*Sorry for the long update, the end of this chapter was hard for me to get right.
299 AC
Garrison the Glaring
He knew he should have chosen exile. He fucking knew it. Not least of which for the reasons at least he wouldn't have frozen his balls off. May the gods be good, at this point, he'd rather take a very long walk off of a very short cliff. The Wall could suffice.
He had done nothing more than ask his lord father for his true name. Gerford Lannister is the Lord Magister of Lannisport. Ruling the city of Lannisport as a lordship, but with no authority outside of it. He had asked the bastard, nay, begged, to be given the Lannister name. He still remembered when his right prick of a father had slapped him so hard he saw stars. On nothing more than this, he was sent to the Wall. Fucking arsehole he was.
So here he was, Garrison Hill. He had been given the name 'Garrison the Glaring' when he first arrived in Castle Black. He had hated the entire life of it. But now, well…he had no other choice now.
He was sorted into the order of builders. He didn't hate it. But now…oh now he wanted to stab each and every single one of the Seven in the anus with a rusted shiv. He thought he'd be safe at one of the castles along the Wall. But nooooooo. Of course he just had to be assigned on a patrol that was sent north of the Wall.
Apparently Lord Commander Mormont wished to establish some form of outpost that rangers could use. He was tired of using Craster's Keep. On one hand he could agree. He had never been there, but he'd heard stories.
That was four days ago. Their group of ten rangers, four builders, and two stewards were just camping. His team had already cleared an area and had begun rudimentary shacks and a fence. Not enough to do anything but to line the compound, but sometime in the future, build it high enough to a true defensive wall.
Then a blizzard came out of nowhere. It was as if the sky had darkened in the middle of the day. It came so fast that Jermyn had died from purely the first massive gust of cold air. So biting that he could feel it in his bones. The only reason that his group lived was their closeness to the fire. But then Vernon, Bitter-Mouth, Hackles, and Game had all died too. Eryn Stone, their leader, had ordered the last survivors into a shack and had the fire moved indoors.
The blizzard had lasted for an entire two days. So cold that they couldn't go out and collect fuel for the fire. They had scrouge for all the supplies they could that were in the shack.
Finally, the ordeal was over. It had felt strange, not hearing the constant roaring of the wind after hearing it for two days straight, so loud you couldn't fall asleep.
Eryn had left the shack first, then we followed behind him. Everything was covered in snow, but not nearly as much as one would believe.
Those of us who had survived hugged each other in gladness. But not Eryn. He was quiet, as silent as the dead of winter.
"What is it?" Hector asked, he remembered.
Eryn used his sword to point around the camp.
"The bodies…" He had responded.
We all looked around. He was right, Jermyn had only fallen right in front of camp, so had others. But…but there were no remains, none, not even rotting corpses.
"…the bodies, where are they?" Eryn had remarked, more to himself, but everyone heard him.
And our blood froze.
What none of them noticed, was the pair of pale, blue eyes, that watched them through the trees.
Edwyle Stark
They had made camp for three days. The ensuing time used to determine how best to evict the Lannister forces from the Riverlands. After they had crossed the Twins, they'd received word that Lord Lannister had invaded the Riverlands from the west. Tywin sent a force to take Pinkmaiden and sent another force north under the command of Ser Gregor Clegane to harass Raventree Hill. This was done to obviously isolate Riverrun.
Pinkmaiden had fallen with Lord Clement Piper sent running with the remains of his forces. Lord Vance was slain. The latest reports indicated that the Blackwoods have yet to fall, but Ser Gregor was leaving a path of destruction in their wake.
"If we can send a party after the Mountain, than we can draw him out, kill or take him in the moment." Patrek Mallister remarked.
"But will he come? Lord Lannister most likely gave him explicit instructions." His brother Robb asked.
"Lord Robb, the Mountain that Rides is a mindless monster. He is blinded by blood rage and will no doubt fall susceptible to the harrying of his forces." Ser Wendel commented.
"Very well, it's decided. We'll draw him out and free the Blackwoods from their siege. Enough about that, any news of Riverrun?"
