ASOIAF - Chapter 1 Part 5

- Aragorn -

Aragorn observed Lagertha, as she madly stabbed their last kill repeatedly, venting all of her rage and sorrow. He could sympathize with her, as she'd just lost all of her companions for seemingly no reason. There were no winners in this conflict, only losers. Excluding Aragorn who made a hefty sum of EXP thanks to them.

With a final stab, she finally got up and observed her savior. She did not show any hostility, knowing that if he wanted to kill her, he had plenty of chances to do so. He could, for example, use one of the knives he threw at the others, and with her exhausted state she had no chance of escaping.

"I am Lagertha from the Storm Tribe. Thank you for saving my life and my honor." Lagertha spoke with a measured voice, something Aragorn was not expecting. Her English was impeccable and well-articulated as far as he was concerned, something he didn't expect from 'wildlings'.

"I am Aragorn. You're welcome." Aragorn nodded stoically. He wasn't sure what demeanor he should be adopting with northerners, uncertain if being approachable would be the correct play. Yet Lagertha frowned for some reason.²

"And what tribe are you from, Aragorn?" Lagertha asked. Contrary to her, Aragorn did not introduce himself properly. One might think he was afraid of mentioning where he belongs. Not being proud of where you belong was not a good sign by any stretch of the imagination, unless it was something dishonorable, in which case she would do her best to keep her distance. Aragorn frowned in turn, appearing to be in deep thought, taking some time to answer such a simple question.

"I... don't know?" Just when Lagertha was getting impatient, the answer came but it was not one she was expecting. How on earth could he not remember?

"What's that supposed the mean?" She narrowed her eyes, looking at him suspiciously now.

"It means that I don't know the answer to your question." Aragorn confirmed again. "No... Rather it appears I don't remember?"

"And how can you forget such a simple thing? What do you remember?" Lagertha pressed on, unwilling to let it go. Aragorn was inclined to remind her who just saved the other, but decided against it as it would be counterproductive.

"I... woke up three days again in a tree cave." Aragorn said thoughtfully. Lagertha looked at him thoughtfully for a while, before her expression shifted to one of realization.

"Ah... Were you hit on the head by any chance?" Lagertha heard this from her elders once. Somebody suffered a head injury, and it somehow made him forget a lot of things one does not usually forget.

"That's what I was expecting too, funnily enough. But I don't think I have any head injuries. If I did, it must've healed somehow." Aragorn shrugged, not looking bothered by it at all. It was mostly an act to avoid suspicion. He did not wish to make matters more difficult, and would gladly move on should the opportunity given. "Where are we by the way?"

"The Haunted Forest." Lagertha answered after a moment of silence, trying to make sense of the situation. She considered a scenario where he was lying, but she saw no reason for him to do so. She couldn't imagine him having nefarious intentions about her, because if he did, he would've jumped her by now. She decided she would bring him back to the tribe with her. Their location was not a secret at all. They've dealt with many other tribes before and welcomed them to their homes on occasion. And their numbers were nothing to be scoffed at, so anybody would think twice before they messed with them.

"Why did you kill them if you don't remember anything?" She finally asked the question that's been nagging at her mind. The Free Folk do not give things out for free, and that includes help. If you are outmatched by somebody who wishes to kill you, then most would ignore you no matter how well they knew you, unless they were your allies. 'Kindness' is very rarely given, especially the kind that involves risking your life for the other. Unless they are trying to contest the 'Steal', but that wasn't the case with the man in front of her.

"I felt like it?" Aragorn said, tilting his head in confusion. But Lagertha seemed to understand his words differently than what he truly meant.

"Those are the gods guiding you to get rid of the scum. It's only natural to kill a cannibal when you meet one." Lagertha spat on one of the corpses and kicked its head again.

"Cannibals, huh..." An expression of disgust settled on Aragorn's face. "Maybe I shouldn't have given them an easy death." Lagertha nodded in agreement. Everyone unanimously agreed that those heretics ought to be killed on sign, as eating human flesh is the most deplorable thing anybody can do.

"Where are you headed to?" Lagertha asked.

"I don't have anywhere to go." Aragorn shrugged. "So anywhere, really."

"Our tribe is a day's walk away from here." Lagertha proposed. "You can settle there if you'd like until you get your memories back. That's the least we can do for what you've done for us."

"I'll take you up on that offer. Thank you." That is exactly what Aragorn was waiting for. Her tribe would be a good starting point for him to settle in this world. Right now, he had no idea where he was. 'The Haunted Forest' doesn't ring any bells for him, and he didn't know any place where can find fellow human beings. And knowing what resided north of the wall, he was not comfortable staying alone.

"So, what do you remember exactly?" Lagertha asked him, as they walked in a certain direction.

"I know the most basic of things. I know my name, I know how to talk, how to eat, how to fight... And that's about it." Aragorn never said he lost his memory, it was merely Lagertha's interpretation. It wasn't the story he wants to go with, but it's a good starting point.

"And whom do you worship?" Lagertha asked a very important question, one that might change her attitude towards him if he doesn't answer properly, though he doesn't know that.

"Do you have to ask?" Aragorn looked at her weirdly. "Whom am I supposed to worship if it's not the old gods?"

"Good to know your heart is unchanged." Lagertha nodded in satisfaction. Religion was an extremely important matter for the free folk, as it is in a sense everything they have. "The gods work in mysterious ways. You haven't forgotten about them, and that tells me they haven't forsaken you. I'm sure you will eventually find your place in this world again." She consoled him, though he didn't truly need it.

"Thank you." Aragorn nodded, though he was crackling madly in his head because of the last system notification he received.

