The Wall weeps (Jon Snow)

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Not a single day may go by without the icy snow hurting Brian's face. Not a day may pass where the wall seems to harden but then weep in seeming sadness. Not a day may go forth without Brian standing on the Wall on watch duty. His black cloak was not enough to keep the shivers at bay. His attire was consistent with the Night's Watch look, black everything. His hood was pulled up over his head to keep the snow from sticking on his hair. His hands crossed and rubbing his chest and ribs. His mind wondering all over the place, incapable of staying on one idea. He yawned and some snow got into his mouth. He simply drank it, knowing it to simply be water. He wanted to sit, he wanted to get off the damn wall already so he could warm himself. He wanted to get outside of Castle Black and onto a ranging. But his wounds haven't fully recovered yet from his first ranging. His mind focused on the ranging, seeing his brother fall right before his eyes. The creature that looked as if it were a human. But it clearly was not, its skin was an icy blue tint. Almost like a person frozen.

He tried to avert himself from thinking of it, but the harder he tried the worse it got. He leaned against a snowy wall and looked out across from the Wall into the forest. His eyes blinking away the snow from hitting him. He looked down at his sword. It was a simple longsword. Its hilt capable of holding one and a half hands. Its actual steel was a meter and a half long, and very sharp. The balancing was done well for him, it was light but not too light. He put his hand on the hilt and partially pulled it out. It had no engraving, nothing but the average steel blade was there. He put it back before once again looking out towards the forest. He had only belonged to the Night's Watch for a few months, not even a year. He was a ranger, a man who must be out there and fight whatever is troubling the realms of men. He had run, however. Without a moment of hesitation, he had simply made for the hills.

His sword should have been drawn, his sword should have been swung, perhaps he would have defeated the creature. His courage should not have failed there, it should have stayed with him. He wanted to go back, to find the beast that took his brother in black and slay it. He yawned once more, becoming tired. He decided to sit by the fire. It would do him no good, nor the Night's Watch any good, for him to freeze out here. He sat by the fire and watched the flames dance in front of him. He noted how the flames looked like a women's way of dance. How the flames seemed to curve yet spike out at the same time. It was dangerous to touch, but at the same time you wanted to. His hands, though in his mitts, shook violently in the cold. He moved his hands closer, wishing he was in a tavern with a woman that loved him. His mind wanted to yell at him for thinking of this. His watch was not done, not tonight. Perhaps one day he may feel the warmth of the South. But not today... It's so cold up here!

[Jon Snow]

Jon silently walked along, trying to ignore the bitter wind that gusted from the north, causing his cape to billow. The snow blew into his eyes and stuck in the curls of his hair, but he had grown used to it. Jon glanced back behind him at Ghost, who was scarcely more than a pair of glowing red eyes and a flash of fur amongst the snow that camoflauged him perfectly. Jon turned forward again, trying to ignore the chill that passed through his gloved hands and clothes to seep into his very being. Jon turned and gazed out upon the wilderness. Somewhere far beyond, he knew, was the Fist of the First Men, where so many had died. In his mind's eye, he could see the cold, blue, and lifeless eyes of the Others.

Blinking rapidly, Jon turned his gaze back to the Wall and resumed walking. Suddenly, through the snow, he saw the dancing orange light of flame, and the hazy, black-clad shape of one of his brothers of the Watch. He quickened his pace. It was cold, and Mormont still slept, so he would not be needed below for some time. As he came upon the fire, Ghost trailing behind him, he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Hello, brother. Can I share of your fire for a few minutes?"

[Deleted]

The sudden voice made Brian jolt from his train of thought. He looked about quickly to find Jon Snow standing in front of him, asking to share his fire. He had never met Jon Snow before, he had seen him around and heard of his direwolf, who always seemed to sneak up on people. The name escaped him, but not the direwolf. he saw it now, only its red eyes easily distinguishable. But he could still see the body. Its fur cought snow and made it harder for him to see the beast. But none the less it was there, right beside Jon Snow. He looked back up to Jon Snow, the bastard of Winterfell, and smiled.

"Sure, why not? Come sit by the fire, Jon Snow."

