Note: Thank you to the reviewer who told me I was spelling Wights wrong! - Chapter 4 has been updated with correct spelling
Chapter 5: Visions in Fire
Tormund was right, the journey to their home was short but every leaden step of the way rang awful, clanging bells in Eira's ears. Her stomach lurched with every smell and her head strikes another blow of her hangover's sword with every word that came out of the Wildmen's mouths. And Tormund loved every second of it.
The Giants home was a large sprawling village of white tents and wildings everywhere. Several fire pits of different sizes littered the camp, some for boiling water, some for roasting meat and some simply to keep warm, with children sat close by being taught how to tie knots by an elderly woman with braided hair and a large fur wrapped around her neck. Her beady eyes followed Eira as the pack walked past, the children craning their necks to gawk, despite being dressed like one, it was clear Eira was not a wilding. The pack broke off until just Eira and Tormund were left, heading towards a tent in the centre of the village with animal pelts and bones hung outside, a couple large men stood outside the curtains, seemingly guarding it.
"Took ya a while Giantsbane, did yer get too pished again? Confused North with South?" One clapped Tormund on the back in a friendly manner, "Who's this?"
"Me wife, caught her in the village. Appeared from a barrel of wine she did. I think she was created out of the stuff." The guard rolled his eyes, Eira didn't blame him, and parted the curtains, inside was more chatter, and the smell of cooking.
"I'm sorry I asked, get in he's been waiting for days for your sorry ass".
Inside the tent sat a man on a bench, in one hand a large axe, the other slowly rotating some game roasting on a small fire. On the floor sat two others, murmuring quietly to each other with serious expressions. They fell silent as Eira and Tormund approached.
"Finally back Tormund, and with a magic wife I heard." This must have been the Mance Rayder Tormund had spoken about, despite being sat down, shorter and slighter than the fiery Giant, Tormund seemed like the smaller of the two. "Anything worth reporting?"
"Aye. She's a bit more magic than ya think Mance" Tormund put a paw at the small of Eiras back, pushing her forward slightly like an offering, "Caught her in the village. Soaked with wine and in one of them flimsy dresses they wear down there. Not a shiver off her. Don't get cold Mance. Not one bit. Even had a dip in the river in the Haunted Forest, my cock got frostbitten just watchin". Mance gestured one of the men to continue to rotate the meat, leaning forward with interest.
"Is that aye?" His sharp gaze, like a hawk, pinned Eira down, "And hows this?"
"She talked of a fire talkin' to her, after she burnt the body of a stillborn." Eira appreciated the tamer version of her tale, "What do you think Mance?"
He gestured her to come closer, Eira slowly crouched to her knees in front of him
"And what did this magic fire tell you girl?"
"I-" Eira felt wrong, like she was breaking an oath by just thinking about telling anyone about what the fire told her.
"I'll know if you lie girl".
"I don't think I'm allowed to." The air was tense, clearly that was not an answer they'd accept, "But, when the.. incident happened, the fire thanked me. I think. It was pleased? It promised me knowledge and gifts if I devoted myself to the Light. So I did. I felt so warm inside then, I think it's how a dragon would feel. I've been warm ever since." The wise man continued to stare her down.
"So this happened after you burnt a baby in the fire right? A stillborn?" Eira nodded, Mance didn't need to know the details. "So a sacrifice of sorts. Do you plan to carry out any more sacrifices? Tormund have you brought a crazed priestess back to camp with you?" The man was smirking but his words were accusatory, from Tormund's bewildered expression it wasn't something that had crossed his mind.
"No no I wouldn't the first time was an accident I didn't know!-
"A first time? So there's been a second time?" Stupid stupid girl.
Eira wrung her hands together, staring at her shoes on the dirt floor of the tent, Tormund weirdly looked betrayed, as if he expected her to tell him everything during their chat at The Wall. Looking at him looking sorry for himself made Eira's stomach turn, so she focused on Mance's hardened stare.
"Only animals. A goat, a couple chickens. And sometimes, I just" Eira made a cutting motion over her arm. With a flick of a wrist Mance ordered her to show her arm, his hand was calloused as it grasped her stretched out wrist, he pushed back the large tunic to reveal her arm, littered with several clean, healing cuts.
"And how does your God feel about this?"
"I think good. The fire doesn't speak every time. But I always feel its warmth."
Mance released her wrist and gave Tormund a nod. "Well done Giantsbane. Not only have you gained a fine wife but, potentially, a good asset for us to get through this winter."
"Aye, all part of the plan innit." Tormund threw an arm around Eira, thudding her back with a pat, and escorting her out of the tent.
Tormund had been quiet since they left the tent. He'd let her follow him around the camp as he did his bidding, so Eira assumed he wasn't that mad at her. He'd dropped his weapons to a blacksmith for some upkeep, some furs to a group of elderly women for fixing and to various Wildings dotted around a large open area handing off random items he must have collected during the journey in exchange for bits of metal, fabric and food items. Everyone seemed to greet Tormund, show happiness to see him, respect and admiration. Mance may have been the King of the Wildings, but Tormund clearly had good connections. He reminded Eira of the best of the best tradesmen in the towns and villages that traded with each other in the North, who knew that doing a couple favours for the odd barkeep or fisherman went a long way when things got tough for business.
