Of Tomes and Rapers (Unfinished)

Despite the words, it appeared as if Nash did not share the optimistic hope that they tried to befall; Jon didn’t blame him, because neither did he. "After I leave, I will try to find more recruits and a team of builders to send here." Nash stated, looking back at the book that was on the table in front of him.

“I’m sure that’ll please the Lord Commander, wouldn’t it Jon?” Sam said joyfully, looking towards his friend.

“The Night’s Watch always welcomes new men to shield the realm.” Jon responded, keeping his response short and sweet. The Bastard of Winterfell somehow doubted that men loyal to the South would willingly choose to travel into the dangers of the North to join the Night’s Watch, despite what Nash was promising. As Jon was considering the situation, he listened to Nash as he continued.

"It's not the Others' time yet, if we're to believe the Maesters... and we'd have heard from your sentries if there were other threats within sight," Jon let out a short laugh at that. Though Nash was correct about the sentries warnings, he couldn’t have been more wrong about the Others. "Nevertheless, for as long as I remain here, I vow upon the gods old and new that I will aid the defenders of this Wall in any way that I can. If something does happen during our watch or throughout my stay at Castle Black, my blades will be ready."

“You’ve been speaking to the wrong Maesters,” Jon began, a hint of amusement in his voice. Only Maester Aemon, of Castle Black and the Night’s Watch, knew the truth of the events of and beyond The Wall. “And as honourable as your words and intentions may be, neither your sword nor mine will do any good, should the worst come to pass.” Jon knew first hand what a deadly danger the Others could be, and just how difficult they were to kill, though he had not had Longclaw when he had come face-to-face with a White Walker; would the Valyrian Steel blade have a better effect? He hoped that he would not have to find out any time soon.

"Lads,” Nash then began, his voice brimming with complete excitement as he looked down at the book in front of him. “if you wish to help me, I require quill, ink and fresh parchment.” Jon raised an eyebrow at that. He was quite fine where he was, letting the two of them deal with everything. “Samwell, if you know of any works related to this one, find them and feel free to join me." As if ordered, Sam jumped into action, running about and doing as Nash had asked. "Let's find ourselves some Valyrian secrets."

“Take as long as you need,” Jon responded, getting comfortable in his chair. He had been asked to escort Nash, which meant he couldn’t leave his side, and that meant he just had to stay in the warmth of the library as long as Nash did; Jon didn’t mind that one bit. Ghost looked up at his companion, studying Jon for a brief few moments, before the Bastard laid a hand on the Direwolf’s back, and he once again laid his head down to rest. “We’ve got a good few hours before night falls, and our watch begins.”



Several hours passed, and surprisingly time did not seem to drag for Jon as he remained in the library with Nash and Samwell. Mostly Jon kept to himself, relaxing and seeing to Ghost, though eventually Jon decided to help out, though his help was minimal. Though he found the subject interesting, the young Bastard managed to keep his curiosity at bay enough for him to then return to his relaxing once again; he preferred to keep himself to himself, and Nash was certainly no exception to this rule. However, eventually the calls from the outer Courtyard signalled the soon to be changing patrols, and Jon stood from his seat and stretched his arms into the air. “Time’s up, for now.” Jon groaned through his stretch. “How were your findings, in the end?” he enquired. He had only heard bits and pieces since he had stopped helping.

Word Count: 702.
Total Word Count thus far: 5,677.

Now, it was clear that Samwell was the more idealistic of the two Black Brothers aiding him in his task, but Nash still felt his words ringing hollow when he enthusiastically mentioned the Lord Commander's agreement with what he planned to do. Young Snow did his best to repeat some more words of the Watch, but he didn't appear too convinced; truth be told, it was rather remarkable that people held on to their wretched lives as much as to choose the Wall in the stead of death, but there still would be some to find. "I'll have to ask the Lord Commander to introduce me to one of your recruiters, then," he earnestly commented, not at all fazed by the lad's skepticism.

