Literally every single one of the people in front of him looked confused, but Robb did not notice.

And how could he? There stood his father, a man he had believed dead, killed by the Lannisters, hale and healthy as he had been when Robb had last seen him all those months ago.

And now Robb had been killed too - by Roose Bolton, yes, but that whole affair had been organized by the Lannisters as well. If Robb could find himself here in this strange world after his death, why could the same not be true for his father?

It seemed he had already found some trustworthy companions, too. Well, all the better. Maybe they even knew who and where this Olórin that the Valar had told him to find was.

However, the best thing of all was that Robb was alone no longer. He had Grey Wind, true, yet there was no one with whom he could talk about his homeworld, no one to understand what it was like to die and come back again.

But all of Robb's hopes were shattered when the man who looked like his father showed no sign of recognition. On the contrary - he drew his eyebrows together in bemusement.

"My name is Boromir of Gondor," the man said, confused but not unkind. "I have no sons."

Robb's heart felt like it had just been stabbed again, but he did not let it show. Instead, he schooled his expression into a coldly polite one that hid all traces of emotion. It was the one he had used most often as the Lord of Winterfell and then later as King in the North.

"I understand," Robb said, inclining his head. "I apologise for the misunderstanding. You look a great deal like my father, my lord."

He did not know whether the man actually was a lord. He certainly had the bearing of one, though, and a little courtesy had never hurt anyone.

"It is no matter," the man named Boromir replied with a smile. "What is his name? I certainly would like to meet a man who looks so much like me that his very son cannot see the difference. Maybe I would even recognize the name."

Robb forced a tight-lipped smile as well. "I doubt it, my lord. He was not from around here."

"Was?"

"Aye, he died some moons ago," Robb said with clenched teeth. It was not his favourite topic to be talking about. His own fault for bringing it up, though, wasn't it? "I suppose that would make it a bit harder for you to meet him, my lord," he continued in an attempt to lighten up the situation.

Boromir looked a bit stunned, which was no surprise. "You have my condolences, I did not mean to-"

Robb waved him off, eager to be done with all this talk about his father. "I thank you, but you could not have known and I was the one to start with the topic in the first place. I've truly made the worst first impression. Perhaps I should apologize instead."

"So who are you?" one of the children interrupted, asking the question every one of the strangers probably had on their minds, but had not dared to ask yet.

Although the old man threw a disgruntled look at the child, Robb did not take offense.

"My name is Robb Stark."

The words 'the King in the North' and 'Lord of Winterfell' yearned to follow, but Robb knew they would not hold any meaning to this company and he had not yet become so vain as to use them regardless. Robb had told them his name and his name would have to suffice.

"Well, Robb Stark, as an apology for troubling you so, we must invite you to supper," another one of the children declared.

Robb carefully scanned the faces of each of the men, but none looked too put out with the idea. Still...

"I would not want to impose," he said. "Besides, you need not waste your food on me when I have some-"

That was when Robb realised his satchel as well as the water skin were nowhere to be seen.

"...perfectly good supplies of my own, was what I meant to say. Alas, it seems I have been robbed. I am afraid I'll have to retract my earlier statement and accept your invitation."

There was slight chuckling from everyone.

"Well, first we'll have to get all these damned corpses away from here, laddie," the short, bearded man finally ordered. "There's no way I'll enjoy my food with this Orc-filth around."

"Orc?" Robb asked.

They all looked at him like he was mad.

"Well, you know Orcs! You just killed a dozen of them, what did you think they were, rabbits?" The dwarf obviously had no patience for clueless people.

"Well, I did say my father was not from here and neither am I," Robb said, rolling his eyes. He did not exactly appreciate the tone, but he supposed he could understand where the man was coming from. How would Robb have reacted if he had met someone who had never heard of horses or pigs or sparrows before?

"You'll have to forgive me for not knowing what Orcs are, for we did not have any where I lived."

They seemed to accept this, even if Robb could see they were curious.

The corpses of the Orcs and the wolves were dragged away from what was now apparently their joined camp, far enough that no predator would be tempted to come near them after they discovered the dead bodies. The wounds caused by Grey Wind raised some eyebrows, but there had been wolves present at the fight and the wolves and Orcs turning on each other was a more reasonable explanation than Robb's giant direwolf with whom he seemed to share a mind.

When they came back, one of the children was preparing the meal in a pot over an open fire and Robb had to admit it smelled delicious.

A pony had been brought to the camp while Robb, the dwarf Gimli and the ragged-looking man who had introduced himself as Strider had been occupied with getting rid of the corpses. It was packed with all sorts of supplies that seemed unnecessary out in the wilderness - different kinds of pots and pans and spoons and ladles - but who was Robb to complain when he was getting such delicious food out of it?

