Chapter 8 - Help sometimes comes from the Strangest places
"The Maesters call it the Post Battle Sickness," a soft raspy voice said.
Jon opened his eyes and turned his head sideways, there, standing next to the rock he was seated on, was The Stranger.
"It's quite common actually. Soldiers and warriors everywhere experience this. The horrors of battle are not soon forgotten and it can come back to haunt you." He continued while staring at the Weirwood tree with its face carved deep into the wood and blood red sap running down the deeply carved face.
He bowed deeply towards the tree in reverence. "Did you known" he asked after a moment of silence, "that a Weirwood tree is the closest thing an immortal that there ever was? It's quite remarkable actually. Unless the tree is deliberately killed off, it won't die."
Jon looked at The Stranger, a little thrown by the sudden change of topic.
"Um, no, I didn't actually. But give what we know about the weirwoods I'm not really surprised. I wonder if Bran knows, knew." Jon sighed in frustration. He had trouble remembering sometimes that Bran, Sansa and Arya of the past weren't HIS Bran, Sansa and Arya of the future.
The Stranger walked over and placed his hand upon the tree.
"The Greenseer's have a saying about these trees. They say that the roots go deep and it's true. The roots of a Weirwood quest deep into the earth in search of nourishment and warmth. Especially, in the North where the sun rarely shines in winter. As long as they have what they need, they survive and never die."
Jon looked at him, his brow furrowed in thought. The Stranger was trying to tell him something. Something important but with his mind and emotions so messed up, he couldn't grasp it. The Stranger turned and faced Jon.
"You have roots here in Winterfell that go very deep Jon. Roots of love, of brothers and sisters and friends. The love of family. Here in Winterfell, you have what you need to survive. Hold on tight to those roots Jon. They will help you stand tall and ground you."
Jon thought he understood what The Stranger was saying. His family will help him to overcome this even if they didn't know they were helping him. Suddenly, he felt a little bit of the burden he had been carrying lift. Jon looked at The Stranger in gratitude.
"Thank you. I understand." He said in a heartfelt voice.
Jon took a deep breath then rolled his neck. "You know, I think I prefer your real form. Seems more appropriate for who you are then this handsome man you portray." He said with a note of sly humor in his voice. The Stranger laughed and melted into his true persona.
"You're a strange one Jon Snow." Death noted with humor. "To be honest, I like The Stranger. He's one of my better looking forms and a lot more practical than a lot of my others. Animal forms, monster forms and forms I can't even begin to describe. Hell, I've even got a female form or three. It all depends really."
"Depends on what?" Jon asked in curiosity
"Oh no. I'm not telling. For one, the only one who could probably even come close to grasping the concept would be Tyrion and two, I am never telling him the truth, although it might just be fun to watch his brain explode in frustration trying to figure it all out." Death sniggered while Jon started laughing.
"Let's just say there are a lot of people who all have different ideas about what death looks like or at least what deaths physical representation looks like. Suffice to say, many of them are completely ridiculous and almost all of them are very far from the truth although the humanoid forms like The Stranger come closer to reality then most. "
"Are there any people who worship you in your true form?" Jon just had to ask. He was very curious, after all, how often does a person get to chat to Death on a friendly basis?
"First of all, nobody worships death. Not really and those who do take it seriously, they are more fanatics then true worshipers but to answer your question yes, there is only one group of people who use my true form as my avatar and they came up with it on their own." Death smiled as he answered. He didn't mind answering questions for Jon because he knew that Jon would be satisfied with them just because he didn't know any better and wasn't inclined to delve into the deeper meanings and mysteries of death.
Tyrion though…
Death gave a full body shudder at the thought, which for a Deity who was a skeleton, was rather impressive.
"It will take time you know. Time to process what you've been through. It won't every truly go away, I'm sorry to say, but it will get better." Death said as he walked back towards Jon.
When he reached where Jon was sitting, he stretched out his arm and placed a skeletal hand on his shoulder. Jon wasn't sure what Death was doing and was about to ask when a feeling of peace that he hadn't felt in years washed over him.
"That will dull the memories and feelings a bit. I can't take it away from you because it wouldn't be good for you at all, but dulling the intensity of the memories is the least I can do." Jon was almost crying in relief.
