Wow boy it's been a while. Just go ahead and read it before disappear for another several months.

The Gift, the North, Westeros

"Ah. Reminds you of home, doesn't it?" Njorn laughed as the snows fell around them. They had begun at dawn and showed little sign of stopping until at least sundown.

Idolaf chuckled. "If a bit more desolate." He said as he looked around at the lands surrounding them. Desolate was certainly the word to use. For leagues around there was little sign of any civilisation safe the road they had been trekking up for near on a month now.

The group of horsemen had headed straight north after leaving the Lannister army, crossing the Tridant at what the locals called the Ruby Ford and carrying on up the east side of the Green Fork, avoiding the Stark army that was on the west side. On their way, they had passed several villages, all yet untouched by the war and with the inhabitants gathering in the first autumn harvest, by the Nine the seasons were odd here.

The Neck had been more troublesome to cross. Marshlands worse than anything Hjaalmarch had to offer and maybe even contest for Blackmarsh as the shittiest place to live possible. The rivermen before the Neck had warned them to keep the road, and so they had. All the same, every night there was the feeling of being watched, that someone was there and only just out of sight.

Eventually though they had arrived at the ruined castle of Moat Cailin, the remains of the curtain wall and the crumbling towers giving the feeling of ages long passed and eons of struggle. For all their disrepair, though, they still looked formidable, not unlike the many forts that dot Skyrim. As they approached under the watchful eye of armed men, Idolaf couldn't help but imagine what the Nords and Imperials could do with this, given time and stone. It had taken some convincing for the garrison to let them through and into the rest of the North, though thankfully it seemed mentioning they were headed for the wall helped.

Beyond that were the endless moors of the North with the occasional village or farm along the Kingsroad north. Every now and then they saw castles on hilltops or other strategic position but did not stop at them, it was far easier to camp by the roadside as they were used to.

Eventually though, they entered what the locals called "the gift", an area of land owned directly by the Night's Watch, who manned the Wall. Per the map Tyrion had given him, they should arrive within the daylight hours.

"In Whiterun maybe." Njorn rolled his shoulders as the two Nords rode side by side at the head of the small column. "You Midlander's always forget the Pale. This place is lush compared to that shithole."

"Is that why you joined up with the Legion, Njorn?" Asked the third Decanii in their band, a Colovian by the name of Cassius, as he rode up to join the two. "Never heard anyone insult their place of birth as much as you."

Njorn laughed. "Ha. No, the Pale may be a shithole, but it's our shithole. And I joined up for steady pay that didn't come from mining, fishing or logging."

Cassius chuckled. "How much further is it to this Wall of theirs, Battle-Born?"

"Few more leagues." Idolaf answered. "Should be there by sundown."

Cassius accepted this and the Turma continued along the Kingsroad as it snaked through the uneven and barren country of the North. By midday the moors had given way to light farmland. Every so often there was a small hamlet on the horizon, surrounded by sparse fields of livestock and little in the way of cultivated cropland.

Passing over a small hill, they first saw it. At first it seemed to be an odd cloud, straight and passing beneath the farthest landscape. But when it failed to move, it slowly dawned on them.

That was the Wall.

"By the Nine." Njorn spoke in an awed tone.

Every passing mile it loomed taller in the sky, a sheer cliff face of solid ice. A divide of grey against the white of the overcast sky. This is the end of the world it seemed to say

It grew above them until they came to a hill. Atop it they could see the Wall in its true extent. If you looked West and East, you could still see it snaking off into the distance, disappearing into the clouds and mists of the cold day.

Below the Wall was their destination, Castle Black. From where they rode though, it looked like a collection of toy blocks scattered and left by children who had finished playing. It had little to no wall at all and seemed only to be little more than a slightly fortified barracks or manor to house whoever manned the great Ice monstrosity it settled against.

As the turma rode down the poorly maintained final section of the Kingsroad, the gates of the glorified barracks of the Night's Watch opened and a company of horsemen emerged, heading straight for them. Ordering the men to halt they came to a stop as the other riders approached.

