Chapter 7

Ned and I watched anxiously as the Greatjon and the others vanished from sight. We'd been left behind with our two guards and a strong admonition not to wander.

Those instructions suited me just fine, but I could tell Ned was particularly displeased. He'd spent the last hour pacing around fingering his shortsword. We'd both been given one with the admonition of 'just in case.' Ned seemed to think this situation fit the 'just in case' requirements.

"We should be with father! Fighting! An Umber doesn't fear Wildlings."

One of the guards gave an amused laugh. "Indeed they don't! That's why Greatjon will soon have things will in hand."

His partner gave a grim sort of nod. "The bastards like to raid little villages. Burn and carry everything off. Well, this time they hooked more than they can handle…"

I ignored the byplay, squinting into the distance. "What's that?"

The first guard glanced at the plume of smoke I had noticed and gave a disgusted grunt. "Wildlings like to burn things. Like as not they set the village afire."

The second guard made a show of nonchalance, taking out his belt knife to pair at his nails. "Won't help them any. Not once Lord Umber falls on them. Just a shame we wont see it ourselves…" he gave a disgusted shake of his head… "eight years with his lordship, and I'm stuck babysitting brats."

Ned switched his focus to the second guard, head lifting as he sensed an opening. "Then let us go! We won't say anything… we promise."

The guard laughed at that. "Your father would skin me alive, boy."

"Maybe just let us get closer? To see?" Ned wheedled.

When the guards just looked amused at this pleading, Ned turned to me, a fierce look on his face. "Eyron, you can *order* them to take us!"

I blinked. The last thing I wanted was to get involved in this. "What?"

Ned's eyes took on a gleam. "You're a Stark of Winterfell! Order them to take us closer! They would have to listen to you…"

"Ahh…" I hesitated, glancing to the guards for help. I had literally zero desire to get closer to this raid. But I also found myself not wanting to shut down Ned. There was nothing an Umber despised more than cowardice and…

I was saved by another amused snort from the guard. "Yeah. That's not happening. We take our orders from Lord Umber. Not Stark. No offense, boy."

"None taken…" I managed to offer a weak smile and an internal sigh of relief.

"Yes taken!" Ned was not appeased, his usual sunny disposition hidden behind his scowl. "Eyron and I *need* to go… to help father…"

The guardsman heaved a sigh. "Look. Kid. I know you're worried…"

"I'm not worried…" Ned managed to fill that word with scorn. "I know father will win. Of course. It's just Wildlings. But…"

The guardsman knelt down in front of him. "Look. Boy. I remember when I was a lad, not much older than you. My father was a guardsman too, to old lord Hoarfrost. I hated waiting back then. But think of it this way… you know your father's got nothing to fear from a bunch of savages from North of the Wall, right?"

I resisted giving an eye-roll at the 'savages' comment, but Ned gave a hesitant nod.

"Right. So." The guardsman continued after a pause. "If you go rushing off after him now, it'll be YEARS before your father forgives that and let's you join him, yes? But follow orders? Show you can play the man's role by doing as your Lord commands? And who knows, maybe next time you can help?"

Ned seemed to consider this, working it over in consideration. Finally, he gave a nod. "Fine. But you're going to tell father we should go with him next time. Right, Eyron?"

"…Right." I gave a half-hearted agreement, mostly just glad my friend seemed to be calming down.

"Hah. There you go." The guardsman got back to his feet, glancing towards his partner before focusing back on Ned. "See? It won't be so bad. Besides, I imagine by now Lord Umber is just about…"

Suddenly an arrow sprouted out of his back.

The guard let out a surprised yell, half stumbling and half spinning as he turned around.

Another arrow went through his throat, and he fell to the ground.

Looking up, I could clearly see two men cresting the hill. One was clearly the archer, and the other had a sword out.

Ned, eyes wide, darted to my side. "Eyron!"

"Wildlings…" Our remaining guard let out a low hiss, sword drawn as he closed with the two approaching men.

Then the guard was exchanging blows with the Wildlings. I watched as his sword bit deeply into the shoulder of one of his opponents, and for a second I felt hope. But then the sword caught on the wounded Wildlings armor. It snagged just for a second, but it was enough for the second enemy circle behind him and deal a nasty blow to the guard's head.

