Chapter 21: Tourney at Harrenhal

[Howland Reed’s POV]

 

The warm air of spring filled the lungs of Howland Reed as he walked on the field of the tourney with his trusty three-pronged frog spear. Howland came from House Reed, it was a small house which doesn’t suit the lifestyle of the south, but he came to this tourney to enjoy the magnificence of it, and it didn’t disappoint. Banners of different houses from different regions of Westeros filled the walls and fences of Harrenhal, knights with shining armour, and fair ladies from around the kingdom were here to attend.

 

He took a deep breath and enjoyed the scenery, the noise of men preparing the tourney, bringing boxes to the castle for feast, the giggles of fair maidens echoed throughout the fields and castle, tending to their knights.

 

But it all was broken down as three boys came up to Howland, with faces that Howland couldn't read.

 

“What’s a  frog eater doing here?” sniggered one of the boys, they were taller than Howland, and yet they looked younger. Howland was a crannogman, all of them had short stature, and they lived in the swamps, thus the name frog eater.

 

Howland didn’t answer, and because of that, the three boys snatched away his spear, and shoved him to the ground, making his clothes all muddy. He was used to this sort of mockery if he travelled to the south, he might be a lord from the north, but he couldn’t fight back, they are much stronger than his small self, and they probably have a powerful house to back them up.

 

The boys sniggered as Howland fell to the ground. “Go back to your swamps, Mudman!”

 

They kept kicking Howland on the ground, yelling at him that he had no right to be there, as this was their world, and Howland’s place was back at the swamps. Everytime Howland tried to stand up, they kicked him again, bruises started to appear, his nose was bloodied, until finally, a man interrupted them.

 

“Rather pathetic are you?” said a man. The three boys turned around, and so was Howland, he saw a Dornishman, wearing their signature yellow robe, leaning against a fence with a wine cup in his hand. The dornishman looked at the sigils of those three boys, “House Haigh, House Blount, and House Frey. I’ll be sure to remember that later.”

 

The boys frowned as the Dornishman spoke. “Dornish.” said one of the boys in disgust.

 

“What? Do you have quarrels with the Dornish?” questioned the Dornishman calmly. “Did one of the Dornishmen lay with your lovers? I wouldn’t be surprised, we Dornish are known for our passion.”

 

The boy with the Frey sigil grunted in displeasure as he got off Howland, and towards the Dornishman. The boy wanted to beat up the Dornishman, as the Dornishman, like Howland, has a short stature, so he had guessed that it would be easy to deal with. But when he wanted to break his olive skinned face with his fist, the Dornishman dodged, and from the Dornishman’s wrist sprung a hidden blade, slitting the Frey squire’s wrist, making it bleed uncontrollably.

 

“You should treat it quickly, the wrist has many veins after all.” said the Dornishman innocently while the boy screamed in pain. “Otherwise, it would be ugly.”

 

The other two squires were about to attack the Dornishman again, but then, a she-wolf appeared, with a tourney sword in hand.

 

“What is going on here!? That’s my father’s man you’re kicking!” she howled angrily towards the three squires. She rushed towards Howland, attacking the unarmed squires with her sword. The squires then soon scattered, with one of them bleeding from his arm.

 

The she-wolf then helped Howland to stand, cleaning the mud from his clothes. “Thank you for helping me.” said Howland to the She-Wolf and the Dornishman. “Lady Stark, you don’t have to tend my wounds, I could do it myself.”

 

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“Nonsense, Follow me to our tent for further tending.” said Lyanna sternly. She then turned to the Dornishman. “And you, thank you for helping him, even though you don’t have to. May I ask what your name is?”

 

“Morian Martell, lady Stark.” said the man with a smile on his face, bowing slightly.

 

“You have my gratitude, Morian of house Martell, my name is Lyanna of House Stark.” said the She-Wolf, she then scanned Morian’s body, particularly his skin “I have never seen  Dornishman before, what was it like there in Dorne?”

 

“Depending on the region.” said Morian as he helped Howland to stand up following Lyanna to the Starks tent, “If you are stranded in the desert, either the sun will claim you, or the wildlife will. The shores and the mountains are much friendlier, but recently, slavers and bandits became rampant, it is not as friendly anymore.”

 

“I’ve always wanted to go to Dorne,” said Lyanna calmly. “Perhaps I will once I’ve grown up a little.”

 

Morian chuckled. “Maybe it will be much sooner.”

 

“Meaning?” questioned Lyanna curiously.

 

Morian just smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

 

They then arrive at the Stark’s tent, the direwolf banner flutters as the wind grows strong. Morian then entered the tent with Howland and Lyanna, and put the poor boy on a stool.

 

“I will take my leave then Lady Stark, Lord Howland.” Morian bowed lightly to both of them.

 

“Please, you’ve helped my father’s man, I should honour you by serving you something.” said Lyanna.

 

“Forgive me my lady, but I have to meet my brother to discuss some things with other lords.” declined Morian. “But rest assured, we will meet again at the feast this evening.”

 

“Very well.” Lyanna nodded heavily.

 

“Thank you once again for helping me Prince Morian.” said Howland gratefully. “You’re an honourable man.”

 

The Dornish prince laughed as he heard Howland’s words. “I wouldn’t say that Lord Reed.”

 

Morian then left the tent, while Lyanna continued to tend to Howland.

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