< You have gained: [Proficiency: Acting (Passive)] >

< [Proficiency: Acting (Passive)] LVL 1 >

Your acting skills are very convincing, capable of duping those who are unaware of your true intentions.

Increased Persuasion whilst acting.

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Lagertha proceeded to tell him about her tribe, named after the god of the storm. They were located in the Haunted Forest, near the coast of the Shivering Sea at the opening of the Antler's River. She showed him a map of the Southern part of the Haunted forest drawn on animal skin, where they were at the moment. She explained to him that the proper way to treat the dead is by burning them, but Lagertha suspected there might be other people affiliated with their assailants, so she'd rather go back and report to Igmilla, their chieftain.

Aragorn learned a lot about the Storm Tribe or 'Storm People' as others call them. The area they occupied has always been plagued by snowstorms, just like the one he had to face a few days back. They are not deadly when one is prepared for them, which is how the tribe was able to live for so long.

According to Lagertha's words, the storms are the signs of the gods telling them they have not been forgotten, and they do not tolerate weakness, as the storms are responsible for countless deaths, until they were able to spot it before it became a problem. Their tribe feasts every storm, and it is considered a prime time for reproduction, as the gods bless whoever survives them with strong children.

Furthermore, it seems they follow a matriarchal hierarchy, where women are the ones who take all major decisions for them. In fact, Ygmilla Stormborn, their chieftain, is an ex spear-wife who was born amidst a storm, signifying how strong she was to survive such an event as a babe. They believe women are wiser than men, which is why they are following an old woman instead of a strong man like other tribes would.

The sun was setting, and Lagertha told him they should find a place to stay for the night. It was very dangerous to walk at night without vision and with such a small group. She led him to a nearby cave in the hills, where their people usually rested when needed. They had many such safe havens, including the cave he was staying at.

After setting up their beds for the night, they had dinner. Dried meat, though he did not know what animal it was, not was he brave enough to ask. He would gladly stay happy in his ignorance. It was chewy and bland, but this was saved for emergencies from what Lagertha explained. You are supposed to hunt and gather fruits and 'vegetables' instead.

"You talk like a southerner, you know that?" Lagertha said while chewing her food. "People ain't gonna like that." Aragorn was well aware of that point, but he wasn't inclined to change the way he spoke just to please people. "You also have southern weapons. Nobody among the free folk has weapons as good as yours. Maybe the Thenns do, but I doubt they are of the same quality."

"Southerner..." An expression of contempt settled on his face. "I don't like that word."

"Understandable." Lagertha chuckled, shaking her head. It was an insult as far as any true northerner was concerned. "Speaking of which, I haven't told you about the south much, have I?" Aragorn shook his head before she started explaining it to him.

The true north was separated from the rest of the continent by a giant wall of ice, taller than giants themselves. According that what she'd been told, it was built by the southerners' ancestors for some reason, separating the two places apart. There is a fundamental difference between the north and the south, and that's where the word Kneelers comes from, another term for the southerners. They kneel to their fellow men and give them titles and positions of power based on birth. Essentially, they are glorified slaves. They live in castles, have lords and kings, don't know how to fight, fear death more than anything else in the world, worship false gods...

Even worse, were the crows, or the Night's Watch, a group of men tasked by the southerners to guard the wall and stop any of the free folk to cross it. Worse was that the crows still venture to the north every now and then to kill their brothers and sisters. This is why the free folk has taken it upon themselves to raid the southerners as much as possible, kill their men and women, steal their food and burn their houses. Though she didn't mention anything about 'riches', because gold or money means absolutely nothing to them.

"I do have a question, though."

"Ask away."

"If the wall is blocking our passage to the south, why don't we just go around it?" Lagertha raised an eyebrow at that question before she remembered that he lost his memory.

"Ah, you see you can't get around it. It goes all the way to the sea. So the only way to go around it is by swimming, but you'd freeze to death before reaching the coast." Lagertha clarified.

"Can't you use boats?" Aragorn tilted his head in confusion.

"No." Lagertha shook her head. "The waves are tricky there. Boats are too fragile to get through that. And even if it did, what use is it when it's only a few men." Lagertha explained patiently.

"I see." He nodded in understanding. He would have to see it for himself of course before making further plans, but it did tell him that the free folk were no great boat builders at least, since their boats couldn't hold many men. Though that's probably because they never felt the need to build such boats.

"Well, I'm going to sleep now. We'll be on our way tomorrow." Lagertha said, before laying on her bed. Aragorn wouldn't yet, however. He sat in his meditative stance before he regulated his breathing and cast away all distracting thoughts from his mind.

A stream of aura then sprang from every fiber of his being, filling him with strength and vitality, an intoxicating feeling of power and control, subtle like a warm gentle breeze in the summer. It was a manifestation of his own vitality, as it was ever-present in his body at all times, he just didn't have an active role in controlling it. But the moment he did, it became a chaotic storm, raging around his body. And getting frustrated did not help his case, as his control over it slipped every passing second until he was drained mentally to continue. So he took breaks to bring his mental state under control, before resuming.

Lagertha was observing him the whole time. She didn't understand what he was doing and didn't feel inclined to put her nose where it doesn't belong. Then he started breathing slower and slower, and then she felt it. She didn't know what it was, but the goosebumps she had were undeniable. She felt something unusual about him, hooking her in its intoxicating feeling, taking her breath away, forcing her eyes to stay fixated on the man in the same cave. Not out of physical attraction, but something far beyond that. Then it disappeared and somehow coincided with a heavy sigh he released, before it began again. It was a peculiar experience for her and didn't stop until he was done with whatever he was doing, and went to sleep. She pretended to sleep too, keeping half an eye open to hide her 'voyeurism'.