As the young man gradually regained consciousness, the warmth of the bonfire enveloped him, causing him to furrow his brow in discomfort. The contrast between the intense cold he had felt earlier and the now-blazing flames was disconcerting.
Benjen, busy cleaning his blade, was quick to notice the young man's awakening and turned his attention to him.
"Took you long enough to wake up, lad..." Benjen remarked as he sheathed his sword, concern etched on his face. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.
The young man let out a sigh as he managed to sit up, his entire body aching and his muscles protesting every movement. "Like shit," he admitted with a grimace. "My entire body is sore, and I feel like I've run an entire marathon..." He paused, realizing that the term 'marathon' might not make much sense to Benjen.
Sure enough. "Marathon?" Benjen repeated, confused by the strange word.
"Never mind that—just speaking gibberish..." he added with a nonchalant shrug.
Benjen raised an eyebrow but decided to let it slide for now. He had more pressing questions on his mind. "In any case... what the hell happened back then?" he inquired, his curiosity evident.
"I have no idea..." the young man replied when Benjen inquired about the strange events that had transpired earlier. Benjen furrowed his brow, waiting for an explanation. The young man continued, recounting the harrowing moments.
"The bastard was carving my face, and it was like something snapped in my head..." he added, his hand instinctively moving toward his left eye, which was now concealed beneath a cloth. "It felt like I wasn't myself, but not quite. Not sure how to describe it..." He shook his head in frustration, unable to put his experience into words.
Benjen let out a sigh, his expression reflecting the complexity of the situation. "Figured you'd say something like this..." he muttered, concern etched on his face.
An awkward silence settled between the two, broken only by the crackling of the campfire.
Suddenly, Benjen's face lit up with a smile. "On a positive note... I think I've thought of the perfect name for you..." he said, turning his attention back to the young man.
The young man raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh? Let's hear it," he responded with curiosity.
Benjen nodded thoughtfully. "Gale—seems most fitting," he proposed.
The young man paused, contemplating the name for a moment. "Gale, huh?" he mused, his fingers stroking his chin as he considered it. "Not bad. Gale it is..."
...
Three more days had passed since Gale regained consciousness, and during that time, he and Benjen continued their arduous journey through the Haunted Forest. They pressed on relentlessly, pausing only when absolutely necessary.
Their journey had been surprisingly peaceful and uneventful, allowing Gale to dedicate his time to honing his skills with obsidian knives. His relentless practice paid off, as each throw now struck its intended target with remarkable accuracy.
Observing Gale's progress, Benjen couldn't help but comment, "You're getting really good at this..." He watched as an obsidian knife sailed past him, embedding itself precisely in the center of a weathered tree ahead.
Gale, jogging ahead of Benjen to retrieve his knife, replied with a casual shrug, "Over a week of single-minded practice and sheer boredom can do that, yeah..."
"Well, it's a good thing you didn't take much longer, then," Benjen chuckled, stepping past the tree line.
Before them stretched a snowy wasteland, and rising majestically into the sky was the Wall, a colossal structure that marked the boundary between the northern horrors and the Seven Kingdoms.
The Wall seemed to extend endlessly, with its beginning and end hidden from sight. It resembled a natural mountain, its surface covered in thick layers of ice that concealed the stones used in its construction.
"Once we're in Castle Black, you'll have no time to practice tavern tricks..."
...
As the iron gates at the base of the Wall opened, the duo found themselves traversing a dark passage, sparsely lit by torches, their flickering light beckoning them from the other side.
The journey through the tunnel was cold and eerie, the weight of centuries of history hanging heavily in the air. Soon, they reached the other end and emerged into Castle Black's yard.
The yard was a hive of activity, with rangers scurrying about, some returning to the barracks to rest, others heading out for their duties, and a few engaged in idle chatter. The towering, black stone walls of Castle Black loomed over them, a stark contrast to the snowy landscape surrounding it.
High walls and towers defined the formidable fortress.
Waiting for them in the yard was a man dressed in Night's Watch ranger armor, leaning casually against the wall. His face was adorned with a thick, scraggly black beard. He greeted Benjen with a mixture of familiarity and surprise.
"Well, well, if it isn't Ser Benjen Stark. Here I thought you'd finally met your end," the man, Ser Jaremy Rykker, remarked, his voice carrying a hint of jest.
Benjen responded with a wry smile. "I won't die so easily, Ser Rykker," he retorted dismissively. "Starks are known for their stubbornness, after all."
