Chapter 57 Chapter 56: Bran

"Just another empty bunker," Meera Reed said, gazing at the rubble, ruins, and weeds. No, Bran thought, this is the Nightfort, the end of the world.When trekking in the mountains, he only wanted to reach the Great Wall as soon as possible and look for the Three-Eyed Raven, but now that he got here, his heart was full of fear.That dream he had... summer's dream... no, I can't think about it.He didn't even tell the Reeds, but Meera seemed to notice.If you don't talk about it, maybe you can forget the dream, it will never come true, Robb and Gray Wind will still... "Hodor," Hodor shifted his weight, and Bran followed suit.After walking for hours, he was tired.But at least he wasn't afraid.Bran was afraid of the place, and almost as afraid of admitting it to the Reeds.I am the Prince of the North, the Stark of Winterfell, almost grown up, and I shall be as brave as Robb.

Jojen stared at him with dark green eyes, "There's nothing here to hurt us, Your Highness." Blanco wasn't so sure.The Nightfort is always in Old Nan's scariest stories. Here the Night King reigned before his name was erased from memory; here the Rat Cook served the Andal King the Prince's Bacon Pie; the Seventy-Nine Guards Standing guard here; young and brave Dany Flint was raped and murdered here.In this castle, King Sherit issued a curse on the ancient Andals. A group of young apprentices faced the monsters that appeared in the night. Through these yards, climbed the towers, and slaughtered his brothers in the dark.

Of course, all of these stories happened thousands of years ago, and some didn't even happen at all.Maester Luwin used to say that Old Nan's stories were not to be swallowed whole.But one time when his uncle came to see his father, Bran asked about the Nightfort, and Benjen Stark didn't say those stories were true or false, but shrugged, "We left the Nightfort two hundred years ago. "As if that was the answer. Bran forced himself to look around.The morning was cold and bright, with the sun shining down from a cruel blue sky.He didn't like the noise: the wind howling uncomfortably through the ruined tower, the keep creaking, rats scurrying under the hall floor.It was the children of "Rat Chef" running from their father.The yard became a small forest, thin trees intertwined with bare branches, dead leaves scurrying across the piles of snow like cockroaches.Big trees had grown where the stables had been, and a twisted white weirwood had squeezed through a hole in the kitchen arch.Here, even Xia Tian felt uneasy.Bran allowed himself to get under his skin for a moment, to smell the place.He doesn't like the smell.

Crucially, there is no passage through the Great Wall. Bran had told them there wouldn't be, told them over and over again, but Jojen Reed insisted on seeing it for himself.He has had green dreams, and green dreams do not lie.How can a dream open a door? Bran thought. Ever since the brothers in black packed their bags, abandoned this place, and headed to Deep Lake Residence, the gates of the Nightfort have been closed: the steel gates have been lowered, the pulley chains have been removed, and the passages have been filled with stones, large and small. All frozen together until as impenetrable as the Great Wall itself. "We should have gone with Jon," Bran commented after seeing the scene.Bran had often thought of his bastard brother ever since the night he watched Jon ride away through the storm through Summer. "Find the Kingsroad, and go to Castle Black."

"We dare not do that, Your Highness," Jojen said. "I told you why." "But what about the wildlings! They killed an old man, and they want to kill Jon. There's a hundred of them, Jojen." "Exactly, and there's only four of us, so it shouldn't be. Remember? You helped your brother—if that was him—and nearly lost Summer." "I know," Bran said sadly.The direwolf killed three wildlings, perhaps more, but the number of them was astonishing, and soon formed a tight circle around the earless man.Summer tried to sneak into the rainy night, but an arrow flew diagonally, and the sudden pain forced Bran out of wolf form and back into his body.When the rain finally stopped, the group of four huddled in the dark without lighting a fire or speaking loudly—basically nothing.They listened to Hodor's heavy breathing and worried until morning, especially if the wildlings were coming across the lake.Bran went into summer now and then, but the pain always drove him back at once, like a hot kettle that you have to pull back if you try to lift it.Only Hodor fell asleep that night, tossing and turning "Hodor, Hodor."Bran was afraid that Summer would die in the dark.Please, old gods, he prays, you take Winterfell, take my father, take my leg, don't take Summer too.Please protect Jon Snow too, please let the wildlings go.

