Ranging in the Wind

His cloak was pulled tight against him as he and his companion ventured out from the Wall on a ranging mission. The wind was whipping ice and snow every which way so that not even his thick cloak could keep it from getting at him. Josmyn sighed, pulling his cloak even tighter still though it did no good. He was still wet and cold and miserable. It wasn't that he minded being wet. It was the bone-biting cold that bothered him. It had bothered him since the moment he had crossed the threshold of Castle Black. Sand's dark eyes glanced upward, searching for a sun that even when it shone, provided no warmth. It was so unlike the sun of his youth in Dorne, where he'd spent days sweating within the lacquered scale-mail armor that he'd been given by his father. There, the enemy had been vicious strength-sapping heat. Now, though, all he had was freezing wind and sleet pelting him.

Of all the times he'd been sent on a ranging mission, this one was likely the worst days he'd ever been beyond the Wall. Glancing over his shoulder, Josmyn took in his companion on this mission, a knight of the Reach and a bastard like himself. While the fact he'd been knighted was far from impressive to Josmyn, the family he came from was. The Hightowers, though not a great house, were as wealthy as the Lannisters, an huge feat in its own right. While it wasn't as prestigious as being a Prince of Dorne, Flowers was much more preferable to Sand than some of his other brothers of the Night's Watch.

His gloved right hand clutched the grip of his spear. He wore a sword on his belt as the rest of the Night's Watch did but his true martial talent lay in wielding a spear. It had made up the lion's share of his training as it was the favored weapon in Dorne and it remained the one he used most often. Josmyn could and would wield a sword if the situation called for it, though. Trudging through the knee deep snow, the salty Dornishman found it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of him. His hearing was even more limited as the wind blew so strongly that it created a whistling sound that filled his ears. Why on earth had they been sent out on this day?

Squinting his eyes, Josmyn saw movement at the tree line, the shadowy form of a man retreating beneath the foliage. Of course. Now they would have to go and investigate it. With a quick hand signal to Flowers, Josmyn picked up his feet once again, moving faster than before in an effort to warm up his icy limbs with movement. Sand reached the treeline first, slowly moving under the slight shelter of the trees, his spear now grasped in both his hands. The only men daft enough to be out in weather like this, besides men of the Night's Watch, were wildings. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Ser Florien was only a few feet behind him. Giving the knight a quick glance, he nodded before moving forward once again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement again, a wilding brandishing a sword of his own, charging for them. He reacted instantly, thrusting his sword into the man's leather covered gut, the head of the spear penetrating the flesh with ease because of the force Josmyn put behind the weapon. However, the next attacker he only heard, a man jumping down from a tree, the jangling of mail giving him away. The Bastard Prince whipped his head around to see the man descending from the branches as he dropped his spear and reached to unsheath his own sword. His reflexes were fast, though, he knew they would not be fast enough.

(Word Count: 651)

Ser Florien Flowers was a knight of the south which meant he was far from accustomed to the cold winds of the north but his companion, a bastard from House Martell of Dorne, was probably the only brother of the Night's Watch that hated being beyond the Wall more than he did. Dorne was the warmest of all the Seven Kingdoms and the change in climate, Florien had been told, had almost killed his fellow ranger when he had first arrived to take the black. He didn't know Josmyn Sand very well but, from what he had heard, he was not a very pleasant man and seemed to think he was better than all of the other men of the Night's Watch because he was from a great and noble house, he probably even considered himself a prince of Dorne despite being nothing but a bastard like Florien, but this was only what he had been told by others and he knew that it would be wiser to form an opinion of Josmyn only after he had gotten to know him better. A ranging mission together was usually a good way to get to know someone but Florien was not in the mood for exchanging pleasantries on such a cold day and Josmyn didn't seem to care for conversation either. Sometimes it was better that way, many rangers had attracted wildlings by talking too loudly.

