Weirwood was a precious timber with great mystical power, and the Weirwood gods were said to be kind and benevolent. Yet the trees themselves looked disturbingly eerie.
Their leaves resembled bloodstained hands, their trunks were as pale as dead men's bones, and their roots intertwined like a slick, writhing ball of snakes sinister and unsettling.
At that moment, the stone cavern beneath the Weirwood hill could have served as the perfect set for A Chinese Ghost Story without the need for any special effects.
If the squirrel-like Leaf were a bit taller, her eyes less pure, and her expression more fierce, she could easily pass for the wood spirit crone's apprentice.
But this place was not a monster's den. It was a sacred refuge the final sanctuary of the Children of the Forest.
"This is not only our home," Leaf explained as they walked. "Giants once lived in caves like these as well. This sanctuary belonged to the last generation of our kin. In ancient times, even unicorns and mammoths would come here to pass the winter.
The shelter you entered is not the only entrance. The Green Seers who guard the gateways of the world live closer to the edge of it.
If you follow the western fork for several months thousands of kilometers northwest you may find the giants' caves."
As Leaf led the group deeper, she continued to describe the cavern's history.
Most listened in quiet fascination, but Jorah Mormont, who had grown up hearing tales from old northern nurses, suddenly stiffened in realization. "The Gorne Passage! This must be where it began. The legend is true!"
"What is the Gorne Passage?" asked Bevos, the portly eunuch, puzzled.
"I remember now! I've heard that story before!"
Garth Hightower nodded as understanding dawned on him. "They say there was once a king beyond the Wall named Gorne who discovered a tunnel connecting the wild lands to the North. He led the Free Folk through it to invade though strangely, the attack posed little threat. It was as if the King in the North had been warned in advance and was already waiting at the tunnel's exit."
The Bear Knight nodded. "According to legend, a tribe of Children of the Forest and a family of giants once fought endlessly over a cave. In the end, they asked the Free Folk to mediate.
Those mediators were none other than the future Kings-Beyond-the-Wall Jendel and Gorne, the 'Brother Kings.'
But the giants and the Children were too innocent. They were deceived by the brothers and gave up the cave.
After taking the cave for themselves, Jendel and Gorne discovered that it led to a vast network of tunnels countless caverns stretching endlessly underground.
Eventually, they found a secret tunnel running beneath the Wall itself. That was the birth of the Gorne Passage.
They say the passage was so intricate that only Gorne could navigate it. But when he emerged from the tunnel, he ran straight into a Stark ambush and was slain on the spot.
Jendel led the surviving Free Folk back into the tunnels, hoping to return the way they came, but no matter how far they searched, they could never find the path home again.
They vanished underground, lost forever in a maze more tangled than a spider's web."
The Dothraki and Bevos listened with awe.
"So we're inside the legendary tunnels?" Rakharo marveled. "If this passage stretches all the way from the Wall to here, it must be unimaginably deep!"
Even Daenerys had heard the tales of the "Gorne Passage" and the "Brother Kings."
The story was simply too legendary filled with giants, the Children of the Forest, ancient magic, human heroes, the Kings of the North, and secret tunnels. It was the very essence of myth, sung in countless ballads across the ages.
"That failed Free Folk invasion," Garth mused, eyeing the Children of the Forest, "could it have been because you warned the Starks in advance?"
"The Gorne brothers met the fate they deserved," Leaf replied softly, neither denying nor confirming.
Daenerys thought deeply. The runic wards protecting the sanctuary were identical to those carved into the Wall both created by Brandon the Builder of House Stark.
The bond between the Children, the Green Seers, and the Starks was far closer than anyone imagined.
"Where does the tunnel lead?" Daenerys asked curiously.
"There is no end. Some of the deeper passages are places even we Children have never explored."
As they passed through another tunnel, Daenerys noticed the space widening and deepening. The black soil and white roots intertwined, forming what looked like a vast, monochrome city beneath the earth.
But this city was desolate and primitive.
They wound around a massive root thicker than Bevos's waist and entered a long stone hall. Thousands of niches were carved into the walls, each holding a skull.
The skulls were of many species human, giant (as large as kettles), Children of the Forest (as small as melons), and others belonging to direwolves, great bears, and beasts Daenerys could not identify.
Some skulls were so ancient that soil had half-buried them, and white roots had grown through their eye sockets and jaws, sprouting tender red leaves shaped like tiny hands.
It was clear that the squirrel-woman had spoken truth. This sanctuary truly belonged to all peoples the remnants of an older age.
A harsh cawing broke the silence.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!" Seven or eight large ravens perched atop the skulls in the niches.
They seemed to awaken from slumber, their bright black eyes watching the newcomers with keen curiosity.
Yes curiosity.
Every one of those ravens radiated intelligence and awareness.
"They are my kin," Leaf said softly, her tone filled with quiet sorrow.
Daenerys heard the sadness in her voice but could not grasp the secret hidden within her words.
Soon after, they encountered more of Leaf's kind.
In a cavern vast as a football field, colorful mushrooms grew on stone pillars hanging from the ceiling, thriving in the moist air. Four or five Children of the Forest were singing as they picked them.
They had four fingers instead of five, their fingertips tipped with sharp, feline claws that sliced through mushroom stalks with a gentle flick.
