The boat unmistakably, irresistibly stank of fish ... a lifetime of fish. Fresh fish. Gutted fish. Rotten fish. Fish scales. Fish innards. Fish eyes. Fish gills. Fish heads. Fish eggs. Fish shit. The overwhelming, putrid smells covered not only the entire crude sea craft, but the even rougher crew that sailed her. Lohgun had travelled several days north out of Lannisport, along the coastline, until he at last found inside a rocky cove somewhere he suspected opposite Fair Isle both a village and a small fleet of working boats unburned by the Ironmen during their rebellion. On the eighth day of his passage, the wildling yet again closed his sensitive nostrils to the prodigious odor and buried himself deep in memories. This morning he chose to relive how he bought passage on this vile vessel.
The coarse tenants of the hard scrabbled hamlet's lice infested common hut, which also passed as the local pub, laughed viciously at Lohgun's announcement he'd pay well to be sailed around Cape Kraken and into Blazewater Bay. His well-seasoned eyes watched them finger their fish gutting knifes and other nearby handy weapons as they assessed whether he carried enough wealth to make the risk of breaking Tywin Lannister's law worth their while. "The Great Keep of Balon Greyjoy is smashed by the King; and the Iron Fleet sunk by his brother, Stannis Baratheon," the Badger proclaimed loudly. "The sea roads are safe again."
"An how's youse keen that lil' man," an octogenarian wheezed, before hawking and plastering a wad of phlegm on one of the wildling's boots.
"Cause I sailed with them," he snarled in answer to the challenge. Snickt! "And killed enough Pyke bastards to fill the bellies of each one of the shitten boats your too scared to take off the beach."
A murmuring of gasps rose in the murky, soot stained hovel at the sudden appearance of three of the Badger's deadly claws. With his spare hand he dug into a pocket and found a copper to casually flip on to the slanted, knotted, knife scarred board that acted as the bar. He swiped up an untended mug and chugged the weak yellow brew within. "Aug!" he spat. "Gods this tastes like piss!" The room chuckled nervously at his discomfort.
He slammed the tankard down, shaking the board dangerously, and dug out another copper. "Give me another," he demanded. "And if it tastes like shit, I'm gutting someone," he added, waiving a be-clawed hand around. A mug promptly appeared before him. He sipped at the bitter, hoppy dregs. "Better," he muttered disagreeably. The three claws retracted beneath the skin on the back of his hand, leaving only a few dribbles of blood as evidence the dagger like projections had even existed. He purposefully turned his back on the crowd and took another gulp. Slowly the sounds of the room increased as the smallfolk gave grudging acceptance to his presence and returned to the patterns of their regular conversations: the war, hamlet gossip, the weather, fishing stocks, ship repairs, etc.
Soon enough a greasy, tall, but slender sailor in a great coat sidled up to Lohgun and bobbed his head in greeting. "Youse da Badjur, ain'ts ya? I saw youse and d'othur norfmen at Sturm'en."
The wildling turned and looked the man directly in one eye, the other wandering off to look at the wall. "Long way from here to Shipbreaker Bay, bub," he pointed out.
The man smiled knowingly, showing several gaps between his yellow stained teeth. "Werked on a wee scow out of da Port, goin up 'n deen da coast wid bulk lods. Were ashur on d'Arbur ween ol' Patter Reedwin order da impressin' ta man his feet pur layin ofta Sturm'en. Dull werk dat tern ta be pur a yer. Had jus row'd supplees ashur ween da greet norfmen Lor Stark shows up ta lash Reedwin and dat Tie-reell greet Lor ta heel." The sailor snickered at the recollection of the mighty getting hoist up their own yardarm. "Sees youse den, remembers da names othurs point'd uut." The narrow man tapped his narrower skull to emphasize the apparent strength of his memory. "Backs nowz fer, fiv yers." He rubbed a thumb and forefinger together. "Wid coin ta buy da Fluke frum me cuz. No beeger boat herin."
"Room to carry a horse too?" Lohgun asked.
The self-proclaimed sea captain pondered a moment, scratching at a boil peeking through the scraggly beard on his neck. "Yes'm. Cost mer doh." The narrow skull swept up and down the little man next to him, the one good evaluating the Badger's worth. "Fiftee draguns."
The wildling laughed. He had a boat. The rest was just bargaining.
The boom started to come about as the dodgy, smelly vessel started tacking, rousing Lohgun from his mental exile. To the southeast he could just see a point of land, the northern tip of Cape Kraken, they were about to enter Blazewater Bay, and beyond that the Saltspear and the Barrowlands. The Badger would soon set foot again in the North.
He cheerily said goodbye to Slow-eyed Peet and his three ruffians of a crew in the tidal zone where the Barrowdown River met the Saltspear. The rising headlands made the winds less regular and reliable progress slow for any boat without oars hoping to go up the Down. Luckily a barge was newly arrived at the sea village where the river and the inlet merged. Happy to be departing from the stink and with the fact the smelly bastards never once tried to pull anything over on him, Lohgun handed over a bonus of four gold coins to the ragged fishermen.
He had to wait two days before the barge would be loaded up with enough goods to warrant the trip back up stream to Barrowton, but the wildling used the time to good use; drinking and hearing the gossip of the Rills and Barrowlands. Lohgun was pleased that word said Lord Dustin's one year old son and heir, Eddard, thrived; though all still mourned that his birth eventually took the life of his mother the Lady Barbrey. The Badger looked forward to meeting the little tyke, and Willam too, when the upcoming three day long river journey ended. This trip would only cost his coin purse six silver stags.
"We missed you Will," Lohgun said to his friend, who sat in his Keep's solarium while three year old Lyanna played with her baby brother. "And we were all sorry to hear about Barbrey. You made the right choice in staying with her."
