Lohgun sat on a stool near the black hearth of the drafty hall, greedily sucking up what heat the smoky peat fire offered before it could bleed through to warm the bickering lords of the North and their youthful commander, the newly bearded Robb Stark. Sharing Lohgun's strategic position as a heat brake were William, Jon, and Ghost. Since the hosts departure from Winterfell, theirs were the quiet words spoken to Robb before and after each day's meetings with the great lords pledged to the fifteen year old's father, the imprisoned Warden of the North, Lord Eddard Stark. And today these great lords were gathered with Robb around a massive stone table inside the Gatehouse Tower of Moat Caillin, discussing in brash Umber, frozen Bolton, agreeable Underwood, sharp Karstark voices the strategy for the coming campaign against the Lannisters and the crown.
Robett Glover pointed down at the maps on the table, "Will old man Frey let us across the Twins. I don't think it so easy to slip past Tywin Lannister on the east side of the Green Fork."
"Fuke that, charge down on the Gold Shiter befer he's ready fer us. We'll knacker him good then, Robb, with his pants around his ankles," proclaimed Lord Jon Umber loudly.
"They will have twice our horse, and more men overall" the Lord of the Dreadfort countered in his ever quiet tone. "Build a fortified position and make the Lannisters charge us."
'So says the bloodless leech of Bolton," the Greatjon spat back in disgust. "What's ta tempt the Old Lion inta such foolishness?"
"And he's such a fool he would'n have outriders to see your huge arse trotting toward him?" the Lord of Karhold scornfully shot back.
The Lord of Tumbledown Tower, a pinprick sized lordship in the vastness of the Wolfswood, unkinked his legs, stretched two heavily muscled arms from out of this badger fur cloak, placing them over his head, and cast a quick grin at his friend William, Lord Dustin of Barrowton. By rank and by valor the Badger's compatriot deserved a seat at the table with his fellow lords, but the game was already rigged. Robb understood the plan his father's boon companions had explained to him over the last week, and he approved; "get there firstest with the mostest." The scene playing out around the table was a simple, yet important show to let the lords believe the young commander of the Northern host heard and valued their words.
Lohgun's blond haired squire came out of the Gatehouse Tower's lone stairwell and sidled around the room to whisper in his lord's ear. The Badger nodded his understanding and Luk withdrew to return to his perch. Jon and William perked up expectantly, only Jon's direwolf Ghost, sharing the fire's warmth with them, remained placid. "The Mermen," he at last announced.
"And Lady Catelyn?" Jon Snow asked with a hint of nerves.
The Badger shrugged. "Unless she decided to return to Winterfell."
"How many?" William asked more practically.
"Fifteen hundred give or take. Maybe two hundred of horse," Lohgun replied.
"So nineteen and a half with which to take father back," Jon muttered.
"Nineteen," disagreed the Badger.
"We'll need to leave a garrison here," the Lord of Barrowton added.
Theon, standing in his favorite position at Robb's back, scowled at them as way of saying they nattered too much. The Greyjoy sprog, ever to full of himself, begrudged the older men's influence on his 'brother' and positively hated that they took Robb's bastard Jon Snow into their confidences, but not him. As heir to the Iron Islands, Theon held both a noble entitlement and a social stigma in the Seven Kingsdoms, but to the North, where he was Ned Stark's ward, any respect provided him rested on his friendship with Robb.
The Badger flashed an exaggerated smile at the young scold and nodded his head ever so slightly back at the table. Theon's lips compressed further, but he returned his attention to the other lords.
Lohgun could see that Jon Snow didn't seem to know whether to laugh or glower at his rival for Robb's brotherly affection. Theon must have felt he'd won their battle when Jon departed for Tumbledown Tower, only to see Jon return almost immediately after Bran's fall and then again when Robb called his father's banners. The Badger patted Jon's knee affectionately. "He's useful for now," he muttered quietly. "But someday he'll go back to those shit sack depressing islands of his, while you'll always share blood with Robb."
The Badger chuckled at the self-satisfied smirk that now peeked out on Jon's face; a chuckle that elicited another quick glare from the self-designated young nag.
The council dragged on.
(jean)
Lohgun sensed her presence first. Tasted her scent through the thick aromas of burned peat, sweat stained leather, filth strewn rushes, and unwashed men. He blinked, staring at the pulled back canvas door into the Hall, there she stood; pride, caring, fear, tenderness, intelligence, and beauty all wrapped in a small, fiery bundle. "Catelyn," he whispered, a promise and a lump of emotion in his throat.
