Tinkering With Life (GoT SI)

It didn't take long before we encountered our stalkers. 

I sensed them up ahead lying in wait and even Benjen seemed to have noticed a few moments later.

"There's an ambush waiting ahead," he murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I shrugged. "I know. Let's see what they want."

We continued forward openly, making no attempt to hide our approach. 

As we entered a clearing, figures emerged from the treeline. Their furs and makeshift weapons left no doubt of who they were.

A red-bearded man stepped forward. I was pretty sure I recognized him- Tormund Giantsbane.

"Quite surprising seeing a crow and some green boy round these parts," Tormund called out, his voice carrying easily across the clearing. Despite his tense posture, there was more curiosity than hostility in his tone.

"I would have come alone. It's just that I am horrible at navigating unfamiliar places, so I asked for some help," I replied casually.

"That so?" Tormund raised an eyebrow. "And what brings you here?"

"As much as I would have liked to come here just to look at the scenery, I have some serious business to attend to," I said. "We're hoping to catch ourselves a wight, maybe even a White Walker if we're lucky."

The words were followed with nothing but silence. The wildlings went dead silent, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief before Tormund burst out laughing, his deep laugh echoing through the trees. The rest did not join in, though some were dismissive.

"Quite dangerous games you like to play, boy. I like you already!" Tormund declared, wiping tears from his eyes.

I saw an opportunity and took it. "Feel like helping us out? You guys seem like you'd know your way around these parts better than we would." I glanced apologetically at Benjen. "No offense."

"None taken," Benjen replied with a slight shrug. "I couldn't agree more."

"Ha!" Tormund said with humor and slight interest. "Quite the set of balls you have on you, lad. What do we get in return for what is essentially a mad quest?"

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but where I am from, I am quite the famous healer. And I would like to offer my services as a healer to anyone you would want me to"

"Really?" Tormund turned to Benjen in a serious tone. "Is that true, crow?"

"Yes," Benjen nodded. "If anything, he is underplaying his skills."

He seemed to think on this for a moment before nodding "Very well. If you come back with us to our current settlement, there are enough sick people to be able to prove your words, healer boy."

"Wonderful, the name's El by the way," I said with a grin. "Not that I have any problem with healer boy, I just realized that I hadn't introduced myself."

"Ha! The name's Tormund Giantsbane, healer boy!"

I noticed another familiar face in the group as I caught Ygritte staring at me. 

I couldn't help but think I should have brought Jon along - watching that particular drama unfold would have at least kept me entertained.

Next time, I guess.

We set off together, with Benjen taking up position at the rear while I walked right in the midst of the wildling group, completely at ease. My casual attitude seemed to unsettle some of them - after all, any normal person in my position would be at least slightly nervous when traveling with a dozen wildlings. 

Even Benjen, while alert, wasn't exactly anxious. It seems he had enough faith in my abilities to keep us both alive if things went south.

The awkward silence was starting to get to me though.

"Hey, since we've got quite a journey ahead of us, and I get bored easily, does anyone want to play a game of twenty questions?" I asked, trying to break the ice.

"What's that?" Tormund asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

"It's simple - you ask me a question, and I answer truthfully. Then I ask you one, and you do the same. We keep going until either we get bored or something more interesting happens," I explained with a grin.

"Sure, I'll start," Tormund grinned. "How'd you end up traveling with a crow?"

"Simple, really - I needed someone who knows the land, and Benjen here was kind enough to volunteer," I replied. "My turn - what made you decide to ambush us instead of just following?"

Ygritte spoke up before Tormund could answer. "Saw you coming from leagues away, you weren't really being subtle. Figured might as well see what a crow and some kneeler were doing this far north."

"I'm wounded," I placed a hand over my heart dramatically. "Do I really look like a Southerner to you?"

"You're wearing that fancy white coat," she pointed out. "No one dresses like that beyond the Wall."

"Fair point," I conceded. "Though I'd argue it's quite practical. Never gets dirty, keeps me warm, looks impressive..."

Tormund let out a booming laugh. "Aye, looks impressive right up until you need to hide from something nasty in the forests."

"Who says I need to hide?" I shot back with a grin.

"Ha! I like this one," Tormund declared to his companions. "Got more fire in him than most crows I've met."

As we walked, the tension gradually eased. The Free Folk were naturally suspicious people, but they seemed to appreciate direct honesty and a bit of humor.

"So, healer boy," Tormund continued, "I was under the impression that anyone south of the walls don't believe in the existence of white walkers and what makes you think you can capture one?"

"Well like I said already, I am quite unique even south of the wall," I said with a smirk. "And leave the capturing to me. I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve."

"Tricks won't save you from the dead," one of the other wildlings muttered darkly.

"Maybe not," I agreed. "But they've worked well enough so far. Speaking of which - how far to your settlement?"

"Not far now," Tormund answered. "Just over that ridge. Hope you're as good as the crow says because we've got some people who could use a proper healer."

I noticed Ygritte still studying me intently. "Got another question?" I asked her directly.

She narrowed her eyes. "You're different. Can't quite figure out how, but you're not like the others south of the Wall."

"Thank you," I grinned. "I try my best, and that wasn't a question."

"Where are you from?"