The bastard knight rode behind the bastard prince on their ranging into what people called the haunted forest, Florien did not believe in ghosts but he understood why his brothers considered the forest a strange place but lately things had been different, rumour had it that many of the wildlings that often attacked parties of rangers had gone to join Mance Rayder, a former of man of the Night's Watch that had proclaimed himself King Beyond the Wall. It was always dark no matter what time of day it was and you could never tell who or what might be watching you from the trees. Speaking of being watched from the trees it appeared that Josmyn had spotted something and had signalled to Florien before making his way towards the tree line, this prompted the knight to draw his sword and follow his fellow ranger towards whatever it was he may have seen in the shadows. A wildling came out of nowhere, armed with a sword, and charged at Josmyn but was killed because he was unable to get by the Dornishman's spear and ended up with the head of it embedded in the flesh of his stomach. For a second it seemed as though the danger had passed them but then a second wildling, clad in chain mail and weilding a sword, dropped from a tree.

Florien had seen enough battles in his days to know that, despite quickly dropping his spear, Josmyn was not going to be able to draw his sword his quickly enough to defend himself from the wildling. With this in mind the knight threw himself forward, sword in hand, and collided with the wildling just in time to stop him from killing his fellow bastard and ranger. With his enemy stumbling, and probably untrained and inexperienced in combat, Florien easily capable to cleave one of the mans of the arms off which was unneccesarily cruel considering he could just as easily have taken off his head and put an end to his sorry existence but the wildling would not have shown Josmyn mercy had been alone with no one to save his life. With his enemy laying in the snow, bleeding heavily, Florien sheated his sword and turned to face the man whose life he had just the pleasure of saving.

"You really ought to be weary of a trap next time. Had I not been here to save you, Josmyn, it would be you laying in the snow and not our wildling friend."

Blood thundered in his ears and for a split second, Josmyn was certain that he was about to meet his death at the end of the frosty blade of a wilding in a gods forsaken land of ice and snow. However, in an instant, his companion, the bastard of Hightower, threw himself at the wilding falling from the tree. Within a flash, the skirmish was over, two wildings lay in the snow. Crimson blood spilled into the crisp white of the snow, the contrast of the two making it clear just how much bleeding had been done that day and yet, it was not even over yet. Still, it was unlikely they would encounter more of the wildlings this close to the Wall. Likely, this had been a small scouting party, much like Flowers and himself. After all, in a war, both parties liked to be kept informed of the opposition's movement.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Josmyn nodded to his fellow ranger. This was the man who had just saved his life, a man whom Josmyn was now indebted to, a man who was now his equal. While technically, nothing about their statuses had changed, Josmyn now saw the knight before him in an entirely different light.

Offering a smile to Florien, Josmyn spoke, keeping his voice low, “You saved my life and for that I will be ever grateful. Thank you, ser.” And meant that he did. From that moment on, Josmyn would always be there to watch Florien's back or whatever it was that he needed. Josmyn was loyal to those who deserved it and that most certainly meant someone that had kept a sword from being buried in the meat of his skull.

He bent to pick up his spear, ripping it from the gut of the fallen man. His eyes scanned the forest, looking for any other signs of movement. It seemed for the moment things were quite.
“As for the ambush, well, who would have expected a wildling a tree? How the hell did he even manage to climb the thing with his mail and the fact that it's colder than it has a right to be?” Josmyn huffed. He was embarrassed, for certain, that he'd left himself so vulnerable for an attack. It was disgraceful, but then again, his kin, the Dornishmen were known for their hotheadedness and not thinking things through. It was one of their greatest flaws.

A strong gust of wind swept between the trees and fluttered his cloak, causing a growl to bubble up from his throat. Already, the heat that his muscles had generated in their exertion was dissipating and the chill that was ever present began to settle over him. How depressing. Just once, he wanted to be truly warm, like he had been in Dorne. He longed for sand underneath his boots instead of crunching ice and snow.
“Well, they are likely all we are going to find out in this blasted weather. What do you say we head back to the blasted Wall and try to find some warmth?” Josmyn asked, now willing to hear his fellow ranger out, instead of ordering him about as he might have once done.

