𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

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The following morning Torsten had heard Rast telling the other boys he'd cut himself shaving which only brought a mischievous smile to the boy's lips. Soon followed by a scolding from Grenn who'd caught him. Grenn insisted that Torsten shouldn't spy on people bigger than him either.
When Ser Alliser matched Samwell and Rast against each other, he would stand his ground and swat aside Samwell's slow clumsy strokes. If the master at arms screamed for an attack, they would dance in and tap Samwell lightly on a breastplate or helm or leg. Ser Alliser raged and threatened and called them all cowards and women and worse, yet Samwell remained unhurt. "Attack him!" Alliser barked for what felt like the hundredth time.
Slapping a hand over his mouth, Torsten tried to old the laugh that so desperately wanted out. Grenn's arm had snaked over his shoulder pulling him into a playful headlock. "You! Get in there!" Alliser screeched. Grenn's arm fell from Torsten to instead grab his longsword with two hands.

"Hit me." Grenn whispered, barely audible. Samwell waited for Jon's approval and once he got it he let his clumsy swing pound into Grenn.

"Ah! I yield!" Grenn wallowed, holding onto where Samwell had hit him.
Booming laughs erupted from those who watched. A smile of Samwell's own stretched on his lips for the first time since arriving at the Night's Watch. Ser Alliser stood with a bitter taste in his mouth. His body loomed across the courtyard like a shadow. He swept Jon into his hold, he held a tight grip on his surcoat and snarled towards the bastard boy.

"You think this is funny, do yer?" Alliser sneered and quickly shoved Jon away. "When ya' out there, beyond the Wall with the sun going down, do you want a man at your back or a shrivelling boy?" He asked. His old bones quickly carried him away, back towards Castle Black.

At Torsten's urging, Samwell joined them for the evening meal, taking a place on the bench beside Halder. It was another fortnight before he found the nerve to join their talk, but in time he was laughing at Pypar's faces and teasing Grenn with the best of them.
Fat and awkward and frightened he might be, but Samwell Tarly was no fool. One night he visited Jon and Torsten's chambers, where the bastard boys shared a cell. "I don't know what you did." He said. "But I know you did it." He looked away shyly. "I've never had a friend before."

"We're not friends." Torsten said. He put his hand on Samwell's broad shoulder. "We're brothers." And so they were.

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