Jon rose at dawn the next day to watch his uncle leave. Pain lanced through him, but Jon would not cry out. The boy who had his arm jerked upward on him, hard. 'You looked bad before I ever met you,' Jon told him. 'He broke my wrist,' Grenn said again, holding it out to Noye for inspection. Toad sat on the floor, gingerly feeling the back of his head. 'Try.' Jon reached back for his sword, but one of them grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He was First Ranger, and he spent his days and nights with Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon and the other high officers, while Jon was given over to the less than tender charge of Ser Alliser Thorne. Up here, the genial Benjen Stark he had known became a different person. You're no ranger, Jon, only a green boy with the smell of summer still on you.'Įven his uncle had abandoned him in this cold place at the end of the world. 'On the Wall, a man gets only what he earns. 'This is not Winterfell,' he told him as he cut his meat with fork and dagger. That night he sought out his uncle in the great timbered common hall and pleaded to go with him. Three days after their arrival, Jon had heard that Benjen Stark was to lead a half-dozen men on a ranging into the haunted forest. There was scant warmth to be found in Castle Black the walls were cold here, and the people colder. So cold, he thought, remembering the warm halls of Winterfell, where the hot waters ran through the walls like blood through a man's body. He sat on a bench, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings on his cloak. The weariness came on him suddenly, as he donned the roughspunblacks that were their everyday wear. He'd beaten every one of them in the yard. All four of them were bigger than he was, but they did not scare him.

'I'll break the other one for you if you ask nicely.' Grenn was sixteen and a head taller than Jon.

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