"Persistent bastards, your Starks- I'll give you that much..." Ser Jaremy Rykker repeated with a wry grin, acknowledging Benjen's resilience. "The other two?" He leaned in, clearly curious about the fate of the other members of their party.
Benjen sighed heavily in response to Rykker's inquiry. "Gone," he replied somberly. "One succumbed to frostbite—didn't make it through the harsh cold. The other met his end at the jaws of wolves while he was taking a piss," he explained, a touch of regret in his voice.
Rykker nodded in understanding at the unfortunate circumstances. He then turned his attention to Gale, his scrutiny evident in the way his gaze appraised the young man.
"And who's this you brought with you...? A wildling...?" Rykker queried, his tone inquisitive yet cautious. "Looks green, though. Nothing like the savages up north..." He added.
Gale's appearance clearly set him apart from the wildlings they often encountered.
Gale, maintaining the fabricated story they had concocted, scratched his head with a bemused grin. "I'll take that as a compliment... the name's Gale," he introduced himself confidently. "I am... was a retainer to a lord from the far south," he continued, spinning the tale that he and Benjen had rehearsed, his words ringing with practiced conviction.
Rykker continued to eye Gale with a furrowed brow, his wariness clear in his demeanor. He couldn't help but question Gale's unusual circumstances.
"What's a noble's servant doing so far away from home, going beyond the Wall of all places...?" Rykker inquired, his curiosity mingling with skepticism. "This should be interesting, I reckon," he mused aloud.
Gale, maintaining his fabricated story, sighed with a troubled expression. "Accompanying his lord, naturally," he replied, his tone filled with resignation. "You see, said lord was a bit of an oddball—some might even say he was, erm..." Gale trailed off, hesitating momentarily.
Benjen chimed in, completing Gale's sentence without hesitation. "Dumb," he stated plainly, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "He was competing for the title of lord with his brother—thought he could distinguish himself by venturing beyond the Wall and coming back with souvenirs," Benjen added, shaking his head as he recounted the fabricated tale.
An amused smile split Ser Rykker's face, but he maintained his skepticism. "And how did you sneak past the Wall exactly? We had no reports of anyone crossing other than rangers..." He asked.
"By boat, sir," Gale replied. "Through the Shivering Sea and around Skagos," He added.
"I found this one just past the Haunted Forest, running for his life from a black bear..." Benjen said. "The lord and his entourage were all crow feed at that point..." He added, shaking his head.
At those words, Rykker finally lost his skepticism and broke into laughter. "Now that's a story I'll be telling for a while... tell me, lad, who was this lord of yours?" He asked with a smile.
"I'll have to refrain, Ser. He might have been a bit eccentric, but I wouldn't want him to bring shame to his house..." The young man said, a hint of seriousness in his tone.
"I suppose it doesn't matter..." Ser Rykker said with a chuckle. "Take the lad to Commander Mormont- a good chuckle ought to do him good, and he wanted to see you anyway," He added as he turned around and walked away.
The Lord Commander's room was sparsely lit, with sunlight and a few candles casting dim illumination. The chamber lacked grandeur or extravagance, featuring plain wooden furniture, including the desk and chairs.
Seated behind the desk, Lord Commander Mormont sported a grizzled beard and hair, his pale skin contrasting with the room's darkness as he perused messages.
A knock at the door diverted his attention, prompting him to call for entry. Benjen and Gale stepped inside, both offering respectful gestures. Benjen clenched his fist to his chest, and Gale mirrored the gesture silently.
"Lord Commander," Benjen greeted.
"There you are, Benjen," the Lord Commander replied with a warm smile. "I was starting to worry that you'd finally met your match beyond the Wall..."
"I almost did," Benjen confessed. "The other two didn't make it, but it seems fate had other plans for me."
The Lord Commander let out a thoughtful sigh as he leaned back in his chair. "A shame, but I'm glad you made it back," he muttered, his voice tinged with regret. "Sit. Tell me of your mission," He gestured for them to take seats, his gaze shifting to Gale.
"Would I be right to assume the young man has something to do with it?" he inquired, his eyes fixed on Gale, who remained standing by the door while Benjen sat.
"You would be, yes," Benjen replied with a nod. He leaned forward in his seat, ready to recount their mission. "I didn't encounter any wights or White Walkers... I almost dismissed the reports as wildling superstition until I met this young man." He turned to gesture toward Gale.
