Kapitel 4: Chapter 4

Clark reached the Twins four days later. He had considered continuing onto the Kingsroad, forgetting Lord Reed and bypassing the weasley motherfuckers who owned the bridge. Howland Reed may not even know about his predicament.

He spent an hour deliberating before finally choosing the Green Fork. He knew that delaying his arrival in Winterfell was dumb in some regards. If Ned Stark believed him, he could use every second of time to prepare the North. On the other hand, it was only a few months out of his way and he felt that he had to see Howland Reed.

Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to pass by the Twins and piss on it. He spent the early morning observing the two towers from the river. He sat on the riverbank, letting his bare feet cool in the running water. He was also doing his best to shave with the straight razor. He mostly did a competent job but it was still the hardest part of his medieval morning beauty routine. An electric razor had spoiled him quite a bit.

He laughed at the idea of his beauty. He didn't think himself too gullible when it came to flattery, but Kerry, Sara and the drunken soldier all calling him pretty gave him some thought. He looked back over his near two weeks in this world and he had received a few looks. He dismissed them, thinking he just gave out a strange modern energy. However, he did notice a few lingering looks from other tavern girls and farmer women, from whom he'd ask for a cup of water. Just a few stares though. Nothing ridiculous.

He wondered whether the fact that he had showered daily throughout his whole life figured into this reaction. He wasn't bad looking in his previous life but he didn't turn heads. Maybe just looking healthy was enough in this world. Clear skin and steady protein.

With that he put away the razor, stood up and dressed, looking onward toward the Twins. Speaking of looking beautiful and healthy, he wondered if the Freys would be as ugly as they were in the show and the books.

He found out shortly that the answer was yes. At least the three guards at the gate were. Clark took the same steeling breath he took before approaching anyone in this world and walked up.

"Hold it!" said the left guard. He picked up his spear and stepped forward. The other two remained sitting, their mugs before them. The guard stopped in front of Clark, thankfully not too close, looking him up and down.

"What business have you?"

Clark shifted his pack. "Traveler. Heard there was a bridge here."

The guard's eyes narrowed. "Aye, there's a bridge. Why you wanna cross it?"

Clark shrugged. "To get to the other side."

A tense silence fell. The other guards looked up, their attention on the newcomer. Clark winced internally. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to be a smart ass.

The guard smiled. Clark swore he could smell his breath from where he was standing.

"There's a fee for this bridge, you know. Crossing don't come free."

Clark gave a polite smile. More to cover how much he wanted to punch this asshole.

"How much is the fee?"

"Three stags."

Clark looked to the other two. They were smiling too.

"One for each of you, I presume?" he asked, bringing his eyes back to the guard. "Does Lord Walder know you're overcharging the bridge fee? Skimming off the extras?"

That was a guess and judging by the look of anger on the guard's face, it was a correct one. He didn't raise his voice though. His tone just became more slimy.

"You watch yourself, pretty lad. None of your business where the fee goes. Only thing you've to worry about is paying. Now, you gonna give us six stags? Or you gonna fuck off?"

Okay, one more gross angry man thinks I'm pretty. Maybe I should accept it and be the gorgeous stranger, riding shirtless to Winterfell, showing off the glorious back hair for all to see.

He stopped himself from diving too much into that nonsense. The guard was still waiting for his answer.

"Double the fee?" Clark asked. "What for?"

"For being a smart cunt. Smart cunts pay double and you're lucky that's all I charge. Now either pay or fuck off."

Clark kept his voice as light as he could.

"I don't have six or three silver stags."

The guard shrugged. "Well, then I guess you fuck off."

If Clark was being honest, this wasn't the worst case scenario. He wouldn't give any coin to House Frey and he could swim across, out of sight of the Twins. However the guard's smugness made him stay a few extra seconds. He wanted to get the last word in, somehow get across. However he knew that in this world, sometimes he was just going to have eat shit to live another day.

That was until he heard a horn blast behind him. He turned to see a host coming toward them. And by host, he meant a mangy collection of a dozen soldiers following a man on a horse. The man was a sickly looking individual, but he still rode a horse decently. The man next to him carried a banner. A banner with the Twins on it…

Clark turned to the guard, who was watching the host approach. They were about a thousand yards off, coming up the river bank.

