Reinforcing the Wall

((OOC: Since Smalljon is no longer on the site, I am posting his posts for him. I will not be graded for his posts.))

Smalljon Umbers Post

The weather was growing colder as snow swirled outside the windows of the castle of Winterfell. If it was this cold here, Smalljon shuddered to think just how cold it was at his ancestral home of Last Hearth. It was literally the Last Hearth one could find welcome at before making the final journey to Castle Black of the Night's Watch. Because of it's extreme northerly location, warmth was hard to come by, even in summer, but now, with winter's grasp closing on them, it would be even more scarce. Idly, the seven foot tall man pulled his fur pelt tigher around him as he silently held watch over the hall. Within a smaller chamber just beyond, King Robb, King in the North, was attending to business and it was Smalljon who had been set guard duty. His own father was within the chamber, giving advice and counsel to the young king. As he waited for the enclave to finish their business for the morning, Smalljon leaned against the thick ironwood handle of his warhammer, his eyes watching the falling white flakes as they piled up along the window's outside edge.

His back was to the fire in the hearth, allowing it to spread over his entire length, though his height placed his arse at a level to receive the most heat. At least that part of him was warm, he mused, chuckling to himself. One of his large hands stroked his braided beard for a moment as his dark eyes scanned the corridor he had been set to guard. Unsurprisingly, he found nothing that alarmed him. After all, they were in the ancestral Stark home of Winterfell. Few men would ever be brave or dumb enough to strike at King Robb here, where all would gladly give their lives to protect him.

The ringmail he wore jingled slightly as he looked about, maintaining his watch. Often, he was included in the war counsels but this morning, he had drawn watch and was on alert in case there were those about that would lurk at doors. Such traitors would be dealt with quickly and decisively, if they were caught. As a serving girl passed, on her way to those in council, Smalljon signalled her over, taking from her tray a hot hunk of bread and a mug of ale. He mumbled his thanks and set about keeping his stomach quiet until he could properly break his fast on rashers of bacon, sausage and potatoes prepared with onions. Biting into the hot bread, the Umber heir sighed, wishing instead that it had been any of those other foodstuffs he'd thought about. The bread was good and hot but it would not ease hunger from his belly for any real length of time.

However, he resolved himself to be satisfied the bread. It was all he had and he would not abandon his post simply because his stomach was being contrary. Even to think about it caused shame to roil up in him. An Umber did not shirk a watch because of any physical condition and that included want of a hot breakfast. As he finished the last bite of bread and drank the last drop of ale from the mug, Smalljon crossed his arms over the handle of his massage hammer and resumed leaning upon it. The weapon itself stood just below six foot long, nearly as tall as his own lord father and was at just the right height to rest his arms. He shuffled his position slightly, shifting his arse out of the direct line of heat that it had been in. Few things in the world were worse than an overly toasty arse.

At a distance, Smalljon's eyes noticed a man walking towards the chamber he had been set to guard. At first, he was wary but as it drew closer, the giant of a man recognized him from the all black uniform he wore. It was Jon Snow, King Robb's baseborn brother, and a loyal man of the Night's Watch. Someone that could be trusted. His lips spread into a grin as the other man drew closer to him. “Hail, Jon Snow. Any chance you come bearing a true man's breakfast?”

The sun had already risen high into the sky by the time that Jon Snow had awoken from his slumber, not that it could be seen through the grey clouds and the snow, which had begun to blanket the North during the night just as Jon had collapsed into bed. He had slept in his old room on his own insistence. Robb had planned to give him a larger room, one of higher honour, but Jon would not have it. He was still the same man he had ever been, and he had never disliked his room at Winterfell.

The previous night, while discussing the issues at and beyond the Wall, as well as the war against the South, Robb had asked Jon to join him in his war council meeting the following morning. Jon had refused, kindly, citing the exhaustion from his journey and wishing for a long sleep as his reason, which Robb had accepted understandably; it wasn’t a lie but rather a half-truth. There was a large part of him that wished to involve himself in the war against the South, seek revenge against the ‘Boy King’ and the Lannisters for the murder of his father, but the Night’s Watch took no side in the issues of the realm.

However, as the young Bastard lay awake in his bed, looking up at the ceiling of his room, he had this insufferable itch underneath his skin. The meeting was happening at this precise moment, had been in progress for quite some time now in fact. He tried to take his mind off of it, think about the Oath he had taken, his friends back at the Wall, even the White Walkers, but nothing worked. Finally, realising that it was no good, Jon got out of bed and began to get ready; he would attend this war council meeting, even if he had missed a portion of it.