The Lord Commander's curiosity was piqued. He leaned forward, his expression scrutinizing Gale. "And what made you change your mind, exactly?" he asked, searching for the reason behind Benjen's unusual reaction to the young man.
Benjen paused at those words, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and figure out how to voice them without making a fool of himself. He needed to convey the gravity of the situation without sounding deranged or delusional.
Taking a deep breath, he began, "I have reasons to believe this young man is connected to the White Walkers somehow, Lord Commander." His words hung in the air, and the Lord Commander's frown deepened.
"I've seen him turn two wildlings into ice sculptures with my own eyes," Benjen continued, not waiting for further prompting.
"What happened exactly?" the Lord Commander pressed, his tone serious. "Tell me everything. Don't spare any detail." He added, his confusion growing by the second.
With a nod, Benjen launched into a detailed account of their journey, from the moment he first encountered Gale fending off a bear with mysterious magic to their encounter with the Thenn raiding party.
He spared no detail, recounting each event, from the eerie calm that overcame Gale to the chilling transformation of their enemies into ice sculptures.
The Lord Commander listened attentively, his expression shifting from skepticism to deep concern as he absorbed the extraordinary tale.
"His eyes were blue, glowing, and his skin was as pale as the snow- then he just crumbled to the ground and slowly reverted to normal," Benjen concluded, intently watching Jeor Mormont's expression.
"If someone else had brought such news to me, I would either assume they were delusional, or faking it to escape duty," the Lord Commander said, his hand rubbing his forehead in frustration. He seemed on the verge of dismissing the matter altogether.
"Why I'd... no, never mind," he added, trailing off mid-sentence as he turned his attention to Gale. "And you... young man, would you care to add anything?" he inquired.
Gale, who had been listening attentively without interjecting, cleared his throat before responding. "Afraid not, Lord Commander. I am as clueless about my situation as Ser Stark," he replied honestly. "All I know is that I possess a unique gift, one which I wish to use for my own good and the good of others," he added.
"The good of yourself, and of others... in that particular order?" the Lord Commander raised an eyebrow, probing Gale's motives.
Without hesitation, Gale affirmed, "Yes, ser." He made no excuses or offered any elaborate explanations.
In the brutal world of Westeros, there were many dangers, and one wrong step could mean difference between life and death. Gale was determined to thrive in such an unforgiving environment before thinking of anyone or anything else.
"Ironically, that makes you more honorable than most folk," the Lord Commander said, his shoulders slumping slightly. He regarded Gale with a pensive expression. "Tell me, first ranger, what do you suggest we do?" he asked, shifting his gaze back to Benjen.
"I'm also at a loss, Lord Commander. It is why I brought him to you," Benjen replied, shaking his head. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the Lord Commander's desk. "However... his appearance at a time when we've suddenly started hearing reports of the undead is no coincidence," he continued, his tone reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"Whether he'll be our greatest ally or enemy is the only question worth asking here," he concluded, and both he and the Lord Commander turned to look at Gale.
Gale offered a bitter smile and shook his head. "Even if you ask me that... I really don't have the faintest clue how to answer," he admitted with a tone of genuine uncertainty.
The enigma of his strange powers and their connection to the rising threats beyond the Wall was as perplexing to him as it was to the men of the Night's Watch.
The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of the situation settled upon them. Both Benjen and the Lord Commander delved deep into their own thoughts, grappling with the enormity of the unknown threat that loomed beyond the Wall.
Breaking the silence with a weary sigh, the Lord Commander finally spoke, his voice carrying a mixture of resignation and determination. "I suppose we'll just have to find out, won't we?" He acknowledged, his gaze shifting between Benjen and Gale.
"I ought to have you killed and spare myself many future headaches, but I'm not so cold-hearted..." He shook his head, his expression softening, much to Gale's palpable relief.
"Until we make sense of the situation, you are to stay here—right under my sight in Castle Black," the Lord Commander declared, his tone unwavering.
"In the meantime, Benjen will teach you our ways, and hopefully, you won't make me regret my decision," he concluded, his words hanging in the air, a tentative step into an uncertain future for them all.
"I will do my best not to disappoint you, Lord Commander," Gale responded with a determined tone, much to Lord Mormont's bemusement. The young man's sincerity in the face of such a perplexing situation was an unexpected twist.
