𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

❆ ❆ ❆

Ser Alliser stood looking over the men to be. "You are as hopeless as any boys I have ever trained." He announced when they had all assembled in the yard. "Your hands were made for manure shovels, not for swords, and if it were up to me, the lot of yer would be set to herding swine." He called. "Soon we'll have new recruits and you lot will be passed along to the Lord Commander for assignment, they'll call you men of the Night's Watch. But you lot'd be fools to believe it. You're boys still. And come the winter you will die, like flies." And with that, Ser Alliser Thorne took his leave of them.
The boys gathered around, laughing and cursing.

"You will be First Ranger someday, just as your uncle was." The fat boy smiled.

"Is." Torsten corrected and Jon smiled.

"Do you think they'll keep us together?" Pypar wondered aloud, while Toad made a displeased face.

"I hope not. I'm sick of looking at those ears of yours." He said. Pypar snatched the skin from his hand and danced away, laughing.

"You're certain to be a ranger, Toad. They'll want you as far from the castle as they can. If Mance Rayder attacks, lift your visor and show your face, and he'll run off screaming." Pypar said and Grenn seized his arm. Pypar gave the skin a squeeze, and a thin stream of red squirted Jon in the face. Toad howled in protest at the waste of good wine. Torsten laughed as Jon struggled and sputtered.

Torsten wedged himself between Grenn and Jon, their large stature overpowered him. He looked like a lamb between two wolves. Though the young boy was happy for the warmth. Mormont stood before the altar. "You came here as outlaws, poaches, rapers, killers and thieves. You came alone, in chains without friends or honour. You came to us rich and you came to us poor." The Old Bear's voice echoed into the thick breeze. "Some of you bare the names of proud houses, others only bastard names, or no names at all. It doesn't matter. All that is in the past, here on the Wall we are all one house. Tonight..." The Commander's voice boomed over the silence that had swept over the yard.

"You're allowed to look happy. You're going to be a ranger. Isn't that what you always wanted?" Samwell asked Jon, the only movement he could manage was the slight tilt of his head.

"I want to find my uncle. I know he's alive, out there. I know he is." Jon said. Torsten's chest tightened, he didn't want to believe it. He couldn't.

"I wish I could help you, but I'm no ranger. It's the steward's life for me." Samwell smiled.

"There's honour in being a steward." Jon said.

"Not much really... but there's food." Samwell laughed anxiously.

"He is. I know it too. We'll find him, Snow. But right now we need to get through this." Torsten cut the two of their small talk.

"Here you begin anew. A man of the Night's Watch lives his life for the realm. Not for a King, or a Lord, or the honour of his house or that house. Nor for gold nor glory nor a woman's love, bur for the realm and all the people in it. You've all earned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them. The penalty for desertion is death." The Old Bear paused for a moment before he said, "Are there any among you who wish to leave our company? If so, go now, and no one shall think less of you."
No one moved.
"Well and good." Said Mormont. "You've all earned the words of the vow. Think carefully before you say them. You can take your vows here tonight at sunset. Do any of you still keep the old Gods?" Jon and Torsten stood.

"I do, my Lord." They said.

"I expect you will want to say your words before a heart tree... as your uncle Benjen did." Mormont said.