RM: Interlude: The Battle of the Wall Part One

Jon Snow growled low in his throat as he cut into the torso of a Hide-Armored Wilding as he mounted the wall, cutting the man open from shoulder to hip. The Wildling Warrior fell back off the top of the wall with a strangled scream, not quite bisected, but close enough as to make no difference. Nearby, Renly did the same to a Hornfoot in some sort of Wicker Armor with a leather shield, while Pyp parried a club strike from a Frozen Shore Wildling in Wooden Armor on his right-hand fighting blade before thrusting his left-hand dagger into his Opponent's Throat. At the edge of the Wall, Satin fired an arrow down at a climbing Nightrunner in leathers with a copper dagger between his teeth, hitting him in the eye and sending him plummeting to his doom.

As Satin loosed a second arrow, punching through the flimsy, roughspun padded cloth tunic of a climbing Wildling from Hardhome with a stolen Naval Dirk between his teeth, sending him to fall to his death, others managed to mount the top of the wall as well. This time, Jon found himself parrying a strike from a pilfered Boarding Axe that a Hardhome Wildling in a looted Myrish Steel Chain Hauberk sent his way. Other Wildling Raiders who had clearly looted a wrecked ship near Hardhome gained the wall at the same time, wielding bits of scavenged proper armor and stolen weaponry. Pypar found himself matched against a Wildling with a Cutlass in one hand and a plate gauntlet of Myrish Steel in the other, and pressed back, while Renly found himself defending Satin from a man in a stolen shirt of Myrish Steel Scales with a Looted Bravo's Blade.

Jon ducked a blow from the Boarding Axe but caught a boot to the face. The sturdy hobnailed Myrish Boot smashed into Jon's mouth, splitting his lip, knocking his halfhelm off his head, and sending him sprawling flat on his back, forcing him to think quickly to avoid being slain by the Wildling's descending axe. He rolled to the side, the Myrish steel head of the looted boarding axe splitting the ice that made up the floor at the top of the wall just an inch or so to the right of his head as he did. He kicked out, smashing his own boot into the Wildling's knee as hard as he could. The Wildling fell to the floor as Jon regained his grip on his blade and rose up before crashing down on his fallen opponent with his blade, splitting the Man's face open and killing him.

As Jon looked about, he saw that Pyp was bleeding from a shallow cut to the cheek that would definitely leave a scar after healing, while his Opponent had a trio of arrows sprouting out of his back. The boiled leather the Wildling wore had stopped the first two, but the third had punched deep into one of the Man's organs, a lung, judging by the placement. Meanwhile, Renly seemed to have thrust his Knightly Arming Sword through the armpit of the Looted Scale Armor Wearing Wildling, taking advantage of the Wildling's poor form with his stolen Bravo Blade to slay him. Satin, meanwhile, was loosing another shot down at a climbing Wildling, this one a cave dweller in furs with a face painted with woad and a pair of copper daggers. He was shot off the wall by Satin, but wasn't nearly the last of them.

"There's no end to them!" Warned Satin.

"Keep fighting! This is the best position we could hope for!" Insisted Jon.

"Aye, I'd hate to be your friends, Grenn and Edd, right now, stuck defending the gate against whatever may come there." Smirked Renly.

"Grenn and Edd can handle it. Grenn's strong, and Edd's stayed alive this long." Opined Pyp.

"Damn! Look there!" Swore Satin, pointing.

Jon looked over the side and scowled as he saw the King of the Giants, whose tossing of a small tree sharpened into a stake like a javelin had broken open the gates of Craster's Keep. Mag the Mighty, Jon remembered the Bronze-Clad Giant's name being. Well, he certainly lived up to that name as he smashed through the advanced guard of Scale Armored Manderly Men holding the entrance to the gate through the Wall against the Wildlings. Mag the Mighty bludgeoned the trident-armed formation of Manderly Guards with his Great Maul of Runic Bronze, bowling Manderly Guardsmen over like Ninepins and smashing skulls, staving in chests, and breaking limbs as he fought through the formation. The Wildlings around him, previously kept at bay by Manderly Steel and Discipline, surged forward.

Jon grimaced as he saw that. The Wildlings would be in the tunnel soon enough at this rate. As the Manderly Formation dissolved within moments, unable to cope with an assault spearheaded by an actual Giant, Jon uttered a prayer to the Old Gods that Grenn and Edd would be all right and survive the coming onslaught.

"Damn it to all Seven Hells. There goes the Gate." Sighed Pyp.

"I didn't take you for a religious man, Pyp." Grinned Renly.

"I think at times like this, some folk are prone to begging any God who can find them to survive." Shrugged Satin.