Their singing was pure as winter air, clear as autumn springs, radiant as spring blossoms, and filled with the fierce warmth of summer sunlight.
Daenerys and her knights halted, utterly entranced by the harmony.
Only when the mushroom-pickers noticed the outsiders did they stop singing and peer curiously toward them snapping Daenerys and her companions back to their senses.
"Another legend confirmed the Children of the Forest truly have the most beautiful singing voices in the world," Dany sighed.
The squirrel people clustered together, chattering noisily and pointing curiously at the Dragon Queen.
"What are they saying?" the big bear asked, frowning.
"They're saying the Queen is so beautiful, and that even human clothes can look this lovely," Leaf replied.
Indeed, all the Children of the Forest wore garments woven from leaves. Their hair was tangled, adorned with dried flowers for decoration.
Even the plainest country girl would appear more fashionable than they did.
You might say the squirrel people embraced nature and sought primitive beauty but that wasn't really true.
They were filthy, unkempt, and pitifully ragged, more like beggars than woodland spirits.
To put it bluntly, the civilization of the Children of the Forest was shockingly primitive. They hadn't even evolved the art of weaving despite supposedly having existed for millions of years.
"I thought the Children of the Forest spoke the Old Tongue. I didn't expect you to have your own language," Dany said curiously.
She had been able to hear their singing earlier, and now their speech, yet she couldn't understand a word.
She could even understand the Old Tongue used by giants, White Walkers, greenseers, and the ancient wild tribes!
"This is the Source Language the language that praises the earth. Humans find it difficult to comprehend, and even if they do, they cannot pronounce it.
"The Free Folk call us 'children,' the giants call us 'squirrel people,' and the First Men named us 'Children of the Forest.' None of those are quite accurate."
"We are the People Who Praise the Earth."
"However, the Source Language is not unique to us. Many ancient creatures from bygone eras can speak it such as ravens, and even your dragons," Leaf explained.
"My dragons speak the Source Language?"
Dany's heart skipped a beat as she thought of Drogon, who had somehow gained a new language after devouring that rat-cook.
She had assumed it was the generic 'Dragon Tongue' from fantasy novels and, since she couldn't understand it, had even gone so far as to teach him 'Eastern Dragon Speech.'
Now Drogon was nearly a graduate of the "Elementary School of Eastern Dragon Language," and only now did his mother realize what a massive blunder she had made.
"I have traveled the southern continent for centuries and learned many languages. But my kin have never shared that experience they only speak the Source Language."
Later, they came upon a dark, deep underground river where two Children of the Forest cheerfully fished along the banks.
They tossed a vine-woven net as large as a bedsheet into the water, and soon, white, blind fish the length of a human arm swam straight into it.
Crossing a narrow stone bridge above the river, they encountered four or five shepherds riding drowsily on the backs of sheep.
Hundreds of sheep wandered around the cavern, nibbling on mushrooms and tender red shoots growing from the roots of weirwood trees, while squirrel people napped soundly in the fluffy wool.
Life here was far too comfortable, far too leisurely.
And yet, outside the cave, thousands upon thousands of wights still surrounded the mountains.
Not to mention the Long Night was coming.
But strangely, the Long Night seemed to have no effect on this refuge of caverns.
Outside, the world had already fallen into eternal twilight. Snow, thick as quilts, blanketed the forests. The temperature had plummeted to fifty degrees below zero, while here it was warm as spring resources plentiful, and life blissfully carefree.
At this rate, if humankind perished in this era, the Children of the Forest who had nearly gone extinct in the last might well dance merrily into the next.
Dany began to wonder if she too should dig tunnels and build an underground city for humans.
After all, next to Slaver's Bay lay the Red Wastes, where the ground was nearly molten. If she dug deep enough, it might be even warmer and cozier than this place.
"Hodor, Hodor."
As they entered a massive hall tangled with weirwood roots, a giant nearly three meters tall stood up and looked their way.
"Hodor…" Dany gasped in shock.
Two meters seventy tall, broad as a door, with shoulders thick as Winterfell's walls brown eyes, brown hair, and a gaze both wise and curious.
He wasn't Hodor.Hodor had been a gentle, simple-minded fool.
But the giant at the entrance of the stone cavern, no matter how many times he said "Hodor," was clearly not him.
His eyes, his spirit, his aura they were completely different.
"Bran Stark?" Dany stopped in her tracks, her brows furrowing.
"Ah Hodor!"
In the next instant, Hodor truly became Hodor.
"Hodor." He smiled at her shyly, like a child.
"You've come," said a weak voice from the back Brynden Rivers.
"Hodor." Hodor scratched the back of his head and stepped aside.
Compared to the tunnels they had passed, this stone hall wasn't particularly spacious about the size of a basketball court. Near the entrance burned a pile of campfires, beside which sat Hodor and two other humans.
At the center of the hall stood a throne woven from weirwood branches.
And on that throne grew a corpse.
Tree roots pierced through its shriveled thighs, wound through its torso, and emerged from its shoulders.
Dark red leaves sprouted from its skull, while gray mushrooms covered its forehead.
A thin layer of skin stretched taut across its face, pale and leathery, with yellowed bones jutting through from beneath.
This was no living man.
"You're a White Walker too!" Dany cried in horror.
(End of chapter)
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