The Hierarchy of the Others

[Voice]

Voice, I for one find your theory somewhere on the range of "extremely plausible" to "that sounds right." It seems like with what info we have. Its hard to conclusively prove or disprove this third class of Other. The arguments are sound - we haven't seen the ice spiders yet, so its possible we haven't seen this upper class of Ancient Other. Another strong argument for this is that we basically know what is happening to Craster's sons - they are getting turned into the pale shadows, which are the WW according to your hierarchy.

And don't forget, Evolett somehow came up with a nearly identical third class from soup. That alone is simply amazing. And I think it means we're on to something.

For me, the key quote is this one, where Bran corrects Old Nan.

"Oh, my sweet summer child," Old Nan said quietly, "what do you know of fear? Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods."

"You mean the Others," Bran said querulously.

"The Others," Old Nan agreed. "Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man. There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels. Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks." Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, "So, child. This is the sort of story you like?"

Bran was in a shit mood, and Old Nan was having a senior moment. Our little lordling was having none of it. If you're gonna tell me this story again old woman, at least tell it right.

Then, like Fred Savage in The Princess Bride, he suddenly finds himself engrossed in the tale. But there is that briefest of moments, so easy to miss, when Bran pulls a very disrespectful attitude with the old wetnurse. Instead of hitting him over the head with a spoon, she agrees.

A lot of people don't know what the word querulous means, and here it is being used as an adverb, modifying the verb "to say." So that makes it even easier to miss. It basically means to do something in a complaining manner, to be grouchy, etc. What is lost in such definitions is that it derived from the same latin word as 'quarrel.' To be querulous is to raise a quarrel with someone, a grievance, a formal complaint.

Anyway, enough of the language lesson LOL. So, Old Nan begins telling the story of the long night and mistakenly begins to describe "white walkers." Our impatient lordling then corrects her:

"You mean the Others," Bran said querulously.

Bran has heard this story before. Old Nan has told it before. She acknowledges her mistaken use of the term, hits the brakes, and then begins telling the story again. Bran and Old Nan, then, both realize there is a distinction to be made between "the Others" and "white walkers." In fact, these two seem to have a far better understanding of these creatures than other characters in the series, who use the terms quite interchangeably. (Quite understandable considering they are "half-forgotten demons out of legend.")

Some call this my interpretation, but I think that comes from misunderstanding the word 'querulous.' It is quite literal in the text, and requires absolutely no interpretation at all, in my opinion. Bran and Old Nan, through this exchange, provide a clear distinction, delineation, and clarification of how the terms "the Others" and "white walkers" are not synonymous. Neither are they mutually exclusive, of course. But the fact that they are not synonomous means that there are at least two different types being thought about and referenced by Bran and Old Nan in this exchange. The third class, wights, we've seen in plenty so they are hardly a controversial addition to the hierarchy.

The question which arises is, "if that's how you make White Walkers, how were the first WW made? Who converted them?" The chicken or the egg thing leads back to the question of origins. Did the people who became Ancient Others discover a fountain of ice magic and just dive in? Or they discovered some sort of spell to convert themselves? Or are they Ice elementals, spring from the earth - the "antibody" theory which says they were a reaction from the earth to fire magic being a menace, or similarly, the destruction / corruption of fire magic left the ice magic unchecked, unopposed, unbalanced, and so it expanded into the void.

Indeed. Babysteps, Ser. Babysteps.

I first proposed that Bran is seeing the Three Shadows in his falling dream, in realtime. There was a reason for that. Every single entity in Bran's falling dream is 'in situ.' That means that the last entity he saw, the one in the heart of winter that made him scream and made his tears burn his cheeks, also was 'in situ' when Bran saw it/them.

They've been preparing to ride down on the winds of winter all this time. They never vanished. They only retreated to the one place the light of dawn never touches, beyond that curtain of light at the end of the world.

I then proposed that a Hierarchy exists among those we've seen and those we've yet to see.

Ice elementals may not be one and the same as the antibody theory. You know I am partial to the latter. One does not exclude the other, but I do think Ice Elementals implies a "naturalness" to them that is not accurate. Nor do I see them being an autoimmune response to fire-magic. But rather, fire itself.

The next step is to address the chicken and the egg. I could say it now, but that would spoil the next step. I've been so busy teaching lately that I haven't had much time to write it up, but sure as ice spiders in winter, it is coming :cool4:

So, if we think the Others were originally some sort of elemental, and never human, we know there is a third class, because Craster's sons are converted humans. If the Ancient Others discovered magic of some kind and changed themselves, then there might not be a third class, although it is still possible.

Entirely possible. Not my view of them, exactly, but it doesn't contradict my view of them either.

So, Voice, would you agree that Ser Puddles and Ser Crackles are the same thing? They both have crystal swords, they both have ice armor, they both move with grace and agility - they're the same, right?

In answer, I must say, there is no way to truly know. But there are some stark differences.

1. The Other in the Prologue is named as "the Other" in an almost omnipotent voice from GRRM via Will's POV:

The Other slid forward on silent feet.

2. No mounts, for any of the Others in the Prologue...

They emerged silently from the shadows, twins to the first. Three of them... four... five... Ser Waymar may have felt the cold that came with them, but he never saw them, never heard them.

Since we never see their mounts, they may well have had Ice Spiders for all we know. If not, then I'd place them lower on the totem pole.

3. Not one mention of "white walker" or "white walkers" anywhere in the Prologue.

Now, let's talk about Ser Puddles. Bran and company abandon Winterfell at the end of ACOK. The Fist is attacked at the very beginning of ASOS. The attack begins at the end of Prologue (Chett's POV) of that novel. whereas in Samwell I AGOT, before Sam and Small Paul are attacked by Ser Puddles, several mentions of both:

His own mother was a thousand leagues south, safe with his sisters and his little brother Dickon in the keep at Horn Hill. She can't hear me, no more than the Mother Above. The Mother was merciful, all the septons agreed, but the Seven had no power beyond the Wall. This was where the old gods ruled, the nameless gods of the trees and the wolves and the snows. "Mercy," he whispered then, to whatever might be listening, old gods or new, or demons too, "oh, mercy, mercy me, mercy me."