The Lord Commander chuckled softly, shaking his head as he marveled at Gale's forthrightness. "Refusing to let an old man's mind rest easy with a simple white lie... youngsters these days," he mused, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
"In any case, what we discussed here today is to stay here. No one must know of it under any circumstances," Lord Mormont instructed, his tone now serious and commanding. "Now leave me to my thoughts... I have much to consider," he concluded, gesturing for Benjen and Gale to take their leave.
The two of them nodded in acknowledgment and turned to exit the Lord Commander's chamber, leaving him to contemplate the enigma that had walked through Castle Black's gates.
The two nodded and departed without saying anything else. As they exited the room, the Lord Commander turned to the other entrance, which promptly opened to admit an aged man with whitehair, dressed in a black maester's robe.
The maester entered cautiously, every step slow and deliberate, as if considering the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Well, what do you think, Maester Aemon?" the Lord Commander asked, his voice carrying a sense of knowing that the old maester had been listening all along.
Maester Aemon, with wisdom etched into the lines on his face, shook his head slightly. "They told no lies. Neither the young man nor Benjen," he said, his voice filled with a certainty that came from years of experience.
"As to whether they were delusional... well, they didn't sound like lunatics either," he added, his words chosen with care.
The Lord Commander sighed, the burden of leadership weighing heavily on his shoulders. He leaned wearily into his seat, exhaustion evident in his posture.
"You're the wisest man I know, Aemon... tell me, what must I do?" he asked, his voice laced with fatigue and uncertainty.
"Were I to sit where you are sitting," Maester Aemon replied with a soft smile, "I would make the same decision."
The Lord Commander nodded, finding solace in the maester's words, yet still burdened by the uncertainty of what lay ahead. "I suppose only time will tell if it was the right one," he mused, his gaze fixed on a future filled with uncertainty and potential danger.
Gale gripped the blunt longsword awkwardly, sweat forming on his brow as he stood before Benjen in the Castle Black training yard. He couldn't help but reflect on the past two months, which had been a whirlwind of new experiences. There had been no mention of the threats beyond the Wall, and Gale's plan had seemingly fallen into the depths of Castle Black's bureaucracy.
He had spent the last two months training tirelessly under Benjen's watchful eye. Learning how to ride a horse and wield a bow had been surprisingly enjoyable experiences.
Gale excelled in these areas, mastering both skills in just a month's time. However, it was now time to tackle the art of swordsmanship, and it appeared that his talent didn't extend to this particular field.
Gale had made little progress in the past month, struggling to move beyond the most basic of swordplay techniques. His frustration was evident as he clumsily held the sword before Benjen, who watched with a mixture of patience and determination.
With a resigned sigh, Gale finally broke the silence, "I swear I'm better at everything else. Why is this so difficult?"
Gale felt a surge of frustration as he struggled to keep up with Benjen's swift and expert swordplay. The clang of steel on steel echoed through the Castle Black training yard as Gale blocked and parried with all his might. He was determined not to back down from the challenge but found himself faltering at every turn.
Benjen shook his head as he continued their sparring, his strikes calculated and precise. "It's not that learning swordsmanship is more difficult than horseriding and marksmanship. Something is holding you back," Benjen said, his tone both patient and firm.
He brandished his sword and assumed an offensive stance. "Simple lack of interest, I'd say," Benjen continued as he closed the distance between himself and Gale, attacking with a horizontal swing.
Gale barely managed to raise his sword in time to block the strike.
"I don't have to be interested in something to do it... the food here tastes like shit, but I still eat it," Gale replied through gritted teeth as he strained to hold his ground.
Benjen took a step back, swinging his sword from the right. "That's completely different. You know you must eat, so you eat. But you don't think training in the sword is necessary, do you?" he asked.
Gale only gritted his teeth in silence, his arms trembling from the effort of parrying Benjen's attacks. He was determined not to admit it, but Benjen's words struck a chord.
"You think this—swordsmanship training, the food we serve here, Castle Black in its entirety— is all beneath you!" Benjen's words were firm, and he continued to press the attack. With swift footwork, he overwhelmed Gale, sending him reeling back under the relentless assault.
Gale's irritation had reached its boiling point, and he finally snapped, halting his movements with abrupt force. His voice carried an edge of frustration as he confronted Benjen, his blue eyes taking on an eerie, ominous glow.
"Why is it necessary for me to learn wielding a pointed stick?" Gale demanded.
