“Mudmen,” answered Little Walder disdainfully. “They’re thieves and cravens, and they have green teeth from eating frogs.”   Maester Luwin crouched¹ beside Bran’s seat to whisper counsel in his ear. “You must greet these ones warmly. I had not thought to see them here, but... you know who they are?”  Bran nodded. “Crannogmen. From the Neck.”  “Howland Reed was a great friend to your father,” Ser Rodrik told him. “These two are his, it would seem.”  As the newcomers walked the length of the hall, Bran saw that one was indeed a girl, though he would never have known it by her dress. She wore lambskin breeches soft with long use, and a sleeveless jerkin armored in bronze scales. Though near Robb’s age, she was slim as a boy, with long brown hair knotted behind her head and only the barest suggestion of breasts. A woven net hung from one slim hip², a long bronze knife from the other; under her arm she carried an old iron greathelm spotted³ with rust⁴; a frog spear and round leathern shield were strapped⁵ to her back.  Her brother was several years younger and bore no weapons. All his garb⁶ was green, even to the leather of his boots, and when he came closer Bran saw that his eyes were the color of moss⁷, though his teeth looked as white as anyone else’s. Both Reeds were slight of build, slender as swords and scarcely taller than Bran himself. They went to one knee before the dais.  “My lords of Stark⁸,” the girl said. “The years have passed in their hundreds and their thousands since my folk first swore their fealty⁹ to the King in the North. My lord father has sent us here to say the words again, for all our people.”  She is looking at me, Bran realized. He had to make some answer. “My brother Robb is fighting in the south,” he said, “but you can say your words to me, if you like.”  “To Winterfell we pledge the faith of Greywater,” they said together. “Hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you, my lord. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you.”  “I swear it by earth and water,” said the boy in green.  “I swear it by bronze and iron,” his sister said.  “We swear it by ice and fire,” they finished together.  Bran groped for words. Was he supposed to swear something back to them? Their oath was not one he had been taught. “May your winters be short and your summers bountiful,” he said. That was usually a good thing to say. “Rise. I’m Brandon Stark.”  The girl, Meera, got to her feet and helped her brother up. The boy stared at Bran all the while. “We bring you gifts of fish and frog and fowl,” he said.  “I thank you.” Bran wondered if he would have to eat a frog to be polite. “I offer you the meat and

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