For the next few days, Cregan kept a close watch on Hodor, monitoring him for any ill effects. He wanted to be certain that there wouldn't be any lasting damage from the experiment.
It was on the third day after Hodor drank the paste that things took an unexpected turn. Hodor had been helping Old Nan by fetching water from the well when a group of children approached him, teasing and mocking the simple-minded boy. Cregan, going about his own business, suddenly felt a stirring in his mind. The familiar tug of emotions—Hodor's emotions—was being transmitted through their strange connection.
At first, Cregan thought to cut off the sensation, as he had done before, but something held him back. Hodor's usual calm demeanor was changing—Cregan could feel it. A surge of anger. The gentle giant was getting upset.
"Stop! I don't like this! Stop! Stop! I'll beat you!"
Alarm bells went off in Cregan's mind. He rushed towards the courtyard, following the thread of connection that linked him to Hodor. He could feel the situation spiraling out of control.
When he arrived at the courtyard, the sight that greeted him was shocking. By the well, a soaking-wet Hodor stood with fury etched across his usually calm face. Two boys were sprawled on the ground, one clutching a bleeding nose, the other cradling a bent arm. And in Hodor's massive hand, another boy dangled by his neck, his face turning red as Hodor's fist drew back for a punch.
"Walder, no!" Cregan shouted.
Hodor froze at the sound of Cregan's voice, his massive hand still hovering mid-air around the boy's neck. His head turned slowly, and as his gaze met Cregan's, the anger in his face began to melt away. But his grip remained firm, uncertain.
Cregan took a cautious step forward. "Hodor, let him go," he said softly, though his tone carried a quiet command. "It's over. You can let go."
Hodor blinked, his expression softening even more. Slowly, he nodded and released the boy, who crumpled to the ground, coughing and gulping in air.
The courtyard had fallen into a stunned silence, broken only by the whispers of onlookers, their eyes wide with disbelief. Hodor, who had always been gentle and harmless, had turned violent. The guards arrived, but seeing Cregan already handling the situation, they hung back, unsure of what to do.
Cregan knelt beside the boy with the bent arm, who was still crying, his face streaked with tears. The arm was badly twisted at the elbow, likely dislocated.
"Look at me," Cregan commanded gently but firmly, taking the boy's arm in his hands.
The boy's tearful eyes met Cregan's, just as he quickly and cleanly snapped the bone back into place. The boy screamed briefly, then stared at his arm in shock as the pain ebbed.
"It's done," Cregan said, his voice calm and steady. "Your arm's fixed. Now, don't use it for anything heavy for a few days. You'll be fine. Understood?"
The boy nodded, still sniffling but clearly relieved, his pain eased.
"Can you take them to Maester Luwin?" Cregan asked, glancing at the guards.
"Of course, m'lord!" one of the guards responded promptly, stepping forward to escort the three boys away.
Cregan stood, wiping his hands as he surveyed the courtyard. The crowd had swelled, their murmurs of disbelief growing louder. Hodor, gentle as a lamb most days, now stood there, bewildered by his own actions, still shaken and lost.
Hodor, eager to explain, began repeating, "Hodor, Hodor—Hodor hod-do-door. Hodor!" He pointed at the water bucket, then at himself, his brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what had happened.
Through their connection, Cregan felt the surge of frustration and confusion in Hodor's emotions, and he translated silently, 'They stole my bucket. Then they threw water at me. They made me wet! They're bad!'
Just then, Old Nan arrived, having heard the commotion. Upon hearing what her great-grandson had done, she was both astonished and incredulous. She hurried to Hodor, grabbing him by his ear in a stern grip.
"Walder, how could you fight with those boys?" Old Nan scolded, her voice sharp. "Do you want to be punished by Lord Stark? Tell me, will you ever do it again?"
Cregan tensed at the sight, worried that Hodor, with his newfound strength and unpredictability, might lash out—even at his own great-grandmother. But Hodor didn't react with anger. Instead, like a chastened child, he stood there quietly, taking the reprimand without protest, his eyes downcast as Old Nan continued her scolding.
Relief washed over Cregan as the situation diffused peacefully. After Old Nan was done with her berating, Cregan decided to take Hodor with him to the Godswood for some quiet time. He wanted to talk with him—just the two of them.
As they sat beneath the ancient Weirwood tree, Cregan asked Hodor about the incident, trying to gauge how much of his mind had been affected by the weirwood paste.
To Cregan's astonishment, Hodor's responses, though still limited to his single word, carried a new depth. There was more understanding behind his eyes—a slight, but unmistakable improvement in his reasoning. It wasn't much, but Hodor seemed... smarter, or at least more aware.
Cregan's heart swelled with excitement. His experiment had worked, at least partially. The weirwood paste had affected Hodor's mind in some way, perhaps even healing the damage Bran's warging had caused. How far this improvement would go, and whether Hodor would continue to grow sharper with time, remained to be seen. But the results were undeniable.
Back in the present moment, Cregan continued his task of collecting the weirwood sap, carefully extracting the thick, red liquid until the jar was filled once again. Each drop felt like a step closer to unlocking the magic hidden within the ancient tree.
After observing Hodor for several days and confirming that there were no ill effects from the weirwood paste, Cregan made a decision that he had hesitated over for weeks. He would take it himself.
Cregan stared at the dark red substance, the thick paste that had nearly knocked Hodor unconscious.
His hand hovered over the jar as he thought of the potential dangers. Would it affect him the same way? Or would it do something far worse?
"Only one way to find out," he muttered to himself.
OOO
Patre_n.com/mrcarson - Unlock 22 Chapters Early!
Can't wait to see what happens next? Join me on Patreon to get 22 chapters ahead of everyone else, plus a say in the story, early access, and more!
Your support helps keep the story alive and growing, and as a thank you, you'll get first dibs on every new twist and turn.
Become a Patr_on today!