The Ureasonably Reasonable Tormund #61

Reaching the end of the tunnel leading to Castle Black's yard, Gale's face lit up at the sight of three familiar figures waiting for him. Without a word, he hurried forward, enveloping Benjen, Qhorin, and Edd in warm hugs, one after another.

"It's been a while, Lad," Benjen greeted with a smile, patting Gale on the back. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd met your demise beyond these walls..." He added jokingly.

"Oh, there was a lot of demise, believe you me-- just not mine," Gale replied with a chuckle, stepping back to face his friends.

"Right then, Benjen Stark, Qhorin Halfhand, Eddison Tollet, meet Tormund Giantsbane, Threya Snowrider, Longspear Ryk, and Val..." Gale introduced the rangers to the wildlings behind him, his voice holding an air of formality despite his underlying frustration. 

He fell silent, expecting some form of acknowledgment or greeting, but an awkward tension filled the air as both groups remained quiet, exchanging cautious glances.

"For fuck's sake..." Gale muttered under his breath, a trace of annoyance lacing his words. "I didn't expect you all to start sucking each other off immediately, but a simple 'how do you do' or a handshake wouldn't hurt," he chastised, the impatience evident in his tone at the palpable standoffishness between the two parties. 

Qhorin couldn't suppress a wry smile at Gale's remark. "Your mouth is as vulgar as ever, lad... if anything, it's somehow gotten worse," he quipped, shaking his head in amusement. 

Tormund's grin widened at Qhorin's jest. "I reckon staying with our people expanded his capillary, as you southerners say..." Tormund chuckled, his voice booming. 

Gale shot him a bemused look. "Don't you mean vocabulary?" he corrected a hint of exasperation in his voice. 

Tormund simply shrugged. "Same thing," he replied with a hearty laugh. "Either way, the lad's right."

Stepping forward, Tormund assumed a more serious demeanor. "If we're to fight alongside one another, then the least we can do is look each other in the eye and shake hands," he declared, extending his hand toward Benjen. "Each of us has spilled blood on both sides. We've killed our fair share of crows, and I reckon each of you has killed your fair share of our people."

His gaze shifted between the rangers, the weight of his words hanging in the air. "But we can either put that behind us or perish together and turn into bloody walking corpses," he concluded firmly, emphasizing the need for unity in the face of a grave threat. 

With that, he extended his hand in a gesture of camaraderie toward Benjen, waiting for a response.

Much to Gale's surprise, Benjen readily took Tormund's hand, initiating a firm handshake that broke the initial tension. The action prompted both groups to follow suit, exchanging greetings and acknowledging each other properly.

"Tormund Giantsbane, the voice of reason," Gale remarked with a teasing tone, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "What strange times we live in," he added, raising an eyebrow at the ginger wildling.

"Dark times call for comrpmises, lad," Tormund responded, adopting a solemn expression before letting out a hearty chuckle. "We all must make sacrifices to survive," he quipped, his demeanor shifting back to his usual jovial self.

Shaking his head at Tormund's antics, Gale turned his attention back to the three rangers. "Anyway, I'm sure you're curious about my journey, but it's a long story, one I'd rather not repeat," he explained with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Take me to Lord Mormont so I can report and take a damned bath—I'm starting to itch," he added with a grimace.

"Right. Edd and I will ensure the guests are settled and left undisturbed," Qhorin replied with a nod, signaling to Edd. "This way," He turned and began leading the way, Edd trailing behind him. 

The wildlings hesitated momentarily until Gale nodded reassuringly, prompting them to follow the rangers.

Once they departed, Gale turned to Benjen. "Shall we?" he asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice, ready to catch up and discuss their experiences after the time spent apart.

Entering the Lord Commander's office, Benjen greeted Lord Mormont and Maester Aemon, engrossed in a heated discussion about convincing Lord Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy about the threat of the undead. Gale followed suit, addressing them casually.

"Lord Commander, Maester Aemon," he greeted, acknowledging the two with a hand placed over his chest in a familiar knightly gesture. "It's been a while," he added warmly.

The Lord Commander nodded in response to Gale's greeting. "You've done well to return, young man. You had us worried there for a moment," he said in a calm, fatherly tone.