Maslyn screamed for mercy. Why had he suddenly remembered that? It was nothing he wanted to remember.¹ The man had stumbled backward, dropping his sword, pleading, yielding, even yanking off his thick black glove and thrusting it up before him as if it were a gauntlet. He was still shrieking for quarter as the wight³ lifted him in the air by the throat and near ripped the head off him. The dead have no mercy left in them, and the Others . . . no, I mustn't think of that, don't think, don't remember, just walk, just walk, just walk.

Sobbing, he took another step.

Then, we have the full account of the massacre at The Fist:

Sam was sorry; sorry he hadn't been braver, or stronger, or good with swords, that he hadn't been a better son to his father and a better brother to Dickon and the girls. He was sorry to die too, but better men had died on the Fist², good men and true, not squeaking fat boys like him. At least he would not have the Old Bear hunting him through hell, though. I got the birds off. I did that right, at least. He had written out the messages ahead of time, short messages and simple, telling of an attack on the Fist of the First Men², and then he had tucked them away safe in his parchment pouch, hoping he would never need to send them.

When the horns blew³ Sam had been sleeping. He thought he was dreaming them at first, but when he opened his eyes snow was falling on the camp and the black brothers were all grabbing bows and spears and running toward the ringwall. Chett was the only one nearby, Maester Aemon's old steward with the face full of boils and the big wen on his neck. Sam had never seen so much fear on a man's face as he saw on Chett's when that third blast came moaning through the trees³. "Help me get the birds off," he pleaded, but the other steward had turned and run off, dagger in hand. He has the dogs to care for, Sam remembered. Probably the Lord Commander had given him some orders as well.

His fingers had been so stiff and clumsy in the gloves, and he was shaking from fear and cold, but he found the parchment pouch and dug out the messages he'd written. The ravens were shrieking furiously, and when he opened the Castle Black cage one of them flew right in his face. Two more escaped before Sam could catch one, and when he did it pecked him through his glove, drawing blood. Yet somehow he held on long enough to attach the little roll of parchment. The warhorn had fallen silent by then, but the Fist rang with shouted commands and the clatter of steel. "Fly!" Sam called as he tossed the raven into the air.

The birds in the Shadow Tower cage were screaming and fluttering about so madly⁴that he was afraid to open the door, but he made himself do it anyway. This time he caught the first raven that tried to escape. A moment later, it was clawing its way up through the falling snow, bearing word of the attack.

His duty done, he finished dressing with clumsy, frightened fingers, donning his cap and surcoat and hooded cloak and buckling on his swordbelt, buckling it real tight so it wouldn't fall down. Then he found his pack and stuffed all his things inside, spare smallclothes and dry socks, the dragonglass arrowheads and spearhead Jon had given him and the old horn too,⁵ his parchments, inks, and quills, the maps he'd been drawing, and a rock-hard garlic sausage he'd been saving since the Wall. He tied it all up and shouldered the pack onto his back. The Lord Commander said I wasn't to rush to the ringwall, he recalled, but he said I shouldn't come running to him either. Sam took a deep breath and realized that he did not know what to do next.

He remembered turning in a circle, lost, the fear growing inside him⁶as it always did. There were dogs barking and horses trumpeting, but the snow muffled the sounds⁷ and made them seem far away. Sam could see nothing beyond three yards, not even the torches burning along the low stone wall⁷ that ringed the crown of the hill. Could the torches have gone out? That was too scary to think about. The horn blew thrice long,³ three long blasts means Others.³ The white walkers of the wood¹², the cold shadows,³ the monsters of the tales³ that made him squeak and tremble as a boy, riding their giant ice-spiders⁸, hungry for blood …

Awkwardly he drew his sword, and plodded heavily through the snow holding it. A dog ran past barking,⁴ and he saw some of the men from the Shadow Tower, big bearded men with longaxes and eight-foot spears. He felt safer for their company, so he followed them to the wall. When he saw the torches still burning atop the ring of stones⁶ a shudder of relief went through him.

The black brothers stood with swords and spears in hand, watching the snow fall, waiting. Ser Mallador Locke went by on his horse, wearing a snow-speckled helm. Sam stood well back behind the others, looking for Grenn or Dolorous Edd. If I have to die, let me die beside my friends, he remembered thinking. But all the men around him were strangers, Shadow Tower men under the command of the ranger named Blane.

"Here they come," he heard a brother say.

"Notch," said Blane, and twenty black arrows were pulled from as many quivers, and notched to as many bowstrings.

"Gods be good, there's hundreds,⁹" a voice said softly.

"Draw," Blane said, and then, "hold." Sam could not see and did not want to see. The men of the Night's Watch stood behind their torches, waiting with arrows pulled back to their ears, as something came up that dark, slippery slope through the snow.¹⁰"Hold," Blane said again, "hold, hold." And then, "Loose."

The arrows whispered as they flew.

A ragged cheer went up from the men along the ringwall, but it died quickly. "They're not stopping, m'lord,"¹¹ a man said to Blane, and another shouted, "More! Look there, coming from the trees,¹² " and yet another said, "Gods ha' mercy, they's crawling¹³. They's almost here, they's on us!" Sam had been backing away by then, shaking like the last leaf on the tree when the wind kicks up, as much from cold as from fear. It had been very cold that night. Even colder than now.⁷ The snow feels almost warm.¹⁸ I feel better now A little rest was all I needed. Maybe in a little while I'll be strong enough to walk again. In a little while.

