#yoren

Oath and Silence

The godswood listened to that oath, with the heart tree as witness, as the last rays of twilight broke. Their dark cloaks, the color of raven wings, swayed with the wind over the black tunics that covered their bodies from neck to heels, shielding them from the lust and corruption of those times.

Night gathers, and now my watch begins.

It shall not end until my death.

I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.

I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.

I shall live and die at my post.

I am the sword in the darkness.

I am the watcher on the walls.

I am the shield that guards the realms of men.

I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch,

for this night and all the nights to come.

This time, there were not only male recruits but also women. Most were girls from thirteen to nineteen years old.

On the Wall, there was now life for brothers and sisters in black.

Given over by their parents to a life of celibacy, leaving behind families, lovers, children, and names, and ahead of them, duty, vigilance, and silence.

Beyond the Wall, there were things worse than being alone.

“You are my only daughter, and you will do as I command. If I think joining the Night’s Watch is best for you, you will do it,” said her father, amidst her sobs and cries of protest. “One day you will thank me,” he added.

Her mother watched silently, solemn, respecting her husband’s words.

In the village square, young people bid farewell to their families and joined the caravan heading north. Some serious in silence, others crying.

The caravan was led by Lord Yoren, a man who traveled the villages seeking recruits and who had served in the Night’s Watch for many years. The elderly man was loyal to his brothers and his oath, until he met young Arishat, a new sixteen-year-old recruit. Shy, frustrated, forced by her father to join the brotherhood, she had left behind a youthful love and her family. She was repressed in her feelings, which kept her from sleeping when they stopped halfway along the way in a wide clearing in the forest. The other recruits slept while the young girl leaned against a trunk, staring intently at the fire’s flame. It was a cold, silent night, and the only sound was the faint crackle of wood burning in the flames, mingled with the chirping of crickets at the edge of the clearing.

Yoren sat across from her, sharpening his dagger on a worn stone; the scritch-scritch of steel against rock, firm and rhythmic in the stillness. The fire cast long shadows across his face, deep lines carved by wind, war, and years on the Wall.

The young girl felt understood for the first time and began to experience strange emotions, never before felt in her short life, as if loneliness weighed less in Yoren’s company. The fire cast elongated shadows that enveloped them in the forest clearing.

“Can’t sleep?” asked the man, his voice rough, deep, and slightly worn, very much that of a man hardened by years, cold, and the harshness of the Wall.

“No, sir.”

“You should, like the others. We still have a long journey ahead.” —he paused, then suddenly added— “The first time away from home. My first night away was worse than this, so you should be grateful.” —he continued sharpening his dagger. After a pause, he added without looking up— “I understand you.”

With the passing moons, the new recruits had left the road behind and were already beginning to keep watch on the Wall, learning to live their life of celibacy at Castle Black.

The tavern was cold and smelled of spilled ale and wood smoke. Among the tables, Tyrion Lannister settled on his bench with a mug in hand, listening to Yoren mutter about recruits and journeys north. Yoren sat across from him, alongside Benjen Stark. Vapor escaped from his mouth as he spoke, proof of the icy air seeping even through the tavern walls.

“Bah, walls, oaths…” the dwarf laughed, taking a long sip. “I wonder who in their right mind would want that eternal celibacy.”

At that moment, the tavern door creaked open, and a cold draft swept through the room. Arishat entered accompanied by a small group of recruits, young girls with black cloaks still new and stiff over their shoulders, and tunics of the same color covering them from head to toe. The eyes of the three men fell on them, pausing the conversation they were having. Tyrion raised an eyebrow with a crooked smile, while Yoren and Benjen remained silent.

“Well, well… they all look so serious. I could almost think they came to train as true sisters in black… or to keep me company tonight, who knows,” said Tyrion, with that mix of mockery and mischief that couldn’t be taken too seriously.