Gara
-ooo-
"Alright, Hodor..." Began Gara slowly, drawing back an arrow. Arya's eyes were as big as bronze saucers as she watched the redheaded girl raptly,
"Throw!"
Gara commanded and the huge white-haired man grunted and swung with powerful arms, a hay-filled sack into the air. They all watched the sack fly up higher and higher. There was a twang as Gara let fly the arrow, and then another, and another. The sack was a few feet from the ground and it already had six bolts piercing it – with Arya counting loudly as each arrow sank into it. Their small company all whooped when the sack crashed to the ground with a puff of hay spraying all over the place.
"Go and get it, Hodor!" Called Bran happily and Hodor nodded stupidly and replied with his usual, "Hodor." Gara smiled as the large man and Arya bounded towards the sack. Turning, she unstrung the large bow and smiled at Robb who was appraising the shot with his arms folded, beside him was Theon Greyjoy who was squinting at her with his own bow in hand.
"That was fair shooting," Conceded Robb with a grin causing Gara to lean back and scoff. Shielding her eyes, she boasted, "It was more'n fair shooting, my lord." Theon laughed then and strode forward,
"Well, you'll never outshoot a Greyjoy, little lady. Bet on it."
Gara giggled as Robb rolled his eyes and held out a gloved hand to her to help her up a shallow embankment which was their make-shift spectator's ridge. Bran was sitting down on the embankment absently petting his unnamed dire wolf pup, watching as Arya and Hodor jogged back to them with the assaulted sack in one of Hodor's massive hands. Theon held out a hand for the sack and dumped it before them, bending to his heels; he began to pull out Gara's swan feathered bolts. Returning five of the six bolts, he placed the sixth in his own quarrel. Gara laughed and kept her own hand outstretched for her arrow, but Theon merely shook his head and turned away; Gara noted Robb's stony expression as Theon passed the Stark a sly glance.
"Alright," Began Greyjoy as he strung his bow and eyed the sack; "Six bolts to beat, is it? That'll be child's play." Gara nodded, "Hope for you it is." Theon frowned in the bright sunlight, "And why is that?" He asked confused. Gara smiled radiantly and caught Robb's eye, no one else saw but she flashed a wink at him and he frowned – just as confused as Theon. "If you cannot outshoot me, then you need to return my arrow," Theon nodded, his mouth downturned. "Fine, but what if I win? What if I shoot seven arrows to your six?" His dull eyes flicked from Robb to Gara,
"Do I get a kiss?"
Robb's hands balled themselves into fists and he felt his temper rising at Theon's goading him. Glancing at Gara, she wasn't looking at him, but the mere sight of her soothed him and he felt his tense hands relax and waited to hear what Gara would say. She chuckled her fake court's laugh making Robb smile as she bent forward over the embankment, her hands behind her back like a business man and stipulated,
"No, you'll go up against Robb." Theon's face broke into a smile, "And he can win you your arrow back?"
"Precisely," Nodded Gara. "That is, if you think you can outshoot me." Theon laughed smugly and turned a look to Robb, "Then I expect to hold on to this arrow until the end of time, my lady." Gara nodded and stepped back next to Robb.
"We'll see."
Was all she said and they all watched as Theon tested his string, bending the arc of his bow. Gara knew that Greyjoy was a good shot. All the Greyjoys were, apparently according to Theon. Arya kept her eyes on Theon as he dragged back his own arrow and lined up his shot,
"Right, Hodor." He grimaced, and Hodor nodded, "Hodor."
"Throw now!" Another powerful swing later, the sack was in the air. Arya cheered as it flew seemingly miles. Gara had to shield her eyes to see the sack's journey across the sky, Robb had to do the same. This sack did the same as the last, smashed to the ground with an explosion of hay. This time, Bran, Arya, Hodor and Bran's dire wolf all went bounding after the sack.
"Now, I wasn't counting," Theon lied as he turned and swaggered over to Robb and Gara and stood before them, "But I think I beat you, Miss Bloodhelm." Gara nodded and watched as Hodor let fall the arrow-riddled sack to the ground. Arya was of course counting, and she piped, "Theon got eight!"
"A modest eight," Corrected Theon with a smug smile, Gara smiled thinly and turned to Robb,
"You're up."
Robb nodded and picked his way down the embankment, drawing his bow from his back. "Nine to win the Lady's honour, any less and you both lose." Said Theon and Robb eyed him before withdrawing Theon's arrows from the sack. Gara saw he returned all eight of Theon's bolts. Plucking an arrow from her own quiver, she tapped it off of Bran's head gently; the boy turned and Gara gave him the bolt and motioned for him to slip it discreetly into Robb's quarrel. Brand bobbed his head with a smile and tucked the white feathered arrow in amongst Robb's black raven feathered bolts. Gara smiled and gripped his little hand and helped him up the embankment to stand beside her. She petted his dire wolf pup and asked curiously,
"You have not named him yet?" Bran shook his head, his face looked a little sad. All the other Starks had named their wolves; Robb's was Grey Wind, Sansa's, Lady. Arya named hers Nymeria, Jon called his Ghost and little Rickon had appropriately named his over-fluffed wolf, Shaggy Dog. Only Bran's had no name of its own. Gara thought as she petted the orange-y wolf pup before she mused, "You know, animals often get the best names chosen for them. No one calls their dogs or cats Gara, I can assure you." Bran smiled then, but his eyes were still downcast, "I just can't think of anything...I'm named after my uncle, and Robb's named after the King, but I just don't know what he," He nodded at the wolf pup, "I just don't know what he's named for."