A horse stepped past his head, a shaggy grey beast with snow in its mane and hooves crusted with ice⁷. Sam watched it come and watched it go. Another appeared from out of the falling snow, with a man in black leading it. When he saw Sam in his path he cursed him and led the horse around. I wish I had a horse, he thought. If I had a horse I could keep going. I could sit, and even sleep some in the saddle. Most of their mounts had been lost at the Fist, though, and those that remained carried their food, their torches, and their wounded. Sam wasn't wounded. Only fat and weak, and the greatest craven in the Seven Kingdoms.

He was such a coward. Lord Randyll, his father, had always said so, and he had been right. Sam was his heir, but he had never been worthy, so his father had sent him away to the Wall. His little brother Dickon would inherit the Tarly lands and castle, and the greatsword Heartsbane that the lords of Horn Hill had bome so proudly for centuries. He wondered whether Dickon would shed a tear for his brother who died in the snow, somewhere off beyond the edge of the world¹⁴. Why should he? A coward's not worth weeping over. He had heard his father tell his mother as much, half a hundred times. The Old Bear knew it too.

"Fire arrows," the Lord Commander roared that night on the Fist, when he appeared suddenly astride his horse, "give them flame." It was then he noticed Sam there quaking. "Tarly! Get out of here! Your place is with the ravens."

"I … I … I got the messages away."

"Good." On Mormont's shoulder his own raven echoed, "Good, good.

The Lord Commander looked huge in fur and mail. Behind his black iron visor, his eyes were fierce. "You're in the way here. Go back to your cages. If I need to send another message, I don't want to have to find you first. See that the birds are ready." He did not wait for a response, but turned his horse and trotted around the ring, shouting, "Fire! Give them fire!"

Sam did not need to be told twice. He went back to the birds, as fast as his fat legs could carry him. I should write the message ahead of time, he thought, so we can get the birds away as fast as need be. It took him longer than it should have to light his little fire, to warm the frozen ink.⁷ He sat beside it on a rock with quill and parchment, and wrote his messages.

Attacked amidst snow and cold,⁷ but we've thrown them back with fire arrows, he wrote, as he heard Thoren Smallwood's voice ring out with a command of, "Notch, draw … loose." The flight of arrows made a sound as sweet as a mother's prayer. "Bum, you dead bastards, bum¹⁵," Dywen sang out, cackling. The brothers cheered and cursed. All safe, he wrote. We remain on the Fist of the First Men. Sam hoped they were better archers than him.

He put that note aside and found another blank parchment. Still fighting on the Fist, amidst heavy snow⁷, he wrote when someone shouted, "They're still coming." Result uncertain. "Spears," someone said. It might have been Ser Mallador, but Sam could not swear to it. Wights attacked us on the Fist, in snow, he wrote, but we drove them off with fire.¹⁵ He turned his head. Through the drifting snow, all he could see was the huge fire at the center of the camp, with mounted men moving restlessly around it. The reserve, he knew, ready to ride down anything that breached the ringwall. They had armed themselves with torches in place of swords, and were lighting them in the flames.¹⁵

Wights all around us, he wrote, when he heard the shouts from the north face. Coming up from north and south at once.¹⁶ Spears and swords don't stop them, only fire. "Loose, loose, loose," a voice screamed in the night, and another shouted, "Bloody huge," and a third voice said, "A giant!" and a fourth insisted, "A bear, a bear!"¹⁷ A horse shrieked⁴ and the hounds began to bay⁴, and there was so much shouting that Sam couldn't make out the voices anymore. He wrote faster, note after note. Dead wildlings, and a giant, or maybe a bear, on us, all around.¹⁷ He heard the crash of steel on wood, which could only mean one thing. Wights over the ringwall. Fighting inside the camp. A dozen mounted brothers pounded past him toward the east wall, burning brands streaming flames in each rider's hand¹⁵. Lord Commander Mormont is meeting them with fire. We've won. We're winning. We're holding our own. We're cutting our way free and retreating for the Wall. We're trapped on the Fist, hard pressed.

One of the Shadow Tower men came staggering out of the darkness to fall at Sam's feet. He crawled within a foot of the fire before he died. Lost, Sam wrote, the battle's lost.

We're all lost.

Why must he remember the fight at the Fist?¹ He didn't want to remember. Not that.¹ He tried to make himself remember his mother,¹ or his little sister Talla, or that girl Gilly at Craster's Keep. Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. "Get up," a voice said. "Sam, you can't go to sleep here. Get up and keep walking."¹⁸

1. He must not remember. But he can't forget. Try as he might to block it out, he can't quite do it.

2. Everything from these two passages refers not to stories Samwell heard as a child, or things he read in the annals, but to the specific events at the Fist of the First Men. I only point this out because people have raised objections to this in the past. I tell them to reread, LOL. It's all about the Fist.

3. Three blasts of the horn means "Others." The Others includes: those who Old Nan and Bran would agree are "the Others," those who Old Nan and Bran would agree are "white walkers," and the "wights" that Old Nan and Brain would refer to as "hosts of the slain."

George R. R. Martin, 1993:

The greatest danger of all, however, comes from the north, from the icy wastes beyond the Wall, where half-forgotten demons out of legend, the inhuman others, raise cold legions of the undead and the neverborn and prepare to ride down on the winds of winter to extinguish everything that we would call "life."

Translation:

1. inhuman others = the Others

cold legions of the undead = wights, hosts of the slain

neverborn = Craster's sons, white walkers

4. Animal Fear. Once in a certain proximity, but still not visible, the Others, white walkers, and wights, seem to trigger hysteria in animals. On one hand, this is yet one more military advantage for them. On the other, it should end the argument that the Others are not the bad guys. 'Men' are not the only 'beings' instinctively reacting defensively to the presence of Others. /debate

5. The necessary tools. The NW has forgotten how to use them, but they are about to get a crash course in weapon effectiveness.