"I'm guessing that's a Frey coming now? One of Walder's brood?" Clark asked.

"Piss off!" said the guard, his smile replaced by a snarl.

"You know, I should. It's a lovely stroll down to the river. Think I'll walk down and meet Walder's son." He kept an eye on the guards and didn't turn though. "I heard things about this family. Lots of sons wandering through. None of them too special. Each wanting the lordship when Walder croaks. Is that man approaching us a son desperate for his father's approval?"

The other guards came forth. Their backup didn't stop the other guard from paling.

"I think the man approaching would be delighted to inform his lord father of the riches from the crossing fees. Six silver stags for one poor bastard. Imagine what he could have in his coffers by now. If only it wasn't stolen by sneaky tolltakers."

The host was eight hundred yards away now. The guard turned to him, his face red with anger.

"I could kill you before you say one word."

Clark held his gaze. "You can try. You'd make a mess. Or you could just let me through. With the extra money you've collected for yourselves, I'm sure you can cover pretty little me."

Seven hundred yards now.

Now Clark threw caution to the wind. "If you don't let me through with no charge in the next ten seconds, I start for the approaching lord and I tell him everything. I want to cross before him. I don't trust you to let me enter after he disappears behind the walls."

The guard's eyes went back and forth between Clark and the approaching company, alternating between anger and fear. Clark hitched his rucksack.

"I'm walking in five, four, three…"

"All right! All right! Gods damn you, all right!"

The guard stood breathing. It seemed to take all his self-control not to hit the stranger before him. Clark let him breathe, but only for a couple of seconds.

"The gate?" he asked lightly.

The guard turned to the man behind him on his right. "Tubs! Open the fucking door!"

Tubs hesitated.

"Just go!"

With that, Tubs ran to the side of the gate, leaving his spear behind, and opening a small door. They obviously didn't open the big gate for single travelers.

"Come on," said the main guard. He made to walk with Clark, but Clark stepped back.

"I think you should keep a safe distance," he said. The guard glared, but stayed put. Clark walked to the door, where Tubs was waiting, careful to keep an eye on the other two, with their hands on their spears. He reached the door.

"It'd be nice if he'd escort me across," he called, nodding to Tubs. "Make sure I'm let through the other side."

Tubs look to the leader, who nodded. Tubs gave a Clark a wide-eyed look before stepping through. Clark was about to follow when he heard the leader speak.

"If I see you again, here or anywhere else, I'll kill you on sight. I won't forget your face." His eyes were serious.

Clark gave him only the briefest of consideration. The host was three hundred yards away by now.

"I should hope not. It's a pretty face. Have a nice day."

With that, he walked through the gate door where Tubs was waiting on the other side. Clark started walking quickly, Tubs keeping pace with him. He looked at the two towers as he walked. It was a formidable castle and interesting to look at. If not for the Freys, it could be…well, anything more pleasant. He could hear plenty of people inside the two structures. Which made sense. Walder was a prolific fucker in any case, churning out more Freys than there should be. He laughed at the thought of Roslin Frey and how the audience reacted to her appearance. How ugly does your family have to be when people are shocked to discover that you sired someone pretty?

Tubs and Clark reached the other gate. Tubs knocked on the door, which was opened by a small guard. He stared at them.

"The hell you doing here?" he asked.

Tubs pointed to Clark. "He's coming through."

The small guard looked to Clark then back to Tubs. "Why'd you come then?"

Tubs looked struck dumb. He opened his mouth and closed it.

"I…he…um…" he mumbled.

"The big fella wanted him to bring back some wine," said Clark. The small guard looked to him. "He spilled a pitcher and they sent him to fetch some more, wondered if you'd spare some. Can I pass? I've paid the fee already."

He hoped that last part didn't sound too urgent. But the gate on the other side was beginning to rise and he didn't want to meet any Frey lords this time around. The small guard rolled his eyes and stood aside.

"All right, all right, go," he said. Clark stepped through, nodding to the other guards who were holding their own cups.

Christ, what a gig.

