcohol tolerance as Artan.
Though Eddard took a small comfort in the fact that in the first night not even Artan had managed to drink as well and as much as the Greatjon and still be in a good and pain-free health at the next morning. Bloody Umbers and their damned love for strong Ale and their double damned extra strong Brandys.
He must have uttered his thought aloud though, for behind him he heard Crowfood's loud and deep guffaws and then the oldest Umber sat down next to Eddard.
"Morning me Kun, I hope ye are feeling not as bad as ye looks. Ye know, yer grandsire The wandering Wolf, he could drink as much as triple as me nephew and still walk straight afterwards.
Is good to see that yer brother comes a bit more after him in this, might be because they both are the youngest sons, don't ye think? " finished Crowfood with a lopsided grin in his old and lined face.
Eddard growned. His hands craddled his pounding head while he grumbled his answer to Crowfood Umber.
" Mors, I am not in the mood to even to try to think about anything, much less about why my younger brother can drink so much more than me and still doesn't feel and look as awful as I do right now. And grandfather could not drink thrice as much as your nephew and still walk straight afterwards... "
The oldest Umber just shrugged at that.
" Not in he's last few years, certainly not last year as he came down to final rest, that's true. But a good few years earlier, after the Krakens gotten put down, then he and Greatjon had a good bet going in the first few nights back home.
And let me tell ye, yer grandfather downed triple the amount of me nephew throughout every of these three nights and still stood up alone and walked to he's room while Greatjon stumbled. Ye wouldn't remember though, yer Arya had been born then and ye were caring more about that." Mors finished with a shrug.
Eddard groaned as quiet as he could, for Mors' voice was, while not as booming as the Greatjon's one, still loud enough to feel like ten extra drums in his painful head. If only he could lay down in a silent room, very very far away from this noisy hall and all the louder and louder talking and singing people in it. A shame that he was the guest of honor here and thus had to participate in all the celebrations...
And then, to The Stark's great disappointment, Mors was joined by the Greatjon, who was easily the loudest man alive in Eddard's opinion, even when the Lord Umber was not happy and singing.
Sadly for Ned's poor head, right now the Greatjon was very happy and already drinking again and was singing merrily, to be honest also quite good and unfortunately very very loudly.
The walls of the great hall of the Last Hearth seemed to start to vibrate when the Umber's musicians joined their Lord and quite a few guests then too.
Crowfood then stood up from beside him and joined his nephew and the other guests and the songs were getting bawdier and bawdier.
Eddard closed his bloodshot eyes after having watched for a few moments as his brother was merrily dancing with his wife and Crowfood's daughter Rowan Umber, now a Flint, grinned while her cousin whirled her around in a wild dance.
Thank the Gods thought Ned Stark to himself, that this night would finally be the wedding ceremony of Smalljon Umber and Wynafryd Manderly and after that there would only be one more day of drinking the Umbers heavy beverages and then he would have some good and restful journey home.
He really liked his good, gigantic and trustworthy friend and bannerman, but his head certainly wasn't made for Greatjon's Brandys and heavy Ales.
With these thoughts in his mind, Ned was still grumbling a bit while carefully massaging his painful head, when a wonderful smell entered his nostrils and a good sized bowl with steaming soup was put down in front of him.
Ahh well, thought Ned to himself, however hard to survive the Umber beverages were, their potato soup with smoked trout pieces was certainly delightful.
As you might have noticed in this update, that Crowfood's daughter was there and thus hadn't been kidnapped by Wildlings years earlier like in OTL...
