The King of Winters

Chapter-29

Samwell

The courtyard rang to the song of swords. If there was one song that Samwell Tarly hated more than anything is that the song of swords and the clang of swords and steel. It frightened him and shook him to the core. 

Under the fur-trimmed surcoat, sweat trickled icily down Sam's chest even though he had not even entered the spar. They had not even given the time for him to rest or to even change his clothes and Sam walked clumsily to the yard in his finest clothes, A fur-trimmed surcoat of green velvet with the striding huntsman of House Tarly worked in scarlet thread upon the breast. Two of the old recruits were hacking at each other. Looking at them alone made Sam tremble from head to heel. Yet he still walked forth to join them in the yard where Castle Black's knight master was training the other recruits who had arrived here before him. 

Sam himself was the last one to reach Castle Black but for him, the long journey from Horn Hill to the Wall was a quick one. His father's men wasted no time as they brought him to Castle Black. Once they brought him in they left him in the new place all on his own and spurred their horses back eager to return home. And here he was in his new home, a place he never knew, a place where he knows no one and that frightened him even more. 

The recruits were hacking and slashing at each other in the yard as he neared them. Will they ask me to do that as well? Sam thought. He will definitely put down his sword and cry the next moment they put him against someone. The recruits broke off as the one facing him saw him approaching them. He opened his visor and turned to the one he was sparring against. "Would you look at that, Edd?" 

The other one turned to look at him and the other recruits fell in beside them. Sam brought himself in front of them afraid of what they might say about him. His breath was heavy in his chest, result of the quick walk to the yard. "I am Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill," he managed to say. "I've come to take the black." 

"Come to take the black pudding," one of the recruits said. The other recruits laughed at that. 

"Enough!" The master at arms had a voice with an edge like Valyrian steel. He strode toward him, crisp black leathers whispering faintly as he moved. He was a compact man of fifty years, spare and hard, with grey in his black hair and eyes like chips of onyx. He looked him up and down and said, "It would seem they have run short of poachers and thieves down south. Now they send us pigs to man the Wall. Is fur and velvet your notion of armor, my Lord of Ham?"

"I have brought my own armor," Sam replied, voice shaking.

"Go dress in your armor then, Ser Piggy," the master-at-arms of Castle Black said. "That would keep off the swords from slicing off your meat." 

Breathless Sam hurried back to the room where he had kept his clothes and other things. He took his armor to the Master-at-arms; a padded doublet, boiled leather, mail and plate and helm. Sam took his shield as well, a great wood-and-leather shield blazoned with the striding huntsman.

When the knight saw his colored clothing he chuckled. "The Wall is no place for your colored finery, Ser Piggy. You shall have all of it dyed black. For now get to the armory and get a new set of armor."

Afraid of the man Sam hurried away to the armory, half walking and half running. 

The armorer inspected at his armor when he showed it to him. "That is a fine armor you've got there," the armorer said. "But the colors should have to go out. Leave it here, you shall have it once I dye it black." 

Sam placed his armor on the table. He had no problem in leaving the armor and shield. He would've gladly given them away since it was of no use to him or rather he was of no use to an armor as his father had liked to tell him.