"And you, you fat fuck," he heard the small guard said to Tubs, "if you want wine, don't spill what you got and go crying for ours. Now piss off!"

Clark turned to see Tubs turn red with angry embarrassment before the door shut on his face. The guard walked past Clark back to the other guards and to his own cup. He sat down and drank.

Taking a few cautious steps back, Clark watched the new guards for any reaction but they completely ignored him as they went back to their own conversation. He turned and walked along the castle wall, eventually leaving the Twins entirely to walk along the riverbank.

It took Clark quite a bit not to start running. He had no idea what possessed him back there. Was he that angry with the Freys for a fictional massacre? For being gross? For the one guard being a jerk?

As elated as he was for getting out of there and for the thrill of what happened, he was also angry with himself. That was so unnecessary. He could have died for his remarks. Easily. And no one would have cared. He would have been buried just like his previous possessions and probably without as much care. He was lucky they didn't just drop him into the river like Catelyn…

He stopped, taking a big drink out of the waterskin. He was shaking though and a little bit of it went onto his shirt.

"Ah shit," he cursed. He couldn't afford to waste clean water.

Okay, Clark. Along with no blind charity and no casually fucking the tavern wenchs, let's add don't provoke any ratbags who will actually follow through on their threats to kill you. Sound good? Great!

Clark rubbed his temples, willing himself to calm. Mom's breathing exercise was also employed here. In and hold…then out on a count. It worked as usual. Soon he found himself walking along the riverbank, calm as the river flowing besides him.

There was an aspect of this that he kept thinking about. It involved that night at the inn when he avoided the hits from the soldiers and guided them into falling over each other. He did that on instinct and he had no idea where that came from. Now he'd been in a few fights before, holding his own in some and getting hurt in others. Nothing too serious. But he had never experienced anything like that at the inn. There was a serenity to it. It had gone on long enough that he actually got bored and annoyed. When, during a fight, had he ever felt so at ease as to feel annoyed? Never as far as he could tell. His body just knew what to do. Or he did? Or both? Did his mind just…

Clark ran his hand over his face. It was all of him that knew what to do. It just felt right. He thought about the note he had discovered in his pocket when he woke up. Whoever sent it said that they had gifted him with abilities that would gradually reveal themselves. Was this one of them? Was he a sly sneaky fighter waiting to emerge? Or just a lucky fuck who was able to steer a few drunks into each other?

Well, another thing I can ask Howland Reed. If he knows me…or even meets with me…Christ, I hope this wasn't a bad idea.

He settled into a nice pace, forcing himself to look on the bright side. He'd survived the Twins. Not the easiest thing for an ally of House Stark. He was a short distance from the edge of the Neck. He would probably arrive there at the end of the next day. Then he would try and find a castle that evades unwelcome strangers and a lord who's good with secrets, hoping he would spill them to a random traveler from a different world.

Clark groaned. Well, if nothing else, he could at least ask Howland Reed for the crannogman's solution to preventing bug bites. The buzzing in the air was only going to get worse on here on in.

Clark knew he shouldn't have expected there to be a clear border when the Riverlands met the Neck. The ground became wetter and wetter until suddenly he realized he'd wandered into a bog. Remembering the quicksand mentioned somewhere in the books, he stuck to the high grounds as he ventured further. He still kept the Fork in sight and followed it to the best of his ability.

He knew however that the best of his ability would more than likely get him killed. He marked his path into the Neck as best he could and refused to let himself get frustrated. He didn't need to find Howland Reed, just one crannogman who would guide him to Howland Reed…or out of this death trap of a bog if Howland Reed refused to see him.

Darkness came before he knew it. He made a fire the best he could with wet wood. It was more for the company. He really wasn't cold at all. Plus, the smoke helped keep the mosquitoes away and it could draw the attention of anyone watching. He hoped so at least.

Continuing along the Fork or what remained of it, Clark came to its end in two days. He came close to despair, realizing that going into a bog was not the smartest idea. Until he saw a dock. Well, it wasn't much of a dock. However when Clark made his way to it, he saw clear outlines where there used to be ropes. No moss covered them.