Meanwhile, Maester Aemon beamed upon hearing Gale's voice. "Ah, young Gale, there you are," the blind maester said, a smile evident in his voice. "Come here and let me have a look at you," he requested, slowly moving towards Gale with his hands outstretched.

Gale reciprocated the warmth, smiling as he gently guided the maester's hands. "I see the long journey has taken its toll on you," Maester Aemon remarked, his fingers brushing over Gale's unkempt hair, the stubble on his chin, and the dried blood on his armor. "But you're back now, and I say you're entitled to some rest," he concluded with a satisfied nod, taking a step back.

Gale chuckled softly, appreciating the maester's concern. "Thank you, Maester Aemon. Rest does sound appealing," he agreed, glancing at Lord Mormont and then back to the maester. "But first, I need to report the happenings beyond the Wall," he added, his tone serious, indicating the urgency of his report.

Gale, his voice steady, began to narrate the intricate details of his journey beyond the Wall after departing from Benjen and the others. He elaborated on the challenges faced, recounting the rough terrain, the strategic movements, and the encounters that marked his path toward the wildling encampment. 

Not a single obstacle was omitted from his account.

As he delved deeper into the report, Gale meticulously laid out the approximate numbers of the wildlings, painting a vivid picture of their situation. He spared no detail, mentioning the formidable presence of giants within their ranks and the overall disposition of the groups he had observed.

Transitioning smoothly, Gale detailed his venture into the Lands of Always Winter at Mance Rayder's request, emphasizing the purpose behind the journey—to prove the efficacy of Dragonglass against White Walkers. However, he tactfully omitted to mention the enigmatic undead creature, Melorian, deeming it irrelevant to the current scenario.

He continued, describing his return journey, the assembly among the wildlings, and their challenging encounters, particularly the ambush they faced en route to Castle Black. 

Gale concluded his recounts with an explanation of Mance's goodwill, which the wildling king displayed by decisively and ruthlessly dealing with dissenters within his camp.

Throughout his report, Gale maintained a composed demeanor, his narrative marked by a careful selection of words and a precision that reflected both the gravity of the situation and the keenness of his observations.

Lord Mormont maintained a solemn expression as he contemplated Gale's inquiries. "So it seems that the wildlings are willing to work with us for the greater good," he mused, his voice tinged with thoughtful consideration. 

"Now, we only need to convince Lord Stark and Ser Barristan Selmy of the same before they grow weary and leave," he added with a weary sigh, displaying the weight of the task ahead.

Gale arched an eyebrow in surprise. "Ser Barristan Selmy? The Bold?" He sought clarification, prompting a confirming nod from the Lord Commander. "What brings him to Castle Black?" Gale inquired, genuinely puzzled about the esteemed knight's presence in such remote surroundings.

"We requested aid from King's Landing, and in response, Lord Robert deemed it appropriate to send us Ser Selmy to assess the situation in his stead," Lord Mormont explained. "It appears that the King himself may harbor doubts about the looming threat, and Ser Selmy, it seems, shares a similar perspective," he added, voicing his concern over the skepticism they faced.

Gale, still puzzled, scratched his head. "I can understand Ser Selmy's reservations, but what about Lord Stark? Isn't he your brother, Benjen?" Gale directed his query to the first ranger. "Shouldn't your word carry enough weight with him?" 

Benjen sighed deeply, his expression laden with concern. "My word would hold weight with Ned, but it's not as convincing to the northern lords," he explained, a slight shake of his head conveying the difficulty of the situation. 

"They won't readily mobilize their armies or permit wildlings within their territories solely on my say-so. Ned wouldn't have an easy time to compel them without substantial evidence, not without suffering considerable backlash..." he elaborated, emphasizing the challenge of convincing the skeptical northern lords.

Gale chuckled lightly. "Then we just need to show them. There are plenty of wights lurking in the Haunted Forest, and all we need to do is capture one and present it to them," he suggested with a casual shrug. 

His thoughts veered momentarily toward the iceblade on his back, a potent tool that could convert a slain individual into a wight. However, he opted against such a drastic measure; the repercussions of such an act would likely be dire, and he had reservations about employing that specific power. 

"But in the meantime, I have just the thing to keep Lord Stark and Ser Selmy engaged...." he announced with a smirk, retrieving the wrapped iceblade and placing it conspicuously on the Lord Commander's desk.

...

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