Capítulo 36: The Halfman #36
Gale shifted his attention from the roaring bonfire to the giant sitting some distance away, gazing into the horizon.
"So... I have to ask," he began, "What's this about awakening giants from the earth? Are they dead or something?" He scratched his head, looking to Tormund for answers.
Tormund, however, seemed unconcerned as he shrugged. He had no knowledge of the finer details, and he didn't care to inquire, content to follow Rayder's orders.
Threya decided to enlighten Gale, her tone calm and composed. "No, they're not dead; they're asleep-- hence the term 'awaken,'" she explained. "Giants are known to be heavy sleepers, and they usually awaken only when winter falls upon us. But, with the Horn of Winter, we can nudge them awake. The giants you see here are young ones, so they didn't fall into the long slumber."
Gale chuckled, appreciating the concept. "Sleeping soundly for years, huh? That's something I can aspire to," he said, considering his own lack of sleep due to his unique condition.
Tormund joined the conversation, a playful grin on his face. "Aye, you did seem jumpy in your sleep. It only took you a second to plant a knife in that Thenn's face," he remarked. Then, his grin widened, and he added, "Speaking of the Thenn, you better sleep with one eye open. They can be vengeful cunts."
Gale chuckled at Tormund's remark. "Well, if they decide to go after me again, I'll just have to make a bigger mess next time," he replied with a wry grin.
Threya joined in the conversation, "You do have some impressive moves. Not many can take on a Thenn chieftain like that." She gave Gale a bemused look. "But if what you said to Rayder is true, it makes sense-- explains how you managed to beat me too..."
Gale raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Is that a hint of coping I detect?" he said with a smirk. "The hows and whys don't matter. I bested you in a fair fight while going easy on you – and that's that," he added nonchalantly.
Threya scowled at Gale's retort. "Oh, piss off, you bloody white walker," she grumbled, pushing herself to her feet. "Maybe it'll be me to slit your throat in your sleep, not the Thenn," she threatened before turning on her heel and striding away.
Tormund watched her departure with a sly grin and then turned back to Gale, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, she seems to have taken a liking to you," he remarked, absentmindedly stroking his beard.
Gale couldn't help but scoff. "You really think so? Maybe she's charmed by my soft southern features, my knack for leaving her for dead, or my near miss at stabbing her in the heart?" He rolled his eyes with a mix of amusement and exasperation.
Tormund shrugged, his grin undiminished. "Who knows with Free Folk women? They're a peculiar lot," he said with a wink as he got to his feet. "You'll have to figure it out for yourself," he added before leaving Gale with his thoughts.
Gale muttered under his breath, "Right, like that's ever going to happen," his skepticism and disenterest evident in his tone.
...
Meanwhile, in King's Landing, within one of the bustling taverns, the air was thick with the cacophony of men drowning their worries in drink and attempting lecherous advances on the tavern wenches. Most of these advances ended with a resounding slap or the offenders being forcibly ejected.
Amidst the lively revelry, a man of short stature perched on a stool, his head resting on the counter as he exchanged words with the tavern keeper.
"And then he appointed me the overseer of privies and sewers at Casterly Rock and called it a birthday gift – my own father!" He, Tyrion Lannister exclaimed, his words somewhat slurred as the alcohol began to take effect. "Can you believe it?" he inquired, raising his head to peer at the tavern keeper.
The tavern keeper, well accustomed to Tyrion's drunken ramblings, offered a nonchalant hum as he refilled Tyrion's now empty mug. He paused, however, as a man clad in the unmistakable golden armor of the Kingsguard made his entrance.
"Seems like someone's here for you," the tavern keeper commented, nodding subtly in the direction of the newcomer.
Tyrion, in his inebriated state, slowly raised his head and turned his gaze towards the entrance. His eyes widened as he spotted the handsome young man who had just arrived – his own brother, Jaime Lannister.
"Well, well, if it isn't my father's favorite son... his only son if you can ever get the old bastard to fess up and be truthful for once," Tyrion quipped, a lopsided grin playing on his lips as he took another sip from his mug.
Jaime settled onto the stool beside Tyrion, unperturbed by the inquisitive glances of the tavern's patrons. He let out a weary sigh as he responded to Tyrion's jest.
"You know that's not true," he began, shaking his head, "You're every bit a Lannister, and every inch our father's son as I am."
Tyrion's laugh held a hint of bitterness. "I don't think I see it that way," he retorted. He then inquired with a raised eyebrow, "So, what's a Kingsguard like you doing in a place like this?"
Jaime leaned in slightly, his expression serious. "Father sent me to fetch you," he explained. "He wishes to speak with you."
Tyrion gave his brother a wry look. "Ah, so it's that time, already?" he mused. "Father does so enjoy his berating and scolding sessions-- anything to humiliate me, really, especially after he's concluded his day's duties." He spoke with a touch of sarcasm, to which Jaime responded with a rueful smile.
"Well, we can't keep Tywin Lannister waiting for his peculiar form of pleasure for too long, can we?" Tyrion quipped. He stood up and gestured towards the tavern's exit. "Lead the way."
Jaime gave a confirming nod before leading the way. The Lannister brothers traversed the grimy streets of King's Landing, their journey eventually leading them to the imposing doors of Tywin's office. Jaime approached the door and prepared to knock, but before he could, the commanding voice of their father emanated from within.
"You may enter," Tywin's voice resounded, prompting Jaime to push the door open. He led the way into the office, with Tyrion following closely behind. The room exuded opulence and was adorned with various ornate decorations, though Tyrion paid little attention to the grandeur.
His initial impulse was to provoke a reaction from his father.
"G'day, Lord Father," Tyrion greeted mockingly as a commoner would, accompanied by a facetious bow, which earned him a disapproving frown from Tywin.
Yet, the formidable lord remained silent on his son's behavior, choosing to address the matter at hand. "I have a task for you, Tyrion," Tywin stated with a measured tone, his countenance stern.
Tyrion raised an inquisitive eyebrow and couldn't resist a quip. "What cruel punishment have you devised as a 'task' this time, Father?" he inquired, a hint of sardonic humor in his voice.
"Shall I be assigned as a shoe-shiner for your guards, or perhaps you'd prefer that I lick their boots clean?" He added, his words laced with a mix of sarcasm and resignation.
Tyrion's quips couldn't help but earn him another stern frown from Tywin, yet his father remained stoic, refusing to let his son dictate the tone of their conversation.
Tywin proceeded to reveal the purpose of their meeting, his voice measured and intent clear. "Ser Barristan Selmy will soon head north to Lord Stark's lands as a representative of King Robert, tasked with resolving issues related to the savage tribes beyond the Wall," he elucidated.
"However, there's more to this matter than what has been shared publicly. I want you to accompany Ser Selmy and delve deeper into the situation. If possible, use it to further our house's interests," he concluded, making his intentions explicit.
Tywin's request drew a sigh from Tyrion. He regarded his father with a wry expression and a matter-of-fact tone. "So, in simpler words, you're sending me away, hoping I'll get lost and meet my demise out there," he stated.
His voice was laced with a mix of sarcasm and resignation. "Well, you won't be disappointed this time. I've always wanted to know what it feels like to piss on the world from the top of the Wall."
...
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