"Aye. Grenn and Edd will need our prayers more than we do now, though." Confirmed Jon.

Then the next wave of Wildling Climbers began to reach the top of the Wall. Jon and Company had no more time for talking or looking down at the unraveling of the Manderly Guards at the Gate to the Tunnels through the Wall as the fight resumed here. Muttering another prayer for luck to the Old Gods, Jon Snow waded back into the fray alongside those of his friends whom he was stationed with. The fight would continue for some time yet, after all.

And it wouldn't do to be caught off-guard. . .

XXXX

Varamyr Six-Skins was soaring over the Battlefield in the body of an Eagle. His job here was to find places in need of more Warriors before returning to his body to tell the Weeper or Rattleshirt where to send more troops. It was difficult. They had a shortage of men compared to before, and half a dozen places where troops might be needed. True, Mag the Mighty had managed to force his way into the Tunnels beneath the Wall with a group of warriors, and so that could always use more attention, but there was also the matter of areas where they weren't doing so well.

The rightmost sector of the Wall was being held against all comers by Lord Commander Jeor Mormont himself, while the Leftmost Sector of the Wall was being held by the Kneeler's Lord Stark. Both were holding against all assaults. The Center was far more ably contested, as the Kneeler's Lord Ryswell, who had been in command, had been slain with a lucky arrow to the eye through the visor of his helm, along with his eldest son, who had been smashed off the wall with a club strike to fall to his death. Meanwhile, the two younger Ryswell Sons had been badly wounded by a dagger slipped in between the plates of armor between the greave and cuisse, and a club strike to the head, respectively. The Younger Ryswells had been withdrawn from the Battle, and the Flayed Man of Bolton now commanded in that section of the wall. The delay in changing commanders, however, had allowed the Free Folk to gain a foothold in that section, though they struggled to break out.

The sections of the wall between the Center Section, Extreme Right, and Extreme Left were somewhat more prone to see-sawing back and forth in terms of control. Varamyr decided they would hit one of those sectors, between the Center and Extreme Right, as well as the Extreme Right. If all went well, and there was reason to believe it might, then the Free Folk could roll up the rest of the Kneeler's defenses at the top of the wall like a fur rug. With a flap of his wings, Varamyr turned and began to fly back toward where the Weeper and Rattleshirt were directing assaults from, a hill near where the treeline demarcated the entry to the Haunted Forest, around the shell of a burned-out watchtower the Crows had erected two years ago to watch the forest.

As Varamyr decided where to prioritize for reinforcements, however, he found himself under attack. A crack of thunder echoed out from the top of the wall, where the Greyjoy that Lord Stark had kept as hostage was pointing a smoking wood and metal tube at Varamyr. As Varamyr tried desperately to dodge the shot from one of the Kneeler's Metal Firesticks, pain shattered his left wing in a spray of blood, broken hollow bones, and feathers. His dodge was simply too late in coming, and Varamyr had been struck. As Varamyr began to plummet to the ground, his frantic, pain-filled mind cast itself out of the broken, dying body of the Eagle and back to his own body with a frenetic energy. Thankfully for Varamyr, it seemed he had managed to return to his body on the Hill near Rattleshirt and the Weeper's Command Camp. Unfortunately, it seemed there were side effects.

As he bolted up from the bed of thatch and Milkwater reeds in the Command Camp, his small, bald form almost immediately hunched over and expelled the breakfast of stolen Kneeler Sausages he had pilfered from Craster's Kitchen and eaten. There was an ache in his mind, and he knew that he wouldn't be warning for a while yet if he knew what was good for him. Of course, his discomfort didn't faze the Commanders of the Army of the Free Folk in the least. If anything, Rattleshirt seemed bemused at his sudden weakness, sneering at Varamyr. The Weeper was more direct.

"Well?" Questioned the Weeper.

"Give him a moment, the feeble old man needs his rest, surely?" Queried Rattleshirt with a mocking sneer.

"I care not about that. We must know where to send forces." Scoffed the Weeper.

"The Right. The Head Crow holds strong, but his grip is brittle. Meanwhile, the section to his immediate left might yet be captured with more men." Huffed Varamyr before feeling his stomach lurch once more, expelling its contents.

"Kill the Old Bear and roll up their line?" Asked the Weeper.

"I do like the sound of that. His death has been a long time coming, after all." Mused Rattleshirt.

"Good. See it done." Nodded the Weeper.