The matter of the Others, however, was a different one altogether; the Westerner wasn't at all surprised to find out that there had been sightings of those most believed to be mere legends in their time, much unlike what the learned minds at the Citadel liked to state, not having set foot once at the Wall, but he shrugged away any chilly shiver he may have felt from his spine with a single move and looked the younger man in the eye. "We'll die, then," he decided, "and we'll be made to fight by our killers. Just like the liege lords from the South do with their bannermen." His tone, albeit uncaring at first sight, tended to give the impression that he wasn't entirely satisfied with how things went back home. Truth be told, Nash would have been called a right ingrate if he dared speak out against the Lannisters for what the family itself and its head had done to, for and about his own throughout the years; if he did have a bone to pick with someone of their blood, they were likely wearing crowns by then.

As they settled into their respective positions, Sam rushed to fetch their guest that which he had required and made himself scarce, do doubt going after other tomes. As Jon Snow had told him, there still was some time to look into the treasures of the library and Nash wanted to do however much he could until joining the Bastard of Winterfell for his nightly watch on the Wall. Sadly, however, as he went through the Compendium, moving its pages with the care some reserved for deflowering noble virgins, there was little to write down aside from some interesting odds and ends that were bound to interest his acquaintances more than they did him.

"Ser Lydden, ... maybe these titles could also be of interest?"

The dusty and flushed appearance of Samwell Tarly did well clash with Jon Snow's behaviour, but Nash was content about leaving the young man to his own devices with his direwolf while the two more scholarly people who were presently within the library studied, discussed and compared - as was their way, in truth. "They should be, Samwell. Take your writing utensils, hand me some of those and join me," he replied, not losing the page he was on from sight. It was so that their duo worked through the hours, reading as carefully and swiftly as they could and, sometimes, putting quill to parchment so they could entrust some small thing to memory. However, as the calls from outside started making themselves heard within the large chamber, the knight breathed in deeply, standing up and stretching carefully before looking at Samwell's leaning form and softly tapping his shoulder. "If you've the time, lad, pray keep on it," he told him; as soon as the Black Brother agreed, he moved to different things.

From his boot, Nash retrieved a small whetstone; drawing his dagger, he began giving its edge a few final touches as his future watch partner spoke again. "Indeed," he replied, with a look of pain and disappointment. "There was little to be found," he dismayfully began, "but it is as I've said, sadly. The Maesters of old seem to be just as willing to learn about what they decided to describe as the ones we have today," he added, his words bearing somewhat of a sting aimed toward those practicing that particular profession. Testing the sharpness of his blade on his tongue, he returned it and the implement he'd used on it to their rightful places. "Off we go, then," he told Ned Stark's son, adding a "Fare thee well, Sam" for his new friend. Indeed, the two had seemed to bond as they went about their studying, to some extent, at least - and the knight was quite grateful for it, as his tone showed.

With that, Nash left the chamber and made his way outside; his eyes had gotten used to the rather dim lighting of Castle Black and he remembered the path his guide had chosen to bring him there. He growled and grumbled at the increasing cold, knowing all too well that more of the such was bound to expect him at the top of the Wall, and he swiftly made his way through the old, snow-covered buildings around him to an elevator that he'd managed to spy from afar. "I'm to take this watch with Jon Snow, per the words of the Old Bear," he told the Black Brother manning the large implement, only to be told to wait for his partner; sighing, the knight stretched and released a hefty amount of obscenities in the relative direction of the weather and his own stupidity, for having thought that he'd find all the answers in one particular tome.

Word count: 930
Total word count thus far: 7836

Nash stood and stretched his back, raising his arms above his head, before lowering them and tapping Sam on the shoulder. The contact startled the large Black Brother, albeit it only slightly, him having been lost in the books he was reading. "If you've the time, lad, pray keep on it." he requested, though his voice told Jon that Nash didn’t seem to think that anything new or useful would be discovered.