Brian moved over and patted the seat next to him, which was covered in snow. He, in a way, looked up to Jon. He, like Brian, was a bastard and shared the name Snow. Not many could say they knew the life of a bastard. Not many could say that bastard's were not, at heart, power hungry from birth. Even though there were differences between him and Jon. While Brian was just born to some ironborn raider whom his mother had fallen for, Jon was a lordling. His life probably consisted of at least SOME training with a sword. Others had a tough time. He had heard that Jon Snow was a beast with a sword, he had always wanted to challenge him. But he had the sense to stay away from a master with a blade. He brought his hands closer to the fire once more and tried to stop shivering.

"What brings you on top of the Wall? Surely it can't be to share a fire with me." he said.

[Jon Snow]

Jon sat down where Brian had indicated, wrapping his cloak around him and letting the heat warm him, not driving away the cold, but at least relieving him of the worst of it. Ghost continued to trail in a circle around the fire, padding around them, the only indication of his presence when his tail whisked into the circle of light given by the fire, or when the flames reflected off of the wolf's red eyes, filling them with fire for the briefest of moments. Jon held out his hands, letting the fire warm them. For a few seconds, he imagined he could see the cold, dead hand of an Other reaching through the flames, to fill him with cold once more.

Brian's question snapped him out of his trance, and he turned to look at the other Watcher. He recognized him, though he had never met him personally. The name escaped him, but he answered the man's question anyway, shifting slightly to let the fire to warm him even more.

"Nothing much. I simply wanted to think. Lord Mormont is taking his rest for the moment, so I came up here. Tell me, what is your name? You seem familiar, though your name escapes me." Jon smiled slightly at the other Watcher. Behind him, Ghost stopped, staring directly at Brian with piercing red eyes.

[Deleted]

The Old Bear was asleep, and Jon had wanted to simply think atop of the Wall. Brian chuckled a little bit. He liked the view as much as any man here, but after a while you get bored of it. He picked up a piece of wood and tossed it into the fire. His body starting to warm up from the heat that came from the dancing flame. His eyes turned around to the direwolf. What was it's bloody name! he thought to himself. He pondered for a moment, he had heard it before, but never again. Ghost! his mind concluded. The direwolf sure did look like one. It was staring at him intently, and was silent as a ghost indeed. He smiled at Ghost and turned back at Jon when he asked for his name. Brian wasn't surprised that Jon didn't know his name at all. Not too many knew it, he didn't get around too much with anybody other than the men from his training class.

"My name?" he said, "You don't know my name?" Brian smiled at Jon.

"Well that's simple," he began, "my name is Brian Snow. A bastard of the North."

He tossed another piece of wood into the fire and looked back to the fire, his smile faded now. He then looked outward towards the horizon. It was in a fog, which usually meant bad news. He had never used a war horn before (well at least not to actually blow for fighting, only in practice). Part of him wanted to use it, but it was also to be used only to announce danger. He may have a bad feeling about the snowy mountains being incapable of being seen, but that does not merit the use of the war horn. He stretched his back as he looked onward, wishing he knew what happened at the Fist of the First men. Jon Snow was there, perhaps he would ask. Were there giants? he wanted to ask. But later, not now.

[Jon Snow]

Jon blinked in surprise. Snow? Another bastard. That wasn't too uncommon, but it did startle him. He had never met many bastards before. He shrugged and felt around for a piece of kindling, tossing it into the fire, causing it to flare brighter, and, Jon hoped, banish the phantom hand of the Other he had seen in the flames. He stared out at the fog-filled horizon, wondering where, exactly, in the cold fog, the First was, and if the cold, unyielding hordes of the dead still wandered there. He huddled closer to the flames and spoke again.

"Snow, hmm? Another bastard? Good to meet you." Jon wondered, briefly, if the man had been on the Great Ranging several weeks earlier. Before he could stop himself, the words were out of his mouth. "Were you on the Great Ranging? Were you...there?" Jon uttered the last word like a child swearing under his breath. Behind him, Ghost broke into a loud howl that echoed through the air, into the bones of the two bastards, joining the sound of the howling wind in an eerie symphony that chilled the bones of men, that sang of death and cold, and the things that came from them.