Turning to the water, he saw multiple exits and entrances to this bog harbor. There were crannogmen here recently and they had taken some boat off. He noted his location carefully and walked a little farther into the trees, careful to stay out of the water. These crannogmen might been gone for good from this spot. However, they might return soon. If that was the case and they left something, it would be hung for safety against any animal who would eat it or destroy it. It might be visible…

Sure enough, Clark spotted a hung bag, tied tightly among the higher branches of a nearby tree. The rope was camouflaged along the green vines that swarmed the place. He squinted to see it. He was sure they were more, but he was too tired to look. He returned to the small harbor and found the one bit of high ground. It wasn't dry. Settling down, he ran over his supplies. The waterskin was only a quarter full. He had enough jerky to stretch for two days.

He took a small sip, allowing the water to run over his tongue before swallowing. He didn't taste the animal tinge that nearly made him gag the first time he drunk from the skin. Now it was just warm. He dreamed of cool alcoholic beverages.

Putting on his cloak, he began to sweat. But he was more covered from the insects and perhaps a little camouflaged himself. He laughed at the notion. What shot in hell did he have of fooling anyone or anything in this swampland? Hiding from the lizard lions?

Figuring he'd find that out later, he built a small fire allowing the coming darkness to appear a bit more friendly. Soon he couldn't see the harbor and then the dock. He kept the fire burning as well he could, hoping he could attract the attention of his fellow man. He used all of the sticks and breakable branches in his vicinity. He resorted to placing moss in the fire.

Time was the only thing that truly peeved him. He had no idea what time it was, how long he had been awake, or when the dawn would come. He wished for a watch almost as much as he wished for a full waterskin. He looked to his dwindling pile of kindling and moss. Why did he come this way? Why was he so calm about the fact that he might die here? Was it the same recklessness that drove him to confront the guard at the Twins or insult the soldiers at the inn or head north instead of south?

Maybe he did want to die. Who knows? Maybe if he never saw the Starks in person, it would make giving up so much easier. He knew he made the decision to try and warn them, but at the same time, he was scared to get involved in the slaughter to come. He had serious doubts whether he could prevent it anyways…

Clark recognized the language in his mind and he shut it down instantly. He would not entertain thoughts like that tonight or any other night. He was alive. He had to talk to Howland Reed and he had to get out of here. And he would do it whether or not he burned through all the moss he had collected. Speaking of which, the fire was a little low.

He reached down for a handful when he heard something. He froze, moss in hand. He stood, lowering his hood, and walked to the edge of his firelight, looking into the darkness. He could, of course, see nothing. And whatever had made that noise was now frozen. He was certain that he was being watched.

He was tempted to walk back and dump his whole pile of twigs and moss on the fire, to create the biggest blaze he possibly could under the circumstances. Something came in the air though that gave him pause. Closing his eyes, he sniffed softly. The bog air was strong, but (and he had no idea how he could tell) he could smell wet leather coming from something. It definitely wasn't a live animal. He took another sniff and smelled other things attached to the wet leather. He couldn't quite place them…but it felt human.

Clark opened his eyes and peered to the approximate spot where he smelled the leather. Still dead silence.

"My name is Tiresias," he said. He figured he didn't have to yell. He knew they were close enough. "I'm a traveler. I've come a long way to be here. Would you show your faces?"

No response. Clark took his belt and knife off and threw it toward the fire. He spread his arms.

"I'm no enemy of the crannogmen. I'm looking for Lord Howland Reed. I have a message for him and I also seek his counsel. Would he see me?"

Still just silence from the darkness. Clark sniffed and knew they were still there.

"Listen, if you are not going to let me see Lord Reed, then could you perhaps help me? I'm running low on food and water and I'm lost. Could you direct me out of the Neck? I was hoping to head north next." He swallowed the little spit he had. "I'm sorry for coming onto your land without your permission. I really am. But I could use your help now. I promise I mean no harm. I swear it by the old gods."

Nothing but nocturnal singing from the insects answered his plea. Clark was beginning to believe that he had spoken to no one in the darkness. He lowered his arms and turned toward his fire.