I blinked, snapping out of my stupor and grabbing Ned's arm. "We've got to run… now…"

My friend scowled, shaking me off and drawing his short sword. "An Umber doesn't run…"

"Ned!" I hissed, but my friend ignored me, charging at the two approaching Wildlings, sword waving.

The unwounded Wildling parried the blow contemptuously, then lashed out with his foot, tripping Ned. My friend went sprawling, sword flying from his hand.

"Well. Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The Wildling placed a foot on Ned's back, keeping him down.

My friend growled, scrambling in the mud to stand up. "You bastards! I'll kill you!"

The man laughed. "I like this one!" Now that he was closer, I could see he was young. Likely still in his teens.

"Stop fooling around, Jarl. You want to wait for Umber to catch us?" The wounded Wildling was older, and his face was white with pain. Or perhaps blood loss.

Jarl gave an elaborate shrug. "I warned The Weeper. Told him you didn't linger on a raid. But the fool had to have his fun, and now look at what's happened."

"All the more reason to make for the Wall! Now!" The other man hissed.

Jarl gave another laugh, pressing his foot down on Ned. "Ohh. But Grigg?. Didn't you hear what this boy said? 'An Umber never runs' he said. And look here…" his foot nudged at Ned's muddy tunic, which had the Umber sigil on it. "What do you want to bet this is Umber's own son? I'd wager on it."

Grigg swayed on his feet, hand clenched against his wound and face pale. "What of it? That bastard stuck me good, and they'll be chasing us for sure. What do we want with some brat?"

Jarl smirked, hauling Ned to his feet and twisting my friends arm behind his back. "Think what Mance would do to get his hand on Umber's get? What a prize he'd be! We'd spend the winter warm and sipping summer wine.

Grigg spat. "Will be a bloody miracle if we make it to the Wall now. And you want Umber to chase us the whole way there? And drag some kid along to slow us down? He's Umber's get? Than stick a sword in the brat's throat and be done with it."

Shit, Jarl seemed to actually be considering that. Part of me wanted nothing so much as to try to slip away unnoticed. I doubted , wounded and burdened as the Wildlings were, that they would chase me far. But… Ned. I felt something shameful squirm in my stomach that I'd even thought of running.

Instead, I straightened myself and spoke. "You don't want to do that…"

Both Wildlings blinked, almost as though they were noticing me for the first time.

Jarl cocked his head. "And who is this?"

Ned squirmed. "Eyron! No!"

I cleared my throat nervously, never so glad that I was wearing a plain wool doublet. No Stark sigil on it today. "Just… just his friend, Ser."

Jarl laughed, turning to his companion. "You hear that, Grigg? He calls me Ser! Next the boy's going to be kneeling to me!"

Grigg didn't seem amused. "Kill them and be done with it, Jarl. No more gabbing."

"No!" I spoke with haste before they could say anything else. "He's worth more alive. Definitely! Kill him, and the Umbers will chase you. The Nights Watch will chase you too. They'll never stop. This side of the wall or the other!"

Grigg sneered. "And they won't chase us if we have their precious little lordling hostage?"

Jarl arched an amused eyebrow at me, as though to say he agreed.

Desperately, almost tripping over my tongue I tried again. "Yes. Yes, of course. But… but alive he's your insurance if they catch up to you! He's worth more alive. You… you…" I steeled myself as I tried to convince them… "You can always kill him later. But harm him now and you can't undo it."

Jarl let out a little snicker. "Kill him later, huh? Awfully cold blooded of you for his supposed friend! But see…" he turned back to his companion. "Even the boy gets it!"

"Gah!" Grigg snarled. "Fine. Gods be damned. Enough gabbing. They'll be on us any moment."

Jarl nodded, and gave a pointed glance to his companion's wounded arm. "Indeed. I'll carry the boy."

I felt myself sag in relief that they wouldn't be harming Ned.

