Fingers

The Fingers is a bleak, rocky peninsula jutting into the Bite, the stormy sea that separates the Vale of Arryn from the North. Its name derives from its shape: five long, narrow headlands that claw into the water, separated by deep, treacherous inlets. The land itself is poor and unforgiving, covered in scrub and stone, offering little sustenance to the scattered, hardy folk who eke out a living fishing the cold waters and tending meager flocks. It is a place where the rule of law is thin, and the Eyrie's grasp is weak, making it a haven for smugglers and outlaws, and a desperate route for those who must travel unseen.

Role in Robert's Rebellion

The Fingers gained a singular place in the history of the Seven Kingdoms during the dawn of Robert's Rebellion. After the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen demanded Lord Eddard Stark's head, Jon Arryn refused and called his banners. To return north and raise his own army, Eddard Stark was forced to cross the mountains to the Fingers, where he found a fisherman to carry him across the treacherous Bite. A storm caught them mid-crossing; the fisherman drowned, but his daughter managed to get Stark to the Sisters before the boat sank. According to Lord Godric Borrell of Sweetsister, the story passed down in his family is that Stark left the fisherman's daughter with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly—a child she named Jon Snow, after Jon Arryn. This tale, recounted by Lord Godric to Davos Seaworth, provides a crucial, if unverifiable, account of Jon Snow's parentage, directly linking his birth to the Fingers and the desperate flight of Eddard Stark.

A Place of Refuge and Danger

Beyond its singular role in the rebellion, the Fingers is a place defined by its isolation and peril. The crossing of the Bite is notoriously dangerous, subject to sudden, violent storms that have claimed countless ships. For those seeking to avoid the watchful eyes of the great houses, the Fingers offers a back door into the Vale or a path to the sea. It is a land of hardscrabble existence, where the local lords, like the Borrells of Sweetsister, hold more sway than the distant Arryns of the Eyrie. The region's reputation as a smuggler's haven is well-earned, its hidden coves and treacherous coastline providing cover for illicit trade. It is a place where a man's life is cheap, and a secret can be kept for a price, making it both a refuge for the desperate and a graveyard for the unwary.