Rattleshirt moved off, barking commands and bullying Warriors into line behind him to begin the assault. Meanwhile, the Weeper just nodded, Rheumy eyes betraying nothing, before turning back to look out at the ongoing assault. Varamyr, for his part, simply sagged in relief and flopped back to his reed and thatch bed. He wouldn't be Warging again this day, and needed to rest. One thing was for certain, though. If Mag the Mighty and Rattleshirt could take the Tunnels beneath and the walkways on top of the Wall, then the Free Folk could move through the Wall with impunity, and that would allow them to easily attack the Castle Beyond. If that happened, then they would be through the Wall without Mance Rayder and the rest of that batch of traitors' help. As he thought of potential vengeance to wreak on those who had betrayed their ideals to kneel, though, Varamyr Sixskin's stomach revolted once again, and he found himself heaving into a bucket yet again.

It was only when there was nothing left for him to heave up that Varamyr Sixskins would be able to rest. . .

XXXX

Grenn scowled as he, Robb Stark, and Dolorous Edd led a mixed group of their Brothers and Stark Guardsmen toward the sound of fighting in the tunnel up ahead. Donnel Noye and Ser Wendell Manderly had been leading a group of mixed Brothers of the Night's Watch and Manderly Guards to block the assault led by that Bronze-clad Giant through the tunnels. He didn't like how this defense was going so far. It seemed at the moment that they were on the backfoot, and Grenn knew you couldn't win a battle from that position. They needed to regain the initiative. As he thought that, a roar echoed from further up the tunnel, deep, loud, bellowing, and inhuman, the War Cry of an Enraged Giant.

"Sounds like we need to hurry." Intoned Robb Stark.

"Aye, thanks for stating the obvious, Milord." Scoffed Dolorous Edd.

"Edd." Huffed Grenn in warning.

Grenn was used to Dolorous Edd's personality. Robb Stark wasn't, and if there was one thing that Grenn knew about nobles, it was that they could be violently touchy about insubordination. Mind you, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the heir to Winterfell yet. Jon and Robb had apparently been thick as thieves as children, and Grenn knew that Jon was a good sort, but still, best not to poke the Dire Wolf if you didn't have to. Especially not right before going into a life-or-death battle alongside him.

"It's all right. Jon warned me about Dolorous Edd." Smirked Robb Stark.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Questioned Dolorous Edd.

"Edd, is now really the time?" Grumbled Grenn.

"Right. Apologies, Milord." Sighed Edd.

"None needed, I take no offense." Waved off Robb Stark.

Grenn decided then and there that Robb Stark was an affable enough sort, and that he was all right in his book. Of course, just as he decided that, they rounded a bend in the tunnel and came upon a sight of carnage. Donal Noye lay slumped against the wall of the tunnel, a dozen crude arrows sticking out of him, as a literal carpet of the dead formed a sea of corpses in which the remaining forces of both sides fought. Ser Wendell Manderly was leading what remained of the Manderly Guards and Brothers of the Night's Watch in a desperate last stand against twice their number of Wildlings led by a Giant clad in Runic Bronze.

Mag the Mighty's twelve-foot frame was hunched over to avoid the ceiling of the tunnel, which was a mere eleven feet from the floor. However, that didn't seem to hinder his effectiveness in battle much, as his runic bronze maul was coated in gore. Grenn watched as Mag the Mighty smashed his maul into Ser Wendell Manderly's side, smashing apart the Walrus Knight's Iron-Banded Oaken Shield and staving in Ser Wendell's chest, breastplate and all. As he saw this, Robb Stark shouted out a battle cry and surged forward, forcing Dolorous Edd and Grenn to keep pace in order to avoid their respective contingents from becoming detached from the Stark Guards.

"For the North!" Shouted Robb Stark as he crashed into the wall of Wildling Spears, carving the heads off a pair with a stroke of his bastard sword and the heads off their wielders with the back swing.

"For the Watch!" Cried Grenn, cleaving a Wildling in Shaggy Hides in two from shoulder to groin.

"For me!" Exclaimed Dolorous Edd, dodging a blow from a Wildling's Copper Axe and smashing a kick into the Man's Bollocks before cutting his throat as he bent over.

All around them, their reinforcements arrived to bolster the flagging line of defenders. Grenn took three other Wildlings with his Greatsword, carving off limbs and chopping heads, while Robb Stark seemed to be more or less keeping pace with him, slaying a Blue-painted Cave Dweller and a Frozen Shore Spearwife with powerful cuts and parrying a Clubfoot's Stone Mace before thrusting his blade through the unfortunate Wildling's torso, the crude leather armor no hinderance to the Arsenal Steel of Robb Stark's Blade. Dolorous Edd, meanwhile, spent more time dodging than actually killing, only killing two other Wildlings, a Hardhome Wrecker in a looted Braavosi Steel Helm and a Nightrunner with a bone club, with cuts from his Arming Sword or thrusts from his dagger.