"Thank you" he said again. It seemed inadequate but it was all he had to give at the moment.
Death smiled "your welcome Jon." He said. "Oh by the way, it might interest you to know that Tyrion found Bronn in the Riverlands on his way to the Crossroads inn. As you may have guessed, he has joined Tyrion's party." Death said as he faded away.
Jon smiled; it would be nice to see Lady Stark's disdain and temper directed at someone else for a change.
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Tyrion sighed in relief as Moat Cailin came in sight. It had been a hard two days ride. After they left the inn they traveled north heading in the direction of The Crossing.
"If you don't mind my saying so, Old Lord Frey is a miserable cunt at the best of times. How ya going to get across the Greek Fork without having to deal with him? You're a Lannister after all, you lot shit gold or so the rumors say and you can bet all the gold in that big old rock of yours that Walder Frey is gonna try to get quite a lot of it out of you." Bronn pointed out.
Tyrion had a sour look on his face as he completed that fact. "I know." He said. "Unfortunately I don't know an alternate means of crossing the river otherwise I'd be staying far away from the Frey's. They are a conniving, duplicitous lot lot who would break the sacred guest rights if it gained them something big." He said, pure loathing in his voice.
"Well, I've been north of the twins a time or two," Bronn started to say in that smug voice that told Tyrion that Bronn was about to solve his problem. "And it just so happens I know a fella who has a nice sized river ferry bout three or four miles from here. I'd say for a gold coin or two, he'd be happy as shit to take us over to the other side."
"Then by all means, lead the way Bronn." Tyrion replied. Gods it was good to have Bronn back.
A couple of hours later and they were standing on the northern banks of the Green Fork, waving farewell to the ferry man who, as Bronn said, had been more than happy to help out for a couple of gold dragons.
Tyrion gave him five.
His cheerful face and happy personality had made the short unpleasant crossing quite relaxed and easy. His clever insults at his Frey masters were both astute and hilarious.
"Now there's a man I can quite happily call Lord of the Crossing. I wonder if I can talked my father into replacing they Frey's with him. Actually, no, screw Tywin. I'll go to King Robert instead. He hates the Frey's as much as anyone…." Tyrion said to no one in particular.
Linkon, who had heard his cousin's comment laughed. "Aye Tyrion and I'll back you, all the way to the foot of Roberts's throne. If you speak to the king when he's drunk, you'll more than likely succeed in your plan!" Tyrion and Linkon laughed at the truth of this.
"Oh aye, I'd agree with you on this one." Bronn said joining in the laughter.
"Now," Bronn continued "if we ride north west for about an hour, well reach the Kings Road just at it meets the Neck. Now for all of you who haven't been north before, let me just give you fair warning now alright? Until we're on the other side of the Neck, don't leave the Kingsroad, not even to take a piss. You need to piss, piss off the side of the road. Don't leave it. Now, while Lord Reed and his lot won't kill ya, there are things in here that will and we'd never find ya bodies and just so we're clear, one of you lot get taken cause you were stupid, no one is coming to save your sorry ass, savvy?" Bronn said in a serious tone.
Tyrion's guards all nodded their agreement and while they may be soldiers of a great house and Bronn a common sell-sword, the guards weren't stupid. This man in front of them, laying down the rules had experience in this region, where as they had never been here before and only a fool fails to listen to good practical advice. After all, the swamps and waterways of the Neck were full of dead fools who failed to listen to a voice of experience.
They road along the rough trail and sure enough they emerged out of the woods onto the Kingsroad at the top of a hill just before the road snaked its way down the hill and through the Neck itself. In the distance, they could see the three drab, run down fortress of Moat Cailin.
"Gods be good!" Gage burst out, "that looks like one of the seven hells come to life. People actually manage to live in this hell hole?"
"Live and thrive." Tyrion replied. "The Neck is full of life and here people manage to live here quite well. It's not a life many in the seven kingdoms would enjoy but from what I've heard, which isn't much, mind you, the people here have a better quality of life than most. I'd love to visit Greywater Watch, Lord Howland Reed's seat in the Neck. Apparently it's impossible to find because it's on a island that floats, so Greywater Watch is constantly moving."