No weirwood grew on the rocky islands of the lake, yet the Old Gods seemed to hear.Next morning the Wildlings prepared to set off without haste, leaving behind their dead and the old man's clothes, and even scooping up some fish from the lake.There was one frightening moment when the three found the causeway and tried to walk across it...but they missed the bend in the causeway and almost drowned, but were pulled up.The tall, bald chief shouted at them, his voice echoing across the lake in a language Jojen couldn't understand, and a moment later they gathered up their shields and spears and headed northeast, in the direction Jon had left.Bran also wanted to leave to find Xia Tian, ​​but was stopped by the Reed siblings. "Stay one more night," Jojen said, "put some distance between you and the savages, it's not good to run into them again, right?" Fortunately, that afternoon, Xia Tian returned from the hiding place dragging a wounded leg .He chased away the crows, ate some of the corpses in the inn, and swam to the island.Meera pulled the broken arrow from his leg and rubbed the wound with the juice of some plant she had found near the base of the tower.The direwolf was still limping, but Bran thought he was getting better every day.The gods heard the prayer after all.

"Perhaps we should try other castles," Meera said to her brother. "Perhaps there are other doors to pass through. If you like, I will go and explore. It is faster to go alone." Bran shook his head. "To the east, there's Deep Lake House and Queen's Gate, and to the west is Icescar City. They're the same as here, only on a smaller scale. All the doors are sealed, except Castle Black, Eastwatch, and Shadow tower." After hearing this, Hoduo said, "Hoduo." Brother and sister Li De exchanged a look. "At least I should climb to the top of the Great Wall," Meera concluded. "Maybe I can see something up there."

"What are you going to watch?" Jojen asked. "Anything is fine." Meera replied resolutely. This should have been done by me.Bran looked up at the Wall and could not help smiling as he imagined himself climbing inch by inch, digging his fingers into crevices and kicking his toes out of his footing.Wolfdream, wildlings, Jon, etc. all don't matter anymore.He had climbed the walls of Winterfell and all the towers when he was a boy, but they were not this high and they were made of stone.The Great Wall also looks like stone, gray and pitted, but when the clouds part and the sun shines, it's a different story.It changed all of a sudden, shining white and blue.It was the end of the world, Old Nan used to say, and across the way were monsters and giants and ghouls, but as long as the Wall stood it couldn't get through.I want to go up with Meera, Bran thought, to stand on it and see.

But he was a crippled little boy with useless legs, so he could only watch Meera climb up instead of him from underneath. She wasn't crawling like he used to be.She was just going up the stairs the Night's Watch had hewn thousands of years ago.I remember Maester Luwin saying that only the stairs of the Nightfort were hewn from the ice of the Wall itself.Maybe that's what Uncle Bunyan said? Later castles had wooden stairs, stone stairs, or long ramps of earth and gravel.The ice is too elusive, as my uncle said. Although the inner core of the Great Wall is frozen as hard as a stone, the surface sometimes melts, and icy streams flow down, as if weeping.The stairs must have melted and frozen a thousand times since the last of the black brothers left the castle, shrinking a little each time, smoother, rounder, more dangerous.

And narrower.It seems that the Great Wall is going to take them back.Meera Reed walked steadily, even so, slowly, step by step.In two places, the steps almost disappeared, and she crawled on all fours.It's harder to come down, Bran thought.At last she reached the top, stepped over the few remaining bulges of ice crystals at the top of the stairs, and disappeared from sight. "When is she coming down?" Bran asked Jojen. "When the time is right. She's going to take a good look at... the Great Wall, look at the other side. We should take a look down there, too." "Hodor?" said Hodor suspiciously.

