first came to the Iron Throne

 The Therm growled something in the Old Tongue and pointed his spear back toward the inn. Get back where you belong, Jon guessed. But where is that?  He walked towards the water, and discovered an almost dry spot beneath the leaning daub-and-wattle wall of a tumbledown cottage that had mostly tumbled down.

That was where Ygritte found him sitting, staring off across the rain-whipped lake. “I know this place,” he told her when she sat beside him. “That tower... look at the top of it the next time the lightning flashes, and tell me what you see.”  “Aye, if you like,” she said, and then, “Some o’ the Therms are saying they heard noises out there. Shouting, they say.”  “Thunder.”  “They say shouting. Might be it’s ghosts.”  The holdfast did have a grim haunted look, standing there black against the storm on its rocky island with the rain lashing at the lake all around it. “We could go out and take a look,” he suggested. “I doubt we could get much wetter than we are.”  “Swimming? In the storm?” She laughed at the notion. “Is this a trick t’ get the clothes off me, Jon Snow?”  “Do I need a trick for that now?” he teased. “Or is that you can’t swim a stroke?” Jon was a strong swimmer himself, having learned the art as a boy in Winterfell’s great moat.  Ygritte punched his arm. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. I’m half a fish, I’ll have you know.”  “Half fish, half goat, half horse... there’s too many halves to you, Ygritte.” He shook his head. “We wouldn’t need to swim, if this is the place I think. We could walk.”  She pulled back and gave him a look water sports.

“Walk on water? What southron sorcery is that?”  “No sorc -” he began, as a huge bolt of lightning stabbed down from the sky and touched the surface of the lake. For half a heartbeat the world was noonday bright. The clap of thunder was so loud that Ygritte gasped and covered her ears.  “Did you look?” Jon asked, as the sound rolled away and the night turned black again. “Did you see?”  “Yellow,” she said. “Is that what you meant? Some o’ them standing stones on top were yellow.”  “We call them merlons. They were painted gold a long time ago. This is Queenscrown.”  Across the lake, the tower was black again, a dim shape dimly seen. “A queen lived there?” asked Ygritte.  “A queen stayed there for a night .” Old Nan had told him the story, but Maester Luwin had confirmed most of it. “Alysanne, the wife of King Jaehaerys the Conciliator. He’s called the Old King because he reigned so long, but he was young when he . In those days, it was his wont to travel all over the realm. When he came to Winterfell, he brought his queen, six dragons, and half his court. The king had matters to discuss with his Warden of the North, and Alysanne grew bored, so she mounted her dragon Silverwing and flew north to see the Wall. This village was one of the places where she stopped. Afterward the smallfolk painted the top of their holdfast to look like the golden crown she’d worn when she spent the night among them.”  “I have never seen a dragon.”  “No one has. The last dragons died a hundred years ago or more. But this was before that.”  “Queen Alysanne, you say?”  “Good Queen Alysanne, they called her later. One of the castles on the Wall was named for her as well. Queensgate. Before her visit they called it Snowgate.”  “If she was so good, she should have torn that Wall down.”  No, he thought. The Wall protects the realm. From the Others reenex facial...
posted by maycal at 12:58| http://iksog.hautetfort.com/ | 更新情報をチェックする


use your skull to piss in. Har

In stone halls they burn their great fires, in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.  Whilst I walk alone in the mountains, with no true companion but

tears.  They hunt me with dogs in the daylight, they hunt me with torches by night.  For these men who are small can never stand tall, whilst giants still walk in

the light.  Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants, so learn well the words of my song.  For when I am gone the singing will fade, and the silence shall last long and

long.  There were tears on Ygritte’s cheeks when the song ended Elevit.  “Why are you weeping?” Jon asked. “It was only a song. There are hundreds of giants, I’ve just

seen them.”  “Oh, hundreds,” she said furiously. “You know nothing, Jon Snow. You - JON!”  Jon turned at the sudden sound of wings. Blue-grey feathers filled his

eyes, as sharp talons buried themselves in his face. Red pain lanced through him sudden and fierce as pinions beat round his head. He saw the beak, but there was no

time to get a hand up or reach for a weapon. Jon reeled backward, his foot lost the stirrup, his garron broke in panic, and then he was falling. And still the eagle

clung to his face, its talons tearing at him as it flapped and shrieked and pecked. The world turned upside down in a chaos of feathers and horseflesh and blood, and

then the ground came up to smash him.  The next he knew, he was on his face with the taste of mud and blood in his mouth and Ygritte kneeling over him protectively,

a bone dagger in her hand. He could still hear wings, though the eagle was not in sight. Half his world was black. “My eye Elevit,” he said in sudden panic, raising a

hand to his face.  “It’s only blood, Jon Snow. He missed the eye, just ripped your skin up some.”  His face was throbbing. Tormund stood over them bellowing, he

saw from his right eye as he rubbed blood from his left. Then there were hoofbeats, shouts, and the clacking of old dry bones.  “Bag o’ Bones,” roared Tormund,