A while later, they were sitting around the open fire. The food tasted as good as it smelled and the mood had improved considerably.

Everyone had introduced themselves to him - the old man was Gandalf and the blond one with the pointy ears was Legolas. The children were named Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin, but Robb already knew he would have trouble telling apart the last two.

Boromir, Strider and Gimli he knew already.

He had also learned that Legolas and Gimli did not get along and loved to irritate one another. This was apparently because of a millennia old discord between their two peoples, the Elves and the Dwarves. Robb had not been aware there was an actual race of Dwarves in this world, much less Elves, of whom he had never heard before, but it was good to know. The more he learned about this world, the better.

The next surprise was about the children and the fact that they were all actually older than him. They were Hobbits - and Arda obviously had a much more interesting population than Westeros and Essos combined.

Something seemed fishy about Gandalf as well, but if the man did not want to tell him, Robb would not ask.

"If you're from so far away, then why are you here now?" one of the Hobbits - Robb was fairly sure it was Pippin - asked.

"Pip!" Merry (the process of elimination was of great help to Robb) scolded him. "You can't just ask people why they are here! That's none of our business."

"It's fine," Robb shrugged. "I was told to look for someone called Olórin and to help him with... whatever he's doing."

Gandalf looked up and his sharp gaze fixed on Robb. "Who sent you?"

Robb blinked. Would they believe him if he said it was their gods? Robb knew he himself probably wouldn't have taken anyone seriously who told him they had been sent by the Old Gods, especially if he did not know them.

Then again, what choice did he have but to answer, really?

"They called themselves Valar, I think you might have heard of them?" Robb finally replied. "Why, do you know this Olórin?"

"Of course I know him," Gandalf answered impatiently. "He is me."

Well, that certainly was unexpected.

Robb's jaw dropped. "Wha- uh- wait, you are Olórin?"

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. Now, I'd like to hear how exactly you came to meet the Valar, young man."

"Ah." Robb pressed his lips together. That was a complicated matter and not one Robb was sure he entirely understood, himself. He doubted that 'by being murdered at my uncle's wedding' would be an appreciated answer.

"They were of the impression that I was of no further use in my previous life," was the answer Robb finally settled on. "And rightly so. I'm sure it is hard to believe, but I was not born in Arda, nor did I grow up here. In fact, I only arrived in this world yesterday."

"How can you not be from this world?" Sam asked incredulously.

Robb grimaced. He didn't know how all this had worked. "I was only told that my world's Gods are kin to your Valar. I suppose it must have been... magic, the will of the Gods."

"With all due respect, any agent of the enemy could say such things," Strider replied, though not entirely unkindly. "It sounds too far-fetched to be a tale, but Sauron and Saruman are ingenious and know the Valar. They may have devised a plan to prevent us from succeeding against them."

Robb did not blame him. It was their good right to be suspicious of him, especially if their enemies were as sly as they sounded.

"Then how can I convince you?" Robb asked. "I suppose I could take my leave of you and survive in this world, somehow, but helping you was my task here. I would not wish to go against the Valar's will."

"Tell us of your meeting with them," Gandalf suggested gruffly. "Where you were, who of the Valar were there. And tell us the exact wording of the task you were given."

And so Robb did. He told them of waking up in a hall at the top of a mountain to find the veiled woman named Nienna cradling him. Of the fourteen thrones and the woman with skin like the night sky. He told them of the man who had reminded him of a younger Robert Baratheon; of the weaving woman called Vairë and the woman who had looked so much like a tree. He told them of how the winged being had told him that Arda was in danger from one of their own, the one they had called Mairon.

"I am afraid I do not remember the exact wording of my task," Robb continued, "but I was to look for you, for Olórin, because even though you were afraid of Mairon- of Sauron, you still fought against him. And they told me there was still honour left in Arda, that I could inspire courage and hope, and because of that, I was to help in bringing hope to the throne of Gondor."

Robb looked around, trying to glean whether they believed him or not from their expressions alone. He saw Strider and Gandalf look at each other, saw Legolas' eyebrows rise and his gaze flick over to Strider.

The four Hobbits only looked awed at his description of the Valar, even Frodo, who seemed to be of a quieter sort than his three friends.

Boromir -e very time Robb looked at him, his heart soared before being brutally crushed again; he looked so much like father - wore a conflicted expression on his face. Robb assumed the man would appreciate any help his country could get, but was still unsure whether he could trust Robb.

Gimli looked fairly neutral - maybe it was just because his beard concealed most of his facial impressions, or because he seemed to be of the perpetually grumpy sort anyways - but ready to end him should the decision not be in Robb's favour.