6. Human Fear. Once in a certain proximity, but still not visible, the Others, white walkers, and wights, seem to trigger hysteria in Humans. On one hand, this is yet one more military advantage for them. On the other, it should end the argument that the Others are not the bad guys. 'Animals' are not the only 'beings' instinctively reacting defensively to the presence of Others.

Gared and Will also exhibit this symptom of Other-exposure ;) in the AGOT Prologue.

Also, again, the author stated, in 1993:

The greatest danger of all, however, comes from the north, from the icy wastes beyond the Wall, where half-forgotten demons out of legend, the inhuman others, raise cold legions of the undead and the neverborn and prepare to ride down on the winds of winter to extinguish everything that we would call "life."

So, once again... /debate

7. Weaponized Winter. Though Winter has not yet come, we see the signs of a sudden blizzard. Summer snows are not uncommon in the North, but this much more than a few flurries and dusting. The Others have limited (human) visibility to a matter of a few yards. The cold is beginning to "get inside" of the black brothers. And, the wind and snow are muffling sound. The Others are forcing men into a world of darkness. Not only is lighting and visibility an issue, they even attack means of communication.

In short, they have weaponized winter. Or, as GRRM described their swords:

Ice. But not like regular old ice. The Others can do things with ice that we can't imagine and make substances of it.

8. 8-legged freaks. A memory for now. A half-forgotten demon out of legend. While not all dreams come true in GRRM's world, some nightmares do...

9. The vanguard.

10. "...something came up that dark, slippery slope through the snow." Hmm. Curious. Seems like rough terrain for a horse or a wight. What, I wonder, might traverse a slippery, snowy slope with ease? :devil:

11. The Brothers thought regular arrows would work at first. More fool they.

12. "white walkers of the wood" "coming from the trees"

13. What crawls? :devil:

14. "beyond the edge"

Jon I ADWD

"You are wrong. I have dreamed of your Wall, Jon Snow. Great was the lore that raised it, and great the spells locked beneath its ice. We walk beneath one of the hinges of the world." Melisandre gazed up at it, her breath a warm moist cloud in the air.

15. The Watch is relearning the knowledge of old: fire is effective against the wights. They abandon their steel swords for firebrands.

16. Organized battle strategy, not at all like the lumbering, clumsy wights we've seen in the past. This was a coordinated effort. Coordinated by whom? Old Nan has the answer:

Bran I AGOT:

Old Nan nodded. "In that darkness, the Others came for the first time," she said as her needles went click click click. "They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding their pale dead horses and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children."

Jon VII AGOT:

Ghost ran with them for a time and then vanished among the trees. Without the direwolf, Jon felt almost naked. He found himself glancing at every shadow with unease. Unbidden, he thought back on the tales that Old Nan used to tell them, when he was a boy at Winterfell. He could almost hear her voice again, and the click-click-click of her needles. In that darkness, the Others came riding, she used to say, dropping her voice lower and lower. Cold and dead they were, and they hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every living creature with hot blood in its veins. Holdfasts and cities and kingdoms of men all fell before them, as they moved south on pale dead horses, leading hosts of the slain. They fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children …

17. "all black and brown and covered with hair!" Either this was a bear, a giant, or some other immense creature.

18. Samwell felt warm and comfortable on that snow. Just like Gared said he would, back in the AGOT Prologue.

"It was the cold," Gared said with iron certainty. "I saw men freeze last winter, and the one before, when I was half a boy. Everyone talks about snows forty foot deep, and how the ice wind comes howling out of the north, but the real enemy is the cold. It steals up on you quieter than Will, and at first you shiver and your teeth chatter and you stamp your feet and dream of mulled wine and nice hot fires. It burns, it does. Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don't have the strength to fight it. It's easier just to sit down or go to sleep. They say you don't feel any pain toward the end. First you go weak and drowsy, and everything starts to fade, and then it's like sinking into a sea of warm milk. Peaceful, like."

"Such eloquence, Gared," Ser Waymar observed. "I never suspected you had it in you."

"I've had the cold in me too, lordling." Gared pulled back his hood, giving Ser Waymar a good long look at the stumps where his ears had been. "Two ears, three toes, and the little finger off my left hand. I got off light. We found my brother frozen at his watch, with a smile on his face."

[LmL]

I never noticed the "white walkers of the woods" part. And later, "they're coming from the trees!"

Sounds like the White Walkers used to be Woods Walkers - green men.

[Bluetiger]

For me the Wood Walkers are race akin of CoTF...

Ifeverquon are said to carve faces in trees ( Old Gods) by the Seasnake and Dothraki fear them ( because they skinchange their horses? )

It's said that Wood Walkers battled with the Ibbenese... ( reference to Belegost Dwarves vs. Sindars and Laiquendi in Silmarillion? )

[LmL]

I think we are on the same page here. I agree that the wights at the Fist showed a battle plan. Sam getting attacked by Ser Puddles, who I would say is definitely the same the pale shadows in the prologue, right after the Fist kind of testifies that yes, there were Others / WW leading the fight.

“Who goes there?” A horse’s head emerged from the darkness. Sam felt a moment’s relief, until he saw the horse. Hoarfrost covered it like a sheen of frozen sweat, and a nest of stiff black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back was a rider pale as ice. Sam made a whimpery sound deep in his throat. He was so scared he might have pissed himself all over again, but the cold was in him, a cold so savage that his bladder felt frozen solid.

The Other slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword- slim it was, and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new- fallen snow.

Small Paul unslung the long- hafted axe strapped across his back. “Why’d you hurt that horse? That was Mawney’s horse.” Sam groped for the hilt of his sword, but the scabbard was empty. He had lost it on the Fist, he remembered too late. “Get away!” Grenn took a step, thrusting the torch out before him. “ Away, or you burn.” He poked at it with the flames.

The Other’s sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam’s ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.

