Rodrik did not speak of his encounter with the Children of the Forest. Not even Jaymee, who noticed a subtle change in his demeanor, could get a word about it. Instead, Rodrik simply gave the order: "We stay here. One month."
The command puzzled everyone. They had already scouted the forest and mapped the weirwoods. There were no trade routes in this direction, no camps to support, and no visible purpose to their halt.
But Rodrik remained unmoved. He camped at the very same spot he had laid his head that fateful night, quietly observing the trees, the forest, and the silence. His men followed the command, albeit with growing frustration.
Freefolk mercenaries—used to movement, chaos, and action—soon grew restless. One of the clansmen shouted during an evening assembly, "We were paid to scout, to fight if need be—not to sit on our arses in the snow!"
Tension flared between Rodrik's soldiers and the Freefolk. Hands hovered near weapons, voices rose.
Just as it seemed the situation would explode, Nyra stepped forward, cracked her knuckles, and without a word, punched the mouthy Freefolk square in the jaw, knocking a tooth into the snow.
Silence. Then, laughter.
One of the older Freefolk howled, "She's got the spirit of the Freefolk in her!" Others joined in, and the tension melted into merriment.
Rodrik, seizing the moment, offered bonuses and additional incentives—fur-lined cloaks, double rations. The Freefolk accepted, grumbling but content.
Over the month, Rodrik trained daily with Nyra. Their blades sang in the snow-dusted clearings, and Nyra taught him how to fight dirty—Freefolk style.
At night, they gathered around fires to trade stories. One particularly loud and boisterous Freefolk, who bore uncanny resemblance to Tormund Giantsbane in spirit if not in blood, regaled them with outlandish tales.
"I once laid with a giantess," he boasted, chugging from a horn. "She nursed me like a babe for a week. Thought I was her cub!"
Rodrik chuckled. "And where did you meet her?"
The man squinted, then shrugged. "Ah… long ago. The mountains shift, the snow swallows paths. Can't recall the place."
He was clearly lying, but the firelight danced in his eyes, and no one challenged the tale. It wasn't about the truth. It was about the spirit.
Rodrik shared stories of his own—of the Vale, the Seven Kingdoms, of mechanical marvels and wonders of learning. Most Freefolk didn't believe a word.
He had brought his newest creation—a smoky, rich whiskey still in its trial batches. They drank together, laughed together.
One night, deep in his cups, Rodrik was dragged by a wildling woman with sun-kissed hair into a dance. Her laugh was bold, her steps wilder. He was swept into the rhythm, the heat of fire and drink clouding his judgment.
He was about to make a decision he'd regret—until Nyra stepped in.
With a look cold enough to freeze a lake, she pulled him away. The woman hissed in protest, but one glance at Nyra's eyes and she backed down.
Rodrik woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. Jaymee greeted him with a grin, "Good Morning sunshine."
Rodrik barely opening his eyes " What happened last night my head is killing me?"
Jaymee laughed " Nothing much You had drinking competition with the freefolks. They beat you in it. On the lus side we checked your new smoky wisky & it works like a charm"
Rodrik just groaned & thought that he should stop having drinking competition ith people.
The month passed. No sign from the Children. Rodrik began to lose hope.
He gathered his camp. "We move out tomorrow," he said, trying to hide his disappointment.
That night, as he stared into the dying embers of the fire, a voice echoed in his head: "Come."
Rodrik stood and followed the whisper. Alone, he walked through the forest. The camp faded behind him. He moved with purpose, instinct guiding him.
And there they were.
Thirteen Children of the Forest stood beneath the moonlight, mist swirling around them. Leaf stepped forward.
"These are the ones who wish to go with you," she said. "They seek another chance at life."
She motioned to a young female among them. "Her name is Dew. She will lead these twelve."
Rodrik stepped forward. "Why not all of you? There's nothing left here."
Leaf smiled, sad and strange. "There are only eighteen of us left. Six must remain. We have a pact with the world, to aid two generations of Three-Eyed Ravens. That song is not yet finished."
Rodrik nodded solemnly. "And the giants? Can you help me save them too?"
Leaf's face turned grave. "Giants cannot be reasoned with. Their minds are simpler. To lead them, you must best their chieftain in single combat. That is their way."
Rodrik absorbed this, then said, "Do you know where they are?"
Leaf nodded. "Toward the Ever Winter. I will give you their path."
She stepped forward again, this time more serious. "But before we part, you must make a blood pact before the Old Gods".
Rodrik agreed.
They both stood before a Weirwood tree Leaf took a bowl & cut her hand & pour some blood in it & asked Rodrik to do the same. Rodrik also poured his blood in it. Leaf muttered something like some kind of spell.
" By this pact of blood in front of the Old Gods we the ones who sings the songs of the earth & Rodrik Arryn of the mountains make a pact that from this day to the last of his descendant. he & his line will protect us from any harm & will not use us against our will for his own benefit. In return we will always remain friends with their line & will help them in their hour of need. Whoever breaks this oath will suffer the most tragic of dates".
Before the Weirwood tree, they mingled their blood with the tree's roots, and swore the oath.
Leaf's eyes glowed. "The pact is made."
Rodrik bowed. "Meet me here in five days. I'll have everything prepared."
He returned to camp and woke Jaymee. He told him everything.
Jaymee was stunned. "So it's true… the Children are real."
Rodrik smirked. "You thought I was chasing dreams?"
"I thought I was humoring a mad friend," Jaymee admitted.
They crafted a plan. In five days, the Children were smuggled to the ships under cover of darkness. They docked secretly in a private Vale harbor. Jaymee took them, disguised and protected, to a remote mountain within the Eyrie—a place forbidden to all but the Arryn family.
There were close calls—guards nearly stumbled upon them, a curious merchant nearly recognized Jaymee—but each time they narrowly escaped.
At the mountain, A settlement was already made for them in advance like homes, lots of fruit trees in the vicinity, waterfall & river near for fresh water supplies, plumbing system build in their homes for water, underground tunnels leading to another side of mountains & the location of exit not known to any other that Rodrik in case of any ambush, land prepared for farming if they want, defensive walls hidden from normal eyes hidden in the nature.Jaymee was also seeing all these prepration for the first time & was realising how confident was Rodrik of this.He taught the Children how to navigate the human world cautiously. Dew, wise beyond her years, asked endless questions.
They sat by the fire often. Jaymee told them of the world of men—its cruelty, its hope, its folly.
Dew once asked, "Why do humans always fear what they don't understand?"
Jaymee sighed. "Because fear is easier than acceptance."
"But you're different," she said.
"Only because Rodrik showed me how to look deeper," Jaymee replied.
The Children listened. They learned. And for the first time in centuries, they began to hope again.