He noticed that a tray of food had been brought for him, likely just because he had awoke. Hot salted beef and freshly baked bread, still steaming hot; just looking at it was causing Jon’s mouth to salivate. As soon as he had dressed himself in the black garb of the Night’s Watch, Jon broke the bread in two and flanked the steaming salted beef before exiting the room. He would eat his breakfast on the move.

His trip through Winterfell was a brief one. He knew exactly where the war council meeting was to take place, and having lived in the castle his entire life he knew the quickest way there. Within no time at all he was turning the corner to a corridor that would lead him directly to the room. As soon as he had turned the corner, he noticed the lone figure standing guard outside the meeting room doors at the very end of the corridor. There was no mistaking who it was. Jon only knew two men who held such a colossal stature, and there were both Umbers.

As Jon got closer he recognised that it was the son of ‘Greatjon’ Umber, ‘Smalljon‘; ironically named, considering he was at least an entire foot taller than his father, reaching a staggering seven feet tall. Smalljon fought with a war hammer that was larger than most men! Without sheer overwhelming numbers, or stupidly good skill, Jon could not see how any man would hope to best Smalljon in combat; he was thankful that the Umbers had always been a friend to the Starks, and especially the Night’s Watch.

“Hail, Jon Snow. Any chance you come bearing a true man's breakfast?” Smalljon bellowed through a wide grin.

Jon could not help but smile and laugh in return as he approchaed. “Hail Smalljon,” he replied in kind, slapping his free hand against Smalljons huge forearm. Taking one last bite of his breakfast, ripping a large chunk of salted beef and bread off with his mouth, Jon extended the rest to Smalljon. “here.” he mumbled through a mouthful of food. When he had chewed the food into a manageable size, Jon finally attempted to speak once more.

“How are you? It’s been a long time since I saw you Smalljon, and I know I haven’t shrunk so you must have grown even more! By the Old Gods, what do they feed you Umbers?” he finished with a laugh. “So you’ve been posted on guard duty then? Have they been at it long?” Jon asked curiously.

Word Count: 744.

Smalljon Umbers Post

Immediately, he clasped hands with the brother of his king and when he did so, he couldn't help but notice how much larger he was than Snow. While it was true that he was grander in stature than most men, the ones he spend the most time with were his father and great uncles, all of whom were taller than most average men. Thus it was always a bit of a shock Umber when he spent any amount of time amongst those outside of his house as to just how much taller he was than them. Nevermind when he tried to spend any time with women. He was always afraid he'd break any woman he encountered, in or out of the bed chamber. Even his hugs could injure people if he wasn't careful.

When Jon Snow laughed and then handed Smalljon part of his own breakfast, the larger man had to refuse his offer with a shake of his head. His question about breakfast had been meant in jest and he would not take a hot meal out of the mouth of a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch. It was not likely that he got many of them, though Smalljon knew that all of the brothers were fed and healthy. “You are too kind, Jon. Keep your meal and enjoy it for me. Gods know you need your strength given where you are stationed. I'll get a late meal after the meeting adjourns,” Smalljon rumbled, his deep voice sounding exactly like what one would expect from a seven foot tall man.

He straightened himself to his full height, giving Snow a look up and down before smiling at him. As a bannerman to the Starks of Winterfell, Smalljon had watched Jon grow into a man. He was of fair height, Smalljon supposed, for a man that wasn't of Umber blood. Indeed, his family had a tendency to produce true giants of men. However, just because the man of the Night's Watch was smaller than him, Smalljon knew he was still a formidable fighter in his own right. Jon was faster in his strikes than he would ever be, though with his strength, he only needed one hit to put down any opponent that dared to cross his path.

As the younger man asked after him, Smalljon offered a smile to him, before speaking, “I am well, though I doubt I've grown. Perhaps you've have shrunk with all the time you've spent in the cold on the Wall.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Your brother has proved himself to be an apt commander and it has been an honor to serve him.”

Smalljon shifted again, considering how long the his father and the king had been in their meeting, “They've been in for about an hour or so. I'm supposed to keep everyone out, though I'm sure that doesn't extend to you,” he replied, a grin still on his face. As he took in Jon Snow, his mind drifted to that of the Wall. His house had always been a strong supporter of both the Starks and the Night's Watch. As the Night's Watch was their direct neighbor, they were the ones that often sent supplies and even men, when they were needed to those in the Black. Perhaps that was why Jon had come now, to his brother to ask for things for the Night's Watch. After all, it wasn't as though he could be there in support of his brother. His vows prohibited it. He chose his words carefully when he next opened his motuh, “What about you, Jon? How are things at the Wall? Is there anything you have need of from the Umbers?”