Jarl paused a moment before continuing. "And Grigg? Kill the spare…"

Wait… did he mean…

Jarl gave me an apologetic shrug. "Sorry boy. Nothing personal. But can't take you both, and wouldn't do for you to point them in our direction…"

I took a stumbling step back. "No... No I wouldn't…"

Jarl sighed, turning to his companion. "Grigg. Make it quick…"

"Gods damned." The wounded Wildling started to stomp towards me, his dripping blood leaving a red trail behind him, but drawing a sword with his good arm all the same.

"Eyron! No!" Ned started to struggle, biting, scratching and scrambling desperately.

Jarl was scowling, and gave Ned a smack that sent him flying across the snow. "Don't make me reconsider keeping you alive, brat…"

Ned was scrambling in the icy mud, but Jarl was already nearly on top of him.

Then I was forced to turn from my friend, as Grigg closed the distance.

"Don't. Run. And I'll make it… quick…" The Wildling was gasping as he moved towards me, and I could see that blood was still dripping down his side.

Dimly, I heard Mors Umber's words in my mind. 'Always move forwards. Momentum.' And I charged.

I don't know what came over me. One second I was backing away… and the next I was charging forwards, swinging my own sword.

"Gods. I. Fucking. Hate. Umbers." Grigg was gasping with pain as he parried my wild thrusts.

Still, even wounded and one-armed, he was an adult with an adult's strength. My blows didn't seem to even daunt him.

I pulled back for a half second studying him. Then, before he could seize the momentum I charged again, this time shifting to try and reach his wounded right side.

Once, twice, three times I struck out. But he blocked the first two and stepped back from the third.

Then he gave me a kick and I went sprawling, feeling my ribs creak.

"Gods. Damned. Southerners…" Grigg was gasping as he practically fell on top of me. "Just… fucking… die…"

I felt my eyes widen as his sword came careening towards my head. Desperately I twisted and scrambled to try and get away. And instead of losing my head, I felt the air rush by as the sword just missed me.

Quickly as I could, I kicked out with my foot, sending the blade flying away from us.

"Damn… nuisance…" Instead of going for the blade, Grigg was half lying on top of me, face twisted in a pained grimace.

I kicked and scratched at him, but it didn't seem to do any good. I could smell his foul breath now, he was so close, and his fingers were scrambling at my neck.

I'd never felt more like a helpless eight year old. Our size disparity was just too much It was like punching at a boulder. And now his hands were starting to tighten around my neck.

I was going to die. Again. I couldn't believe it. I tried to kick at the Wildling again, but he didn't even react, leaning over me and bearing his weight down, his blood dripping into my eyes.

His blood… desperately my eyes darted to my left. With every ounce of strength I had in me, I pushed my body towards the left, shifting.

Grigg shifted with me, hands leaving my neck for just a moment as he prepared to get a firmer and more final grip…

And then, with every ounce of strength I could summon, with my full body weight behind it, I smashed my fist into his wounded shoulder.

And the man screamed.

It was blood curdling and high pitched, and he reared away from me, falling onto his back.

I scrambled to my feet in a panic, then ran towards the sword that had been kicked aside, hands closing on it as I turned around to face my enemy.

I needn't have rushed. Grigg was still lying where he had fallen. The Wildling was even paler then before, and there was blood from his wounded shoulder pooling all around him.

I took a hesitant and wary step towards him, but the man made no move to get up. He was still alive, I could tell, but his breathing was coming in pained gasps. His eyes were half lidded, and there was blood everywhere.

"Wonderful. You were finished off by some eight year old brat. What a story that will make when I tell it to Val…"

I whirled around. Jarl was standing two dozen feet away, observing the scene with disinterest. Ned was contemptuously slung over his shoulder, hands bound with a strip of cloth.

"Well, boy." The Wildling cocked his head as he continued. "Looks like this is your lucky day. You get to live after all."

I felt my eyes narrowing as the Wildling started to turn. This time, I didn't hesitate. "No."

Jarl made an exasperated sound. "I'm offering you your life…"

I hesitated only a moment before stalking forwards, my sword held in my hand.

Jarl didn't wait for me to reach him. A fierce grin on his face, he darted forwards and slammed into me, not losing his balance even with Ned draped across his back.