The rider at their head held up his hand to order them to stop. As they did he dismounted his horse and trudged to a spot between the two groups of horsemen. Doing the same, Idolaf and Njorn and Cassius dismounted their own and approached. Getting closer he could see the man was of middling age, hair grey and worn. He wore black scale armour over black clothing and his belt held a bastard sword.

"Who comes to the Night's Watch armed for war?" The man asked, eying the Imperial standard one of the legionaries behind Idolaf held aloft. "We have no part in the wars going on down south."

"We're not here for war." Idolaf said to the man. "We're here for a fugitive and the last information we had was he was here."

The man smirked, a certain hostility behind it. "If he's here he's beyond your reach. The Watch keeps its rapers, thieves and traitors." Again, he eyed the banner. "You're from Tamriel, aren't you?"

"Aye." Idolaf nodded. "You've met Eadric Haraldsson then?"

"Oh, I've met him. Prick saved my life." The watchman replied. "You still can't get to him even if I did allow it."

"And why's that."

He frowned and gestured to the massive wall of packed ice that reflected the grey clouds above. "He's north of the Wall. Even if I did let you through the tunnel you wouldn't find him. Or make it to him without dying." He grimaced. "The cold winds are rising."

"I've no time for riddles. We came for Haraldsson, and we're going to get him back one way or another."

"What'd he do to get the likes of you after him?" The man asked, a smile spreading across his weathered face. "Ah, don't matter to me. You're one of his kind? A Nord?"

Idolaf frowned and nodded. "Aye, from Whiterun."

The man nodded slowly, stroking his stubble. "Haraldsson told me your people have undead over there. You dealt with them before?"

Idolaf raised a brow in question, where was this going? "Once at Korvanjund. Against the Draugr of the tomb."

"Hmm…" The watchman nodded again and paced a little, leaving deep footprints in the still falling snow. "If you have the experience… Look. I can't promise you when Haraldsson will be back. I can't promise you if he'll be back. But we need men, so if you and yours stay and aid us, you can have him when he returns."

Idolaf glanced behind at his men and then back at the Watchman. "I'll have to discuss it with the men. But if we do, we expect you to hand him over."

"Oh I will. Anything for the Watch." The grey haired man, stubborn conviction behind his voice.

Craster's Keep, The Haunted Forest, Westeros

Eadric swung the axe down and into the piece of wood, splitting it in two in one clean strike and sending both sides tumbling to the side of the old stump he was using as a stand. They had arrived at Craster's that noon and Eadric was far from impressed with the supposed 'keep', it was merely a few wattle and daub buildings surrounded by wooden stakes arranged in such as a way as to deter only the most cowardly of chickens.

The man himself disgusted Eadric, even the most devout follower of Molag Bal would be disgusted by him. Every swing of the axe into the firewood made him think of the daughter fuckers neck.

Near Eadric and sat against one of the supports for the thatch roof that kept all the wood dry from rain and snow was Jon Snow, carefully picking off some dirt from Longclaw, the sword Mormont had given him. "You wonder what he does with his sons?" Jon asked idly, still focusing primarily on not scratching the valyrian steel, if that was even possible.

Another swing, another thunk, another two pieces of wood tumbling to the side. "I was trying not to." Eadric replied and picked up another small log for splitting, setting it carefully on the centre of the stump. "Wouldn't be surprised is the old bastard eats them."

Jon looked up as Eadric swung down again, the load thunk audible even for those out in the woods foraging. "The Lord Commander warned us not to call him that."

"Why? So I won't offend the bastard?"

"Aye." Jon nodded to the Nord. "Craster can make us leave anytime he wants." He returned to picking off dirt, though in truth the sword looked perfectly clean from where Eadric was.

Sighing, Eadric too returned to what he was doing, lining up another log for splitting. As he hefted the axe behind him and brought it down in another thunkhe saw Sam approaching somewhat nervously with one of Craster's daughters.

"What are you doing?" Jon asked with an audible sigh as soon as he spotted the two.

"This is Gilly." Sam began, nerves lacing his voice. "One of Craster's daughters."

Eadric rolled his eyes and Jon was far from impressed. "Hello Gilly." He said curtly to the girl. "What are you doing?" He asked Tarly again.

