Protector of the Realm

Chapter 2 - The Hunt for Jon Snow

After lying in a strange bed for several weeks, Jon Snow slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight beamed through the cracked window, and his blurry vision slowly became crisper and clearer. He saw a bloody wash cloth on the dresser next to a water basin and a jug. No other furnishings were in the small room, other than a wooden chair beside the bed. His Valieran steele sword was propped up against the wall, behind the door, but there was no sign of his heavy cloak or other clothing. He attempted to sit up but the pain forced him back down.

"Ugh," he grunted as he lay back down and placed a hand over his torso. Bandages. He felt the bandages under his hand. Then, the memories came flooding back to him -- images of his sworn brothers stabbing him to death, so they thought, as did he. "How did he get here?" he wondered. Then he heard that familiar howl off in the distance. "Ghost," he whispered, and he knew, that somehow, his loyal Dire Wolf must have drug him to safety. "But where?" he wondered. The items he could see in the room around him left evidence that someone had tended to his wounds. But who? He knew no one in any reasonable proximity to The Wall.

Then Jon heard voices. Familiar voices.

"We must search your quarters, ma'am. Please step aside," said a husky voice that Jon knew all to well. It was his fiercest competitor, the one he'd beaten in the last election for Lord Commander; and he had brought with him, several other men of the Night's Watch.

"I cannot sir!" Jon heard an elderly, high pitched female voice declare. "It is my daughter's quarters, and she is not decent at this hour. I cannot have an army of Night's Watchman tramping around her bed, scaring her half to death, and calling into question her good virtue!"

"Ma'am, we are on the hunt for a traitor. And any one who keeps a traitor, will be treated as a traitor," The Night's Watchman said with a grave and menacing tone.

"I know nothing of no traitors, sir." The woman squeaked. Jon heard a thud against his door. He heard no other sounds of a struggle. But he stiffened in his bed, nonetheless. He propped himself up on one arm and looked towards his sword, watching the door closely to see if the door knob turned.

Jon guessed that the thud was from the woman thrusting herself against the doorway to bar their entry. But stood, despite the pain, and despite the bursting of his wounds and grabbed that steel sword and held it for dear life, prepared to fight, if he had to.

"What is the meaning of this!" he heard a new voice bellow in anger. It was another male voice, an unfamiliar one.

Jon could not see what was transpiring behind that door. The Nights Watchman stared at the man who held an oddly shaped object, which he pointed at them. The elderly women could see the question in their eyes. With a more relaxed voice, full of confidence, she was all to happy to explain. "That is my husband's gun. He made it. It shoots metal bullets, and can kill each and every one of you, faster than any of you will have time to draw your swords." She explained with the dignity and high confidence of a queen in her castle, though this castle was nothing but a crumbling old farm house. She continued, "And if you dare disturb our daughter behind this door, he will use it."

"Daughter?!" Her husband blurted out. Jon could hear the question in his voice, and hoped the Nights Watchman hadn't noticed.

"Yes. Husband," the woman spoke quickly. "They accuse us of housing a traitor, and they threaten to treat us as traitors. And I've already said, there is no body but our daughter behind this door, and none of them better dare to enter that room lest they see her in her night clothes! You know that she still sleeps at this hour, though the sun has barely come up!"

Another bellowing demand burst out of her husband, "Get out of my house!" he demanded, while aiming the gun, more pointedly, "Or I'll use my gun like the old lady says I will!"

Jon heard a loud bang and nearly jumped out of his skin. The men were silent. The bang was followed by a cracking noise, then a thud, and Jon could smell smoke. Then, he heard one of the Nights Watchman blurt out, in wonder, "It blew a whole through the roof, . . . I can see the sky..."

It was just a warning shot. But it worked. Jon heard another familiar voice speak hurriedly, "On our way out, sir!" said the former, or perhaps, now current, Lord Commander,"But be sure to send us word, if you see or hear anything about a wounded Nights Watchman turning up in this area - especially, if you find him dead. He may be more dangerous dead, than alive."