The guest horn blew from above the North Gate. From a mile away Lohgun had heard the boisterous sounds of a feast in the Great Hall of Winterfell. He'd be surprised if the horn cut much through the din of drunken singing, shouted conversation, and the hard cracking of jaws trying to break bones to suck the sweet marrow from within. Regardless, the badger stitched into the banner floating above him and his twenty hard men riding smelly garrons guaranteed a raised portcullis as the Lord of Tumbledown Tower came to visit his liege and his liege's lord, the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
The double file line of small horses snaked between the Guards Hall and the Amory to enter the courtyard. They passed beneath the covered walkway running between the Armory and the Great Keep. The squat, hairy man dismounted, handing the reins of his mount to his squire. Lohgun pointed his men towards the stables; then, seeing them on their way he slipped quietly through the Great Keep and into the inner yard. He received smiling nods from the few guards drawing duty on this night of royal festivity. The yard was empty of even the ever present dogs, all smart enough to know the feast offered a rare opportunity to scavenge treats. A sole sentry stood high on the battlements, sunk deep into his cloak for warmth. Even in summer, cold was ever present in the North. Lohgun smiled, "Winter is coming," he whispered, repeating his friend's family motto.
"Ho," a voice called out to him. Lohgun stopped and looked up, surprised he had not noted the hidden presence. A halfman sat on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, a living gargoyle amongst the plenitude of stone carved ones. The Lannister offspring grinned down at him. "Are you the Badger?"
Lohgun was not the only man in the North to wear a cloak stitched together from the black, grey, and white striped pelts of the common mustelid beast. The coats were thick and oily enough to reply rain and snow, while keeping a man warm. But only one man had been given the name as an epithet and kept it, defining himself by it. "I am," Lohgun answered. He stared up at the little man he'd only heard of by third hand and rumors. "Why are you up there and not at the feast?"
"Too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine," the scion of Casterly Rock and brother-in-law to the King told him. "I learned long ago that it is inconsiderate to vomit in front of my sister's husband, unless he happens to go first. Such are the privileges of royalty. Might I take a closer look at you?"
The Lord of Tumbledown Tower sighed quietly. He spent most of his time roaming the Wolfswood avoiding those who did not already know him. Such was the privilege of a freak, to be feared or held suspect on first sight. At least this one carried his own weird burden laid upon him by the Old Gods, and Eddard would not appreciate him making a scene with such an august visitor. Lohgun nodded slowly. "Shall I come to you?"
The little man blew a rude snort of air. He thrust himself off the ledge and tumbled like an acrobatic mummer through the empty air to land in a roll on the dirt which ended with him standing directly in front of a startled, backward stepping Lohgun.
The halfman dusted himself off, while chuckling. "Hope I didn't scare you."
Lohgun grinned at the audacity and nodded a no. "Most are less than they appear," he grunted and stuck out a gloved hand. "Lohgun."
The dwarf tilted his head to stare up at the hairy man through mismatched eyes. "Tyrion Lannister," and extended his own smaller one. As they shook, the Queen's brother peered openly at the back of Lohgun's leather glove. "Those three holes, is that where?"
Snickt!
"Oh my yes!" Tyrion released his grip, but did not draw his hand back. He gently poked an index finger along the three mismatched blades poking from the back of the Badger's right hand: the one closest to Lohgun's torso was a full twelve inches of sheathed metal, the middle one lacked armor over only the last two inches, and the one farthest was six inches of metal on the bottom and six inches of bone at the top. The halfman tapped at one of the joins between steel and bone. "Dawn did this, no?"
"Yes," he said remembering the pain. "Eddard made me return the sword to Starfall."
"A pity. Though no doubt the Dayne's appreciated the gesture."
'Ashara didn't,' the Badger thought as his mind recreated the scent of her, intoxicating. Many men had yearned for her, Lohgun among them, but only one had been granted her maidenhead.
"And the bone grew back, afterward?"
"In less than a week."
"How peculiar?" Lannister's offsetting eyes narrowed in concentration as he pondered the possibilities of the Badger's response. "Have the bone claws ever broken again?"
"Frequently," Lohgun tersely replied, the conversation beginning to annoy him.
"And uhm, has, uh, any other sword been able to damage the steel parts?" the halfman inquired; a thirst for knowledge outweighing any concern over the politeness of the question.
"Ice, a few times," he declared, patience nearly at an end.
"Valyrian steel, interesting."
A canine snarl rippled across the inner yard. Snickt! The Badger spun impossibly fast towards the Great Hall, a primal growl of his own bursting from hairy chest, throat, and face.