[Deleted]

The words echoed in his mind, then the howl stayed in his bones. Brian lowered his eyes, he wished he was there. He wished he had been there to help, maybe even save some more brothers. But he hadn't, he had been too wounded to even move by the time the Great Ranging began, let alone stand up and fight. He looked at the wolf as it continued to howl, its loud voice must have carried through the entire North. It felt as if though that were the case, almost like the howl will never leave them after this. He looked at Jon Snow, a brother of the Night's Watch whom survived the encounter. He didn't know him, he asked if he was there, to see whatever horrors there were. He wanted to give him comfort in some way, perhaps to even say that it never actually happened and make fun of the very idea. But the effect it had on the men, it was impossible to say such a thing. The idea itself was stupid and should never be thought again.

"No," Brian said, "I was not. I was wounded from my first ranging by some wight and couldn't even move."

He looked at Jon Snow, hoping that he wouldn't be angry at him. It sounded foolish to think that, but he was the only other bastard he knew and understood his situation. Making enemies was also something he did not want to make a hobby. He grabbed a piece of wood and just poked the logs in the fire. Some parts of it broke off to the bottom. The flames danced in his eyes as he thought of the wight, how it had cut his brothers head clean. Though it did not come off, only slowly did the blood drip from his neck. That horror would never leave him. His courage had failed him, he felt craven. He never killed, he hadn't even fought. He was but a green boy, while Jon Snow must be made of ice at this point. His hawk-like eyes squinted as the snow picked up and was turning to a blizzard. He was stuck here until sunset, he may as well toss another log.

"What happened there...?" he asked carefully, "Tell me all you can please. I'd like to know if we need to start mounting defenses."

[Jon Snow]

Jon paused, staring once more into the flames. Images flashed through his mind. Ghost tearing, biting, rending at dead, cold flesh. Brothers, men he'd known and fought with, hacked down by the cold blue swords of the pale dead, rising again to fight on the side of those who'd slain them. Blood and flesh, black cloth hacked and cleaved to ribbons, men screaming. He shuddered, and Ghost howled even louder, deafening even the wind, and then came to an abrupt stop. He padded closer to the fire and sat next to Jon, training his red eyes on Brian. Jon coughed, and turned to Brian.

"It was...the dead. There were so many. We didn't stand a chance. They were so hard to kill, and for each one of them we killed, three of us died, and those three rose again to kill us. We couldn't hold the Fist against them. They didn't care for their own lives, only to kill us....and their laughter. Cold and crackly, like ice cracking under a boot. The Old Bear had us fall back. There were three hundred of us. Three hundred. When we fled, there were less than fifty." Jon stopped, the memories roaring like wildfire through his mind, the feel of dead flesh on his skin. He blinked, and turned to Brian.

"You've seen one, you said so. Thank the old gods and the new that you only saw one, and not the monsters that came upon us at the Fist." Jon lapsed into silence, gazing into the flames.

[Deleted]

The words chilled Brian to the bone. To know what happened was one thing, but to see it was another. Jon was right, he was probably lucky to only see one. He patted Jon on the back and coughed. The snow was picking up and he needed to shield the fire. He put up a small piece of metal on the blown side of the fire. It was only a matter of time until the sun would set. He didn't really enjoy being up in a blizzard. He looked at Jon Snow with his hand still on his back. The man looked almost sick from the story. He was sorry he ever asked the question. He couldn't think of any words to comfort him. Brian was not craven, but he had run. At least Jon had fought. He leaned back against the snowy wall, knowing full well that the snow would stick to his cloak. He sighed, wanting to say something. But no words came.

Then, he had an idea.

"We need more men," he said grimly, "there's not enough of us. Not enough men for the Watch. Sure we may have a few, but how may of them are going to stand and fight. There probably is an army of those wights marching on the Wall. Or maybe Mance Raider is marching on us right now. We don't have enough men to hold both at the same time. But maybe the Wall will defend itself."

He knew it probably wasn't the best thing to say, but it was the truth. Times were tough, and the Night's Watch is tougher. But with not enough men to man the Wall, it could just be a barren piece of ice that could be climbed. Most of the Night's Watch were criminals, men who had committed some form of crime. He knew this all too well. Though they were his brothers, most of them weren't rangers. Many of them were just stewards or builders or smiths. But barely any of them are rangers. Jon Snow was a steward, but he was steward of the Lord Commander. At least he got to go on rangings or know of battle plans. Most men here hadn't the fight in them. If only we had the man power...