“Oh I will Ser Nash! You can count on me!” Sam replied. It did not surprise Jon how quickly Sam had taken to Nash, despite the man being a Lannister supporter. Those sorts of things didn’t matter to Sam, especially when they shared a common interested such as knowledge and reading; in truth Jon suspected some of it was due to Nash having taken Sam’s place on patrol.

With that settled, Nash removed a whetstone from within his boot and began sharpening the edge of his dagger, as he responded to Jon. "Indeed, there was little to be found.” He seemed dismayed by the lack of discovery, but not entirely surprised. “But it is as I've said, sadly, the Maesters of old seem to be just as willing to learn about what they decided to describe as the ones we have today." Nash then ran the edge of the blade across the top of his tongue, testing it’s sharpness, though Jon found it a little odd; he would have used his hand. Satisfied, Nash turned to Jon. "Off we go, then. Fare thee well, Sam."

Nash moved towards the door of the library, Sam waving him off. Jon patted Sam on the shoulder, a silent goodbye between friends, and moved to follow the Lydden heir. Stopping at the door, Jon turned and looked back at Ghost, who then instantly stood from his comfortable position on the floor and began following his companion. Jon noted the distance between him and Nash, though it seemed the older Knight remembered the path back outside well enough. With no desire to catch up just to walk in silence with the man, Jon was more than content to remain behind him, enjoying nothing but the presence of Ghost, who was silently padding alone beside him. However, before long the bitter cold outside air viciously attacked his face, as they moved across the courtyard towards the lift that would take them all the way to the top of the Wall.

"I'm to take this watch with Jon Snow, per the words of the Old Bear." Jon heard Nash say to the Black Brother who was guarding the lift tonight. As Jon got closer he noticed it was Grenn, who leaned to the side to look at Jon who was approaching from behind Nash.

“Oh, it be you Jon.” Grenn said nonchalantly, looking back to Nash. “Thought this ere’ man was tryin’ to pull a fast one.”

“He’s taken Sam’s place on watch tonight. The Lord Commander has me escorting him - so it works out well.” Jon explained. Grenn nodded, looking Nash up and down as he sized him up.

“Right, right….well, if he gives you any trouble you can always just set Ghost on him. Right, off ya go then.” he added, opening the lift doors and moving aside to let them in.

Wasting no time Jon moved past Grenn, giving his friend a nod of the head as he moved inside the lift; Ghost followed him in, silently taking a seat beside him. Once Nash had also moved inside the lift, Grenn closed it and gave the signal to begin lifting it towards the top of the Wall. Once the lift was well on its way towards the top, Jon glanced at Nash. “I hope you don’t have an issue with heights.” it was said in jest, though it would obviously be an issue if he did indeed have an issue with heights. Jon wasn’t sure if there were any taller structures in the world, but he was willing to bet that anywhere would be hard pressed to be as tall or magnificent as the Wall was.

Word Count: 685.
Total Word Count thus far: 6,362.

It was good to find people like Samwell even in a place like Castle Black; even if the Watch wasn't what the old tomes had described it as, there were still many things to see in places like the library and there were too few young men who put it into their heads to read and study even where Nash came from, much less in the seemingly-godsforsaken realms as the one bordering between Westeros and the vast terra incognita that stood beyond the Wall. Thus, when he got the younger man's enthusiastic reply, he smiled and nodded subtly to himself. There were still many unearthed treasures in the place he'd just left and, with some luck, having armed the rotund librarian with everything he could remember on the topic of the Doom might well have proven more helpful to his quest than the journey to verify the old Compendium.

Making a mental note to remember to find the lad at some point before leaving, to examine his findings and to ask that he try to send him a raven if he should ever manage to discover something he deems interesting (not to mention where to send said raven, to begin with), the knight made his way outside and every step he took in the unforgiving cold spoke of a high price one had to pay to visit the Wall - but, as he steeled himself for a number of hours in even more unpleasant weather, he decided that he didn't regret making the journey all the way there.