He jumped. A woman's face was peering at him by the tree, illuminated by his small moss-fire. She came farther into the light, revealing herself. She was small and wiry, with light leather armor covering her shoulders and torso. She carried a three-pronged spear taller than her and she had a net bundled at her side. Her brunette hair was tied back tightly and she regarded Clark with suspicion.

Clark remained still. While he was focusing all his attention on his front, this crannogwoman snuck behind him. He could hear water moving to his rear. He turned his head and saw two more crannogmen come into the light. One was younger than him, blonde and was holding a knife. It looked like bronze. The other one was bearded with long, black braided hair. There was a long pipe slung across his back, which Clark suspected he used for blow darts. He also carried a spear.

Turning back to the woman, Clark saw her pick up his knife and place it under her own belt. She walked over to him, regarding him with large brown eyes so dark, they seemed black. Clark towered over her but she didn't act like he did. She stood before him, holding the spear close to his chest. No fear came from her so Clark did his best to return the favor.

Guessing that she was the leader, Clark swallowed and spoke.

"Hello. It's good to see a face." He paused, wondering what to ask. They didn't seem keen on conversation. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked as politely as he could.

The crannogwoman gave the smallest smirk.

"No sense wasting poison on an idiot who wandered into the Neck, not knowing where to find fresh water," she said, lowering her spear. "We leave you here, you'd be dead in three days."

Clark glanced at the other two crannogmen. They hadn't lowered their weapons yet.

"Are you going to leave me here to die?" he asked.

She and her companions exchanged looks before she spoke again. "That depends," she said. "What do you want with Lord Reed?"

"I want to speak with him," Clark said.

"What about?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that," he said, keeping his refusal as friendly as he could.

The crannogwoman stared at him. "You really are a bit of an idiot, aren't you?"

"I am. I still can't tell you what I need to say to Lord Reed. It's for his ears alone."

"And why should we believe that? You, a complete stranger, are asking for us to stop whatever we're doing and bring you to our liege lord, on your word that you won't harm him? Or be wasting his time? Why should we bother him with your big secret?"

Clark heard something go into the water. He turned to see the older crannogman extracting a pronged spear from the water, a wriggling dying frog on its end. He kept his eyes on Clark the whole time.

"It's not my secret," he said, turning back to the crannogwoman. "It's Lord Reed's. It's a secret he's been keeping for years. A secret that could tear the realm apart."

He paused. He knew he was going into treacherous territory here, but he didn't see another way. A little bit of the truth was the best lie.

"And through some stupid, unexplainable reason, I now know the secret. Now I haven't told anyone Lord Reed's secret. I could have, but I don't want to. And if it was only this secret on my mind, I would have left Westeros forever. Kept it to myself and let the secret die with him. I wish that was the case."

Despite the fact that Clark knew sincerity wasn't usually the best way to go in the Seven Kingdoms, he pressed on.

"But unfortunately, that's not the only thing that haunts me. I'm no greenseer. I can't read the future. But by the same way I know Lord Reed's secret, I know that there are things coming. Wars, a return of magic and enough humanity to rip this land apart. And I want to help. I don't know how. I don't know how to balance what I know and what I can do it against those in power now and what they value. I'm only human and I need counsel. I was hoping to seek it from Lord Reed and take appropriate action from there. But I swear…"

Clark raised his hand, hoping it was a good enough gesture.

"I swear, that no matter what happens, I will continue to keep the secret. And if it is decided that I am to be killed, I only ask that it be swift and that you allow Lord Reed to make the decision."

The crannogwoman stared at him, trying to figure him out. The fire was almost out as well, casting her face in even deeper shadows.

"I've never heard your accent before," she said. "Where are you from?"

"Across the Sea."

"Where across the Sea?"

Clark shrugged. "I don't know. My family were nomads. We kept between the Free Cities and the bays up north. They died when I was young. I've been sailing since I was twelve."

"And now you're here in the Neck," she said, her hands running down her spear. "Why is a nomad from Essos so concerned about the fate of Westeros?" she asked. "Why not just go home?"

"Essos was never my home. I…"

He broke, a tiny lump in his throat that he wasn't expecting appeared. He swallowed and continued.

"I can't ever go home again. I have nothing but Westeros now. I hope to make a life here and I can't do that if I allow the things that I know are coming to come."