"Did they say anything else?" Strider finally asked.

Aye, Robb's mind screamed, Grey Wind. They told me Grey Wind would be with me.

But should he tell them? Would they take his animal companion as proof that he was their ally - or their enemy? Would he be able to hide Grey Wind's existence from them? What would they do if they permitted Robb to stay with them and only found out about his direwolf later, when he had deliberately hidden this secret from them?

"There was one of the Valar, he looked like a hunter," Robb confessed in the end. Secrets had never been a strength of his. "He told me I would have my most trusted companion with me."

"And do you?" Gandalf asked.

"I- yes," Robb confirmed. "I sent him into the forest when your first arrow struck." He nodded in Legolas' direction. "Right now, I imagine he is taking care of all the Orcs and wolves that fled."

"All by himself?" Boromir asked. "He must be a fearsome man!"

Robb huffed a laugh. "Fearsome, yes. A man, not so much. Shall I call him?"

"It would be much appreciated," Strider said.

Robb nodded and tried to reach Grey Wind with his mind. He had done this only a few times before, calling him from the battlefield after a won battle or calling him to where they were making camp on their way south after Grey Wind had spent the day apart from the host, hunting.

It had worked then and it worked now. He could see several dead Orcs on the ground and tasted their blood in his mouth. It tasted different from human blood, far more disgusting. He urged Grey Wind to return to him, but warned him that there were other people with him. Grey Wind shook himself before turning around and taking off.

Unbeknownst to Robb, his eyes had flickered white for a moment before returning to their usual blue colour.

"He should be here within a few minutes," he informed his confused companions.

And Grey Wind did not disappoint. He appeared out of the darkness not much later, no longer running but still splattered with blood.

The Hobbits about jumped out of their skins, which was fair since Grey Wind was almost twice their height. Everyone else tensed as well, although judging by the hands already resting on the hilt of his daggers, Robb was sure that at least Legolas had noticed his approach a bit earlier.

Grey Wind did not appear to be overly bothered by the tension in the air as he trotted over to Robb, laid down next to him and put his head in Robb's lap. It seemed his warning about others being here had had its intended effect.

Robb put his hand between Grey Wind's ears and buried his fingers in the thick fur before looking back up at the company before him with a smile. The heavy, warm weight on his thighs had Robb losing some of the stiffness he had not even been aware of.

"His name is Grey Wind," Robb told them. "He is a direwolf. We found him and his siblings in the woods when they were new-born pups, their mother laying dead beside them. There were six pups and my siblings and I were the same number. As direwolves are the sigil of our house, House Stark, my brother Jon convinced our father to let us keep them."

Robb remembered how ready Jon had been to omit himself as part of their family when they had thought there were only five pups, in order to get father to agree. Robb hurt, thinking of how little Jon had always seemed to think of himself-not for his own sake, but for Jon's. Robb hoped his brother was happier at the wall, despite the news of their father's death. Had he heard of Robb's own already? How much time had passed in Westeros since then?

"He's so big!"

Pippin's exclamation tore Robb from his thoughts.

"He is," Robb smiled. "He's only a year old, though, so he might grow even bigger."

Grey Wind's eyes were half-closed in pleasure. He clearly enjoyed the way Robb was petting him. Robb wished for something to clean the blood out of his fur with, but he supposed that would have to wait until the next time it rained or they came across a river.

"You can pet him too, if you want," Robb told the Hobbit. "He won't bite."

Pippin's eyes flicked over to Gandalf, but then he leaned over and gingerly put his hand on Grey Wind's side.

When the direwolf showed no aggressive reaction, he slowly started stroking his fur.

Grey Wind's eyes closed entirely and his tail started to wag from side to side, occasionally thumping on the ground as well. He really was just a giant puppy when there was no danger around.

Robb couldn't help but grin and when he looked around, it seemed the others couldn't either. A short time later, Grey Wind found himself half-buried under four Hobbits.

He then proceeded to actually fall asleep on Robb's lap, which of course meant Robb would not be able to move from this spot anytime soon. Whether his legs would survive the experience remained to be seen.

It did seem like the others believed him now, though, since everyone else prepared themselves to go to sleep as well. Only Legolas, who had volunteered to take the first watch, stayed where he was.

Robb simply lay back, careful to move his legs as little as possible so as to not wake up Grey Wind and, consequently, the Hobbits as well.

He fell asleep quickly, exhausted from a full day of walking and from the fight.

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Pretty long chapter this time but i didn't want to divide it up. As always, comments, votes and questions are super appreciated so don't hesitate to tell/ask me anything that pops into your mind!! :D