I went flying, the sword shooting from my hand yet again.

The Wildling heaved a sigh as he stalked closer. "Well. I suppose if you *insist* I'll finish you after all. Never let it be said…"

Jarl's words were cut off as he let out a scream of pain.

In awe, I watched as Ned twisted on the Wildling's back, his teeth sinking into the man's ear.

Jarl's fist was pounding on Ned now, trying to make the boy let go. But my friend, eyes radiating anger, only clenched his teeth tighter, his bound arms wrapping around the Wildling's neck in a firm grip.

"You bastard!" Jarl let out another scream as he finally threw Ned a clear six feet across the hilltop. A chunk of his ear, now a bloody mess, went with my friend.

"That's it! THAT IS IT!" Jarl was screaming, a crazed look in his eyes. "I don't care whose son you are. You're dead. DEAD!"

He was stalking towards Ned, one hand clutching his shredded ear, the other with bare steel in its grip.

I didn't hesitate. My sword was too far, lost in the mud, so I drew the hunting knife Hother had insisted I carry. And I moved forwards.

Jarl was so focused on Ned, he didn't even seem to hear me approaching. I started to worry what would happen if he did hear me. What if I wasn't strong enough to hurt him? If I missed? Then I pushed those thoughts aside.

I couldn't second guess. Couldn't pause to think. I cleared my mind and simply ran forwards the last few steps.

And then I leaped. I had been aiming to get high enough on the Wildling's back to reach his neck, but I didn't make it that far. Instead, I stabbed down, watching as the knife sunk between the man's shoulder blades.

Desperately, I threw my whole weight at it, trying to push the blade in as far as I could.

Jarl let out another scream, stumbling to his knees. But then his arm was reaching behind, picking me bodily off his back and slamming me down next to Ned.

I could see his hand scrambling for the knife now lodged into his back. He let out another scream, half pain half rage, when his hand brushed against it. He couldn't seem to bring himself to try and pull it free.

"You." The sheer fury in his voice was a sight to behold. "You're dead. Both of you."

For a second he swayed above us, ear a bloody mess, knife jabbed into his back. I half hoped he would simply keel over. But he steadied himself, raising his blade up, determination in his eyes…

And then I watched in stunned disbelief as his head literally went flying.

It was almost surreal. For a second I didn't understand what had happened, didn't believe what I had witnessed. But there was Jarl's head, half a dozen feet away in the snow, eyes already sightless. And there was his body, slowly toppling over.

And behind him, looming over everything, stood the Greatjon.

Dimly I could make out other Umber men arriving and milling behind him, but my eyes were firmly focused on the Greatjon.

"Father!" Ned practically threw himself at his father, arms wrapping around the man.

For a moment, I lingered just watching the two of them. Then the Greatjon motioned me to join him. I hesitated a moment, this man wasn't my father… in either world. And damn it, mentally I was a teenager, not a little kid.

He motioned again, and as I hesitantly stepped forwards and the man enfolded me in a fierce hug alongside Ned.

"You boys." His voice was gruff and hoarse. "It's fine now"

Despite everything, I felt myself leaning into him. My limbs had started to shake now that the adrenaline was leaving me, and suddenly I could feel every bruise and ache on my body. But there was something that felt weirdly reassuring and safe with the Greatjon. My eyes darted to the now headless Jarl before focusing back on the Greatjon.

Finally, he pulled back, an arm on each of our shoulders as he examined us. "I'm so proud of you… of how you fought. You were so brave."

Meanwhile, I couldn't seem to stop shaking. I averted my eyes, expecting a lecture about not showing weakness.

Instead, The Greatjon squeezed my shoulder. "Eyron." He waited till he had my eyes. "You did well."

Hother was now standing behind him, nodding agreement.

Suddenly, something occurred to me, and I felt my head whipping around. "There… there was another one…"

Hother and the Greatjon exchanged looks, but it was Hother who answered. "Dead. Bled out."

I blinked, my vision narrowing. Dead? Had I… had he died because of me? He'd been wounded… but he had still been able to stand and walk before I punched him. Was it my fault?

