Chapter 13
Sixty years ago, a younger Addolgar Fellforge would have scoffed at the idea that he would be serving at the Wall, let alone as Lord Commander. Of course, sixty years ago, Addolgar did not yet have any reason to be at the Wall. That younger version would have also never believed that being the Lord-Commander of, well, anything, meant having to crouch over seemingly endless amounts of paperwork laid upon his desk.
The dwarf pulled his black fur cloak tighter in a somewhat successful attempt to try and ward off the cold. For fifty years, he had served as the Leader of the men who garrisoned the Wall. He had ranged with them, ate with them, and fought with them. As any dwarf would do, he did his best, sticking to his duty as stoically as he could. The men respected him, and he was content with that. Despite only coming to their chests in height, most of the black brothers of the Night's Watch looked up to him, in a way. Of course, there were always a few dissenters, like that upstart Thorne, but he was harmless.
Addolgar suddenly heard a voice and a pounding upon his door. "Lord Commander! Lord Commander!"
"Aye, come in, lad," he grunted.
As the door opened, he looked up from his scrolls and saw the source of the voice to be one Walker Light-step, a middle aged half-elf who had joined the Night's Watch ten years earlier. He was a dutiful ranger, loyal to a fault, and good-hearted to boot.
"Walker. I see you have returned from the patrols. What is so important that you had to barge in like this, while I am in the middle of important paperwork?"
Walker had the decency to look ashamed. After a moment, Addolgar chuckled. "It's alright lad. I may actually enjoy this minor respite. What is it?"
The ranger stood to attention. "Lord Commander. That 4 man patrol you sent out two days ago? The one that had yet to return?"
"Yes. What of it?"
Walker's face turned grim. "What's left of it has returned."
Frowning, Addolgar stood up from his desk and preceded to follow Walker out into the courtyard. He noticed that it was snowing once again. He saw a few men training near the racks of weapons, another small group enjoying a spot of gambling.
The Night's Watch was rather indiscriminate when it came to its members. There all kinds; mostly shadar-kai, along with a small smattering of elves, half-eves, dwarves, some dragonborn, a few gnomes, and of course a large grouping of humans, both shadowborn and Westerosi. Mostly criminals, outcasts, and displaced bastards from the Deep cities and the six kingdoms. From what he could remember of his histories, when King Uwan the Defiant and King Aegon the Conqueror had signed the Compact of Shadows, one of the conditions for peace between the two kigndoms was that the Westerosi could send any criminals or volunteers to serve at the Wall. Of course, nowadays, that option was rarely ever acted upon voluntarily in Westeros and Ikemmu, as some chose the Road.
Despite the small groups clustered about, most were gathered at the entrance to the main gate. Pushing his way through the throng of men with Walker's help, Addolgar beheld the sad remnants of the missing patrol.
Out of the four that had been sent, only one had returned. A young human cleric of Kelemvor, Alderin, if he remembered correctly. Malnourished, hair crusted with snow and dried blood, skin as pale and cold as bone and rocking on the ground in a fetal position, the man seemed nearly out of his mind. Upon closer examination, Addolgar saw that the priest was clutching his faith's holy symbol so tightly that the edges had dug into his hand and caused it to bleed. His arm, Addolgar noted with a hint of disturbed fascination, had been carved with the symbols of the Raven Queen and Kelemvor over and over again until every bit of flesh on the limb was covered in the bloody drawings. All the while, he kept mumbling the same thing over and over again. "Eyes of blue, eyes of blue, Gods of death protect me. Eyes of blue, eyes of blue…."
Giving the man a shake on the shoulder, Addolgar cleared his throat. "Lad, lad, what happened? Where are the others?"
The black brother's eyes seemed to focus for a moment and looked upon the dwarf. "Lord Commander? Is this real? Am I safe? No, none of us are safe. Please, it is so cold! Two days wandering through one of the Nine Hells! Eyes of blue, eyes of blue, eyes of blue, eyes of blue, eyes of blue, Kelemvor protect me, eyes of blue, eyes of blue….."
Addolgar sighed. "Lads, get him to the kitchens, give him some food, and get him warm. When he's lucid, tell me. I need to speak with the Maester."
As the men gingerly lifted the poor cleric up and headed for the kitchens (the warmest place in Castle Black), Addolgar gestured to Walker, and the two of them left for the Maester's domicile underneath Castle Black's rookery.
The blasted birds noticed his arrival and cawed a greeting. "Lord Commander! Lord Commander!"
As always, they found Balasar guarding the doorway. He was a rather intimidating dragonborn, standing at 7 feet, covered in ocher scales, and rippling with muscle. Sent to the Wall after having killed a man in a tavern brawl with his bare hands, Addolgar had put him to work as the Maester's personal guard, assistant, and steward, duties which he took very seriously.
"I am sorry, Lord Commander, Ranger Light-Step, but the Maester is resting. He is an old man, after all." Balasar stated in a deep, reptilian voice.
Before Addolgar could reply, an ancient, weak voice suddenly emanated from behind the door. "It's alright, Balasar, let the Lord Commander in. I don't mind."
With a grumble that sounded like minor rock slide, Balasar opened the door, and let Addolgar and Walker into Maester Aemon's chambers, where the man himself was seated upon his bed.
Aemon Targaryen was, at least by a human's standards, rather elderly, especially in appearance. At almost a century of life, the man was stooped with wrinkly age, cursed with terrible blindness, and could not move about without great assistance from Balasar. Despite these infirmities, he still retained a vast knowledge on a variety of subjects, ranging from medicine to lore and ancient history.
Addolgar cleared his throat, and the old man turned in the general direction of his voice.
"Yes, Lord Commander, what can I help you with?"
"Does the term "eyes of blue" mean anything to you?"
"Hmmm. Something out of old legends, if I remember. Why?"
"The remnant of a four-man ranger patrol I sent out a fortnight ago has returned. He was half mad, and kept repeating that phrase over and over again."
"Troubling. Where is this ranger now?"
"In the kitchens. Warmest place we have."
"Very well. When he is sufficiently warm and lucid, let me know. I want to ask him a few things."
"Of course Maester."
As Addolgar and Walker turned to leave, Aemon spoke once more. "If this ranger is speaking the truth, then I fear we may have more to worry about than mere wildings, Commander."