"Sam said you could help me." Gilly spoke hopefully. Sighing again, Eadric lowered his axe and rested it against the stump.

Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry but Sam knows we're not supposed to..."

"She's pregnant." Sam interrupted Jon who stared at him. "W-we have to take her with us when we leave."

"What?" Jon asked sharply.

"I know it sounds a bit mad." Sam said defensively.

Eadric sighed heavily. "Impossible actually."

Jon nodded at the Nord. "We can't take her with us."

"Please ser, please." Gilly tried. "I can still run if I have to."

"It doesn't matter if you can run lass." Eadric said.

"I'm going to have a baby! If it's a boy…" Gilly trailed off, as if she shouldn't have said something.

"If it's a boy what?" Jon asked. When Gilly didn't reply and instead looked around uncertain, he frowned. "You want us to risk our lives for you, and you won't even tell us why?"

The girl took a step back from Jon, concern and worry painted on her face. After a few moments, she left, quickly walking away.

Sam looked at Jon. "Why did you do that?"

"Do what, ask her a question?"

"You were mean."

Eadric groaned. "Sam." He drew Tarly's attention while Jon cooled. "If we took her with us, which we couldn't even if we did want to, what do you think would happen to her?"

Sam opened his mouth but nothing came out for a few seconds. "She… We'd protect her, right?"

"And how would we do that?" Eadric pressed. "She'd be the only thing with tits in a company of what, three hundred? Half of them are rapers. Rast is a fucking raper! What do you think they'd do to her first chance they got?" Sam opened his mouth but before he could speak, Eadric continued. "There's maybe six men here who would defend her versus hundreds, we couldn't do anything. And even if we could what would happen when we ran into this King Beyond the Wall or any group bigger than ours?"

"She…" Sam tried to find words. "She'd…"

"She'd be dead within the week if she came with us." Jon spoke up again.

Eadric nodded towards him. "Aye. I may want to gut the bastard daughter fucker but right now he's the best chance she's got. Here she only has one dangerous twat to deal with and not a hundred." He sighed. "Here." He tossed the wood axe to Sam, who caught it awkwardly. "Take that back to Grenn." He said as he trudged through the snow to the wooden palisade.

"Where are you going?" Jon asked.

"Hunting." Eadric called over his shoulder. "Going to clear my head."

…

The moons were out, both full and lighting up the snow-covered forest floor like it was dusk or dawn. Made it easy, a little too easy, Eadric thought as he calmed from the transformation back in to mortal form. He leant against one of the massive trees, panting heavily, sweat dripping in to the snow despite the temperature.

Slowly, he stood tall and looked at the elk's corpse behind him, throat ripped open by his claws and fangs. He was beginning to get tired of stalking the same prey night after night. What he'd give for a troll to show up in this forest, something that could challenge him.

No matter, he thought. Meat was meat and a kill was a kill. Bending down to the dead animal, he grabbed hold of both hind hooves and began to drag the large creature through the snow and undergrowth. It was heavier than the one he had brought down on the way to Craster's keep, but that just meant more meat for him and his without having to dig in to the supplies that he knew would run short before the trip in this wilderness was done.

Trudging through the ankle-deep snow, his naked feet began to sting, his Nord blood holding back most of the cold. It had become his custom to strip before transforming, much easier on the tailoring costs in his life and here, well, here it was necessity. To return to the camp stark bollock naked would arouse suspicion and since there wasn't the easy to access underforge where each member of the circle stored a second set of clothing this was by far the easiest, if coldest, method of doing it.

Eventually he came to the tree where he'd nestled his clothes and dropped the elk corpse. Quickly finding and retrieving his underclothes he sharply threw them on and rubbed himself to get a bit of warmth in them before pulling his green tunic over that. Belting it he carried on until he was fully clothed in cloth and chainmail. His weapons were back at the keep, under the hopefully watchful guard of Sam and Jon.

Rubbing his hands and huffing into them he approached the elk carcass again to lift it over his shoulder to carry back to the keep. Though the snapping of a twig off in the distance stopped him, and he stood, listening closely to the surroundings.

"Been hunting then?" A familiar voice asked from somewhere behind him.