"Maybe we can find something," Jojen insisted. Or be discovered by something.Bran couldn't say that, he didn't want Jojen to think he was a coward. So they set out to scout, Jojen Reed at the head, Bran in the basket on Hodor's back, and Summer beside them.On the way, the direwolf darted through a dark door, and came back a moment later with a gray mouse in its mouth.This is Rat Chef? Bran thought, but the wrong color and the shape of a cat. "Rat Chef" is white, almost as big as an old sow... The Nightfort has many dark doors, and many rats.Bran could hear them scrambling in the dungeons and the passages that led to them. The dark passages were like a maze. Jojen wanted to go down and spy, but Hodor said "Hodor" and Bran said "No."There are worse things than rats in the darkness at the bottom of the Nightfort. "This looks like an old place." Jojen walked down the corridor, the sun streaming in through the hollow windows, casting dusty pillars of light. "Twice as old as Castle Black," Bran recalled. "It was the first fort on the Wall, and the largest." It was also the first fortress to be abandoned, back in the days of King Renrui.At that time, three-quarters of the rooms were empty, and the maintenance cost was too great. The "good" Queen Alysanne suggested that the Night's Watch build instead another small new castle seven miles to the east, where the Wall curved around a beautiful green lake.The cost of building the Deep Lake Residence came from the jewelry sold by the queen, and the "King Renrui" sent people all the way to the north to be responsible for the construction. Afterwards, the brothers in black left the Long Night Fort to the mouse. That was two centuries ago.Today, Deep Lake Residence is as deserted and empty as the castle it replaced, and the Nightfort... "There are ghosts here," Bran said.Hodor might have heard all the stories, but Jojen hadn't. "Very ancient ghosts, older than the 'King Renrui', even older than Aegon the 'Dragon King'. The ghosts are seventy-nine deserters who broke their vows and went south. They are wanted everywhere. One of them is Ra The youngest son of the Earl of Swell, so he led the team to the Barrens and sought refuge in his castle, but the Earl brought them to justice and sent them back to the Night Fort. The commander ordered seventy-nine A hole in which deserters were imprisoned and sealed alive in the ice. Holding spears and horns in their hands, all facing north, they were called the "Seventy-Nine Guards". Stand guard forever. Years later, the Earl of Lathwell was old and dying. Before he died, he ordered himself to be carried to the Great Wall so that he could put on black clothes and stand beside his son. He sent his son back to the Great Wall in honor of him, but he still loved him deeply. and therefore come to stand guard with him." They spent half a day exploring the castle.Some of the towers were down, and others looked shaky, but a party of three made it to the Clock Tower (the bell was gone) and the Crow's Nest (and the crow was gone).Under the winery, the cellar was full of huge oak barrels, Hodor knocked on them, making a hollow sound.They found a library (with collapsed shelves and cabinets, no books, and rats everywhere) and a dank, dark dungeon big enough to hold five hundred prisoners, but when Bran grabbed a rusty railing , it broke in his hands.There is only a ruined wall left in the hall, the bathhouse has sunk into the ground, and a huge thornbush has occupied the schoolyard where the black-clothed brothers outside the armory used to practice spears, shields and long swords. Although the blacksmith shop is still standing, spider webs, mice And dust replaced swords, bellows, and chopping boards.Sometimes, Summer would hear voices that Bran couldn't hear, or grin his teeth in an inexplicable direction, and the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end...but Rat Chef, Seventy-Nine Guards, and Mad Ax never showed up.Bran breathed a sigh of relief.Maybe it's just an abandoned, empty castle. By the time Meera came back, the sun was just a little afterglow on the western mountain tops. "What do you see?" her brother Jojen asked. "I saw the haunted forest," she said wistfully, "as far as I could see were towering peaks covered with trees that had never been felled by the axe; Come; I see heaps of old snow, and ice picks as long as spears; I even see an eagle circle the sky, and it sees me. I wave to him." "Did you see the way down?" Jojen asked. She shook her head. "No. It's quite a cliff, and the ice is so smooth... With a good rope and a sharp axe, I might be able to go down, but..." "...we can't," Jojen finished for her. "Yes," agreed his sister, "are you sure this is the place of dreams? Perhaps we have come to the wrong castle." "No. This is the castle. There is a gate here." There was a door, Bran thought, but it was blocked with stone and ice. As the sun went down, the shadow of the tower gradually elongated, and the wind became