Given the things that he heard about Josmyn Sand constantly looking down on people, Florien was surprised at how polite man was being to him although that provably stemmed from the fact he had just saved his life. The bastard prince of Dorne was, apparently, eternally grateful to the knight but that did not mean much at the Wall, where the men where supposed to be brothers and equals even they did not see it that way, but Florien felt that it was a good thing to have saved Josmyn's life because there was always the chance that, one day, he would need his fellow ranger to save him from danger. After killing the wildling Florien's blood was pumping and he felt slightly warmer but, even so, it was still snowing, the cold wind was still blowing and he was still absolutely freezing. The knight wished he could return south but if he did so he would be considered an oath break and a deserter which would lead to his execution should he be captured and death was not something Florien wanted to experience any time soon which was why he had taken the black in the first place.

"If it makes you feel any better about things," Florien could tell that Josmyn was slightly embarrassed about having fallen into the wildlings trap but everyone made mistakes every now and then, "I wouldn't have expected the bastard to be hiding in a tree either, I knew there would be more than one as they would never be this close to the Wall alone but I would never have thought one of them would be smart enough to climb up there."

The wildling that had dropped from the tree and subsequently lost his arm had finally stopped moving. Florien had made quite a mess when he had fatally the wounded the man to save his new found friend and the previously crisp, white, snow was now stained red with blood. Josmyn too had spilled quite a lot of his enemie's blood when he had speared him in the gut but a large amount of blood was never a good thing for two rangers beyond the Wall as wild animals could easily pick up on the scent of it and be drawn to the scene. The combination of this thought and the cold weather meant that when Josmyn mentioned returning to the wall Florien was inclined to agree with him, he was right when he said they weren't likely to find anything else due to the bad weather and it really wasn't worth trudging through the snow for no reason what so ever. Sometimes the knight truly hated being a man of the Night's Watch, well he hated it most of them time really, but todays ranging had been a particularly bad one even if it had turned out be quite short in comparison to some of the others he had been on. The weather wasn't on their side, although it rarely was in the north.

"It won't be much warmer back at the Wall but you're right, we might as well head back. As much as I hate Castle Black we're currently in one of the few places that I would consider worse," Florien said, he hated the walk from the haunted forest back to the Wall because even though it wasn't very long the snow that lay thick upon the ground served to make it a very tiring journey, "I'd give anything to be back in the south, Josmyn, with the heat of the sun upon my face and a cup of cold wine in my hand. It's the simple things that you miss most."

While Josmyn was a great many things and had earned his reputation as an arse, the one thing he valued over everything was his life. If he was still alive, that meant that he could still seek revenge on the ones that had landed him in this wasteland of endless cold and find a way to leave the blasted Wall once and for all. If he died, they got exactly what they wanted and Josmyn was not in the practice of giving people what they wanted, not if they had wronged him. And wronged him, they had. But now was not the time for that. Instead, he was going to focus on the happy fact that he was still alive. It was much healthy for him, at least at the moment.

He snorted derisively when Florien did his best to make excuses for him. The man was kind but still, it was a stupid thing Josmyn had done, rushing in without at least giving a look to the trees. Awareness had been one of the many things that his teachers had stressed, awareness under the most unpleasant conditions. Of course, in Dorne, those conditions were predicated on sunburn and heat exhaustion. Josmyn could more easily deal with those simply by staying hydrated. There was no such simple fix for the windburn caused by frozen water speeding over his skin and leaving small, painful rips in the flesh of his face.

As Florien agreed that it would be best to head back to the Wall, Josmyn gave a quick nod of agreement, turning back to the giant block of ice that was the Wall. How joyous. Now he would have to slog back to Castle Black, across the cold expanse of ground that he’d just covered, not long ago. By no means was Josmyn fond of the haunted forest but it did offer some slight coverage from the cutting wind. Not much but some.

The moment Florien mentioned being in the South with the warm sun on his face, Josmyn had to stop and reminisce for few short moments. Chilled ice wine in his goblet as he reclined in the sun with his cousins at the Water Gardens. There was literally nothing he would not give to be back there and away from this place. It seems not only had he had his life saved but that he had also found a kindred spirit. Idly, he wondered what circumstances had led a knight like Florien to the Wall. It had to be some dispute of honor or perhaps something else. Maybe in time, the man would tell his tale. However, that was one part of like Josmyn had learned not to pry into. The deeds that got men sent to the Wall were rarely things that they wished to speak on in any great detail.

