The Hall was truly large enough; settling dozens of people would certainly not be difficult. After eliminating Varamyr, the group finally got to enjoy soft beds, a luxury for them.
The next day, Val prepared food and gave it to the three women as provisions before sending them on their way. After burying Varamyr's head, Thorfinn and the others finally had time to deal with the shadowcat and the snow bear. Thorfinn used Bloodhealing on the injured snow bear. Then, Orrik and Merek both tried to tame them.
The results were gratifying: both succeeded. Orrik yelled and cheered excitedly, and Merek also broke into a smile. Just like that, Varamyr's final legacy was taken over by the group.
Thorfinn claimed Varamyr's sword. It was a longsword with some weight—a bastard sword—that felt good in Thorfinn's hand. The hilt had delicate, intricate carvings that were a little too pretty, but Thorfinn liked it nonetheless.
Swords are broadly categorized into: single-handed swords, two-handed swords, and hand-and-a-half swords. Single-handed swords, like a knight's sword, are suited for thrusting; two-handed swords are for chopping and cutting. The hand-and-a-half sword, however, combines the advantages of both. It is heavier and longer than a single-handed sword, giving it greater power and reach. At the same time, it is lighter than a two-handed sword, easier to carry, and faster to attack with.
Some say the hand-and-a-half sword is the bastard child of the single-handed and two-handed sword, which is why it earned the moniker "bastard sword." The bastard sword combines the lightness of the broadsword, the thrusting of the knight's sword, the chopping and cutting of the two-handed sword, and the classic feel of the longsword, making it an absolutely fine piece of weaponry.
Thorfinn meticulously examined the sword in his hands. The pommel had some scale-like carvings. Three inches in front of the crossguard, the balance point was effectively positioned, allowing for more flexible use of force. This design meant it could be wielded easily with one hand or with a shield, and it allowed for a more varied fighting style, including a balanced defense-and-offense technique, where the heavier blade and crossguard could be used to block while the tip attacked.
However, Thorfinn felt the sword was being wasted in his hands, like a pearl thrown into the dust, as he was still a complete novice in swordsmanship. On that note, he could certainly learn a thing or two from Merek. Even if Merek was no master, he was definitely better than Thorfinn.
The group worked together, cleaning and renovating the Hall. After everything was tidied up, they finally rested, and the Hall was completely transformed. Val also pitched in, and the five of them enjoyed a pleasant atmosphere, growing remarkably closer.
With all that done, Thorfinn finally settled down to plan the next steps. He had to bring his mother, Darie, and his father, Reynar, here. He also had to bring Lyra, a promise he had made.
At the square table, Thorfinn and the others began to discuss how to explain everything to Reynar and Darie. This was the biggest headache for the group. They had left in secret and pulled off such a huge undertaking; Darie was sure to be upset.
After much deliberation, they decided to send the youngest, Orrik, to notify their father and mother. Being younger gave him a slight advantage—at the very least, he might take fewer blows when the scolding started. Even when Orrik complained bitterly, the others chose to ignore him. Orrik's large build also made him more resilient to a beating. Everyone agreed that Orrik should go to tell Reynar and Darie, and the snow bear could be put to good use during the move.
However, after sending a punching bag, they needed to send someone to say some kind words, so the most charming person, Morla, was also sent to deliver the message. Morla held no such resentment as Orrik. She knew that with Orrik drawing the fire, Darie wouldn't blame her. Girls are always favored over boys in front of their parents, and the Thorfinn household was no exception to this rule.
It made sense for them to split up this way. Thorfinn and his company had only just occupied the place, and news of it was likely to draw some unwanted visitors. Thorfinn and Merek were confident they could hold the place, and with Val always being useful, it wouldn't be too hard to maintain their claim as long as they didn't show weakness.
Perhaps the group hadn't realized they were slowly getting used to Thorfinn giving orders and offering advice.
Among them, only Merek would ponder Thorfinn's intentions. Orrik was the type to be wise beneath a rough exterior and had full trust in his older brother. As for Morla and Val, they each had their own little plans but had already been won over by Thorfinn's charisma.
Morla and Orrik reluctantly headed home. Barring any unexpected trouble, they would be moving the family here on this trip. Thorfinn wouldn't have to worry about the Others attacking for a while. However, how should he go about spreading the news of the Others' return? How could he make these wildlings, who knew no reverence, understand the severity of the situation? Prejudice in men's hearts is a mighty mountain, and unless Thorfinn used cunning, he would have to be Yugong moving the mountain.
Merek was playing with his shadowcat. Because its cries were faint when they first met, Merek named it Whisper. It was easy to tame it and form a companion bond, but true emotional attachment was incredibly difficult. The wild-born shadowcat had its own fierce spirit. It was simple to command its strength, but earning its genuine loyalty was another matter entirely.
Val was preparing all sorts of food, varying her recipes. Varamyr's three wolves had been turned into delicious meals. The wolf meat was cooked until it was falling apart, and the taste was similar to, yet distinct from, dog meat. These past few days, Val had completely transformed into a cook, experimenting with all sorts of "dark cuisine." With experience, her food was starting to look and taste decent, and she could now be considered a qualified amateur chef.