As the line began to firm up, however, another bellow from Mag the Mighty issued forth, and Grenn, engaged in winding and binding with a Frozen Shore Spearman, turned to see a shadow fall over Dolorous Edd from behind. Mag the Mighty had pinpointed Edd as someone to target. Grenn headbutted his opponent, opening the Frozen Shore Man up for a swing of his greatsword that decapitated him before crying out in warning.

"Edd! Behind You!" Called out Grenn.

Grenn's warning came too late, however. As Dolorous Edd turned, Mag the Mighty was already swiping his Runic Bronze Maul toward him. Edd tried to dodge away, but that only turned the blow to come from a full hit into a glancing one. The Runic Arsenal Steel of Dolorous Edd's Breastplate over Mail met the Runic Bronze of Mag the Mighty's Maul, and a shower of sparks erupted as two pieces of Runic Metal struck off one another. The Armor that Lord Seawynd had donated was strong, but so was the powerful strike from a fully grown Giant. In the end, Dolorous Edd was sent flying into the tunnel wall to slump to the floor. Grenn didn't know whether he was dead or unconscious, but he had already lost one friend to the Wildlings' Invasion with Toad. The fact that he had quite probably just lost another made Grenn see red.

He let out a horrific battle cry that seemed to even take Mag the Mighty aback. It was a screeching, keening thing, and as he charged the King of the Giants, blade flashing out. Grenn took advantage of that fact to press his initial cut through the opening created by the startling of Mag the Mighty, cutting a line with his Runic Arsenal Steel Greatsword into Mag the Mighty's right leg. The Tree trunk-sized limb wasn't cut through by the blow, but the cut was telling. Extremely so, it would turn out, as Grenn pressed his assault. Distantly, Grenn could hear Robb Stark exhorting their men to push back the Wildlings and directing a counterattack, but the blood rushing into his ears and the red creeping into the rest of his vision from the corner of his eye drowned out all other sound soon after that point.

Grenn would never remember what had happened during his duel with Mag the Mighty, save that at some point, he seemed to have gotten his helmet knocked off and scalp split open by a graze from the Maul and that he had come back to his senses holding Mag the Mighty's giant-sized, severed head up by the mane of shaggy hair. When he asked Robb Stark about it later, Robb would describe Grenn as having fought like a whirlwind, the flashing steel of his greatsword dismantling the power-based style of Mace-Fighting used by the King of the Giants with brutally vicious cuts, and footwork managing to stay just one step ahead of the Runic Bronze of the Maul, turning powerful blows into grazes or avoiding them altogether by inches. Apparently, it was like nothing the Stark Heir had ever seen.

Grenn attributed his performance to his rage at the loss of another friend fueling his body. Either way, however, the outcome was the same. Mag the Mighty had been slain by Grenn, while Robb Stark commanded the remaining forces in the Tunnel to a successful defense. Dolorous Edd was, somewhat miraculously, still alive, though he was very badly wounded, with broken ribs and a broken arm, and had to be carried back to Castle Black to be seen to by Maester Aemon. It was doubtful that Dolorous Edd would be able to take the field again, even if he recovered, and there was talk of sending him to the Stewards once he had recovered. However, for the moment, the Tunnels were firmly in the hands of the Defenders.

Unfortunately, when the next blow fell, it would fall at the top of the Wall, and would almost end in a complete victory for the Wildling Horde. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so I'm splitting up the Battle of the Wall into different parts, since there's so much going on here and we're already over three and a half thousand words here.

Effectively, though, you can take a few things away from this. One, Grenn killed Mag the Mighty after getting so royally pissed when he though Dolorous Edd had been killed that he entered some kind of berserker rage. Two, Ser Wendell Manderly is dead, and the Manderly Guards have taken a pretty big beating in the opening phases of the Battle. Three, House Ryswell has also taken a pretty big beating, and it is unknown whether or not Rickard and Roose Ryswell will die of their wounds, rendering House Ryswell extinct. Three, Theon Greyjoy seems to be a damn good shot with a Musket and managed to down Varamyr Sixskins in his Eagle Form, crippling one of the hidden aces in the hole that the Weeper and Rattleshirt were relying on to effectively command their horde. Finally, the main fight will take place during Rattleshirt's attack on the Rightmost Sectors of the Wall during the Second Phase of the Battle.

At any rate, the next chapter will be a look at Stannis' Campaign in the Westerlands before returning to the Battle of the Wall for Part Two. Then we'll be back with Ricasso for the Battle of Maidenpool.

Stay tuned. . .