“Aye, to be in the South again is something I’d kill for. In Dorne, we had the most beautiful Water Gardens built solely for relaxing and enjoying cold wine. I’d do anything to get back there,” the Bastard Prince lamented, wiping the blood from the head of his spear on the trunk of a tree. He leaned the spear against the tree for a moment as he secured his sword in its scabbard. Thinking about the Water Gardens was all well and good, but it was doing them little good and the longer they stood about talking was longer they were exposed to the direct cold. At least Castle Black offered some shelter. It was not great, by any stretch, but it was better than being out in a storm.

Florien turned from the bodies of the two wildlings and began the walk back to Castle Black, as much as he wanted to return to the south he knew that returning to his "home" at the wall, eating some hot stew and lighting a fire in his chambers would be as close he would get unless he given a recruiting mission at some point, he doubted this as he was a ranger and they were usually sent north of the Wall rather than south of it because they where needed to protect the Seven Kingdoms from wildlings and anything else that could possibly invade the realm. Florien liked to think of all of the good things rather than the bad whenever he had to do something undesirable, such as walking from the haunted forest back to the Wall through the thick snow and cold win, but it was often impossible to stop the negative thoughts from slipping in there such as the unlikely of ever being able to the return to the Reach, to Oldtown and to his mother and father. At least now Florien had a friend, Josmyn, that wanted to return to his true home just as much as he did, maybe together they could think of some way in which they could leave the Night's Watch without being considered deserters by every man and woman in the Seven Kingdoms.

Deserters from the Night's Watch where often considered the most dangerous and desperate men in the Seven Kingdoms because the moment they left the Wall their death was guaranteed if they where ever captured and, thus, they would do anything to avoid being arrested and executed for breaking their vows. Sometimes leaving the Wall in the dead of night was extremely tempting but Florien always talked himself out of because, like any reasonable man, he did want to die any time soon. Josmyn had gone as far as saying he would kill to be able to return to his home and Dorne, he wasn't sure how his fellow bastard and ranger felt about his family but something made Florien believe that he hated certain members of House Martell. Florien did not know how he had ended up coming to the Wall but the temptation to ask was a strong one, sharing stories of their pasts was one way in which they could pass the time on the walk back to Castle Black, story telling was one of the most interesting things in Florien's mind as not only where stories interesting but they would good for learning more about a person.

The knight did not know if Josmyn would be comfortable with sharing his story but others people's feelings where things that Florien did not often consider, he could not care less about how he made other people feel as long as he got something out of it and in this case he would get some entertaining for the rest of the journey back the Wall, if Josmyn did not want to talk about his past then Florien would simply apologise and walk the rest of the way in silence but he would give him an incentive to tell his tale.

"So, Josmyn," Florien began, "I know a little bit about your background. I know that you're a prince's bastard from Dorne but what I really want to know is how you ended up coming to the Wall, taking the black and becoming a brother of the Night's Watch. You don't need to tell me but if you share your story with me, you can hear mine and I promise you it's an interesting one."

Florien's question stopped him in his tracks. No one at the Wall have ever outright asked him how he had come to be there. A few people had tried to pry and poke to satisfy their own curiosity but no one had ever truly pressed the issue. Of course, that might have had something to do with the vicious responses he gave to them whenever someone did try to find out about his past. Most were content to gossip about him, about the Bastard Prince of Dorne as soon called him. Instead of denying the name, he had embraced it. After all, it seems that was all the gods saw fit to make him. Whether he stayed just that, well, that was a different matter entirely.

As he thought of the reason he had come to wear the black, a growl bubbled up, unbidden, at the thought of his family. For so long he had been nothing but proud to be a member of House Martell but they had betrayed him, forced him away from his home all for simply wanting to bear the same name as his father and kin. He would see to it that they paid for their crimes against him and that they paid dearly.