[Jon Snow]

Jon ran a hand over Ghost's head, stroking the direwolf's head. He listened attentively as Brian explained why they could not hold the Wall. Jon slowly began to shake his head, shaking it faster as Brian spoke more.

"You are right, in some things. But...no." He turned, looking Brian straight in the eyes. "We cannot fall back. We cannot leave. The Wall can't defend itself. If we let Mance Ryder pass forth unscathed, he will pillage the land, and the Realm will tear itself apart, Lannisters and Starks and Baratheons fighting each other, and fighting Ryder at the same time. And then the Others will come. There will be nowhere to flee then. The dead will ravage the realm. No. We swore an oath. We swore our lives. Our oaths matter now, more than ever before." He raised a hand and pointed at the murky fog beyond the wall.

"Night gathers. Now our watch begins. Now, more than ever, we must father no children. We cannot let the frailties of normal men distract us. We cannot war for a King, or a Crown. We go forth unto battle now, not for glory, but to protect the lives of all. We are the sword in the darkness, the watchers on the Wall. We are the fire against the cold, and the fire must burn brighter now than ever before. We are the Horn that wakes the sleepers, and horn must blow louder now than ever before. We are the shield that guards Westeros, and the shield cannot bend and break against the dark. We pledged our lives. Now we must keep that pledge, for this night, and all the nights that remain in our lives." Jon stopped speaking, his part done. Ghost broke once more into a howl, but this one was not fearsome and plaintive. This was bold, defiant, strong, as if the very might and will of the Watch was embodied in it. It rang beyond the Wall, a symbol that the Wall still stood, and the warriors in black still manned it, watching against the dark and the cold and the night.

But for how long? wondered Jon.

[Deleted]

Brian listened intently to Jon, how he never wanted others to leave. How the Night's Watch had a duty here and could not fight the wars of the Realm. Brian sat there, listening. Jon Snow was a great man, he realized. He was nothing really in comparison. Jon, like he, strongly believed that we should stay here. Perhaps his wording had been off, he hoped that Jon didn't think Brian thought we should all leave. Quite the opposite, he thought they should stay and help the Wall defend itself. He was in fear, however, of what came after them. He smiled at Jon when the wolf howled again. It was not fierce, it was just bold. It was strong, it may have given strength to the most craven. Brian was ready to believe that. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the Wall. he looked on towards the setting sun, knowing that he would probably now volunteer to take the watch for the night and let his brother go back down and mingle. He sighed and looked solemnly outwards towards the fog.

He began, "Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come." He looked out for a long time before speaking again.

"These are the vows of the Night's Watch," he said, "and I believe them fully. If I am the last man standing on the Wall, I would die here. On duty, serving as a ranger. I hope to be First Ranger and lead the rangers. I know your uncle, Benjen Stark is First Ranger. But if he cannot be found I surely would do everything in my power to find his body at least. I have said my vows, and plan to keep them until my death. You need not worry for the wall, Jon Snow. Or should I call you Lord Snow? It does not matter. The Wall is my home, and I intend to defend it with every limb and tendon I have."

He clutched his sword, that simple sword that he knew he would use next time.

"Will you help me with my watch? One Snow helping another, it may ease the cold and pain of not knowing warmth for a long time."

[Jon Snow]

Jon smiled at Brian as he recited the oath. Pride filled him at Brian's words. Here was another true brother. He knew that many of the men below them, feasting in the light of fires and making foolish jokes, were not true brothers of the watch, that the sight of the dead and the armies of Mance Rayder would be enough to make them turn tail and flee. Indeed, over the past several weeks, brothers, upon hearing the story of what befell the Great Ranging at the Fist of the First Men, had broken their oaths and left the Wall, fleeing for what they believed was the safety of the south. Jon smiled and stood and walked over to Brian. Here, he had found another member of the watch, one who believed the words of his oath, unlike so many others. He ran a hand over the hilt of his sword, the snarling maw of a wolf.

"It would be the greatest of honors for me to stand watch here, with you. The night gathers, in truth, but you, and I, and all the others who truly believe-if we stand, if we defy the cold, the Realm may live to see the dawn of a new age." Jon turned to Brian, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

"And you can call me Jon." Ghost padded up next to him, and two bastards and a pale white wolf stood together in silence, the cold wind and snow blowing against their resolute forms as they watched the sun drown beyond the mountains, as night gathered, and somewhere far beyond the Wall, a wolf howled.