"Why must I stay in this godforsaken place for two months doing nothing when I could be out there, looking for answers and mastering my powers?" His words were laced with a chilling intensity that sent shivers down Benjen's spine.
Gale continued, the air growing colder around him with every word he spoke. "What need do I have for any of this?" he questioned, raising the long sword in his hand and sending it flying.
The sword spun through the air, narrowly missing Benjen as it struck a training dummy with a dull thud, piercing the dummy's chest. The dull thud of the impact seemed to jar Gale back to his senses, dispelling the haze of frustration and rage.
"I don't know what came over me..." Gale sighed deeply, clearly overwhelmed by his own outburst. "I'm... I'm sorry," he stammered, his eyes returning to their normal state as the ominous glow faded.
Benjen shifted his gaze back and forth between the training dummy and Gale. "Well, now you've learned something new about your power... you're welcome," he said as he sheathed his sword.
This unexpected display of Gale's power had provided the duo with a new insight. Previously, they assumed that Gale's gifts would only manifest when his life was in danger, but this outburst revealed a different trigger—his emotions, particularly anger.
Gale let out a sigh of frustration as the realization settled in. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he asked, rubbing his forehead, his irritation apparent. Benjen responded with a casual shrug.
"Don't ever do that again. That sword could have ended up in your gut instead of the dummy," Gale warned, wearing a grimace of concern.
"Even I am not that reckless," Benjen replied, shaking his head. He had no intention of putting himself or Gale in unnecessary danger. "But what's done is done, and I'd say we learned something new..." He added with a smile.
"That we did. I have a lot to consider now..." Gale said thoughtfully. "But it'll have to wait. I've kept Maester Aemon waiting long enough," he added with a sigh.
Benjen raised an eyebrow. "You still haven't paid him a visit yet?" he asked.
"No," Gale replied, a hint of evasion in his tone. "I've never had the time, what with the endless training and chores you put me through. But hey, late is better than never," he added, giving Benjen a parting nod before turning to leave.
As Gale walked away, Benjen couldn't help but give him a strange look. He knew that he had been rigorous with Gale's training, demanding a significant portion of the young man's time, but recognized that Gale had more free time than he let on.
It seemed Gale had been deliberately avoiding Maester Aemon, and Benjen could sense that there was more to this avoidance than met the eye.
Maester Aemon, also known as Aemon Targaryen, was renowned for his wisdom and insight. He had a knack for reading people, which put Gale at risk of exposure if he spent too much time around the perceptive old maester.
Still, Benjen knew nothing of this, so he could only shake his head and let the young man go.
...
As Gale approached Castle Black's library, he could see a familiar figure engaged in a conversation with a few other rangers. The man in question, Ser Alliser Thorne, had a perpetual frown etched on his face, giving him an air of perpetual dissatisfaction. Gale's previous encounters with Thorne had not been pleasant, to say the least.
Ser Thorne immediately noticed Gale approaching and spoke out, his frown deepening, "Well, well, if it isn't Ser Stark's pet project."
Gale sighed internally but maintained a calm expression, replying, "Greetings, Ser Thorne," without halting his steps, showing his intent to avoid confrontations.
However, Ser Thorne had other plans and promptly stepped to get in Gale's way. "What are you still doing here, boy?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation.
Gale felt his irritation rising but kept his temper in check, answering calmly, "Got nowhere else to go."
Ser Thorne scowled at those words. "No one here does, but we all took the oath just the same. Tell me, why is it that you didn't?" He pressed further.
"I'm afraid I don't know that myself. You'll have to ask the Lord Commander," Gale replied with a shrug, stepping aside and walking past Ser Thorne.
"Oh, I already have, and I will continue to do so until I get a clear answer," Ser Thorne said, his voice filled with determination. "When I do, you better hope I like what I hear," he concluded, and the only response he received was Gale's silence as the young man opened the library door and went inside.
Ser Thorne's gaze lingered at the library's door for a moment before he turned around and started walking away. His harsh and confrontational personality was well-known throughout Castle Black, and he often clashed with new recruits.
He showed a strong disdain for those he considered weak or unworthy, and his interactions were usually far from amicable.
Gale didn't fall under either of those two categories, but he was still an unknown factor – an outsider who had not taken the oath for some reason. To Ser Thorne, this was a matter of grave concern, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.
He had strong suspicions about Gale, and he intended to uncover the truth, one way or another.
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