stronger and stronger, blowing piles of dead leaves across the courtyard.The gathering darkness reminded Bran of another Old Nan story, that of the Night King.He was the thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, she said, a warrior who never feared. "It's his flaw," she added, "and everyone should understand the feeling of fear." A woman caused his fall, a woman looked down from the top of the Great Wall, skin as pale as the moon, eyes as blue star.He pursued her without flinching, possessed her, and fell in love with her, even though she was as cold as Xuanbing.When he sprinkled the seed into her body, he also gave her his soul. So he took her back to the Nightfort, made her queen, and he was king, and swore his brothers to obey his will with a strange magic oath. The Night King and his wight queen ruled for thirteen years, until at last the Starks of Winterfell and the Wildling King Joman joined forces to free the Night's Watch.After his death, it was discovered that he had made sacrifices to the White Walkers, so all records of the "Night King" were destroyed, and his name became taboo. "Some say he's from the Boltons," Old Nan used to sum up, "some say he's the Magnar of Skagos, others say he's from the Umbers or the Flints or the Norries, And one would have you believe he was of the Woodfords--they ruled Bear Isle before the Ironborn. Not at all, he was a Stark, and it was his brother who beat him." Here, she Always pinching Bran's nose, he still can't forget it. "He's the Stark of Winterfell, maybe Brandon, who knows? Maybe he slept in this room, in this bed." No, Bran thought, but he was in this castle, where we sleep tonight.He didn't like the idea at all.According to Old Nan, the "Night King" is just an ordinary man during the day, but he rules the night.And now it's getting dark. The Reeds decided to sleep in the kitchen, an octagonal stone house with a battered vault that seemed to offer better shelter than the other buildings.By a large well in the center of the room a crooked weirwood rose from the stone floor and slanted toward the hole in the roof, its bony branches pointing toward the sun.It was a strange tree, thinner and faceless than any other weirwood Bran had ever seen, but it made him feel like the old gods were with him. Yet that was the only thing he liked about the kitchen.The roof was mostly intact, and it could shade them if it rained, but he decided that it would never be warm here, and he could feel the cold seeping up from the flagstone floor at any time.Bran didn't like the shadows, either, the huge brick ovens that surrounded them like gaping mouths, the rusty meat hooks, the scarred and stained butchering stands that lined the walls.He knew that it was here that the Rat Chef cut up the Prince and baked human pies in one of the ovens. That well was his least favorite.Twelve feet wide, it was all made of stone, and there were stairs built on the side, which spiraled down into the darkness.The sides of the well were wet and scaled, so deep that not even Meera's sharp hunter's eyes could help. "Maybe it's out of whack," Bran said skeptically. Hodor peeped over the knee-high rim of the well and he said, "Hodor!" The voice echoed down the well, "Hodor oh do oh do," getting weaker, "Hodo oh oh oh much," until it was lighter than a whisper.Hodor seemed taken aback, then chuckled, stooping and digging up a broken piece of stone from the floor. "Hodor, no!" Bran said, but it was too late.Hodor threw the flake over the edge. "You shouldn't be doing this, don't know what's down there. Maybe it will hurt something, or...or wake something up." Hodor looked at him innocently. "Hodor?" Far, far below, there was a sound when the stone hit the water.To be honest it was less like a splashing sound than a sort of swallowing, as if something tremblingly opened its cold mouth and swallowed Hodor's stone.Faint echoes traveled down the shaft, and for a moment Bran felt something move, tumbling in the water. "Maybe we shouldn't be here," he said uneasily. "Not at the well?" Meera asked. "Not at the Nightfort?" "Yes." Bran replied without thinking. She laughed, and sent Hodor out to collect wood.Summer was out too, it was nearly dark, and the direwolves wanted to hunt. After a long time, Ah Duo came back alone, bringing back a pile of dead wood and broken branches.Jojen Reed got flint and dagger out and built a fire while Meera deboned the fish she'd caught passing the upper creek.Bran wondered how many years no one had cooked dinner in the Nightfort's kitchen, and wondered who had cooked there, but perhaps it was better not to know. When the fire was burning happily, Meera put the fish on it.At least it's not a human pie. The "rat chef" cooked the son of King Andal, added onions, carrots and mushrooms, made a big pie, sprinkled with pepper and salt, served with bacon, and dark red Dorne wine.The pie was presented to the child's father, who praised it for its deliciousness and asked the cook to