The fear that filled Sam then was worse than any fear he had ever felt before, and Samwell Tarly knew every kind of fear. “Mother have mercy,” he wept, forgetting the old gods in his terror. “Father protect me, oh oh …” His fingers found his dagger and he filled his hand with that. The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul’s axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul’s mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, “Oh,” as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the big man tried to reach his killer with his hands and almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other’s grip.

Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man’s foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.

When he opened his eyes the Other’s armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone- white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked. Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. “Mother, that’s cold. ”

[LmL]

For me the Wood Walkers are race akin of CoTF...

Ifeverquon are said to carve faces in trees ( Old Gods) by the Seasnake and Dothraki fear them ( because they skinchange their horses? )

It's said that Wood Walkers battled with the Ibbenese... ( reference to Belegost Dwarves vs. Sindars and Laiquendi in Silmarillion? )

Oh yes you are correct - the Ifequevron are surely COTF. They are called Woods Walkers there, but the cotf in Wetsros had "Wood Dancers." I have a theory developing that the Others (the original ones) were once green seers who transformed themselves magically somehow. I take the use of the woods terms here as evidence in favor of that hypothesis.

[LmL]

A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new- fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey- green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.

Will heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in a long hiss. “Come no farther,” the lordling warned. His voice cracked like a boy’s. He threw the long sable cloak back over his shoulders, to free his arms for battle, and took his sword in both hands. The wind had stopped. It was very cold.

The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge- on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost- light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

The Other halted. Will saw its eyes; blue, deeper and bluer than any human eyes, a blue that burned like ice. They fixed on the longsword trembling on high, watched the moonlight running cold along the metal. For a heartbeat he dared to hope.

They emerged silently from the shadows, twins to the first. Three of them … four … five … Ser Waymar may have felt the cold that came with them, but he never saw them, never heard them. Will had to call out. It was his duty. And his death, if he did. He shivered, and hugged the tree, and kept the silence.

The pale sword came shivering through the air.

Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.

Behind him, to right, to left, all around him, the watchers stood patient, faceless, silent, the shifting patterns of their delicate armor making them all but invisible in the wood. Yet they made no move to interfere.

Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other’s danced with pale blue light.

Then Royce’s parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm. The young lord cried out in pain. Blood welled between the rings. It steamed in the cold, and the droplets seemed red as fire where they touched the snow. Ser Waymar’s fingers brushed his side. His moleskin glove came away soaked with red.

The Other said something in a language that Will did not know; his voice was like the cracking of ice on a winter lake, and the words were mocking.

[Evolett]

First, I would say that Ser Crackles and Ser Puddles belong to the same category as seen here. The thing crawling up the slippery slope wasn't lost on me either but we've no way of knowing for sure.

There's something else I want to point out regarding the scene with Ser Puddles:

Small Paul unslung the long- hafted axe strapped across his back. “Why’d you hurt that horse? That was Mawney’s horse.” Sam groped for the hilt of his sword, but the scabbard was empty. He had lost it on the Fist, he remembered too late. “Get away!” Grenn took a step, thrusting the torch out before him. “ Away, or you burn.” He poked at it with the flames.

The Other’s sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam’s ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.

The actors in this scene where Sam eventually slays the Other are quite interesting in respect of their backgrounds. Grenn appears to parallel Garth Greenhand (also Grenn / Green). Remember he was named the aurochs by Ser Allister (a possible stand in for an Other as suggested by Tyrion’s famous crab-fork scene). Ser Allister also made that sarcastic comment about Jon being able to teach a wolf to juggle before Grenn would learn to use a sword and named Sam 'Ser Piggy'.

In this scene, Grenn doesn’t need or even have a regular sword which would be useless. He’s wielding a more effective weapon, a torch, and pokes at the Other with the flames. Even though the torch ends up broken, using it essentially saves his life. Small Paul attacks with his axe and ends up dead. Small Paul reminds me of an Andal here – he has his axe, which is ineffective – and there’s another thing – he repeatedly asks for a raven as a pet, Mormont’s raven, as if some instinct tells him that a greenseer’s ability might armour him against this foe.

Lastly, we have Sam who’s ancestors are originally from the Reach – the very place associated with Garth Greenhand. House Tarly’s sigil is a huntsman on a green field and their words are thought to be ‘First in Battle’. Sam is certainly first in battle here. Also of note - he has no sword, he lost that at the Fist. He’s the first to slay an Other and he’s using a weapon of the Cotf, an obsidian dagger. One of his forefathers, Savage Sam Tarly, slew the Vulture King, leader of a company of outlaws in the past. (I’ve noticed parallels between outlaws and others as well – especially the Kingswood Brotherhood and The Brotherhood without Banners as well.)

There seems to be a progression here –from an ineffective axe weapon through fire and then to obsidian. The heavy association with Garth the Green is also significant but I’ll leave you to unravel that J

[LmL]

Well as we were discussing in our PMs, the group of 12 "warriors" that go with Jon to the weirwood grove to accompany the new recruits are all tied to green men, woods, Garth, etc. Ghost was playing the role of LH in that scene. I think your observations here are spot on - I especially like the detail about Small Paul wanting a raven for a pet. That's the kind of absurd little detail that would be random in someone else's book, but in ASOAIF, you just know there is a reason. This makes sense - Martin is feeding us info about the Others. The greenseers are definitely tied to the Others and their origins, it would seem.

[LmL]

And if we are looking for a precedent for a split or disagreement between greenseers - creating a mechanism for a group of them to rebel, perhaps raising the dead (Leaf says that's a no no) or discovering the ice magic at the heart of winter - perhaps we should look at the Kings of Winter battling the Warg King. If the Kings of Winter were wargs, as seems likely, then we have wargs on both sides, and the Warg King had greenseers in his service also. Who is this Warg King? Not sure, but it does establish the possibility that not all greenseers get along.

