Post by The Stranger on Apr 15, 2008 11:23:03 GMT -5
Ser Jaymes took to life on the Wall surprisingly quickly. For the first time in many years, he did menial work, hauling gravel to the top of the Wall, chopping lumber for the fires in Eastwatch castle, and just general maintenance. He was given time each day to practice with his sword, and did so with earnest. He sparred with some of the other men who had been sent to the wall but had not yet taken their oath, beating most of them without effort. He was no longer a lord, and his title of Ser got him no respect or honor, though he expected none. These men were convicted criminals everyone, as was he himself. Jaymes relished the opportunity for hard work; he knew he could rise high on the Wall.
He labored and toiled for three moons, only seeing the Eastwatch commander when new orders and insults were being delivered, each fortnight. Jaymes had never worked so hard in his life, even when he was a squire. Growing up as a pampered lordling, he had never even conceived of such small quarters to be shared with so many other men; even in prison he had been given ample space to himself, as well as books and writing tools. The cold bored into him, daily, piercing deep into his bones. However, as a man of the sea, he was used to icy winds and adjusted to layering himself with wool and leather fairly easily.
One morning, he awoke and donned a fresh set of blacks, and exited the sleeping quarters. He liked the simple black that everyone wore on the wall, although he had written to his uncle in Faircastle all the same, to send him slightly more elegant versions. Most of his blacks had the symbol of his House, three ships, embroidered on in black silk, just barely visible if one looked at it correctly, as well as silver buckles and clasps where they were required. He had retained his own sword, his hand-and-a-half sword that had been commissioned for him by his father when he had earned his spurs. He was glad to still have the sword, though he seethed with rage whenever he thought of Lord Redwyne sailing the straits in his Valkyrie.
He walked to the training yard, and saw that many of his would-be bothers were gathered in its center, assembled by the highest-ranking brother in Eastwatch. He commanded all the men to move toward the castle’s modest sept, or if they were of the north to come beyond the wall to find a weirwood tree. Jaymes walked into the sept with the majority of the men, though a few stayed behind to venture through the gate, into the Haunted Forest.
All the men knelt in the sept, and began to speak the words they had been taught since they arrived on the Wall. “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.” Jaymes smirked slightly at this, having had done all of those things already in his life. “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 fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, 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.”
When he rose, he felt a strange feeling. He was here for life, now that his vow was taken he would be hunted if he ever tried to leave without the graces of his Lord Commander. Names were called out off a role, and men were assigned to one of the three branches of the Watch. “Ser Jaymes Farman, to the Rangers,” he heard the commander call out, and a smile broke out across Jaymes’ face.
Ser Jaymes Farman takes his vows as a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, and becomes a Ranger stationed at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.
He labored and toiled for three moons, only seeing the Eastwatch commander when new orders and insults were being delivered, each fortnight. Jaymes had never worked so hard in his life, even when he was a squire. Growing up as a pampered lordling, he had never even conceived of such small quarters to be shared with so many other men; even in prison he had been given ample space to himself, as well as books and writing tools. The cold bored into him, daily, piercing deep into his bones. However, as a man of the sea, he was used to icy winds and adjusted to layering himself with wool and leather fairly easily.
One morning, he awoke and donned a fresh set of blacks, and exited the sleeping quarters. He liked the simple black that everyone wore on the wall, although he had written to his uncle in Faircastle all the same, to send him slightly more elegant versions. Most of his blacks had the symbol of his House, three ships, embroidered on in black silk, just barely visible if one looked at it correctly, as well as silver buckles and clasps where they were required. He had retained his own sword, his hand-and-a-half sword that had been commissioned for him by his father when he had earned his spurs. He was glad to still have the sword, though he seethed with rage whenever he thought of Lord Redwyne sailing the straits in his Valkyrie.
He walked to the training yard, and saw that many of his would-be bothers were gathered in its center, assembled by the highest-ranking brother in Eastwatch. He commanded all the men to move toward the castle’s modest sept, or if they were of the north to come beyond the wall to find a weirwood tree. Jaymes walked into the sept with the majority of the men, though a few stayed behind to venture through the gate, into the Haunted Forest.
All the men knelt in the sept, and began to speak the words they had been taught since they arrived on the Wall. “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.” Jaymes smirked slightly at this, having had done all of those things already in his life. “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 fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, 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.”
When he rose, he felt a strange feeling. He was here for life, now that his vow was taken he would be hunted if he ever tried to leave without the graces of his Lord Commander. Names were called out off a role, and men were assigned to one of the three branches of the Watch. “Ser Jaymes Farman, to the Rangers,” he heard the commander call out, and a smile broke out across Jaymes’ face.
Ser Jaymes Farman takes his vows as a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch, and becomes a Ranger stationed at Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.