"You don't have to name him after or for anything...Arya and Sansa are not, and Arya named her pup after a great female warrior, Nymeria. This suits Arya too, by the way." Bran kept his hand on his pup's fluffy brow before asking quietly, "Are you and Gifu named for anyone? I've never heard names like yours two." Gara stopped touching the wolf and looked away, her eyes fell on Robb as he strung his bow, and Theon was watching him too – worrying about losing, thought Gara.
"Gifu and I are named after old words. We don't use them down here, south of the Wall." She looked at Bran, who was staring back at her, listening intently. "Gifu is the word for 'gift' and Gara is the word for 'spear'." Uttered Gara and Bran nodded, "Your House's sigil is a spear, so you're named for that, and Gifu's..." He trailed off as Gara eyed him with a sad smile before finishing his thought for him,
"Aye, Gifu was a gift."
Bran didn't say anything, he just nodded. Gara wondered if he understood Gifu and Gara's eternal struggle for something. For what, she truly knew not; they just always had been battling. Hearing Robb's experimental twang of his bow ring out, Gara and Bran returned their attention to their little tournament at hand. Robb turned to them and said with a confident grin, "Nine bolts or more," Gara nodded and had to smile as he winked and turned his blue gaze to Bran, "Mind and keep a count for the Lady." Bran bowed his head with a smile. Gara found the love that the Stark children held for one another endearing and sweet; it was such a stark contrast to the weird mix of love and hate that was felt between Gara and Gifu. Sometimes Gara could love Gifu with sisterly compassion, enough so to want to embrace her, but sometimes...Sometimes, Gara felt a strange and unpleasant feeling of intense hatred for her sister that it actually frightened her sometimes. She always wondered if Gifu felt the same.
Gara gave herself a shake and returned her thoughts to watching Robb's shooting. Hodor was standing with the sack at the ready, watching Robb for his inevitable command. Robb, heavy in his furs, pulled back his first arrow. Smooth and steady, he said,
"Hodor," The big man hefted the sack, "Hodor." He said in return and Robb's eyes narrowed as he barked, "Now!" Hodor threw the sack then, Arya's eyes watching everything beside him. Gara's heart pounded as Robb fired his first bolt; direct hit. She had to restrain herself from cheering, but Arya was doing enough for the both of them.
"Go'n Robb!" She bellowed in a very unladylike fashion which made Gara laugh out loud. Within seconds, Robb had mounted his second and third bolts, two bolts to a shot. What a show off. Thought Gara happily and spied that he had plucked her clandestine bolt without realising and smiled again. He let them loose easily and another, two more, then two more and then a further one. The sack hit the earth so heavily the sack was practically empty of hay when Hodor brought it back. Gara's face was content when she gingerly picked her way down the embankment, her dress making it slightly perilous, but Bran let her grip his shoulder lightly. Theon's face was surely when Hodor dumped the sack for a third time,
"So you were counting," Robb said knowingly to Theon, who shrugged and eyed the sack on the ground. Gara saw his eyes flash when they fell on the stark white arrow; he turned and stared at Gara – who pretended not to see him, with a secret smile on her pretty face. It was Gara who bent down and retrieved Robb's arrows, and counted them, "Well, well; we have a victor. Nine bolts to my six, and to Theon's seven."
"Eight!" Barked Theon and Gara bit her tongue to stop herself laughing, her eyes gleaming at Robb as she handed him back his arrows, with hers laced through them. Robb's eyes never left her face as he took them from her and bowed. Walking past her silently, he went to Theon and held out a hand; sullenly Theon relinquished Gara's arrow and gave it to Robb who bundled it in with the others in his hand. Robb's eyes were intent as he turned back to Gara and placed the whole quarrel of arrows in Gara's quiver before he said in mock seriousness, but his gallantry was quite real,
"Your prize as the Lady of the tourney."
"What about me?!" Whined Arya with a frown on her face, Gara laughed as Robb retorted not unkindly, "You don't have a bow!" With that, Arya cocked an eyebrow and fell silent, a smile creeping on her face at Robb's rudeness. Theon was the first to speak after that.
"Right, enough of this; we should get back – it's getting late and dinner will be on the table soon."
Robb caught Gara's eye and she grinned knowingly – Theon Greyjoy was a sore loser, not unlike his father in that regard. They laughed and Robb nodded in agreement,
"Alright, go'n saddle the horses. Bran, you go and help him and Hodor, you grab the sack." They all nodded and went about their business while Robb walked Gara and Arya to the horses. Gara felt the familiar and comforting weight of her bow in her hand and whispered as Arya ran along in front of them, "I didn't know you were such a good shot." Robb grinned, "Did you not? I've been practicing since you beat me last year. I've only just started living it down." Gara laughed and eyed him as they walked leisurely, "I suppose being beaten by a lady is quite embarrassing, for a man like yourself." He nodded, "Aye, that's about the truth of it," He turned his eyes ahead before he teased, "I thought you'd be a sorer loser than this, if I'm honest. You were all fighting talk in our last tourney." A crack of laughter burst out of Gara as she thought back to the things she had said to Robb at the archery butts last year,
"Are you ready for this, boy?" She had said in mock derogation, "You're as good as beaten!"
"Oh, please, my boy, Robb..." She began as she strolled before him as they were upon the horses now. Standing before her destrier, she turned and said over one of her slight shoulders cheekily, "I let you win." At that he laughed and Gara saw his shoulders jump up and down, "That's cruel, my lady." Was all he said as he helped her onto her horse and mounting his own. Looking over their party, he nodded satisfied; Bran was mounted happily on his pony and Arya on hers. Theon was bringing up the rear on his dappled grey mare with Hodor on foot beside him carrying the sack and Gara was at his side on her black destrier. With a curt bob of his head, they moved out and made their way over the dew-wet plains outside Winterfell and back towards the walls of the city.