Clearing his throat, Josmyn fell in step with Florien, speaking lowly to avoid any undue attention that might fall on them.
“Well, you have the basics of my story. I was born the son of Prince Oberyn Martell and Lady Tarysia of House Dayne of High Hermitage. My mother had loved my father dearly but she was but one of his many paramours,” that truth had been hard to stomach though he'd had to as a boy of ten when he came to live with his father in Sunspear and met his various half sisters. His mother had never been special to his father but how she had worshiped him. Josmyn remembered his mother, Lady Tarysia, begging for Prince Oberyn to visit as she was ill. In feverish sweats, she'd call for him, for her love, she named him.

Thinking about his mother nearly brought tears to his eyes but he bit the inside of his cheek to stop them. He sighed, continuing, “I was often brought to family events as I am the only son my father has ever managed to produce. I have a veritable slew of sisters, though. At age 10, I went to live in Sunspear with the Martells and I was treated just as they were, only I did not bear the name.”

His dark eyes met Florien's, a sad smile gracing his lips, “I'm sure you know all about that. Having to watch as others of your family get to bear a name that should by rights be yours as well. After all, it is not our fault that our parents gave into their lusts. We are punished for their misdeeds.” As he spoke, Sand could not keep the anger and bitterness that he felt from seeping into his words.

“Asking for that name is what brought me to the Wall. When I became a man, I asked my father to legitimize me. The first time, he ignored me. The second time I asked, he beat me to the point where I thought I would die. I never raised a hand to him. The third time,” he chuckled at his own stubbornness, “the third time, my father brought me in front of my uncle, Prince Doran. He declared that if I asked again, I would choose either to be executed or to take the black.”

A genuine smiled crossed Josmyn's face this time as he continued, “I don't know why it was such a big deal. I would not have inherited anything but what my father chose to give me in his will. I would not have become heir to anything. I simply would have had my family's name. That's all I wanted but they would not even give me that.”

He drew in a deep breath, the cold air causing his lungs to ache as he did. Josmyn stopped for a moment, before taking another step and concluding his story, “On my eighteenth name day, I asked again for my father's name and a day later I was on a boat bound for the Wall. When I got here, the drastic change in weather nearly led to my death. I took my Vows and I have not spoken to any of my family since I stepped into Eastwatch.”
Hatred burned deeply within him as he finished the story, so much so that he barely noticed the cold. It had been a long time since he had gone over the whole story of the way he had come to be a ranger of the Night's Watch, even to himself.

Casting a glance over to Florien, Josmyn looked at the man carefully then asked, “What about you? How did a knight such as you come to this frozen hell?”

Florien listened intently to Josmyn's story, he was genuinely interested in how his brother of the Night's Watch had come to the Wall. It seemed as though his life had been reasonably but, at the same time, both unfair and sad. Depsite having been raised in the same enviroment as the trueborn members of House Martell he had been denied the honour of their name even though it would have made little difference to his life as he he said. In Florien's eyes Josmyn had done no wrong and he could not see why his own family had been so cruel to him, there had been no reason to send to him the Wall, he had simply asked to be legitimized which was not a crime and would have caused anyone any trouble. Florien knew how it felt to be denied a name although his life had been quite different to Josmyn's, he had made one stupid mistake that had cost him the life he had loved, but they had both ended up in exactly the same situation and location. Listening to his friend's story had made the majority of the walk back to the Wall pass fairly quickly and the short journey would be concluded with Florien's own story.

"How did a knight like me end up in a place like this," he said, "this is a tale you should enjoy, I suppose."

"My father was Lord Leyton Hightower, one of the richest men in all of the Seven Kingdoms, but my mother was a serving girl in her father's tavern which effectively meant I had no social standing in Oldtown. Everyone knew who my father was and they didn't treat me badly, to be sure, but I always wondered why I was not able to go and live with my father in his great castle but I soon learned my place and grew content to spend my life working in a tavern... but when I matured into a young I had yearning for adventure," Florien said, summarising the early and boring portion of his story in but a few words, the rest of his tale was much more interesting.

