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@chez_jay
Tormund awoke, head heavy with fermented goat's milk, a gentle breeze parting his great red beard.
He winced.
The last thing he remembered was Brienne and Jaime leaving hand in hand into the shadows from Winterfell's Great Hall. And then a flagon being thrust in his great hand. And then another...
Wait.
There was more.
The shared acknowledging nods with similarly lovelorn newly-legitimised expert swordsmith Gendry, the fire dancing in his eyes as he shared a rueful grin over another flagon.
The invitation to pull his chair closer...
Where was that breeze coming from?
And what was that smell?