In truth, Tyrion had already been to Greywater Watch in the Time Before. When Winterfell, fell, Jon Tyrion and the rest of the survivors fled south to the Neck, hoping that the still flowing waterways of the Neck would slow the dead armies down. It hadn't and they had learned a hard lesson.
A constantly moving keep is a great defense, until, the keep stops moving. The White Walkers may not speak any recognizable language, but they weren't stupid. All they did was just freeze the swamps and waterways. The desperate flight out of the Neck towards the south had been an icy hell that Tyrion didn't want to think about.
It took them half a day to reach the first fortress. They were passed though without incident and continued on to the second keep. When they reached the second one, the afternoon was passing into evening. They were allowed to rest for the night.
After dinner, Tyrion went and spoke with the commander of Moat Cailin, a knight from White Harbor and ask if he could send a raven to Winterfell to inform Lord Stark of his arrival in the north and to ask for lodgings and an audience when he arrived at Winterfell. The commander, Ser Wyman, allowed Tyrion to send his message.
"I'm curious, My Lord. Why are you venturing into the North when you family name is despised and spat upon here?" He asked. Ser Wyman had been surprisingly hospitable, showing none of the disdain he spoke of.
"Ah yes, my lovely family's reputation precedes me wherever I go. " Tyrion replied in a bitter tone. "To be honest, Ser, I'm trekking north because I've always wanted to see the Wall," he spoke the standard cover story.
"As for my request to Lord Stark, I have decided to try and make friends in the North. Personally, if your countrymen wish to kill my family, I will quite happily cheer them on and celebrate their victory with copious amounts of ale. The Lannister's are all vile people, except for a few and I am sick of being treated like shit just because of my last name. It people wish to hate me then let them hate me for something I've actually done or being a dwarf. People seem to automatically hate dwarves."
Ser Wyman gave Tyrion a thoughtful look, "Well My Lord, I haven't met the rest of your family so I can't say anything really but after meeting you, well, you've been a good guest here. Your men have been polite and under control. That sell-sword of yours is a black hearted cut throat if I ever saw one but even he, had been polite and kept my men amused with his stories and trust me My Lord, we're starved for good stories here at the Moat. As far as you go My Lord, you've been nothing but polite and genial company and thanks to some of your suggestions for re-enforcing the keeps, we'll be better defended than ever once they're put into place. Guess what I'm saying My Lord is that I actually like you and if you ever need someone to speak for you, please don't hesitate to ask me." Ser Wyman said, extending his hand to Tyrion to shake. Tyrion smiled and shook the man's hand.
"Welcome to the North Lord Tyrion." He finished with a smile.
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A couple of days later, the Stark family were sitting in the great hall, eating dinner when Maester Luwin walked up to Ned and spoke.
"Forgive me my Lord, but we have received a raven from Moat Cailin and while I would normally would wait to give it to you after the meal, I found the contents surprising enough that it warranted your immediate attention." He said while passing the scroll to Ned.
"Trouble?" Ned asked as he opened the scroll and started to read.
"No, not trouble, just unusual" Maester Luwin replied. Ned read the message with a small amount of surprise.
"Tyrion Lannister is in the North." He said to the table at large. "He's on his way to visit the Wall and wishes to lodge here for short time to rest before continuing on."
"A Lannister? Here in the North? What is he thinking? The North holds no love for his family." Catelyn Stark voiced the question they were all thinking.
All, except one.
Jon just silently sighed in relief. 'It's about bloody time dwarf' he silently mocked his friend. Soon, soon they could finally sit down with his Aunt and Uncle and start to change thing for the better.
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In another place, which did and did not exist at the same time, The Crone stood in front of the viewing pool with a look of confusion on her ancient face.
"What is it Grandmother?" The Maiden asked in a soft voice.
"The future changes." The Crone replied. The Maiden looked slightly worried.
"For the worst?" she asked again.
"No," The Crone replied with a note of wonder in her voice.
"For the Better."
Next chapter, Jon starts to prepare Ned for the unbelievable and Tyrion finally makes it to Winterfell