The giant man himself had often led warriors towards the Wall in a joint effort to handle a wilding force. Indeed, it had been an Umber in the days of heroes that had helped the Starks of Winterfell drive back the a particular King beyond the Wall. That act had begun their line and as such, they had taken their roles as the last bastion of civilization seriously. That meant supplementing the Wall with their own men-at-arms or launching their own counterattacks with the Smalljon and his great maul at the forefront. Whatever the cost, House Umber was always willing to do battle with anyone that would threaten the north.

Clasping hands with the giant that was Smalljon sent vibrations shuddering up Jon’s arm, but it was a sensation that Snow had become accustomed to over the many years of knowing Smalljon. The comparison between the two men was ridiculous, somewhat akin to the comparison he remembered between himself and Tyrion Lannister, when he had first met the dwarf. All men are dwarfs next to Smalljon. Jon mused in thought.

“You are too kind, Jon. Keep your meal and enjoy it for me. Gods know you need your strength given where you are stationed. I'll get a late meal after the meeting adjourns.” Smalljon’s voice rumbled like thunder, echoing along the corridor without any effort or intention. Jon smiled at the comment.

“So be it, thank you. I’m quite hungry, if truth be told.” with that said he took yet another bite of his quick breakfast.

“I am well, though I doubt I've grown. Perhaps you've have shrunk with all the time you've spent in the cold on the Wall.”

Jon could not help but laugh at that. “I hope not! If I shrink any more, you’d like step on me without even noticing.” though with that shared laugh the conversation continued on to a somewhat different topic.

“Your brother has proved himself to be an apt commander and it has been an honour to serve him.” Smalljon began, to which Jon firstly replied with an agreeing nod.

“From what I hear from the Wall, he’s done our Father and the people of the North proud.” Castle Black received ravens from all over the Seven Kingdoms, with news and updates on the events that befell them all, none more so than ravens from Robb to Jon, and visa versa. The Night’s Watch took no part in the issues of the Seven Kingdoms, but Jon was still of House Stark and he liked to be kept informed.

“They've been in for about an hour or so. I'm supposed to keep everyone out, though I'm sure that doesn't extend to you,” Smalljon grinned at that, and Jon met it in return.

Jon had intended to join the meeting, it had been his reason for rousing from bed and journeying down to the room, but now that he was here he was having second thoughts. It was not his place to be involved in such things, not any more. He had sworn an oath to the Night’s Watch, and he could not break an Oath, especially not one sworn in front of the Weirwood; he was his father’s son, and he would not dishonour his memory in such a way. No, he would not enter. With a sigh of relief for having actually decided against it, Jon realised he was incredibly glad that he had bumped into Smalljon before he could enter. “No,” Jon finally replied. “I don’t think I will enter.”

“What about you, Jon?” Smalljon then asked. “How are things at the Wall? Is there anything you have need of from the Umbers?”

“The Umber’s generosity to the Night’s Watch has become the stuff of legend, and has been vital to our continued protection of the realm. House Umber honours us, and assistance is always welcomed, as well as needed.” Jon responded, bowing his head in a show of respect to his old friend. The Night’s Watch took no part in the issues of the realm, though at the same time it counted on the entire Seven Kingdom’s for supplies and men for its continued existence; it was irony at it’s peak.

“But House Umber are tied into the war against the South, surely you cannot spare any men or supplies for the Wall?” Jon asked curiously. “Though things at the Wall are beginning to feel dire.” he admitted, looking out of a nearby window. The snow was still falling, remaining him of the Land of Always Winter, beyond the Wall. “Wildlings still amass an army for their King Beyond the Wall, so our Rangers tell us, but that’s not the worst of it…” he turned to look back at Smalljon, his face serious. “Things are stirring, things from tales old. Winter is Coming Smalljon.”

Word Count: 649.
Total Word Count thus far: 1,393.