The sky was even clearer here than it was in the North, alongside stars were dreamy swirls of purples and greens. As they sat at the fire awaiting to be served some meat and roasted vegetables she kept her eyes glued to the beautiful scene. It was like someone had painted the sky.
A nudge drew her attention back to the ground, Tormund had a bowl ready for her.
"Are you angry?" She asked, the food smelt fantastic, Eira was delighted to not have stew yet again. She'd begun to worry that that's all the Wildmen ate.
"Nah lass, just not sure what to make of yeh. Ya didn't exactly scream 'magic powers, talks to fire and sacrifices animal" when I caught ya in that barrel." Eira laughed, he smiled at the sound, potatoes were stuck in his teeth.
"I guess not." She stared into the fire, "It's hard to explain. I was raised like most Northerners to respect the Old Gods of the Forest, but my father wasn't dedicated. No Weirwood trees around anymore, unless you're a Stark from what I heard." She played with a carrot, "I don't know the Gods name, nor what he wants from me, but he's a lot more real than any story or prayer I've heard from any other religion in the land. He's real, I can feel his warmth even now, and when I give him my blood I hear him whisper."
"As long as you don't go hunting for my blood lass, we'll be fine." Eira laughed again, a flagon being passed around caught her eye, she reached out for it and was pleased to not be ignored, swigging the odd milk that she'd gotten drunken off the day before, and passing it to Tormund.
"What is this anyways?"
"Fermented Goats Milk lass, and yer chuggin' it like a true Wilding."
They stayed by the fire, drinking and sharing savoury bread and roasted meat. Mance came out with a lyre, and was a surprisingly gifted bard. Apparently he'd even snuck into Winterfell a few times masking himself as a famous bard, had even been there whilst King Baratheon had visited. Once the music was over, Tormund exchanged stories amongst the Wildings, or the Free-Folk, as Eira had been harshly corrected by a red haired woman named Ygritte, who'd kicked Tormund in the side for "taking a Kneeler as a wife." Tormund quickly went into a long, over-dramatic story about his wife, "Created by the Gods from a barrel of wine, just for me to catch in the midst of a blood raid!" The other members of the pack heckled him, throwing bits of sweet bread at him which he munched down between exaggerated declarations of her lying naked in the snow and breathing fire.
Fortunately she was not forced to strip naked to prove her "husband's" claims, but did allow a teen girl to drop some snow down the back of her tunic, which seemed to placate the majority of the gathering.
Those that wanted more proof waited for the night to get darker, the gathering to get rowdier and for the youngest of the pack to be scolded away to bed by their parents, then came closer to Eira and Tormund as if they were awaiting some secret ritual.
"So girl, what else can ya do?" the bravest of the group asked, a full flagon of the goat milk pushed towards Eira as an offering.
Tormund, drunk and unhelpful, smiled with shiny white teeth, grabbing at the flagon before Eira could get a good swig.
"Aye, speaks to fire too. Makes sacrifices" A flutter of gloved paws for some dramatic effect from the drunken Giant apparently spurred on the group, who muttered amongst themselves for a beat, before one ran off to a far off part of the village Eira couldn't see. She grabbed the flagon off Tormund and drained it to fight off the suspense of whatever the hell these men wanted her to do.
In the dark distance Eira heard shouting, squawking and flapping of feathers. Oh for fucks sake. In the light of the fire she could now see a teen boy wrestling with an angry hen, his friends goading him and pushing him closer to Eira, arms outstretched with his "offering." Maybe Mance was right about her being a crazed priestess. She took the flustered hen, stroking its back until it settled and tried to gauge Tormund's thoughts from the corner of her eye. He must've sensed her worry as the Giant turned his head to give her a cheeky eyebrow quirk, a short knife in his palm.
"Go on, Priestess, show us." His voice was low, and stumbled over some words with a drunken slur, but Eira didn't care, she felt powerful. In front of this fire, dozens of people in wait for her ceremony, her Giant by her side. Eira stared into the fire, as she had countless times, and raised the chicken by the neck in one hand, Tormund's knife in the other. She swiped fast, never one to enjoy inducing pain to her animal victims, and allowed the blood to drip down into the fire pit.
The crowd was silent, as if they too could hear the fire's secrets. It was strange having an audience, she felt an intense rush from it, the heat of the flames even hotter than usual, spreading red hot from her cheeks to the tips of her fingers and toes. She couldn't hear whispering this time, but deep thudding that got louder and louder, deafening pounding in her head. At first Eira thought it was her own heart, but gazing deep into the fire she saw dark shapes form in the flames.
A dark army marching, a figure in red leading them.