ITS A SHORT STORY, INSPIRED BY GEORGE RR MARTIN'S

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE NOVELS AND NOW HBO SERIES. IF YOU READ IT ALL I THANK YOU. 

The Wall is weeping. Thought Ser Rickard Banesworth removing the glove from his right hand to place it against the Wall. The Wall itself is living, the Wall defends itself. Ser Rickard let his hand go numb against the ice before he pulled it back...peeling a bit of flesh off his fingertips in the process. It was said that during the age of heroes, Bran The Builder constructed the Wall with the Children of the Forest after the Long Night, a Winter that lasted a generation, to separate the North from the savage beings that lived further beyond in The Land Of Always Winter. They spoke of Giants, hulking beasts that rode mammoths, and spoke in the old tongue, children of the forest who were not really children, but only appeared so in some ways,  their eyes were cat-like, and there magic was beyond normal children's understanding. Snarks, grumpkins, but worst of all.....they spoke of the White-Walkers, the Others.

When the Long Night came eight thousand years ago...the Others came with there army of the dead, riding their pale dead horses, and their swords of ice. Common men and women friezed and died by them, King's froze in their castles, and there was only cold and death. 

Now the Wall stands at 700 ft high and wide enough for a dozen mounted knights to ride abreast, to protect the realm of the seven kingdoms of Westeros from that terrible threat if ever it should happen again. That...and the men of The Night's Watch. A sworn brotherhood of men from all high and lowborn houses. With nineteen castles across the wall, and Castle Black at the heart, the Wall and its protectors were not to be underestimated. 

Ser Rickard often recalled hearing these tales from his mother when he was young, and when he decided to take the black, and join The Night's Watch, his mother and father were gone. House Banesworth is no noble house name, but very old and proud. a Northern family who held true to the Old Gods. Ser Rickard earned his knighthood during the siege of Pyke, and when the rebellion ended, Rickard took the black saying that he was tired of fighting other people's battles, and it was time to fight for what he believed in. The Seven Kingdoms Of Westeros and it's protection. Rickard removed his spear from the snow started his way back to the Common Hall where a hot meal would warm him. Wymett would be one of the stewards preparing the Brother's meals tonight, and he was famous for his stew he called mutton gravy. Most of the other Brother's thought it tasted just like the infamous "Bowl's of Brown" you could get in Flea Bottom at King's Landing. Rickard didn't care what was really in it. A few new recruits were standing a circle talking about "making the eight." A ritual some men participated in, and in this case you were not a real man unless you fucked a girl for each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. 

"I swear it on the seven I did! Right there in the old fools home! He never even woke to the sound of me fucking his wife!" a young Brother said, spilling wine in small doses all over his black cloak as he yammered on about screwing the Inn owner's wife.

"Your a bloody liar and a fool Ryker, you don't even know where to put your cock into a woman let alone use it you useless twit." 

"awww bugger that, Your mother was very satisfied before I came here to The Wall."

I thank both the old gods and the new that my family is not alive for me to tell them the truth of what the Night's Watch has truly become.

 Now only three castles stand, and the so called "brave men of the watch" are reduced to rapists, thieves, outlaws, sellswords, and young fools looking for glory. Now the land of Westeros has deemed fit to give you a choice of punishment....the cells...or The Wall. Castle black was reduced to less than 2,000 men who a majority do not want to be there, but it was better than a cell or a beheading. But there were good men, honest, loyal and brave men who really did believe in The Night's Watch. It was hard to find men of that quality these days, after thousands of years men and women of Westeros have forgotten the meaning of The Night's Watch, and figure it a joke. Men protecting them from giants and monsters....but they never could know what they sacrificed for them.  Rickard took his meal in the Hall, spoke briefly to Wyston Stout about The Old Bear and the 200 men he took with him beyond the Wall and if they had heard news of them, and headed out into the cold winds were he would ascend the Wall to take his post. At the top of The Wall, Ser Rickard Banesworth lifted his hood, gripped his spear tightly, and stared out beyond the North. He would be ready, as far as the other Brothers he could not say....but he would be ready. Cold winds are rising, and Winter truly is coming. 

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, 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 the Night's Watch, for this night, and all nights to come.