Smalljon Umbers Post

It was fun to be able to joke around with the young Jon Snow. While the boy, rather man, had taken the black, he was still a man and a man needed some levity in his life. While duty, seriousness, and honor were important, laughing was just as important to keeping a man alive. Otherwise, the dark thoughts of the tragedies that had happened throughout one's life would simply overwhelm them. If there was anyone that needed a laugh, it certainly was Jon Snow. The fact that the man before him had been born a bastard mattered little if at all to Smalljon. He'd known the lad for years, trained with him in the yard, shared meat and mead with him, and seen him when he made the journey to the wall with his uncle Benjen Stark. Now, with the business of war with the South and the fact that Lord Ned Stark, his father, had been so viciously betrayed and slandered by the Lannisters, well, Smalljon assumed that Jon needed a few laughs now, perhaps more than he had ever needed them.

“I'd never step on you, Jon! We need men like you.... Men who can actually fit through doorways!” Umber joked, a wide smile on his face. Truth was, while his size was his strength, it also made him a great target for archers. It was why he had to wear such thick armor. If he didn't, he was practically inviting arrows to be stuck in him like needles were stuck in a pincushion. And Smalljon, like most men, hated having arrows sticking out of him.

As Jon mentioned mentioned King Robb making their father proud, he couldn't help but give a nod. Indeed, in the battles they'd fought, the young king had acquitted himself beautifully. Aye, Ned Stark would have been proud of his son. After all, he and the former king, Robert had done the same when Lord Stark's father and brother had been killed by the mad Targaryen king, Aerys II. Now, Robb was truly his father's son.

When Jon made the decision not to enter the council room, Smalljon offered him an encouraging grin. Now it was he that was showing himself to be a true son of Ned Stark. To enter the room would have presented an great temptation to the man of the Night's Watch to shirk his vows and join up with his blood kin. However, the fact that he had chose to stay without showed that he intended to honor his vows, something his lord father would have been proud of.

“I dare say that your lord father would be proud of you too, Jon. You are a man of the Night's Watch and Lord Stark always held the utmost respect for your order, as do I. You know this,” Smalljon replied.

As Jon continued to speak, to talk about the state that the Wall had dwindled to, Smalljon couldn't say that he was surprised. The was was taking resources from everywhere. However, House Umber still had some men that they could give to the Watchers on the Wall. His lord father had left a small garrison behind at Last Hearth, as a last measure of defense. However, given that Last Hearth was so far north, it seemed prudent that they would send their men to the Wall, as Southron forces would not be likely to make such an intrusion into the North.

“Actually, Jon, there is a garrison of men at Last Hearth. I would have to speak to my father but I believe that we can send them to the Wall with you as you return. After all, it is not likely that we shall have to deal with the forces of the Lannisters so far north and if things are truly stirring as you say, they would be of more use with the Night's Watch,” he spoke, his voice booming, “As for supplies, I'm not sure what's available, but whatever it is you need, charge it to House Umber. We will provide for you.”

“I dare say that your lord father would be proud of you too, Jon.” this alone was enough to completely grab Jon’s attention from anything else he had been thinking or saying. “You are a man of the Night's Watch and Lord Stark always held the utmost respect for your order, as do I. You know this.” Smalljon finished.

Thoughts of his father flooded Jon’s mind. Memories of times he had spent with him, things that he had taught him and advice that he had freely given him, how his father died and all of the moments he would never get the chance to have with him because of it. It was almost enough to cause the young Bastard to well up, but he would not allow himself to show such weakness around others, not even his own kin, and so he held it all back; he’d had plenty of practise doing so.

With a drawn out nod of the head, a show of respect and honour, Jon looked up at Smalljon. “You honour me Smalljon, with such words. Thank you.” and though Jon was hiding the full extent of his emotions, there was no masking the appreciation in his voice. Thankfully, for Jon, the conversation continued onward, focusing on the Wall and the Night’s Watch; as much as he loved his father, and wanted to honour his memory, he still did not fully feel ready to openly discuss him. Though time had passed the wound was still fresh for Jon.

“Actually, Jon, there is a garrison of men at Last Hearth. I would have to speak to my father but I believe that we can send them to the Wall with you as you return. After all, it is not likely that we shall have to deal with the forces of the Lannisters so far north and if things are truly stirring as you say, they would be of more use with the Night's Watch.” there was no denying it, the Umbers loyalty to the North and the Night’s Watch was unquestioned. The Umbers were not just brawn, though many had oft claimed it, Jon knew better. “As for supplies, I'm not sure what's available, but whatever it is you need, charge it to House Umber. We will provide for you.”