Jon, with Ghost ever present by his side, caught up with him in front of the contraption that was to take them to the top of the Wall. Judging by the exchange of words he had with the Black Brother standing guard by it, the fellow appeared to be a wee bit on the dim side of things, as he couldn't fathom exactly what a 'fast one' over there could have implied, much less the manner in which one could go about it. "Indeed," he piped in, his voice even and his features unmoving, "I have heard some frightening tales of ice thieves on the road. The lad did well to stop me; they could be anywhere by now," he added, opting for a near-genuine expression of concern that also coloured his tone.

Having uttered such dire warnings, the knight pursued the pair from Winterfell into the cage, while trying not to think about the rather flimsy feel it had and the swift and long descent they would be in for if it decided to break at some point. His host's comment regarding heights was not helping things, either - truth be told, he hadn't ever been to a height as dwarfing as the one they were about to conquer, so he couldn't say how that would make him feel, but he decided for another jest that would properly present his concerns. "Only the sort that make me wish to wrap an entire shadowcat around my prick and bollocks." He paused, attempting to take a deep breath, but his lungs still disagreed with the air somewhat, so he stopped before a proper cough could make an arse out of him. "Teeth, claws and all," he added, grimly, peering around as they ascended and trying not to gawk too obviously; for all its unforgiving and desolate traits, the landscape before him looked rather beautiful when he studied it from up there.

When they finally reached the summit that marked their destination, Nash let the duo that accompanied him take the lead before exiting himself and treading carefully on the iced stone that laid beneath his feet. Aside from the air and the view, the very thought that he was standing on the world's tallest structure did a tremendous job at taking his breath away - and, yet, he was a mere visitor of those parts, while the men of the Watch walked it day after day and night after night, standing guard atop it to ward the realm of those who would threaten it. "Words cannot do this place justice," he commented, unable to find even a single swear word that could explain his astonishment better. Nevertheless, there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as the cold that he felt through and even beyond his bones, so the knight undid the strap of his firewine skin and took a single flinching gulp, the exotic booze warming his body and relaxing him somewhat. "Careful, it burns," he told Jon, offering the container to him after having proven that it was safe to drink from before calmly following him to where he thought they would stop and stand guard. "There are warring bands in the North, lad," he added, after a while, as if after a second thought. Such news might or might not have reached the Wall; perhaps they could do something with what they found out from him, as meager an offering as it might have been.

Word count: 836
Total word count thus far: 8672

Nash seemed to be slightly uneasy within the old contraption that was raising the two men and the direwolf towards the dizzying height that was the top of the Wall. Not many people could say that they had been as high up as the Wall offered, and even some brothers of the Night’s Watch still felt uncomfortable about going atop it. Jon had surprisingly never had any issues with the height of the Wall, or being on top of it, and had even purposely made the to the top the very first day he had arrived. He still remembered looking over it’s edge for the very first time, his Uncle Benjen standing besides him. The thought of his Uncle saddened him, but he still held hope that he was alive.

“Only the sort that make me wish to wrap an entire shadowcat around my prick and bollocks.” Nash said in response to Jon. The remark would have surprised Jon, if he hadn’t already heard Nash speak in such a way previously. Nevertheless, as Nash coughed Jon couldn’t help but crack a smile at the comment. "Teeth, claws and all." he mumbled gloomily. Jon considered shaking the lift, just to scare Nash a little more, though he thought it best not to. He had done a similar thing to Sam the first time they had been in the lift together, and now the rounder Black Brother completely disliked the lift all together.

After a journey of relative silence, the lift reached the top of the Wall and Jon slid open the gates and lead the way out onto the ice, Ghost silently padding along behind him without a sound of complaint. However, Nash was a little less enthusiastic. Gingerly he stepped out onto the ice, taking great care not to lose his footing. Jon had not seen anyone fall from the Wall during his time with the Night’s Watch, but he had heard stories of it happening in the past; whether or not they were true, Jon didn’t know, but from his experience up there he believed it could happen. However, when Nash finally seemed to settle himself, he took a moment to truly look at his surrounding.