[wolfmaid7]

I just have a few minutes,but something more to add about the Greenseers.Something i thing GRRM his in plain sight which to me also points to exactly who Craster's babies are going to.

The below is Varamyr's account of his ehem trip through the elements,a Skinchanger powerful one himself whose powers was near that of the skinchanging abilities of the greenseers.They are most definitely involved and are the only ones that can pull this off.

"He was in the snow and in the clouds, he was a sparrow, a squirrel, an oak. A horned owl flew silently between his trees, hunting a hare; Varamyr was inside the owl, inside the hare, inside the trees. Deep below the frozen ground, earthworms burrowed blindly in the dark, and he was them as well. I am the wood, and everything thats in it, he thought, exulting. ADWD Prologue

Focus now on the blue highligted and compare that to Craster's sacrifice

Mormont says to Jon Craster gives his sons to "The wood" (ACOK)When Sam attempted to convince Craster to give them Gilly's boy he echoed the same statement (ASOS) You give your sons to "the Wood" you expose them.

ETA: Happy Beltane guys.

[LmL]

Great stuff Wolfmaid. The White Walkers / pale shadows definitely seem connected to the trees in some way. Seems like a split occurred, long, long ago.

[Blazfemur]

Could genuine Others (the ancient race, not the Neverborn), be like bloodraven/bran, but physically capable of coming out of the weirwood?

[Blazfemur]

Haha, just picture a weirwood, with it's gruesome, kvlt face carved in it, then the face seemingly "exhales" a pale mist, that turns into an Other.

Way too fantasy I think

[LmL]

Haha, just picture a weirwood, with it's gruesome, kvlt face carved in it, then the face seemingly "exhales" a pale mist, that turns into an Other.

Way too fantasy I think

Write it Blaz! Or if not, let me use it for my fantasy novel. Sounds great. ;)

[Blazfemur]

Write it Blaz! Or if not, let me use it for my fantasy novel. Sounds great. ;)

hey, until it's confirmed that that's not how Others manifest themselves out of nowhere, how the cold just happens so suddenly, "technically" dont discount it ;)

[Voice]

I never noticed the "white walkers of the woods" part. And later, "they're coming from the trees!"

Sounds like the White Walkers used to be Woods Walkers - green men.

:cheers:

But I'm not convinced of the wood walker : white walker connection... I see them more akin to the cotf... and can't help but notice the similarity between the Dothraki term, and the term "wood dancer."

TWOIAF Beyond the Free Cities: Ib

All that ended two hundred years ago with the coming of the Dothraki. The horselords had hitherto shunned the forests of the northern coasts; some say this was because of their reverence for the vanished wood walkers, others because they feared their powers. Whatever the truth, the Dothraki did not fear the men of Ib. Khal after khal began to make incursions into Ibbenese territories, overrunning the farms and fields and holdfasts of the hairy men with fire and steel, putting the males to the sword whilst carrying off their wives into slavery.

BRAN VII AGOT

"But some twelve thousand years ago, the First Men appeared from the east, crossing the Broken Arm of Dorne before it was broken. They came with bronze swords and great leathern shields, riding horses. No horse had ever been seen on this side of the narrow sea. No doubt the children were as frightened by the horses as the First Men were by the faces in the trees. As the First Men carved out holdfasts and farms, they cut down the faces and gave them to the fire. Horror-struck, the children went to war. The old songs say that the greenseers used dark magics to make the seas rise and sweep away the land, shattering the Arm, but it was too late to close the door. The wars went on until the earth ran red with blood of men and children both, but more children than men, for men were bigger and stronger, and wood and stone and obsidian make a poor match for bronze. Finally the wise of both races prevailed, and the chiefs and heroes of the First Men met the greenseers and wood dancers amidst the weirwood groves of a small island in the great lake called Gods Eye.

TWOIAF Ancient History: The Coming of the First Men

The hunters among the children—their wood dancers—became their warriors as well, but for all their secret arts of tree and leaf, they could only slow the First Men in their advance. The greenseers employed their arts, and tales say that they could call the beasts of marsh, forest, and air to fight on their behalf: direwolves and monstrous snowbears, cave lions and eagles, mammoths and serpents, and more. But the First Men proved too powerful, and the children are said to have been driven to a desperate act.

And, to the next point, from Blue Tiger, I do not see white walkers as a race, unlike the cotf, who clearly are.

For me the Wood Walkers are race akin of CoTF...

Ifeverquon are said to carve faces in trees ( Old Gods) by the Seasnake and Dothraki fear them ( because they skinchange their horses? )

It's said that Wood Walkers battled with the Ibbenese... ( reference to Belegost Dwarves vs. Sindars and Laiquendi in Silmarillion? )

Completely agree.

I think we are on the same page here. I agree that the wights at the Fist showed a battle plan. Sam getting attacked by Ser Puddles, who I would say is definitely the same the pale shadows in the prologue, right after the Fist kind of testifies that yes, there were Others / WW leading the fight.

Agreed. Wolfmaid disagrees on this point however, and not without good reason. Samwell's recital of the Fist is steeped in Other-ish imagery, yet he never clearly sees an Other, until Ser Puddles.

I should note that I use the term Others quite loosely, even though my hierarchy suggests distinct terms. The reason for this, rather than being distinct races, I see white walkers and Ancient Others being separated by rank more than anything else. I should probably flesh that out a bit more in the OP to be honest. It gets back to Bran's querulous correction of Old Nan...

“Who goes there?” A horse’s head emerged from the darkness. Sam felt a moment’s relief, until he saw the horse. Hoarfrost covered it like a sheen of frozen sweat, and a nest of stiff black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back was a rider pale as ice. Sam made a whimpery sound deep in his throat. He was so scared he might have pissed himself all over again, but the cold was in him, a cold so savage that his bladder felt frozen solid.

The Other slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword- slim it was, and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new- fallen snow.

