Ursa Major | Tormund Giantsbane

Chapter 12

Hardhome was in view.

"Almost there," said Tormund from beside her, all their companions as tired as they were after such a long trip. It'd been a long time since Thyrsa had been on a boat of any kind, and it almost made her sick. "Bet those two wiggling dots right there are my girls."

"Lower the anchor!" called one of the men. "Start loading the ships!"

Tormund was the first to hop into the boat, waving at the two dots, who seemed to wave back. Thyrsa climbed down after him, followed by Jon and most of their companions; many of Stannis's men had to stay behind to man the load of ships.

Three row boats filled with men made for Hardhome, a sweet little village right by the water. It reminded Thyrsa of Last Hearth and of the things she'd heard about Bear Island. Icy water that children splashed in. It was as if Hardhome was the place where House Umber's way of living and House Mormont's united.

Two wildlings met them as they docked, pulling the boat far onto the soil to keep it from drifting back in. Jon stepped off first, then Tormund, then Thyrsa, who looked around in wonder, ignoring the glares the wildlings cast her.

Now they were the foreigners. But why should they be?

"You trust me, Jon Snow?" muttered Tormund as Jon stared uncertainly at the wildlings.

"Does that make me a fool?"

He cocked his head. "We're fools together now. Both of you, stay with me." He walked ahead, kneeling down as the two little dots, now visibly a girl of seven and a girl of five with fiery red hair who barreled into him, squealing and demanding to be picked up.

"Papa, you're back!" squealed the one with Tormund's blue eyes, who Thyrsa knew to be Munda.

"We missed you!" cried Maja, eyes dark and hair a tad less red than her sister's, though much longer.

"And I missed you both," he said, giving them each a big kiss on the forehead. "Now, show me where is the Lord of Bones?"

Maja and Munda each took his hands, starting to run and lead him to where a man with a skull mask approached with a group of men behind him.

"Lord of Bones," said Tormund. "Been a long time."

"Last time I saw you, the little crow was your prisoner," said the Lord of Bones distastefully. "The other way around, now. What happened?"

Tormund remained serious. "War."

"War. You call that a war? The greatest army the North has ever seen, cut to pieces by some southern King."

"We should gather the elders," said Tormund, trying to move on from this subject. "Find somewhere quiet to talk."

The Lord of Bones wasn't in agreement. "You don't give the orders here."

"I'm not giving an order."

"Why aren't you in chains?"

"Because he's not my prisoner," said Jon.

The Lord of Bones cocked his head. "No? What is he?"

"We're allies."

The other man sneered, "You fucking traitor." The wildlings began to move away, the two girls rushing off to join a small flock of children. "You fight for the crows now?"

Tormund got closer, leaning down to sneer in his face, "I don't fight for the crows."

"We're not here to fight," said Jon. "We're here to talk."

"Is that right?" taunted the Lord of Bones. Thyrsa couldn't stand to hear him talk. "You and the pretty crow do a lot of talking, Tormund?" He tapped his staff into Tormund's chest roughly. He nodded to Jon, then Thyrsa. "You fuck them, too? I bet when you're done talking, you get down on your knees and suck his cock–"