"Words cannot do this place justice." Nash muttered, seemingly genuinely astonished by the sight he was seeing. Jon began to look around too, taking in a long and deep breath as he did so. He had to agree with Nash, it was truly a beautiful sight to behold. Though before Jon could even really respond to the statement, he noticed that Nash was freeing a skin of wine from his person. Jon watched as the man took the littlest of swigs, near flinching as he pulled it away from his mouth. Jon raised an eyebrow at the mans seemingly overemphasised reaction, reaching out to take the skin as Nash offered it to him. "Careful, it burns."

The warning seemed overly cautious. Jon had heard about firewine, though he had always doubted the stories. Surely it wasn’t that much different from the stuff they had in the North? Seconds later Jon was coughing and chastising himself for ever doubting it, having taken a reasonably normal sized mouthful, only to discovered it was far too much of a mouthful. While he was still coughing and spluttering, Ghost sniffing the air curiously, Nash began to speak once more.

"There are warring bands in the North, lad." he randomly said. And while Jon was still partially distracted by the burning of his throat, the subject did grip him. When he eventually stopped coughing enough to speak, Jon stood himself up straight, attempted to compose himself a little, and looked at Nash.

“We’ve heard a little,” he began, his voice slightly croaky. “Though not many people bother to send the Night’s Watch much news anymore, so there’s like details that have not yet heard.”

Word Count: 646.
Total Word Count thus far: 7,008.

While not a godly man by any means, Nash once more had a peculiar thought that somehow chilled him even more than the weather they were having. "No doubt about it," he began, going as close to the lip of the Wall as soon as he noticed that the ice up there wasn't as slippery as he'd thought it to be and taking a good long look with a near-famished expression, as if he wanted to see every bit of the lands beyond and remember it for the rest of his days; it may have been different for most, but it had been a childhood dream of his to be there and, after finally managing it, he was most pleased to see that his imagination did little justice to the real places. "The Old Gods hold seat here," he finally added, after a deep, satisfying breath. In the meantime, his male anatomy didn't seem to be threatened by freezing anymore - unless it already had; he couldn't tell.

As for Jon Snow, he seemed to abandon some of his caution before a most deadly foe, his skin of firewine; with a slight frown on his face, the knight let his companion's cough subside before letting him know of something he'd seen on the road. The Watch may have taken no part in whatever was upon them, but it would still help them to know that the roads due South could have grown deadlier even for the likes of them. Cracking a tiny half-smile on his near-frozen puss when he heard him speak, Nash deemed it wise to start with a more pressing personal concern. "One sip at a time, lad - our watch has only started, you have time to finish it. First time I had this I could've sworn I'd brewed wildfyre in my guts after a night's sleep."

As the subject shifted to the goings-on of the so-called 'civilized' lands he had trodden not long before to reach Castle Black, the Western knight turned his back on the beautiful view beyond and glanced sorrowfully at whatever he could see of the North belonging to the Iron Throne. "Always the same attacker," he began, "the flayed man of Bolton. I've seen or heard them clash with men belonging to Houses Dustin, Glover, Karstark..." He counted them on the gloved fingers of his left hand. "People at the inns we had to stop in spoke of villages burned down, every human inhabitant raped, tortured or killed, because they wouldn't give them their daughters or their reserves." He paused, trying to remember as much as he could both from whatever he'd seen and from the history of the North; what was the older one's name again? he asked himself, fishing for a while until it finally dawned on him.

"The name Ramsay Snow is on many lips - and it's not followed by blessings. Lord Roose and his host seem to have gone with your brother, but his son might have different things in mind." Since they were alone up there, Nash decided to abstain from using the term 'bastard' around his guide; if they got into a confrontation of some sort, any outcome would likely be disastrous for him, even if he did somehow survive the direwolf. "That's all I know, lad; I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, but I had to bring the little shits here safely," or so he spoke, finally looking Jon Snow in the eye as he did so. Retrieving his skin of firewine, he took a small sip before setting it on a nearby bench, so they would both be able to reach it if they so wanted.

Word count: 615
Total word count thus far: 9288