Small Paul unslung the long- hafted axe strapped across his back. “Why’d you hurt that horse? That was Mawney’s horse.” Sam groped for the hilt of his sword, but the scabbard was empty. He had lost it on the Fist, he remembered too late. “Get away!” Grenn took a step, thrusting the torch out before him. “ Away, or you burn.” He poked at it with the flames.

The Other’s sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam’s ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.

The fear that filled Sam then was worse than any fear he had ever felt before, and Samwell Tarly knew every kind of fear. “Mother have mercy,” he wept, forgetting the old gods in his terror. “Father protect me, oh oh …” His fingers found his dagger and he filled his hand with that. The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul’s axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul’s mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, “Oh,” as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the big man tried to reach his killer with his hands and almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other’s grip.

Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man’s foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.

When he opened his eyes the Other’s armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone- white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked. Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. “Mother, that’s cold. ”

Don't you just love this chapter? I sure do.

I still see some differences with the Others in the AGOT Prologue though. They may seem minor to other folks, but my linguist-brain cannot help but split such hairs.

I'll break my thoughts down the AGOT Prologue when I have a bit more time as well, but for now, let me point out that unlike Ser Puddles...

the Other(s) in the AGOT Prologue were:

1. traveling as a group
2. not riding dead horses
3. making their presence quite well known despite being unseen (all the men felt their presence before the Other slid forward on silent feet)
4. speaking a common language
5. sharing a laugh after Waymar's murder

Ser Crackles, in particular, demonstrates other differences:

1. he thoughtfully examines Ser Waymar's blade
2. he plays with his prey (lazy parries)
3. he mocks his prey

Ser Puddles did none of these things. He was far more rash in his movement, and never once stood to examine the situation before him, as Ser Crackles did.

A striking commonality between them, that always comes to my mind, is that they never once had their swords in a scabbard. If greeting a guest with even a sheathed sword laid upon your lap is a denial of guest-right, I'd say greeting Men afield with a bared longsword is even more confrontational, and a very open threat of violence.

First, I would say that Ser Crackles and Ser Puddles belong to the same category as seen here. The thing crawling up the slippery slope wasn't lost on me either but we've no way of knowing for sure.

:cheers: but I'm not in any hurry to group Crack and Pudd together just yet. In terms of icy composition, armor, and weaponry, I agree they are much alike. But in terms of rank, I am confident in saying they were different. Ser Crackles was higher up the totem pole.

And yes, we have no way to know for sure what crawled up that slippery slope, but it seems quite an unlikely feat for any undead wighted man/woman, or undead wighted horse/bear/giant/etc, to manage.

Just look at the reaction from our brother from the Shadow Tower:

"Gods ha' mercy, they's crawling. They's almost here, they's on us!"

If we piece this together with the terrain, we have:

"Gods ha' mercy, they's crawling.." "...something came up that dark, slippery slope through the snow."

Then the fear:

"They's almost here, they's on us!"

It sounds quite spectacularly horrific, doesn't it? They's ain't no bears.

There's something else I want to point out regarding the scene with Ser Puddles:

Quote

The actors in this scene where Sam eventually slays the Other are quite interesting in respect of their backgrounds. Grenn appears to parallel Garth Greenhand (also Grenn / Green). Remember he was named the aurochs by Ser Allister (a possible stand in for an Other as suggested by Tyrion’s famous crab-fork scene). Ser Allister also made that sarcastic comment about Jon being able to teach a wolf to juggle before Grenn would learn to use a sword and named Sam 'Ser Piggy'.

Brilliant observation Evolett! I'd add one more, the use of the word "needle."

Stick them with the pointy end... Absolutely everything about the Others maximizes their combat effectiveness.

How on Earth is this possible:

“Get away!” Grenn took a step, thrusting the torch out before him. “ Away, or you burn.” He poked at it with the flames.

The Other’s sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam’s ears sharp as a needle.

Oh yeah, it's not! haha

Fire may hinder them, but when their blades touch flame, you will be painfully deafened.

We heard this screech before, remember, when Waymar crossed blades with Ser Crackles. It seems fire produces the same sound when crossing an Other's blade.

Now that is interesting...

In this scene, Grenn doesn’t need or even have a regular sword which would be useless. He’s wielding a more effective weapon, a torch, and pokes at the Other with the flames. Even though the torch ends up broken, using it essentially saves his life. Small Paul attacks with his axe and ends up dead. Small Paul reminds me of an Andal here – he has his axe, which is ineffective – and there’s another thing – he repeatedly asks for a raven as a pet, Mormont’s raven, as if some instinct tells him that a greenseer’s ability might armour him against this foe.

Agreed, the torch saved Grenn's life. It was effective as a deterrent, but not as a weapon, I'd say.

Sam, as of course we know, has the only effective means of killing Puddles tucked away.

I wonder if Waymar would have stood a chance against Crackles if he were armed with dragonglass. Somehow I think not. This again brings to mind dragonsteel, and it's effectiveness against my "Ancient Others."

Lastly, we have Sam who’s ancestors are originally from the Reach – the very place associated with Garth Greenhand. House Tarly’s sigil is a huntsman on a green field and their words are thought to be ‘First in Battle’. Sam is certainly first in battle here. Also of note - he has no sword, he lost that at the Fist. He’s the first to slay an Other and he’s using a weapon of the Cotf, an obsidian dagger. One of his forefathers, Savage Sam Tarly, slew the Vulture King, leader of a company of outlaws in the past. (I’ve noticed parallels between outlaws and others as well – especially the Kingswood Brotherhood and The Brotherhood without Banners as well.)

Very nice catch with the bolded m'Lady. (sorry for assuming you are a woman btw, if you are not... lol... just a feminine suffix there on your username)

"Outlaws" may be the truest definition of the Others I've ever heard from anyone. Ever! LOL. Fits in quite nicely with how I view their origin... and I apologize again for not having the origin thread up yet... but it's on the way.