“Though the Watch might, I could not leave Last Hearth, you’re ancestral home, without sufficient supplies or protection.” Jon said, shaking his head. “Sometimes the needs of the few, do not outweigh the needs of the many - not when it comes to what is right and what is wrong.” however, Jon had come South with it in mind to return having recruited some men of for the Night’s Watch; could he really afford to refuse such a generous offer? After a few seconds of silent deliberation, Jon had taken it upon himself to decide. “How about this; I will only take supplies on the condition that there’s sufficient amount remaining at Last Hearth, and any men we take will not be made to take the black, able to return to defend their Lord’s home at a moments notice.”

He felt it was a reasonable compromise, and he would not take advantage of the Umbers generosity towards the Night Watch. “Though I fear many of those men will wish to leave before the issues are resolved. They would not believe the troubles beyond the Wall if they were told in advance, and when they witness it for their own eyes no man would blame them if they fled.” the Others, or White Walkers as many had taken to calling them, were unlike any foe Jon had ever heard of or faced, yet they were now the reality and future of the Night’s Watch, and if they failed, the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

Word Count: 635.
Total Word Count thus far: 2,028.

Smalljon Umbers Post

It was interesting to watch how Jon Snow's honor came to the surface when he offered up Last Hearth's only remaining garrison to the Night's Watch. The fact that he did not instantly agree to take them with little discussion showed just how well he'd learned the lessons that his lord father had taught him. While it was clear that Lord Eddard was a sore subject for the man, Smalljon couldn't help but extend one of his long arms and rest his hand on the younger man's shoulder. While the gesture would not be as comforting to him if it had been his father or even his brother, Umber hoped it would strengthen the man's confidence just a little.

“You honor yourself with your actions, Jon. You know that. My words are nothing compared to the deeds which you have done and continue to do,” the giant man said, doing the best he could to encourage the man that had recently lost all he'd ever known in going to the Wall and with his father's death. Smalljon had also heard rumors that Benjen Stark had also disappeared beyond the Wall but he would not ask the man's nephew to confirm this.

When Snow began speaking of not wanting to leave Last Hearth without protection and supplies, Smalljon shook his head. The boy was like his father, honorable to a fault, gods love him. He knew it would be difficult to make it clear that he was not leaving Last Hearth wanting, though even if he was, it was better to be wanting that overrun by things from outside of the Wall. Smalljon knew that and he knew his people would understand. Of course, ultimately all of this would rest in the hands of his father, Greatjon, though if Smalljon stressed upon him the dire straits at that Wall, he doubted that his father would deny the Black Brothers what they needed to protect the North. After all, that's why they were lords, to make the hard decisions to protect the smallfolk.

“Jon,” he began, chastising him lightly, “While I appreciate you trying to compromise, you will take whatever supplies you need. Stop at every castle you see on your way back and gather food, weapons, and armor. Then affix our House seal to the bill. You forget that if the Wall fails, Last Hearth will not be far behind. If things are as tenuous as you say, we must be ready.”

As the steward made concessions about allowing the men home to return, again, Smalljon had to shake his head. If they allowed such leniency, which he doubted that Snow even could truly offer, it would not do at all.Leaning heavily upon the ironwood shaft of his warhammer, Smalljon's mind whirled about, trying to compromise so that the Wall would have the reinforcements they so desperately needed without having to worry about the men being able to desert at a moment's notice.

However, as he thought, Umber quickly came to what he thought would be an amenable solution to all of their problems.
“When you pass Last Hearth, tell my great-uncle Mors Crowfood that he will lead our garrison to the Wall, and under him, those men will serve as a supplementary corps to the Night's Watch. That way, if they are needed, which I doubt they will be, we can send a raven to your Maester and they can return to Last Hearth. Is that agreeable to you, Jon?”

Pushing his hair and helmet back so that his face was fully visible, Smalljon gave Snow a nod, as if to urge him to take the agreement. Of course, if the bastard felt honor was at risk, they'd likely have to go around again until the giant threatened him, playfully of course, with his hammer.

Smalljon reached over and reassuringly rested one of his huge hands on Jon’s shoulder, causing the young man to look up at his colossal friend. “You honour yourself with your actions, Jon. You know that. My words are nothing compared to the deeds which you have done and continue to do.” Smalljon stated softly, at least Jon guessed it was said as softly as the giant of a man could likely manage.

Jon reached up to his shoulder and patted Smalljon’s forearm, first responding with a smile and a nod of his head. “Your words are appreciated Smalljon.” the young Bastard of the Night’s Watch responded in kind. “To have such words spoken from a House such as House Umber is high praise, especially in the North.” Jon added. “I will have to continue to be worthy of such praise.”