His face creasing in to a smile, Eadric turned towards its source. "Skjor, you old goat." He couldn't help but laugh as he laid eyes on his shield-brother, who was leaning against the tree he'd clearly been hiding behind. "How long where you there?"

Skjor chuckled and walked over to Eadric, his metal greaves crunching against the snow and branches beneath his feat. "Long enough to find out where you put your amulet of Talos." The older man smiled and pulled the larger Nord into a bear hug. "Where in oblivion have you been, shield brother?"

"South of that bloody wall of theirs." Eadric grinned. "Only got past it a few days ago." He pulled back and looked Skjor's face over for any new scars from his time north of the wall, none by the looks of it. "And only then with a small army."

"Aye." Skjor nodded and glanced in the direction Eadric knew Craster's keep sat, causing the larger Nord to raise a brow. "I know. Part of why I'm here now."

Eadric frowned. "What are they to you?"

"Could ask you the same." Skjor trudged the elk carcass and knelt next to it, inspecting the wound, prodding a finger in to the torn neck and giving the cold blood a sniff. "They're up here to kill free folk, that's what they are to me." He looked over his shoulder up at Eadric. "You've spent time with them, you know what these crows want with the men up here."

Eadric crossed his arms and leant against the tree. "Crows? Haven't heard that one for them. Though they call the free folk wildings." Still, he frowned, this wasn't how he'd imagined their reunion would go.

Skjor grunted. "Aye, they're wild up here." He stood. "Remind me of the bandit clans back in Skyrim in some ways. More honour maybe, but still wild. They take to the wolf blood well."

"You've given some the gift then?" That was why they were both here after all, to spread the gift of Hircine in this continent, give the wolf blood to a new people and let it spread.

"A few." Skjor admitted and glanced over his shoulder, deeper in to the forest and then back to Eadric. "You'll meet some of them soon enough. What about you?"

Eadric sighed. "No. I haven't spread the gift. Too much of a risk down there if a newblood gets out of control."

Skjor let out a slight chuckle. "You mean like you did?"

"Hey." Eadric couldn't help but smile. "You threw me in to that headfirst, can't blame me for a hard transformation."

"Still…" The older man smirked and leant against another tree, causing a little snow gathered in a higher branch to fall to the forest floor. "You were worse than Farkas and that one nearly broke in to Belethor's. But aye." He gave a slight nod. "I can see how that would be a problem."

"How'd you avoid it?"

"They knew what was going to happen." Skjor replied simply. "Already seen me invoking the wolf blood."

Eadric nodded slightly and crossed his arms. "So how'd you know about the great ranging?"

"That what they're calling it? I only heard it being called a flock of crows." Skjor smirked, though it quickly fled his face as he grew solemn. "Sanguine came to me, like he did you." He paced in the snow, hand resting against the hilt of his skyforge steel sword. "Reinforcements he called it. Bah. Free folk are more like to skin any crows they find, and the crows would do the same to the free folk."

"Too much bad blood." Eadric noted with a sigh.

"Aye. Few thousand years' bloodshed on both sides." Skjor groaned. "We'd have an easier time trying to talk with a damned High Elf." He sighed heavily. "But we're here now. So, we've got to make the most of it."

"Any ideas?" Eadric asked.

Skjor glanced back down to the elk corpse. "A few." He conceded. "How about we talk over some meat?" He suggested.

Eadric chuckled. "You're the one with the steel." He gestured to Skjors skyforge steel sword and then to his belt to show his lack of one. "So, get skinning."

Eadric Haraldsson - Hircine
Skjor - Hircine
Mystery person - Unknown
Delvin Mallory - Nocturnal
Unknown Champion – Meridia

Right… So… I've fallen behind a bit haven't I?
To tell you all the truth. Season 6, I am ashamed to admit, took a lot of my passion out of Game of Thrones. A Song of Ice and Fire I still have a lot of love for, but the tv series… you know how I feel about that now.
Anyway, rant over. Please leave a review if you want to, all feedback welcome.
Not going to promise when the next chapter will be out because I'll likely miss it by several months again because I'm an idiot like that.