These quiet days lasted for two days. After that, a few uninvited guests arrived at the forest Hall, which hadn't heard human voices for so long.
However, the guests were spotted by Alpha and Whisper before they even got close. There were two of them. After being granted permission by the shadowcats' masters, the two strangers slowly walked toward the Hall. Thorfinn and Merek held their tongues as the two approached, but Val, in contrast, let out a joyful cry and ran towards the man in the lead, leaving Thorfinn and Merek utterly stunned.
Val exclaimed happily, "Mance, you're finally here!"
Mance Rayder was also surprised. He had never expected his sister-in-law to show up here. "What are you doing here, Val? Your sister will be worried if she knows you ran off. Hmm, don't tell me… you followed me out here."
Val gave a knowing smile, which was a clear affirmation.
Thorfinn was taken aback by the name Mance, but he didn't show it. He hadn't expected Val to be related to Mance Rayder. This was a surprise to Thorfinn, but the outcome was good. After spending time together, Val had established a good relationship with the group.
Mance Rayder was of medium height, with long legs, a sturdy physique, and broad shoulders and chest. He once had long brown hair, but it was now mostly gray, and laugh lines were etched around his mouth. He was an unassuming man in appearance, with nothing distinctive about him that would make him stand out in a crowd. It was his maturity and cunning mind that made Mance exceptional.
The man beside him had red hair, and Thorfinn secretly guessed this might be Tormund.
Tormund was short and stout, his red hair and beard giving him a wild, imposing look. He had a broad face, heavy gold bracelets carved with runes on his arms, and wore black ringmail.
Tormund, more commonly known as Tormund Giantsbane and Tormund Thunderfist, styled himself as Tall-Talker, Horn-Blower, Breaker of Ice, Husband to Bears, Mead-King of Ruddy Hall, Father of Hosts, and Speaker to Gods. He was a famous wildling raider. He had four sons—Toregg, Torwynd, Dryn, and Dormund—and a daughter, Munda.
Thorfinn relaxed. Thanks to Val's connection, they wouldn't have to draw swords against Mance and his companion. These two wouldn't want to make an enemy of them.
Val glanced at Thorfinn and the others before speaking. "I followed you from a distance last time, but I ran into some Thenns. They spotted me. While I was running away, Thorfinn saved me, and then…" With that, Val looked at Mance a bit guiltily and chuckled awkwardly.
Mance shot Val an irritated look, then stepped forward and addressed Thorfinn. "You must be Thorfinn. Thank you for looking after Val these past days."
Thorfinn smiled. "Val is our friend. No need to mention looking after her."
Tormund's eyes widened, and he spoke with a teasing tone. "You look so formal, as if we're the savages here."
Thorfinn was amused, and Merek couldn't help but smile.
Mance introduced his companion. "This is Tormund Thunderfist, an excellent raider."
Thorfinn looked at Tormund, walked closer, and met the gaze of the wide-eyed warrior without flinching. "You are Tormund? The one also called Giantsbane?"
Tormund looked confused. "You know me?"
Thorfinn chuckled. "I don't know you, but Boro has spoken of you. I studied with him for a time."
Tormund grew excited. "The skinchanger who looks like a wild boar? I know him. We were friends. He's a good man."
Thorfinn wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow. Was Boro famous for his looks?
Mance now also showed some surprise. "Well, well, a friend of an old friend."
Thorfinn smiled softly. "Let's go inside. It's a bit chilly out here. Perhaps you'll enjoy the ale Varamyr left behind."
A sharp glint flashed in Mance's eyes when he heard the name. The group moved inside and casually sat around the table. Val familiarly brought out some ale and poured a mug for the beer-loving Tormund and one for Mance. Merek poured a mug for Thorfinn and one for himself, inviting the two newcomers to drink with them.
It was then Mance finally asked, "Where is Varamyr?"
Merek raised an eyebrow and answered truthfully, "Dead."
Mance looked surprised. "Who are you, lad? I haven't heard any of the villagers talking about this on my way here."
Merek replied, "I am Merek. I killed Varamyr, with the help of my friends. It's not surprising that you haven't heard the news yet. I imagine the word hasn't spread; they should know in a few days."
Tormund, who was drinking his ale, choked a few times. After he calmed down, he asked with some skepticism, "You killed Varamyr?"
Thorfinn confirmed from the side. "I can assure you, he did. But why are you so concerned about Varamyr? Was he your friend?"
Tormund looked incredulous. "Gods, this world has gone mad! I say either one of you is lying, or…"
Before he could finish, Val interrupted him. "It's true. Merek killed Varamyr. We all helped him. I was part of it, too."
Mance looked at Val, and Tormund started to believe them a little more.
Mance, who hadn't spoken for a while, stopped Tormund from saying anything more. He finally spoke. "We are not Varamyr's friends. We don't even know Varamyr. Quite the opposite—we're just here to make new friends. Only, I wonder… are you interested in 'becoming our friends'?"