One by one the squabbling lords quieted; and last, looking around the room, perplexed at the silence, Robb spotted her. "Mother?"
"You've grown a beard." She said, staring at her oldest child.
"Yes," Robb answered awkwardly.
"I like it," she announced. "You look like your Uncle Edmure.
One by one, the men in the Hall, the lords of the North, crossed to her and knelt before their liege lord's wife. She greeted each graciously, taking a hand and saying a kind word, even Theon, until Jon Snow presented himself. Her lips thinned, she said nothing, merely bobbing her head curtly once, dismissing him. And last of all came the Lord of Tumbledown Tower, crouching before her, hand extended in homage.
(jean)
A mask snapped down like a visor from her thick red hair, replacing Catelyn's thin lipped look with something far icier. "Of course you came," she accused, also not taking the rough hand offered her.
"Milady, how could I not," he answered.
"And you did not come alone, Mother," Robb cut in, sensing the tension, not liking it one bit.
Warmth returned to her as she focused her attention on Robb. She smiled. "I came with Lord Wyman's banners. You know his son, Ser Wendel." The obese second son of White Harbor's lord lowered his belly almost to the floor in casting his greeting to the hall. "And my uncle, Ser Brynden Tully, who has left my sister's service for mine." The tall, lean knight snapped a bow, showing that middle age had not slowed him a whit.
"Ser Wendel. Uncle. Thank you for answering Winterfell's call. We need the courage found in the likes of the Merman and the Blackfish. Is Ser Rodrik with you too? I find I've missed his steady council," Robb inquired.
"Ser Rodrik is on his way to Winterfell, I have named him castellan until our return," his mother replied.
"That'll be soon enough!" the Greatjon boasted. "First we kick Tywin Lannister's wrinkled ole arse out of the way, then on to the Red Keep and freein' Ned."
Catelyn smiled at the crude, simple rendering of the situation. 'If only it were that easy,' Lohgun wished. The Badger cleared his throat. "Beggin' milady's pardon, but is Tyrion halfman with you? As a hostage, we could use him if we must negotiate with the Lannisters."
The auburn haired woman's smile turned to a grimace. "Alas, my fool of a sister let herself be tricked into freeing him," she declared. The hall groaned in unison at the ill news. "I am none happier than any of you, my lords. The Lannisters hold not only Ned, but my dear daughters too. Now if you would all forgive me, I am overtired from my journey and would speak a moment alone with my son before I rested."
Lord Hornwood obligingly led the way for the lords out of the hall and into the open air of Moat Caillin. Lohgun and William, with Jon and Ghost in tow, forced their way through the crowd, looking for the Blackfish who'd been standing close to the door since his entrance.
"Brynden! Brynden!" William called.
The Blackfish peered over his shoulder and soon flashed a grin, spotting the force charging his position in the mud and cold. He stopped walking and turned around to confront the enemy. "Crypt. Badger." He greeted his companions from Robert's Rebellion.
"We have names, Bryn" the Lord of Barrowton complained with a sigh.
The Blackfish raised his eyebrows dubiously. He then turned his piercing gaze on the youngest member of the party. "This must be Jon Snow," Brynden said a touch coldly.
"I'd be careful around young men who keep direwolves as pets," Lohgun warned. "The Greatjon gave Robb an earful once, now he's missing a couple fingers. Of course Ghost here's a mite better behaved than Grey Wind, but you can never be too careful."
Jon smirked.
Brynden stared thoughtfully at the lad, rubbing one side of his mouth with a forefinger. "Alright," he at last declared in a tone of acceptance. "What can I do for you scoundrels?"
William smiled, baiting the hook. "I know you've been a long time in the Vale," he acknowledged. "How much do you remember about the Kingsroad as it passes down along the Green Fork?"
"And what can you tell us about that old bastard Walder Frey?" the Badger added.
The Blackfish sniffed at the bait. "You're planning something," he declared.
The look of exaggerated innocence William and Lohgun exuded, amplified their silence.
Brynden Tully nibbled at the bottom of this lip. "Oh, you're planning something. I want in. Tell me already, before I knock your stupid heads together. You'll need a real brain to pull off whatever stupid stunt you've got going."
Bait taken. Now they reeled in the fish.