"Shortly after my sixteenth name I went off to war. King Robert was leading his armies to the Iron Island's to put down Balon Greyjoy's rebellion and, in all honesty, I wanted to gain my father's love and respect by winning some honour in battle and my plan was a great success for the most part. I was part of the force that landed on Pyke, led by the king himself, and my abilities with a sword allowed me to easily cut down a dozen or so ironborn rebels which resulted in my knighthood. I was a hero of sorts when I returned to Oldtown, everyone viewed me in a different light now that I was an anointed knight of the realm, my father was one of those people and I was finally invited to his castle. He acknowledged me as his son and my life was almost perfect for the next few years. I was a respected warrior, my father honoured me with a place in his personal guard and gave my own chambers in his castle. I also represented him at several tourneys, his trueborn children were not accomplished warriors."

"My mother, now the owener of the tavern in Oldtown which had become populat with both lords and knights, was raped by some young lordling that seemed to think he was untouchable. I was summoned to the scene and found my beloved mother, the woman that brought me into world, beaten to a bloody pulp within her own establishment... I have never been more angry in my life. I hunted the bastard down, I killed both of his guardsmen and, even though he begged me spare his life, I killed him in front of a hundred witnesses outside of the great citadel. I was arrested by the city guard, I went with them willingly, and was brought before my father after spending a few hours in a cell. Lord Leyton had grown to love me over the years, I'm sure, and in time I think I could have been legitimized but he was a man of great honour and had to uphold the king's justice. I was given the choice of been executed on the orders of my own father or taking the black. That is how I ended up here."

By the time Florien had finished his tale, the two rangers had reached the Wall.

Josmyn was sincerely grateful that Florien asked no questions about him. Indeed, Sand didn't think that he could handle being prodded about the kind of life he'd led during his time in Sunspear. Talking about it generic terms was not so bad but getting into details, that was where Josmyn became even more acutely aware of what he had lost. Even now, after years had past, Sand still had no more insight into why his father and uncle had acted like they did.

Listening to his “brother” of the Night's Watch, Josmyn was impressed. This was a man that had served his kingdom and lord well and yet they could not overlook a single incident of rage done on behalf of a mother? For seeking revenge against his mother's rapist, Ser Florien had been sent to the Wall? Truly, there was more injustice in the world than just what had been done to him. One could argue that Florien should have been more subtle in his attack on the offensive lordling but in that situation, who could blame him for wanting blood? However, much like Florien had made no comment on his story about ending up on the Wall, Sand offered no response beyond a solemn nod and a sympathetic smile. Truly, neither of them deserved to be where they were. How cruel the Seven could be at times.

Also, the fact that Florien was a son of Lord Hightower himself was interesting. Josmyn had thought that he was the son of a brother or perhaps his eldest son. While this did not make his as good as Dornish royalty, the fact that he was the son of a lord who's wealth rivaled that of the Lannisters, well, that meant that he was truly no one to be trifled with and could potentially make a solid ally if they could ever find away to safely leave this place.

Looking up at the Wall, Josmyn sighed and held his hand out to Florien.
“Today was an honor for me, getting to know you, Ser Florien. I know you may think you were just doing your duty when you saved me, but I promise I will repay you for your efforts in some way. If there is ever anything that you have need of, come to me and I'll do anything and everything to make sure you get it,” the Dornishman swore. And meant it he did. He'd left Dorne with a nice sack of golden dragons and he'd spent precious few of them in his time on the Wall meaning that he could readily acquire extra gear and armor if his friend needed it. For the most part, he'd saved the coins for whatever revenge plot he'd manage to come up with though if the knight that saved his life wanted something special, Josmyn could easily spare the money.

Sighing again, Sand signaled the guard to open the gates and let them in. The creaking of metal could be heard as they waited to be admitted to Castle Black. It was not long, though, before they were within the castle walls and at least now, they were sheltered from the wind. Lowering his hood, Sand tossed what precipitation had accumulated on his head and shoulders to the ground.

“Guess we need to go report in, eh?” he asked, knowing that the First Ranger would be waiting to hear about the two wildlings they've encountered and dealt with. And now, other men of the Night's Watch would know to beware of falling wildlings. Just thinking that sentence was odd but yet it had happened and might again, with more disastrous results unless the others were made to be aware of the latest wildling trickery.