The Provenance || Jon Snow | Game of Thrones

3.01

Sam painstakingly rushes through the endless whiteness instilled by the blizzard, his ears pained by the sudden dash of cold and screaming winds of monsters.  And yet, he can still hear himself panting, perhaps aided by the practical plug these winds pose on his ears, and his chest heaves up and down with ever a fright at the blank slate before him.  It's almost worse than darkness, this blizzard, for certainly the pitch black promises danger, while this white almost gives him a sense of calm.  He mustn't be misled by this concept, and keeps pushing forward in pursuit of his brothers.

    But it's not them he comes across, but a White Walker leading an attack of wights, its voice a craggly screech of ice shattering and a cry of an infant.  Sam's gloved hands raise to cover his ears, darting in the opposite direction before the monster can see him only to come across a collapsed bundle of black fur--a man.

    "Brother?" Sam calls, stepping slowly forward and around the form, expecting to see perhaps death but not what he comes across: a man beheaded and holding his own head.  Sam stumbles back in horror at the wight's blue eyes, only to whip around at the sound of crushed snow nearby, revealing a wight bearing down on him with an axe.  Sam ducks down in reaction, preparing for the worst death he's seen possible only to hear a sharp snarl as Ghost attacks the beast and rips the wight's legs off.

The Tarly stares shocked at the legless corpse then proceeding to crawl towards him, only for it to go up in flames at the sudden lighting of a torch.  And then there are legs...and a face as Jeor Mormont steps into rescue Sam, grabbing the boy's tunic and heaving him upward.  Around them, the blizzard lessens in intensity, but Sam's heart quakes in fear.

"Did you send the ravens?" the man shouts his question over the howling and screaming winds of both nature and monster.  Sam's eyes dart away in guilt only to be ripped back by the hand forcing his coat closer to Mormont's, "Tarly, look at me.  Did you send the ravens?"

Sam reluctantly shakes his head and Jeor growls loudly, "That was your job.  Your only job."  He releases Sam for the boy to sigh in relief, the Lord Commander then turning to the drastically reduced troops of the Night's Watch, eyes sharp with a plan and desperate for an escape.  "We need to get back to the Wall.  It's a long march.  We know what's out there, but we have to make it, have to warn them or before Winter's done, everyone you've ever known will be dead."

And so it was that the Westerosi man experienced the White Walkers for the first time in a thousand years.

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The wildling camp is not such a surprise to Jon Snow, with the housing being nothing more than tents of animal hide and people glaring fiercely as he passes, voices distinct in their hatred.  Although he might have been able to hide with a different cloak, Jon unluckily still finds himself wearing black in a camp full of anything but, like a sore thumb to the remainder and a true reminder of his identity.  And though he's trying to keep his eye out for danger, Jon Snow is startled to see a giant then walk in front of him, carrying a massive log as if it's a stick before shoving it into the ground with force.  He expects that his wide eyes and open mouth appear comical in that moment--but then again, giants weren't supposed to exist.

Another point for Gabrielle Baelish.

"First time you've seen a giant, Jon Snow?" Ygritte asks and Jon's pulled back into the present, not turning his eyes towards the woman but watching the giant in wonder.  "Well, don't stare too long.  They're shy.  When they stop being shy, they get angry.  And when they're angry, I've seen them pound a man straight into the ground like a hammer on a nail."