Jon twisted like an eel and slammed a heel down across the instep of the boy holding him. Maybe I had her a time or two." He laughed. "Is that your mommy's mouth, bastard? What was she, some whore? Tell us her name. "The little lordling has a mouth on him," he said. "He broke my wrist," Grenn said again, holding it out to Noye for inspection. They were brutes and bullies, without a thimble of honor between them. He hardly ever spoke ,to them, if he could help it. The other two were the ones Yoren had brought north with them, Jon remembered, rapers taken down in the Fingers. He knew Todder, a short ugly boy with an unpleasant voice. Grenn loomed over him, thick of neck and red of face, with three of his friends behind him. "I'll be fifteen on my name day," he said. Jon was rolling away from the blows when a booming voice cut through the gloom of the armory. The two from the Fingers pulled him off, throwing him roughly to the ground. Your father will always have a place in my heart, but these are my brothers now." He gestured with his dagger at the men around them, all the hard cold men in black. We put aside our old families when we swear our vows. If you thought your Stark blood would win you easy favors, you were wrong. "A boy you are, and a boy you'll remain until Ser Alliser says you are fit to be a man of the Night's Watch. You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you."īenjen Stark frowned. "On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. "This is not Winterfell," he told him as he cut his meat with fork and dagger. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. He must have, he thought that only made it hurt the worse. Jon wondered if his father had known what the Wall would be like. The dwarf had given him the truth on the road north, but by then it had been too late. No one had told him the Night's Watch would be like this no one except Tyrion Lannister. Go with him, Todder, that head wants looking after. The armorer gave the offered wrist the briefest of glances. There was scant warmth to be found in Castle Black the walls were cold here, and the people colder. So cold, he thought, remembering the warm halls of Winterfell, where the hot waters ran through the walls like blood through a man's body. He sat on a bench, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings on his cloak. The weariness came on him suddenly, as he donned the roughspunblacks that were their everyday wear. "Keep your quarrels out of my armory, or I'll make them my quarrels. "The yard is for fighting," the armorer said.
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