Smalljon removed his hand and then considered the compromise that Jon had suggested, in response to the bigger mans proposal for the Night’s Watch. “Jon, while I appreciate you trying to compromise, you will take whatever supplies you need.” he said sternly, and suddenly Jon felt like a child again, being chastised by his father. “Stop at every castle you see on your way back and gather food, weapons, and armour. Then affix our House seal to the bill.” this was far too generous of an offer. Jon knew that Smalljon and House Umber had no ulterior motive, and that the Night’s Watch was in dire need of reinforcements, he felt bad in taking advantage of the North when they were at war with the South. Jon opened his mouth to respond, but Smalljon cut him off as he continued.

“You forget that if the Wall fails, Last Hearth will not be far behind. If things are as tenuous as you say, we must be ready.” Smalljon was right, if the Wall did fall then the rest of the South would not be far behind, especially as they would then be fighting wars on both fronts; the young Bastard was quickly losing grounds to support his argument. “When you pass Last Hearth, tell my great-uncle Mors Crowfood that he will lead our garrison to the Wall, and under him, those men will serve as a supplementary corps to the Night's Watch. That way, if they are needed, which I doubt they will be, we can send a raven to your Maester and they can return to Last Hearth. Is that agreeable to you, Jon?”

Jon frowned as Smalljon pushed his helmet back, all the more revealing his stern expression, and with a sigh Jon let out a short laugh and shook his head. “When did the Umbers become as wise as they were large?” look all around him, as if searching for something specific, Jon raised his hands to his mouth and cupped them around it. “Someone fetch Maester Luwin at once, he must chronicle this unexpected turn of events!” Jon laughed and lowered his hands. “But I can agree to these terms well enough.” though he was sworn to the Night’s Watch, having come back to Winterfell and seeing everyone again had shown Jon just how much he was still tied to his own life; it both worried and pleased him.

His face growing more serious than it had been before, Jon glanced towards the door of chamber the War Council were meeting within. “Tell me true Smalljon, how fares the war against the South?” it was true enough that the Night’s Watch did not involve themselves in the issue of the realm, but as more time passed Jon couldn’t help but believe this was wrong. The Night’s Watch relied on the realm for support, and what happened to one directly effected the other. The two were linked, and one could not ignore the other without potentially dire consequences. The Night’s Watch believed they were the exception in this partnership, and it had mostly worked for hundreds of years, but Jon feared that was slowly coming to an end.

“Aye, it goes well!” Smalljon replied heartedly. Jon had always known that the Umbers were hardy warriors, their gigantic appearance alone was enough to show this. Jon had no doubt that in some small way, and nothing was small when it came to the Umbers, that Smalljon was enjoying the battles of this war. “Robb is yet to lose a battle, only having returned to Winterfell to better organise his forces and strategies. I have a good feeling that we may be able to end this war on our next surge South.” though it felt too simple to Jon, and almost certainly wishful thinking on Smalljons part.

“I hope you’re right.” Jon said through a clear frown. Smalljon raised his giant sized hand and brought it slamming down on Jons shoulder, patting it reassuringly; though it had taken Jon almost entirely by surprise, and had hurt quite a bit to be honest.

“Don’t worry Jon! All will be well in the end. Have faith.” he said through a wide grin. Jon couldn’t help but return it, it was near infectious. As Jon opened his mouth to reply, the door to the room that Smalljon was guarding, opened ever so slightly. Both men turned to look as a somewhat familiar face poked through the gap - no doubt one of his fathers, no Robbs, banner men that Jon had met once before. Jon gave the older man a nod of his head, which he gave back in return, though he looked somewhat startled to see Jon outside the chamber. “Is the meeting over?” Smalljon enquired, and was met with a shake of the head by the man.

“No, but your presence is required. A few of the men want your opinions on matters.” Smalljon looked as if he were about to object, but the older man interrupted him before he could even fully open his mouth. “King Robb has said that you’ll be able to guard the room well enough from the inside.” this seemed to settle the matter, as Smalljon accepted it as truth. At that Jon patted Smalljon on his back, far lighter than the bigger man had done to him just moments ago.

“I’ll be off then Smalljon, though I’ll make sure to catch up with you again before I head back to the Wall.” with that Jon turned on his heel and began making his way down the corridor. “Send my regards to my brother.” he added, raising his hand to say goodbye.

Word Count: 1,086.
Total Finished Word Count: 3,114.

Jon Snow Rewards: 975G | 195xp

[/b][/color]

Poor Jon! How many times was he nearly squished in this thread? Good thread. Pacing was kind of lackluster but I blame myself for that. Two and a half squirrels.