"The last reports from out scouts indicate Lord Tywin has recalled his forces from Pinkmaiden after destroying it. He has personally led the command of the siege of Riverrun. Unfortunately…it seems Ser Edmure Tully has been taken prisoner."
"How?"
"Ser Edmure… well Ser Edmure is an acceptable warrior my lord. And pardon my words about your uncle, his skill on the fields of battle leave much to be desired." Ser Imry Erenford explained. "Word is that he raised a host of four thousand and sought to raid the lines of the Lannisters. It would seem that Lord Tywin had him captured in a skirmish just south of Riverrun."
"Who holds the castle now?" Edmure silently cursed his uncle.
"Unknown. Before the Lannister set their siege, Lord Tully sent word for Lord Tytos Blackwood, but whether or not he arrived before hand, is unknown."
"Very well. I'll not march to Riverrun to only leave our rear exposed. We'll deal with the Mountain first and foremost." Robb ordered.
"Shall we try to capture him? Or are we to simply slay him immediately?" He asked his brother.
"Knowing about his reputation, it may be easier just to kill him outright."
"Normally I would agree, however, we have a chance here. If we successfully capture him, we can personally deliver the man to the Martells. Ever since the Rebellion, we've not had the best relationship with those in Dorne."
The command tent was silent while the Northern lords were thinking it over. "Very well." His brother started. "A sound strategy. If the opportunity arises, we shall make sure to capture him. That being said, I'll not have good men slain trying to subdue the Mountain, if his capture is unattainable, then kill him. Although putting him in chains is a good advantage, it is not my primary concern."
He bowed in understanding.
"If that's it, then let's get to it. I've received word from my mother, the Vale is still mobilizing and should be in the Riverlands by the end of the fortnight. We do not have that time however for Raventree Hill. Ser Imry, you'll lead a pack of Frey horsemen to attack the Mountain and his party. Only engage until they have your full attention, once done, retreat north to pull their forces away. Lords Umber and Glover, alongside of Ser Patrek and Lady Maege shall lead your forces from the east, from Mudgrave. I shall lead our remaining forces and the rest of the Frey forces from the west. Once the Mountain rides north, we'll envelop him in a pincer move and cut him off."
The lords looked at Robb with a growing measure of respect, many not expecting such a well thought out plan from merely a young man. Edwyle simply smirked in their response.
"Where shall I be my lord?" He asked his brother. He called him Robb, but in front of others, it was good to recognize his due.
Robb looked at him with a smile of his own. "You were always the betters swordsman. You take who you wish…you ride for the Mountain himself."
Edwyle's smirk grew. The rest of the lords almost looked relieved they were not on the receiving end of the wolfish grins.
The Wolves of the North had descended on the south once again.
He was a-ride his mount, just to the left of his brother. Their army had ridden to their positions many hours ago. It was less than an hour ago when Ser Imry Erenford had left with his party in an attempt to fish the Mountain out of his position.
"When the horn sounds, you shall ride with me. But you know your mission, hunt down the Mountain and deal with him." Robb said.
"Of course brother." Edwyle turned to look at those followers he chose to go with him. Smalljon Umber, Torrhen and Eddard Karstark, Robin Flint, Ser Kyle Condon, Ser Donnel Locke, and Willard Mandel. House Mandel was a cadet branch of House Manderly, founded about a century ago from a cousin of the Lord of White Harbor.
"Men, today, we strive to take down a brutal man, more animal than beast. When we ride upon him, Smalljon, Robin, and Ser Kyle, alongside of myself, shall attack in the first wave. Our objective will be to take him from his horse. Once accomplished, we'll battle to see if we can subdue him. If more than two of us are knocked out of the battle, through any means…well, the rest of you will charge forth with your lances to pierce him until he stops breathing. Does everyone understand?"
The small group of men in front of him nodded. "Good! Today is a sore day! A red day! And the sun rises!" At the end of the call, they heard the horns. Turning, he saw Robb snap his reins with Lord Bolton and Karstark following him. "Come men!"
His party set off. It wasn't too difficult to find the leader of the Lannister raiding parties. Sat atop his massive courser, Ser Gregor Clegane carved a line of death through the Northerner and Riverlander forces.
"Ya!"