The Greatjon shook his head. "There. Don't worry, lad. First time's always hard. But you did the right thing."

Still. I licked my lips, eyes darting again to the headless Jarl, then back to the Greatjon. "But… he's dead?"

The Greatjon shrugged. "Just a Wildling."

Hother gave a fierce nod behind his nephews back. "You've nothing to feel guilty over. They would have gutted you if you hadn't acted."

The Greatjon's eyes were boring into me now. "It's like I said, the first time's always hard. But it's just a Wildling, Eyron."

I gave a shaky nod.

He squeezed my shoulder again. "Say it, lad. Just a Wildling. Say it."

I licked my lips, hesitating a second before repeating after him. "Just… just a Wildling."

"Again."

"Just a Wildling." I wasn't sure why, but somehow saying it did make me feel somewhat better.

He leaned back, that proud smile back on his face. "Exactly. Now you two tell me what happened here."

Ned spoke up at that, sounding strangely subdued. "They killed the guards. They knew… they knew I was an Umber and wanted to take me. And then the wounded one attacked Eyron… but… but Eyron knocked him out. The other one was going to take me, but then… then Eyron stabbed him in the back…" Ned bit his lip looking down. "I didn't do anything, father."

I shot my friend an incredulous look. Sheer surprise snapping me out of my stupor. "You bit his *ear* off, Ned! You were amazing! I only knocked the other one out because he was bleeding out everywhere. His partner would have killed us if you hadn't done that."

That seemed to snap Ned somewhat out of his funk. "But you stabbed him in the *back* Eyron! It was amazing!"

Laughing, the Greatjon got to his feet, resting a hand on each of our heads. "You both did well."

I glanced at the man, a sudden thought occurring to me. "What about the village?"

Hother heaved a sigh. "Bastards set it aflame, it'll be a long winter for the folks there."

The Greatjon gave a grim grin. "But not a single woman or child carried off. We caught them with their pants down. A handful we're hunting through the hills, but we got most of the bastards."

Hother nodded. "Coren broke his arm. But otherwise? Only casualties were…" he trailed off, glancing behind us to where our two guards were."

I bit my lip, remembering the poor guards who'd died for us. I made a mental note to ask about their families when we got back to Last Hearth.

The Greatjon gave himself a shake, before sending us both a more genuine smile. "I want Hother to look you both over, make sure you're fine. But I say it again, I couldn't be prouder."

Hother's usually gruff expression was much milder as he approached me. "Jon's right, boy. We'll make an Umber of you yet…"

Despite everything that had happened, there was something soothing about all of the approval the Umbers were showing. Especially after all the earlier scornful looks I'd seen.

And at those last words from Hother? For some reason, my chest fill with pride. And I felt a new determination to hear them again.

A/N: Hah. Well there you go. Internet went down today. Crazy when you can't go out, and your TV *and* books all require Internet connections… and you don't have a smart phone… how little there is to do. But on the plus side I wrote a ton for ALL of my stories.

Anyway. I couldn't resist having an Umber bite off an ear! That said, for reference, obviously the Umbers are prejudiced/biased when it comes to the Wildlings. If it wasn't clear, obviously Eyron is latching on to that prejudice. Partly as a coping mechanism, partly because of role modeling (again he was young when reborn here, still impressionable) and partly because you tend to adapt to the culture you are in. Getting approval and acceptance from everyone around you is a dangerous 'drug'. It is, tbh, how a lot of flat out racist groups get adherents in the real world. Not that the Umbers are anywhere near that level, but I only say all this because I've gotten a few comments saying I'm biased against the Free Folk. I'm not. If Eyron was with them, he'd be adapting the same "anti-kneelers" bias *they* have. But he isn't. He is with the Umbers. A large part of this fic is intended to be about exploring Northern culture and also exploring cultural bias (using an SI gets us a nice 'blank slate' for that).

FYI the next mini-arc will have a time skip of several years. As you may recall I delyed the time skip because I wanted to get this chapter in to lay some of the ground work for the changes we will see in Eyron post skip. Assuming we stick to plan, its two-three more chapters for a little side-mini arc and then chronologically we should be to the start of book 1.