There seems to be a progression here –from an ineffective axe weapon through fire and then to obsidian. The heavy association with Garth the Green is also significant but I’ll leave you to unravel that J

Brilliant.

[LmL]

There's a tiny miscommunication here. we all agree the Ifequevron "Woods Walkers" are cotf. What I was pointing out is that given that equivocation, the term "woods walkers" is another clue that greenseers have something to do with the pale shadows, by way of the "white walkers of the woods" terminology. I wasn't suggesting the Ifequevron are Others. :)

[Voice]

There's a tiny miscommunication here. we all agree the Ifequevron "Woods Walkers" are cotf. What I was pointing out is that given that equivocation, the term "woods walkers" is another clue that greenseers have something to do with the pale shadows, by way of the "woods" terminology. I wasn't suggesting the Ifequevron are Others. :)

LOL, I noticed that as I was replying and meant to correct it, my bad. By the time I moved on to the other comments I must've forgotten. We are of an accord Ser :)

[Blazfemur]

whats to say our Others, or white walkers, arent the vengeful cut-down weirwoods that were desecrated? ;)

this is getting too out of hand, STAHP

[Voice]

Well as we were discussing in our PMs, the group of 12 "warriors" that go with Jon to the weirwood grove to accompany the new recruits are all tied to green men, woods, Garth, etc. Ghost was playing the role of LH in that scene. I think your observations here are spot on - I especially like the detail about Small Paul wanting a raven for a pet. That's the kind of absurd little detail that would be random in someone else's book, but in ASOAIF, you just know there is a reason. This makes sense - Martin is feeding us info about the Others. The greenseers are definitely tied to the Others and their origins, it would seem.

There are surely no absurd details in this series. But I still don't see greenseers being tied to the Others. I'll get to this in my origin theory, but for now let me point out that greenseers predate the long night and the first (ancient) Others by countless millennia.

Of course, that could still mean some later branch went to the dark side, but I think not. Greenseers do little more than observe life, so far as we've seen.

The Others are quite the opposite in this regard, as they embody the cleansing harbinger of death that Winter forebodes. Also, the Others are a purely northern manifestation... all the tales agree. Greenseers are not. And again, quite oppositely, they thrive in the Green, whereas the Others thrive in cold dead frozen lands, where no green can survive.

I just have a few minutes,but something more to add about the Greenseers.Something i thing GRRM his in plain sight which to me also points to exactly who Craster's babies are going to.

The below is Varamyr's account of his ehem trip through the elements,a Skinchanger powerful one himself whose powers was near that of the skinchanging abilities of the greenseers.They are most definitely involved and are the only ones that can pull this off.

"He was in the snow and in the clouds, he was a sparrow, a squirrel, an oak. A horned owl flew silently between his trees, hunting a hare; Varamyr was inside the owl, inside the hare, inside the trees. Deep below the frozen ground, earthworms burrowed blindly in the dark, and he was them as well. I am the wood, and everything thats in it, he thought, exulting. ADWD Prologue

Focus now on the blue highligted and compare that to Craster's sacrifice

Mormont says to Jon Craster gives his sons to "The wood" (ACOK)When Sam attempted to convince Craster to give them Gilly's boy he echoed the same statement (ASOS) You give your sons to "the Wood" you expose them.

ETA: Happy Beltane guys.

Happy Beltane wolfmaid!

Neither Varamyr, nor any greenseer we've seen, exhibits one single ability that we've seen from the Others, white walkers, or wights.

There are parallels, of course. But parallels are absolutely everywhere, from crab soup to the Red Widow's jewelry.

I still say the force that moves, binds, and empowers the Others is completely unrelated to the Earthen Old Gods, and the manifestations of their power we see in greenseers, skinchangers, and greendreams.

This Icy, northern force is an entirely different beast, in my opinion.

Great stuff Wolfmaid. The White Walkers / pale shadows definitely seem connected to the trees in some way. Seems like a split occurred, long, long ago.

Connected to the trees because they were once "of the trees" ... or, connected as light is connected to shadow?

Could genuine Others (the ancient race, not the Neverborn), be like bloodraven/bran, but physically capable of coming out of the weirwood?

It's been noted in Heresy that the show depicts their "white walkers" with a very weirwood looking face. Or, perhaps more aptly, petrified weirwood...

Jon XII ADWD

...

Other hostages were named as sons of Howd Wanderer, of Brogg, of Devyn Sealskinner, Kyleg of the Wooden Ear, Morna White Mask, the Great Walrus …

...

Howd Wanderer swore his oath upon his sword, as nicked and pitted a piece of iron as Jon had ever seen. Devyn Sealskinner presented him with a sealskin hat, Harle the Huntsman with a bear-claw necklace. The warrior witch Morna removed her weirwood mask just long enough to kiss his gloved hand and swear to be his man or his woman, whichever he preferred. And on and on and on.

...

Especially when it concerned the free folk, where their disapproval went bone deep. When Jon settled Stonedoor on Soren Shieldbreaker, Yarwyck complained that it was too isolated. How could they know what mischief Soren might get up to, off in those hills? When he conferred Oakenshield on Tormund Giantsbane and Queensgate on Morna White Mask, Marsh pointed out that Castle Black would now have foes on either side who could easily cut them off from the rest of the Wall. As for Borroq, Othell Yarwyck claimed the woods north of Stonedoor were full of wild boars. Who was to say the skinchanger would not make his own pig army?

Haha, just picture a weirwood, with it's gruesome, kvlt face carved in it, then the face seemingly "exhales" a pale mist, that turns into an Other.

Way too fantasy I think

Awesome image, but not one that I think we will see in this series.

hey, until it's confirmed that that's not how Others manifest themselves out of nowhere, how the cold just happens so suddenly, "technically" dont discount it ;)

LOL I would never do that, but you might want to start writing ;)