The Lord of the Barrowlands, Master of Barrowton, Head of House Dustin looked haggard and worn, decades older than his thirty years. The Badger's unexpected arrival had taken his friend's Steward by surprise. But the old man had known Lohgun for ten years, and after whispering that his Lord still painfully grieved the passing of his lady wife, had promptly taken the short, savage man to Willam. The shadow now peering back at him worried the wildling.
"Thanks for your kind words, boyom," the shadow said with a sigh. After pausing, Willam continued, "My heart told me staying with her was the thing to do, but it gnawed at me fierce, even as she got sicker and sicker. I felt I let Ned down, sending Ser Harwood to lead my banners."
"No one questions your loyalty, Crypt," Lohgun said reassuringly.
The Lord of the Barrowlands nodded his head in understanding. "Alas poor Stout showed not a whit of luck and lost his arm to the damned Ironborn. Hard, hard, hard," Willam repeated.
"But he lives, and so does this strong red haired son of yours. He'll make you proud, and Barbrey too."
"And me?" little Lyanna asked.
Willam smiled kindly, "you too love, you too. Now here's nanny, Lya; time for both your naps."
As the children were shuffled out, neither of the men spoke, though Willam picked up his too lean body from the chair and poured wine for the both of them. Returning to his perch and taking a sip, some of his natural enthusiasm seemed to reappear. "So tell me of the shindy I missed."
Lohgun shrugged. "What's to tell. Robert's brother Stannis beat the Iron Fleet, opening the sea lanes, then he led the army that took Great Wyk. And I'll say that six years and regular feeding haven't improved that dour asshole's mood one bit since Storm's End. Not even when he got word he'd become a father."
The chuckle the shadow began at the mention of Stannis' brusque persona died immediately at word of a successful childbirth.
'Fuck me, that was stupid,' the Badger thought, but he plowed on anyway. "Old Ser Barristan boldly took Old Wyk. And Robert stormed Pyke, always at the damned front and in the thick of the fighting, just like at the Trident."
"Forcing Ned to unduly risk himself for the King, no doubt," Willam said with quiet condemnation.
"And me!" burst the Badger. "Someone had to shield the honor bound fools from themselves." Then, in an aggrieved tone, he continued, "I could have gotten hurt."
Silence held a moment before a well of laughter bubbled out of the two companions. Willam at last wiped tears from his eyes and pronounced, "Joy."
Lohgun reined in his mirth. "Joy," he repeated.
More silence followed. The two men sipped their cups and leaned far back into their chairs. Though the sun was no brighter outside the solarium, a bit of darkness lifted inside it.
"Barbrey never wanted me to go," the Lord of the Barrowlands announced.
"To the Iron Islands? Of course not," the Badger agreed.
"No. She didn't want me to go South, with Ned, to avenge Brandon and Lord Rickard. When word reached us of his murder, Barbrey locked herself in our room for a day, a night, and a day. The whole Keep heard her weeping. But when she at last came out, she acted as though nothing had happened … well until Ned's raven arrived, calling for my banners. Oh how bitterly she fought my going Badger, every spare minute she could wring out of me she harangued me."
"She loved you," Lohgun said hollowly. He'd visited the Barrowlands and the Rills many times with Brandon on his tours of the North. "You were near newlyweds, she couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
"Did she? Barbrey had only once before opposed me so determinedly. She refused to go to his and Catelyn's wedding at Riverrun. I surrender to her wishes for I so desperately wanted her to love me. We stayed; otherwise I'd likely have ridden to King's Landing with Brandon, Kyle, Jeffory, Elbert, and Ethan. I was spared. I was damned well not going to let her stop me again. And she must have known that. So in the ten days it took me to muster the Barrowlands and arrange the supply train, she contacted her father. The night before I left, she took me to the stables and showed my Big Red, the pride of Lord Ryswell's herd."
"The finest in the North."
"Aye, she was," Willam agreed, though Big Red was a stallion. "Barbrey gave him to me and said that if I did not come home on him, it would be the fault of the Starks. She swore that if I fell she'd destroy the Starks like the Lannisters did to the Reynes of Castamere." Lord Dustin sniffled. "We made mad love in the hay."
"As fierce a frail as you'd ever want," the Badger stated.
Willam nodded his head in agreement. "It was the first time in our marriage I knew, really knew, she loved me. And Brandon had to die for me to experience it." Tears dripped noiselessly down the shadow's face.
The wildling felt sick to his stomach. Was Willam holding a mirror to reflect, to distort, the plight of Lohgun's own love. He desperately wished to be elsewhere. "Crypt," he whispered, "you don't … I mean … she …"
"Brandon had her first, took her maidenhead long before she wed me. I'm not so big a fool, Badger, he fostered here three years and spent a quarter of the time travelling the Rills," Willam said with little heat. "Who else would he have been seeing, but her. Women fell over themselves for our dear Brandon, she wouldn't have been any different. I always thought it was his eyes. They glowed with a fire that dared ladies high and low to unleash, to try and tame it."
Lohgun nodded his head, knowing exactly the charm and power Brandon could exert through his eyes. "He was the direwolf of our pack, and the rest of us just wolverines in comparison."
Willam continued, "I pretended not to notice Barbrey didn't bleed with our bedding. I didnae care. She was soooo … enchanting, far above common beauty, a northern star, my Polaris. Sometimes, when the sunlight hit her brown hair just so, I'd swear it took on a hint of green. She laughed when e'er I'd call her a child of the forest. And now she's gone. Gone."
After a few hours the light entering the solarium turned red, then pink, and finally dark. The two friends sat together, sharing the pain and occasionally wondering what the future might bring.