His group raced for the Mountain. Smalljon was right in front of him. The massive giant of a man used his claymore with one hand and swiped at the Mountain's horses' leg. Unfortunately, the Mountain saw the attack coming and blocked the swing with his own massive greatsword.
He rode by next and brought his longsword down, in an attempt to cut the horses' neck. This was blocked expertly as well. Fortunately, the third rider, Robin Flint, landed a deep gash on the front leg of the horse. The mount buckled, and its rider fell off with a grunt. The Mountain rose with a great cry of fury and literally ran after the galloping away Robin. But by now, He, Smalljon, and Ser Kyle had already pulled their mounts to a stop in time and jumped off.
"Out of my way." The brutal man growled, no doubt intent on killing the man who sullied his horse.
"I'm afraid I cannot do that Ser. Surrender now, and you'll be given the rights as is your station. He had no doubts that the Mountain would reject them…but it did buy time for his party to surround the man regardless.
"I'll kill you, then rape your corpse!" Without a second sound, the Mountain raised his blade and smashed it across Edwyle's shield, barely raised in time. But Ser Gregor, for however much of a mad dog he was, was still a skilled warrior. Instead of focusing just on him, the Mountain had already turned to attack Ser Kyle…who was not doing well under the relentless assault of the massive warrior.
But they were Northerners, they did leave their follow man behind, and even as Ser Kyle was being beaten back, Robin and the Smalljon joined in. Robin struck the Mountain's left leg with his own greatsword, but the blade simply bounced off of the giant's thick armor. Seeing this, Smalljon aimed for the thinner joint near the shoulder.
Ser Gregor backhanded Robin as he turned around to face the foes. In one fluid motion, he also swung and dance of clashes against the Smalljon's sword. By this point, he had recovered and, grabbing his longsword with both hands, and in a piercing stance, lunged forward in an attempt to stab the Mountain under the armpit, he had given up in trying to take him alive. If he could distract him long enough for his other warriors to take him, they might win.
But the Mountain saw him coming and deflected the blade away. In three swings, the Mountain had slammed him back, and his blade aimed for his heart.
Robb Stark
He was in his element here. Leading valiant men into battle. His forces had slowly pushed the Lannister back until finally their line broke and ran. He turned to examine the battlefield, he could still here the clanging of metal. Where was it coming from?
And he spotted it.
About sixty yards away, the Mountain had his brother on his back, with his sword raised just above his heart.
"No!" He couldn't let this monster to kill his own flesh and blood. But he would never reach them in time, even with him galloping as fast as he could.
He saw as the Mountain began to bring his blade down, he almost saw it in a slowed motion.
But what neither he, nor the Mountain saw, was Smalljon swinging at the monster's neck. In one hard strike, the Smalljon buried his blade into the evil warrior's neck. It was not clean, the armor and the thick man, made it so the sword was embedded into the flesh.
Because of this, the Mountain's own sword was pulled off of its original trajectory. Unfortunately not enough to save his brother completely.
Though his sword missed his heart, Ser Gregor's greatsword stabbed straight through his brother's lower, right abdomen. Edwyle let out a great scream of pain. Ser Kyle and Robin had simultaneously slashed at Ser Gregor's arms. By the time they were done, the Mountain was carved up like a nice piece of turkey.
He jumped form his own mount and collapsed next to his brother.
"Ed? Ed, stay with me!" He heard the rest of the lords ride up and join him.
"Ed!"
Suddenly, the Greatjon pulled him up. "Laddy, move for now." He turned to his son, the Smalljon. "Jon! Grab his legs, gently so. Worry not Lord Robb! We'll take him to the healers!"
He could only watch with terror as his brother was carried off, not knowing whether or not he'd live. He couldn't imagine facing his father or mother after having ordered his own brother to deal with the Mountain that Rides.
Turning, he pointed at Robin Flint. "Cut the head off and have it preserved. We have need of it."
"Yes my lord."
"And would somebody begin a count of our men?"
But his mind was only on one thing, one person.
Edwyle.
*So I know this branches a little from canon. Technically, the Blackwood Vale is just north of the Whispering Wood. I decided to replace the Battle in the Whispering Wood for this battle. Regardless, I tried to keep the tactics the same.