“call off your hellcrow!”  “There’s your hellcrow!” Rattleshirt pointed at Jon. “Bleeding in the mud like a faithless dog!” The eagle came flapping down to

land atop the broken giant’s skull that served him for his helm. “I’m here for him.”  “Come take him then,” said Tormund, “but best come with sword in hand,

for that’s where you’ll find mine. Might be I’ll boil your bones, and!”  “Once I prick you and let the air out, you’ll shrink

down smallern that girl. Stand aside, or Mance will hear o’ this.”  Ygritte stood. “What, is it Mance who wants him?”  “I said so, didn’t I? Get him up on those

black feet.”  Tormund frowned down at Jon. “Best go, if it’s the Mance who’s wanting you.”  Ygritte helped pull him up. “He’s bleeding like a butchered boar.

Look what Orell did t’ his sweet face.”  Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wildling Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes

looked out on him with cold malevolence. “I’ll come,” he said. The blood kept running down into his right eye, and his cheek was a blaze of pain. When he touched

it his black gloves came away stained with red. “Let me catch my garron.” It was not the horse he wanted so much as Ghost, but the direwolf was nowhere to be seen.

He could be leagues away by now, ripping out the throat of some elk. Perhaps that was just as well YOOX HK.
posted by maycal at 13:20| http://iksog.hautetfort.com/ | 更新情報をチェックする


positionwas now secure

There is one adage whose truth I needed no further proof of.
Its first line apostrophises the 'Gods and little fishes.'
My chief need was for the garment which completes the rhyme.
Indians SmarTone plan, having no use for corduroy small clothes, I speedilydonned mine. Next I quietly but quickly snatched upWilliam's rifle, and presented it to Robinson Crusoe, pattinghim on the back as if with honours of knighthood. Thedispossessed was not well pleased, but Sir Robinson was; and,to all appearances, he was a man of leading, if of darkness.
While words were passing between the two, I sauntered roundto the gentleman who sat cross-legged upon my weapon. He wasas heedless of me as I, outwardly, of him. When well withinreach, mindful that 'DE L'AUDACE' is no bad motto, in loveand war, I suddenly placed my foot upon his chest, tightenedthe extensor muscle of my leg, and sent him heels over head.
In an instant the rifle was mine, and both barrels cocked.
After yesterday's immersion it might not have gone off, butthe offended Indian, though furious, doubtless inferred fromthe histrionic attitude which I at once struck, that I feltconfident it would. With my rifle in hand, with my suitelooking to me to transfer the plunder to them, my . I put on a shirt - the only one left to me,by the way - my shoes and stockings, and my shooting coat;and picking out William's effects, divided these Polar, with hisammunition, his carpet-bag, and his blankets, amongst myoriginal friends. I was beginning to gather my own thingstogether, when Samson, leading my horse, unexpectedly rodeinto the midst of us. The night was far advanced. TheIndians took their leave; and added to the obligation bybequeathing us a large fresh salmon, which served us for manya day to come.
As a postscript I may add that I found poor Mary's address onone of her letters, and faithfully kept my promise as soon asI reached pen and ink.
Chapter 28
WHAT remains to be told will not take long. Hardshipsnaturally increased as the means of bearing them diminished.
I have said the salmon held out for many days. We cut it instrips, and dried it as well as we could; but the flies andmaggots robbed us of a large portion of it. At length wewere reduced to two small hams; nothing else except a littletea. Guessing the distance we had yet to go, and taking intoaccount our slow rate of travelling, I calculated the numberof days which, with the greatest economy, these could be madeto dermeslast. Allowing only one meal a day, and that of thescantiest, I scored the hams as a cook scores a leg of roastpork, determined under no circumstances to exceed the dailyration.
posted by maycal at 13:04| http://iksog.hautetfort.com/ | 更新情報をチェックする




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