"I really doubt you know where I am from. I myself am not so sure but I currently live in Winterfell and have been for a couple of years now."

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As we crested a hill, an enormous encampment spread out before us. Hundreds, maybe thousands of tents dotted the landscape.

"Well damn," I muttered to Benjen. "When you said King beyond the Wall, you weren't exaggerating."

I was quite genuine in my surprise too. I hadn't expected that many people would gather so early on but I didn't give it much thought.

People bustled between the tents like ants in a colony - more humans than I'd seen gathered in one place since arriving in this world. Well, Kings Landing was a close second.

As we made our way down, curious eyes followed our progress. Most shot dark looks at Benjen's black clothing, marking him instantly as a Brother of the Night's Watch. A few did double-takes at my spotless lab coat but mostly ignored me as some oddly-dressed southerner.

Tormund led us through the maze of tents toward one larger than the rest.

"Oi Ryder!" Tormund bellowed. "Got some visitors you'll want to meet!"

After a few moments, a man emerged from the tent. Even without introduction, I knew this had to be Mance Rayder. He carried himself with the quiet confidence of a natural leader, his weathered face and sharp eyes taking in every detail of the scene before him.

His gaze lingered on Benjen's black cloak before shifting to me with open curiosity. "Now this is interesting," he said thoughtfully. "A Benjen Stark and the White Mage in my little camp?"

"Oh? I'm surprised my reputation has made it this far north," I remarked, genuinely impressed.

Mance's lips quirked in a slight smile. "I make it my business to know what happens south of the Wall. And you, my friend, have been causing quite a stir. Come on in, I am sure you have much to talk about."

Before we could enter the tent, an angry voice cut through the murmurs of the gathered crowd. 

"Well, if it isn't a lost crow!"

"Alfyn," Mance warned, his voice sharp. "These are my guests."

But the scarred man - Alfyn Crowkiller - ignored Rryder's words, pushing forward with murder in his eyes. "Come to join your dead brothers?"

I felt Benjen tense beside me, his hand moving to his sword. Before things could escalate, I stepped between them, keeping my voice light despite the tension in the air.

"Actually, he's my guide," I said with an easy smile. "I'm absolute rubbish with directions, and he was kind enough to volunteer. So any problem you have with him..." I let my voice trail off meaningfully, the threat clear despite my cheerful tone.

Alfyn sneered. "And who might you be, Boy?"

I grinned, letting a hint of power leak into my voice. "Someone you really don't want to mess with. But if you insist..."

This was my opportunity to make a statement. 

Almost everyone here had no idea what I was capable of.

'I guess I may as well enlighten them'

Unlike last time, I had many more options for handling this situation. 

The wildlings formed a circle around us, their reactions a mix of bloodthirsty excitement and wary suspicion. Some eagerly pushed forward, hoping for a show.

I kept my stance relaxed, hands loose at my sides as the infamous Crowkiller stalked toward me. The seasoned raider moved with the practiced grace of a killer, his mismatched axes glinting in the pale light. His lips curled into a sneer - clearly, he expected this to be quick.

He made it three steps before something changed.

A single drop of blood fell from his nose, landing silently in the snow. Alfyn froze mid-stride, his fierce expression melting into confusion as he reached up to touch his face. His fingers came away red.

Then the screaming started.

The sound that tore from Alfyn's throat wasn't human - a horrifying shriek of pure agony that echoed across the silent camp as he collapsed to his knees. The eager crowd that had gathered for a fight recoiled as one, their bloodlust replaced by primal fear as they realized this wasn't going to be the simple brawl they'd expected.

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Ygritte's first impression of El had been simple enough - a naive southern lordling looking for adventure away from home. An idiot who'd soon learn the hard way why you didn't venture this far north for fun.

But something about him set her teeth on edge. 

When he'd announced his intention to hunt the Others, it had only reinforced her initial assessment of his stupidity. Tormund seemed to sense it too - that something wasn't quite right about this stranger. 

Still, he'd been friendly enough, and they had him vastly outnumbered.

Or so she'd thought.

Ygritte had grown up beyond the Wall. She'd seen men torn apart by shadowcats, watched entire villages succumb to winter's cruel embrace, and faced death more times than she could count. Fear was an old friend, as familiar as the bow in her hands.

But this... this was different.

The screams still echoed in her ears. Alfyn Crowkiller - a man who'd earned his name in blood and violence - had practically melted before her eyes. His flesh had sloughed away like spring snow, dissolving into nothing as if he'd never existed. No blood, no bones, not even a scrap of clothing remained to mark his passing.

And El... he hadn't even moved. Hadn't raised a hand or spoken a word. Just looked at Alfyn, as if deciding his fate with a mere thought.

Now he stood there, that same friendly smile on his face, as if he hadn't just erased a man from existence mere moments ago. 

"So," he said cheerfully, turning to Mance, "Where were we? Oh yes, I was hoping to get my hands on a White Walker. I could use some help tracking one down. In exchange, I'm happy to offer my healing services to anyone who needs them."

The casual shift from dealing death to offering life made Ygritte's blood run cold.

This man, this being who wore the shape of a man, could probably wipe out their entire camp as easily as brushing snow from his cloak. They weren't the ones in control.

They never had been.

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A/N: If you wish to read ahead you can find 8 more chapters on my Pa treon