Damn it. That was an awkward sentence.

She stepped forward, her dark eyes never breaking with his.

"How do you know what's coming? You say you're no greenseer. So how do you know?"

Clark sighed.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But that has to be my secret."

She looked his eyes for a minute now. Clark held her gaze, freely blinking, waiting for her response. Eventually she looked to her companions. Clark turned and saw that both of them have lowered their weapons. He breathed and returned his gaze to the crannogwoman.

She was walking to the dying embers of the fire. She knelt down, reaching into a pouch. She sprinkled some powder onto the pit and the flames revitalized. Clark felt the older man walk by him. He unfurled his cloak to reveal a bundle of sticks attached to his back. He began building the fire back up, stronger than ever.

Clark returned to the side and sat down. The younger crannogman joined them and they began setting up preparations for dinner.

"Thank you," said Clark. "I won't forget this. Thank you."

The crannogwoman looked at him as she began to chop frogs up. "Right now, you're something between our guest and our prisoner. I'm keeping your knife until Lord Reed lets you go free. So behave yourself and don't make me regret not leaving you to die out here."

Clark nodded. "I promise."

She reached for a skin. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes."

She threw him the skin. "Drink slowly and not all of it."

Clark drank gingerly, taking only two mouthfuls before handing it back. The fire was brighter than it had ever been before and soon the crannogmen had chunks of frog and onions frying up. Clark offered up the remainder of his dried beef which each of the crannogs took, though he suspected that they did so more out of politeness than anything else. They didn't seem to care for it. And Clark supposed he didn't seem enthusiastic as well when he accepted his fried frogs and onions for his dinner. However it really wasn't bad at all. Weird texture, but he got it down easy enough. He was hungry after all.

Also, in the back of his mind, he was thankful for any food from a crannogman. He supposed he was now protected by guest right. And now even if Howland Reed decided not to see him, they were still obligated to see him safely out of the Neck and on his merry way. They weren't Freys. In fact, they despised the Freys. They would keep their word. He was pretty sure about that.

Clark helped as best he could and before long, they were cleaned and ready to camp down for the night. He turned to his new companions.

"I said it when I was shouting in the dark, but my name is Tiresias," he said. "What are your names?"

They glanced at each other, before the older crannogman spoke.

"I'm Dallan. The boy's name is Martan. He doesn't speak."

"My name is Annag," the woman said. "I'm still keeping your knife."

Clark smiled. "It's lovely to meet you all. And thank you. No matter what matters with Lord Reed, thank you for what you've done."

The fire went out a few moments later, allowing the moonlight to flood the bog. Dallan volunteered for the first watch. Clark settled down for a sleep, chasing away an errant fear that they would stab him in his sleep. He turned to Annag.

"How long will it take us to get to Lord Reed?"

She shrugged. "A month, at the very least."

"A month?"

"Aye. You're a real lucky idiot, Tiresias. He's usually not that close around here. Can't travel well."

Clark laid on the driest ground he could find. "His injuries from the Rebellion?"

Annag turned to look at him. He laid still, meeting her eyes, reflecting the moon in the darkness.

"Aye, he was injured. But this season, he's about touring and inspecting. His path and ours will cross in one month. If you behave, I'll speak on your behalf and see if he'll receive you."

Clark turned onto his side. "One month is fine with me."

Annag stretched out her small frame. "Aye well, it's not so fine with me or the others. We have work to do in the coming month, and having on an extra mouth was not in the fucking plan. So I'll only say this once: stay out of our way and try not to be too useless."

"I'll pull my weight."

She snorted. "I'm sure. Just remember, that while you're a helpless idiot in our land, I'm in charge. So don't question my command. Understood?"

He nodded, not sure if she could see him. "I understand."

Nothing more was said and Clark decided to try and get some sleep. He hoped he could keep up the façade long enough to talk to Howland Reed. He also hoped that he could be somewhat valuable to this group in the upcoming month. A bog was not his natural habit and he steeled himself before falling asleep. He would not complain. He would work. And he would not rise to any bait offered by the crannogs.

He drifted off, trying not to think how soaked his cloak would be in the morning.