Game of Thrones Iron Stark

Outside Sheep Village the Dothraki pressed close.

One warrior swung down from his horse. "Khal, that iron gate is nothing. Let me break the lock and open the way for you."

Drogo nodded. "Go, Morti."

The man strode to the gate, raised his arakh, and brought it down on the heavy lock. Sparks flew. On the third swing the lock shattered.

The gate creaked open.

Morti never took a step inside.

An arrow took him through the throat. He dropped, choking on his own blood.

Every Dothraki head snapped toward the watchtower.

A Lhazareen in full sheep-leather stood there with a bow, skin the color of old bronze. He aimed straight at Drogo.

"Intruders die. Sheep Village grows crops. We do not welcome horse men."

Drogo laughed. His bloodriders laughed with him.

"One lamb thinks he can stop us?"

Another arrow flew. Drogo leaned back in the saddle and let it pass over his head.

Before he could speak again, a second arrow punched into the chest of the rider behind him. The man toppled without a sound.

Boiling Sheep lowered his bow and grinned. "The famous Khal Drogo isn't so hard to hit after all."

From deeper inside the village an old voice drifted out, calm and unhurried.

"Cough, cough. Boiling Sheep, our guests have come a long way. We should treat them with proper hospitality."

The Village Chief appeared, leaning on his staff, a green sprig tucked behind one ear of his sheep-head hood. Happy Sheep walked beside him, bell jingling.

Boiling Sheep scowled. "Village Chief, they came to eat mutton. Should we jump into the pot ourselves?"

The old sheep chuckled. "Far travelers are guests. Khal Drogo, come inside. Watch our sheep dance."

White sheep quickly raised a small stage. Beautiful Sheep led the dancers onto it, singing as they moved.

Drogo's face darkened. He raised his hand to order the charge.

Cohollo caught his arm. "My blood of my blood. This smells like a trap."

Drogo shook him off. "I don't care if it's a trap. They are still sheep. We ride through them and take their chief. They will break."

He spurred his horse straight at the narrow gate.

The moment Drogo cleared the entrance the ground gave way beneath his mount. The horse screamed and fell into the pit. Drogo leapt free and landed on his feet, arakh already swinging toward the Village Chief.

Happy Sheep moved like lightning.

Rope whipped around Drogo's arms, legs, and chest in a blur. When the spinning stopped, the great Khal Drogo was trussed up tighter than a festival roast.

Warm Sheep slammed the gate shut behind the last riders and threw two more Dothraki back outside.

The remaining horse men stared at the closed gate, then turned and fled.

Inside the village Cohollo glared at the sheep around him. "You are no ordinary Lhazareen. What are you?"

Happy Sheep laughed. "We are sheep. If you don't believe it, ask Lazy Sheep to bleat for you."

A sleepy-looking sheep rolled out of the bushes still holding a pillow and blanket. He stood, yawned, and gave a half-hearted bleat.

"Village Chief… is it dinner time? No? Then I'm going back to sleep."

Even the captured Dothraki looked stunned.

The Village Chief tapped his staff. "Enough. Let us talk terms. What do you have that is worth your lives?"

Drogo said nothing for a long time.

Then he answered.

"Dragon eggs."

---

The surviving Dothraki rode hard back to camp and found Daenerys.

"Khaleesi! The Khal has been taken! The sheep people captured him!"

Daenerys stood with one hand on her swollen belly, face pale. She had dreamed last night of white wool and a great horse falling into darkness.

"Find Ser Jorah. Now."

Jorah came quickly. He had already heard the news and still could not believe it.

"Khaleesi. The Lhazareen are peaceful people. We may be able to ransom him."

"But," he added quietly, "a Khal is worth a fortune. Especially Drogo. We do not have that kind of coin."

Daenerys looked at the three dragon eggs resting in their chest.

She made her decision without hesitation.

"Then we trade the eggs."