The Straw #37

Before an improvised training dummy constructed from sticks and furs, Gale wielded his sword with determination, moving swiftly from side to side, unleashing a barrage of strikes upon the dummy. His movements were marked by speed and precision, each swing effectively reducing the training target to tatters. 

Yet, to a discerning observer, it was clear that his technique lacked depth, relying on sheer speed and raw physical power for its impressive impact.

Gale's frustration over his limited aptitude in swordsmanship gnawed at him, and it was a source of personal annoyance. However, his inner turmoil was interrupted when Tormund approached, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Feel like taking on something that can strike back for a change?" Tormund proposed, his eyes glinting with humor. Gale turned to regard him with a raised eyebrow.

"What do you have in mind?" Gale inquired, intrigued by the prospect. Tormund's grin widened, and he beckoned for Gale to follow.

"It's time to prove yourself to Rayder. We're going white walker hunting," Tormund declared with a sense of adventure.

"Finally," Gale grumbled, his impatience apparent as he followed Tormund. He couldn't help but be curious. "You're coming along too?" he asked, to which Tormund responded with a nod. 

"Who else is coming?" Gale asked. 

"Come and see for yourself." 

...

In the stables of King's Landing, Ser Barristan Selmy was meticulously completing the preparations for his upcoming journey to the North, having already handpicked several companions to accompany him. 

His luggage had been secured, and he ensured that the saddle on his trusty horse was appropriately fitted. As he concentrated on these final details, he noticed the approach of five armed men, all clad in the unmistakable armor of Lannister soldiers. 

Leading this group was none other than Tyrion Lannister, who greeted the seasoned knight.

"Good day, Ser Barristan," Tyrion began. "I'm Tyrion, and I've been assigned to—" He paused in mid-sentence as Ser Barristan interjected, skepticism etched across his face.

"You've been assigned to accompany me North," Ser Barristan declared. "Although I confess I'm uncertain as to why," he admitted, his wary gaze fixed on Tyrion.

Tyrion offered a genial smile and raised his hand in a placating gesture. "It appears the reputation of House Lannister precedes me. I assure you, Ser, you've nothing to fear from me," he reassured, eliciting a faintly amused look from the veteran knight.

Recognizing that his words may have come across differently than he'd intended, Tyrion hastily cleared his throat before continuing with a better choice of words. "Clearly, Ser Barristan the Bold has little to fear from most men, let alone me," he explained with a chuckle. 

"What I meant to say is that I'm not here to execute some sinister plot," Tyrion added, emphasizing his genuine intentions. 

Ser Barristan pondered Tyrion's words for a moment, finding no obvious falsehood in them. "So, what exactly is your purpose here, then?" he inquired, genuinely curious.

Tyrion's response was nonchalant as he casually shrugged. "My father informed me that the situation in the North is more complex than he initially comprehended, and he asked me to investigate," he explained, a wry grin forming. 

"I suspect he might have grown weary of seeing me sullying the Lannister name with my mere existence and decided to grant his eyes a temporary reprieve by sending me away," he added with a chuckle.

Ser Barristan let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head in dismay. He had witnessed firsthand the cruelty and indifference with which Tywin Lannister treated his own children, especially Tyrion. It never ceased to astonish him how a man could harbor such contempt for his own flesh and blood. 

"Be that as it may, the situation in the North is undoubtedly more intricate than you might imagine," Ser Barristan confided. "While I may not have all the details, I can assure you that Lord Stark is not one to exaggerate or mislead his king," he added, conveying his respect for the Warden of the North.

Tyrion's eyes widened this remark, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Ser Baristan could see the gears shifting in the young Lannister's head, and so he voiced out Tyrion's thoughts in words.

"Indeed, it appears to be a situation where Lord Lannister is either wrong or placing an exceptional amount of trust in you," Ser Barristan's smile revealed a hint of amusement.

"In any case, I suspect that this journey will prove quite an intriguing one, if nothing else," he concluded, acknowledging the potential for an eventful journey in the days to come.

...

Gale's frustration was evident as he surveyed the unusual group before him. He turned his gaze to Tormund, Threya, and the giant who appeared to be lost in thought, gazing into the horizon, and couldn't help shaking his head in exasperation.

"Let me make sure I've got this right... I ask Rayder to point me to a white walker and give me a few capable men, and this is what I end up with?" Gale grumbled in discontent. 

"A brute of a woman who's threatened to slit my throat in my sleep, a brute of a man only capable of violence, and a giant who seems barely capable of functioning unaided..." He continued, his irritation and the urge to bang his head against the nearest rock rising.

Tormund couldn't help but laugh at Gale's exasperation. "You asked for a few men, and here you got yourself a bloody giant and two of the finest Free Folk fighters out there. What more do you want, lad?" he jested with a grin.

Gale, still feeling uneasy, rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Someone who doesn't have a vendetta against me and someone whose thoughts I can remotely begin to understand..." he mumbled, his voice trailing off as he glanced back at the massive figure still dazedly staring into the horizon. 

"And well, I suppose the big guy is alright... It's you two brutes I could do without," he added, casting an alternating gaze between Tormund and Threya.

Threya scowled at Gale's words. "You got a problem, pretty boy?" she retorted, her hand reaching for the short sword hanging from her belt. "We can always settle it if that's the case," she challenged, a fierce gleam in her eyes.

Gale matched her scowl, his temper flaring as well. "Matter of fact, I do," he replied, his voice laced with frustration. "I'm starting to second guess the possibility of working together with you people." 

His eyes began to glow a chilling blue, and an ice blade materialized in his hand, mirroring his escalating irritation. "I ought to kill you and make my way back to Castle Black-- your people can be be ripped to pieces by the fucking undead for all I care."

The weight of time pressed heavily on Gale's shoulders ever since he had arrived in this world. His one and only goal was to rally a formidable force capable of contending with the Night King and his relentless armies before King Robert's death the ensuing chaos after his passing. 

Yet, his path seemed littered with constant delays and obstacles.

His first year in this foreign land had been largely wasted, a time filled with training and reading within the confines of Castle Black. He had done everything within his power to earn the Lord Commander's trust and get him to act as Gale wished.

He succeded eventually, but too much precious time had slipped through his fingers.

Then came the constant delays and enigmatic reluctance of Rayder at the Wildling encampment, further hindering his quest to take action for two more weeks.

And now, with Threya's unapologetic and irrational aggression, Gale had finally reached his breaking point. His teeth were gritted, and anger surged through him with every passing second. 

As Gale's frustration mounted, his powers manifested with matching intensity, generating a chilling wind that sent snow swirling around him in a furious whirlwind. 

Even the giant, lost in thought earlier, finally stirred from his reverie due to the intense chill radiating in the air. 

At this sight, Threya reacted instantly, her short swords drawn with a swift and practiced motion, ready for the impending conflict. Tormund, on the other hand, broke into a wide grin, clearly enjoying the brewing confrontation. He, too, had a hand on his weapon, poised for action.

The collective reaction of the three individuals further fueled the escalating tension. With each passing moment, Gale's frustration grew more pronounced, pushing him forward with a menacing step. This gesture forced Tormund to draw his weapon as well, matching the hostile atmosphere with his readiness.

The situation teetered on the brink, and the three of them appeared poised to unleash a storm of aggression, threatening to tear into each other at any given moment.

...

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