[Deleted]

They stood in silence for a long time, perhaps pride had filled them so greatly that the flow of time was obstructed. Brian hadn't noticed that the night was well underway. His brother who had come to relieve him had gone at one order from him. Brian stood there, looking for any sign of an attack. A scout, or perhaps Mance's army. But nothing came. He just stood there, hand on sword with Jon at his side. He sighed, partially in sadness. Perhaps this night would not allow him to blow the horn he so much wanted to try. He walked over to the snowy wall and picked up his bow and quiver. The quiver was full of black arrows and white goose feathers. He knew he shouldn't use it right now. He wouldn't anyway, but he wanted to keep them near him should an attack come. The snow began to fall even harder, making Brian bring the hood of his cloak up, covering his face from the nose up. He looked down at the woods near the Wall.

"Jon," Brian said, "do you think the wildlings are bad people? Because I don't." Brian didn't want to go on without Jon's inquiry of his idea. He wanted to say a few things about how torn he was whenever he saw a wildling. But it almost felt like treachery for him to even think that. He turned to Jon then looked at the direwolf. He wanted to pet it for some reason. It fascinated him, how could this beast be so big and yet move so silently? It was astounding. He put one hand on his horn and lifted it to his face. He looked at its shape and its color. It was all black, with some etching it it. It was too dark for him to see. Too dark! he realized. He instantly grabbed more wood and threw it into the flame. He needed to see, what if there were invaders? How could he be so stupid. What if they were climbing right now?

"Help me with this Jon, I cannot see down there!"

[Jon Snow]

Jon turned and began to lob wood into the flames, considering the question. As the flames began to roar once more and the dark and the cold fled from it's writhing tendrils, he thought about it. He began to pace before the fire, the wind blowing so fast it whipped up his cloak behind him. His face seemed gaunt in the light of the fire, as if he were somewhere far away, as he began to speak.

"I met a wildling beyond the Wall. On the Great Ranging. Her name was Ygritte. She...she was not much unlike you or I. She told me tales of her childhood, and the tales of the Kings-Beyond-The-Wall of old. When it came time to kill her, for she was our prisoner...I-I..." Jon paused, considering whether to tell Brian or not. He gazed below, at the soft snow far, far below, and patted Ghost, who had walked up next to him.

"I let her live." Even as the words fell from his mouth, Ghost began to run back and forth, yipping as he had when the dead had come near the First. He sensed danger. What danger? Jon wondered. Even as he thought it, in the pale light of the fire he saw a shape moving far below. Several shapes.

"WILDLINGS! Brian, your horn!" Jon drew Longclaw, it's Valyrian steel blade glinting in the firelight. Ghost broke into a howl, bounding back and forth, the same howl from before, one that sounded of the Watch and the Wall.

[Deleted]

He saw the shadows. He didn't have the arrows to take out what looked to be fifty wildings. Jon's story of Yigritte intrigued him but it was too late. He grabbed his horn and blew it twice. The energy was exhilarating. He felt pleased by how loud it was. Instantly, there were four other brothers next to them, wanting to know what was going on. There were probably others gathering at the bottom.

"Everybody on me, if you are a ranger we need you most of all!" he made a swift motion with his arm and started to the elevator. He climbed in and the others followed. His face dark, hand on his sword. They went down to the bottom and found fourteen other brothers. "We are under attack," he said bluntly, "and we need men to defend the tunnel. I need at least four spearmen and the rest can be swordsmen."

Six of the fourteen grabbed spears big enough to be boar spears.

"Alright, this really isn't enough but we'll have to do. They are undisciplined and we are the opposite. I want five good archers at the back sending volleys at the wildlings as they arrive. The spearmen stay at the front to at least break whatever ranks they have. The swordsmen will charge between the spears when they get close enough. Archers, when the swords charge pick up your sword and fight." Five brothers grabbed their bows and they all headed for the tunnel. They went in, watched by others who were training or sleepily getting up. When they reached the other side, he could see wildlings already running after them. The spears took their positions, Brian was right behind them. They took a box formation and the arrows started to fly. The wildings scattered a bit, some were hit. At least ten were wounded from their arrows. The rest were still coming, but some fell. They were close enough, the swords charged. Brian in the front, sword out, he parried one of their axes and hoped the others were fighting.