Negotiations #30

"For fuck's sake," Gale grumbled, momentarily pausing as he carefully removed the arrow that had become lodged in his armor without penetrating his flesh. 

An exasperated expression clouded his features. "What is it now?" he questioned, his gaze fixed on the direction from which the arrow had been fired, planting his sword into the snow near Threya's neck to prevent her from escaping.

Emerging from the shadows of the trees were several wildling warriors, with a towering man at their forefront. His scruffy red beard and hair made him instantly recognizable as Tormund Giantsbane, a figure Gale recalled from the TV show.

Tormund regarded Gale with a curious and somewhat amused expression, briefly glancing at Threya before returning his attention to the young man.

 "I never thought I'd see Threya in such a miserable state... color me impressed, lad," Tormund remarked with a smirk, eliciting a scowl from Threya.

Gale remained composed and retorted, "She'll be even more miserable if you don't turn around and fuck off." With those words, he cautiously edged his blade closer to Threya's neck.

Tormund's laughter rumbled through the quiet woods. "Look around you, lad. You're clearly outnumbered and outmatched," he said, his eyes narrowing with a measure of caution. 

"Threya is the only thing keeping me from ripping your innards out and strangling you with them. You better not do anything dumb." Several of the wildling warriors responded to Tormund's words by raising their bows and aiming them squarely at Gale.

Gale surveyed the situation with a deep frown but chose to remain silent, unwilling to provoke the armed group.

Tormund, however, was more amiable. He flashed a toothy grin at Gale. "I'll take your silence as a willingness to listen," he said. "We're looking for something, and Threya here thinks one of your crows made off with it." 

He cast an inquiring look at the wildling woman. "The horn of what was it again?"

Threya hesitated but ultimately answered, unable to hide her frustration at how casually Tormund revealed such sensitive information. "An old war horn. It was hidden in the Fist of the First Men. One of you crows must have stolen it."

Gale's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he recalled the ancient war horn he'd discovered in the cache alongside the dragon glass weapons. "Oh yeah? And why the hell do you need some old war horn? You relic collectors or something?" he asked, hoping to glean more information from their responses.

Threya was quick to express her displeasure at the question. "That's none of your--" she began but halted mid-sentence when Tormund casually answered Gale's inquiry. 

"The war horn is said to awaken the giants, or some such tall tale," Tormund explained with a relaxed demeanor. 

He nonchalantly picked at his ear with his pinky, clearly undisturbed by the potential security breach. "I'll have to see it to believe it, but Rayder ordered us to find it, and so here we are."

Finding herself in a precarious situation, Threya wrestled with conflicting emotions-- torn between a desire to lunge at Tormund and stab him in the gut for his carelessness or simply palm her face and give up on the situation.

Meanwhile, Gale couldn't suppress the strange smile that tugged at his lips at Tormund's revelation. The notion of a horn that could awaken giants sounded fantastical even by the standards of the Game of Thrones world. 

However, he recognized the advantage this situation presented and decided to seize it. "Well, you're in luck. I happen to be the very crow who found the war horn..." He explained. 

"It was in a cache on top of the Fist with a bunch of dragon glass weapons over a year ago," he admitted, reaching into his cloak and retrieving one of the dragon glass daggers for emphasis.

Tormund nodded in satisfaction upon hearing that Gale had knowledge of the horn's location. His gaze then turned intense, and he inquired, "And where is this horn? You wouldn't happen to have it on your person, would you?" His eyes bore into Gale with a dangerous glint.

Gale, however, didn't seem fazed by the intimidating question. He maintained his scowl and answered, "I'm not in the habit of carrying useless trinkets when I need to travel light. The horn is in Castle Black."

Tormund accepted this response without argument, acknowledging the current stalemate. He turned his attention to Threya, saying, "You have two things that we want, and I doubt we have anything that would interest a crow such as yourself."

Gale interjected, shaking his head, "That's not necessarily true. Your leader, Mance Rayder, I need to speak with him." This declaration seemed to bewilder both Tormund and Threya.

Tormund raised an eyebrow, expressing his confusion, "Now, what business would you have speaking with your glorious leader?"

Gale stated his intentions plainly, "We know about the White Walkers. Way I see it, we can either die fighting each other or work together to stop the undead." 

This pronouncement initially elicited laughter from Tormund. He chuckled, "You're a funny man! The first crow with a sense of humor I've ever met... 'work together,' he said."

However, Tormund's laughter suddenly ceased as he locked eyes with Gale and detected the profound seriousness behind the statement. He questioned Gale with disbelief, "Wait... you're not serious, are you...?"

Gale remained resolute as he explained his perspective to Tormund. "The Night's Watch has only one job, and that is to protect Westeros from all threats beyond the Wall," he calmly stated. 

"As things stand, the only threat to Westeros is the Night King and his army of undead," he continued with conviction. "Your people stand to gain much from an arrangement with the Night's Watch as well," he concluded.

Tormund shook his head skeptically. "The day that Mance Rayder asks his people to fight hand in hand with crows is the day they hang him on a tree and gut him," he responded. However, a sly smirk crept onto his face. "But I suppose he'll want to hear what you have to say..."

Gale, still facing the pointed arrows of the wildling warriors, insisted on a show of trust. "Good. Then I'd appreciate it if your people stopped pointing those dangerous things at me," he said. 

Tormund chuckled and gestured for the warriors to relax, signaling them to lower their weapons. "Alright. We'll take you and your companions to Rayder but don't get your hopes up. It's more likely that you'll meet death there than anything else," he warned with a laugh.

Gale shook his head, displaying his determination. "No. I'll go alone. They need to go back and explain the situation to the Lord Commander. Otherwise, you can only dream about getting the horn," he firmly stated.

...

Back in the camp, Qhorin couldn't help but frown as he looked around and saw no traces of Gale returning, despite an entire hour passing. "What's taking Gale so long...?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.

Benjen sighed, sharing in the worry. "I can't help but feel we've been through this before..." he muttered with an exasperated tone. "You don't think he stumbled into another White Walker, do you?" he questioned.

Edd chimed in with a grim expression, "You better not get any ideas... the last time someone went after him, they ended up half-dead."

Qhorin chuckled at the grim memory, as he was the very one who had ended up half-dead previously. "The lad can--" he began, but he halted mid-sentence as the sound of several approaching footsteps grew louder. He swiftly picked up his sword, prompting Edd and Benjen to do the same.

"Someone's coming," Qhorin stated as they braced for the unexpected visitors.

Qhorin looked at the figure of Gale approaching them and sighed in relief, relieved that their young companion was returning unharmed. However, his relief quickly turned to shock and confusion as he noticed several wildling warriors following behind Gale.

"Next time you want to leave camp, you better be prepared to walk over my corpse..." Qhorin joked, casting a bemused look at Gale. "We've got plenty of headaches as is," he added.

Gale wore a troubled smile as he responded, "No headaches this time around. They're not here to fight..."

Qhorin raised an eyebrow, his hand firmly gripping his sword. "This ought to be interesting, at least," he said with a sigh. "What are they here for, then?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.

...

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