bring another piece.Later, the gods turned the chef into a giant white mouse that could only eat its own young.He has roamed the Nightfort ever since, devouring his offspring, but his hunger will never be satisfied. "The gods didn't curse him for murder," said Old Nan, "for feeding King Andal his own son's pie. A man has a right to revenge, but to kill the guests under one's own roof, and to trample on the rights of guests, all God never forgives." "It's time to sleep," Jojen said seriously after eating.The flame burned weakly, and he poked it with a stick. "Maybe I'll have another green dream and show us the way." Hodor had already curled up, snoring softly.From time to time he turned under his cloak, whimpering softly, perhaps saying "Hodor."Bran writhed closer to the fire, comforted by the warm heat and reassured by the slight crackling, but could not sleep.The wind outside blows the army of dead leaves across the courtyard, gently scraping the doors and windows, and he thinks of the story of Old Nan again, and almost hears the ghosts of the guards echoing each other from the top of the Great Wall, blowing the ghost warhorn.Pale moonlight slanted through the hole in the vault, illuminating the weirwood's outstretched branches.The tree looked as if it was trying to grab the moon and drag it into the well.Old gods, Bran prays, if you can hear me, don't let me dream tonight.Even if you have to, have a good dream.The gods did not answer. Bran let himself close his eyes.Maybe I really slept for a while, or maybe I just fell asleep in a daze, drifting between half-dream and half-awake, trying not to think about "Mad Axe", "Rat Chef" and the monsters that haunt the night. Then a voice was heard. He opened his eyes immediately.What was that? He was holding his breath, was he dreaming? A stupid nightmare? He didn't want to wake up Meera and Jojen for a nightmare, but...listen to...light rubbing, distant...leaves, It was the leaves whirling and rustling against each other... or the wind, probably the wind... but it wasn't coming from outside.The hairs on Bran's arms stood on end.The voice was inside, among us, and it was getting louder.He propped himself up on one elbow and listened carefully.There was indeed a sound of wind and leaves, but it was something else that caught his attention.footsteps.Someone is coming here.Something is coming here. Not the guards, he thought, they never left the Wall.But there might be other ghosts in the Nightfort, worse ghosts.Remember how Old Nan told how "Mad Axe" would take off his boots and wander barefoot through the dark halls of the castle, making no sound and letting no one know--unless you saw him coming from his ax and elbow and wet blood dripping from the tip of his thick red beard.This may not be "Mad Axe", but the monster that haunts the night.According to the old nan, all the apprentices had seen monsters, but when they reported to the commander-in-chief, everyone's descriptions were different.Then three apprentices died within a year, a fourth went mad, and a hundred years later the monster reappeared, and schoolboys were seen shambling after it in chains. But this is just a story.scare yourself.There are no nocturnal goblins, Maester Luwin said, and if there were such things, they are long gone from the world, like giants and dragons.It doesn't exist anymore, Bran thought. But the sound got louder and louder. It came from the well, he realized suddenly.It frightened him terribly.Something is coming up from the ground, emerging from the darkness.Hodor wakes it up.Woke it up with that stupid flake, and now it's coming up.Hodor's snoring and his own heartbeat made it hard to hear; was it the sound of blood dripping from the axe? Was it the distant, faint thud of the Ghost's chains? Bran listened more carefully.footsteps.It was definitely footsteps, louder and louder, but he couldn't tell how many.The sound echoed in the well, there was no sound of dripping water or chains, but... high pitched whimpers, heavy and depressed breathing, as if a person was in pain.Footsteps are the loudest.The footsteps were getting closer. Bran was too scared to shout.The fire had burned to a few faint embers, and the friends slept soundly.He almost slipped out of his body and into the wolf, but Summer was miles away, and he couldn't leave his friends helpless in the dark, facing something out of the well.I told them not to come here, he thought sadly, I told them there were ghosts.I told them they should go to Castle Black. The footsteps were heavy, slow and sluggish, rubbing against stones.It must have been huge.In Old Nan's story, "Mad Axe" is a big man, and the monster that haunts the night is even bigger.Once at Winterfell, Sansa told him that if you hide under the covers, the devil in the dark will find no one.He almost did it now, and then remembered that he was a prince, almost grown up. Bran squirmed on the floor, dragging his limp legs until he touched Meera.She woke up immediately.No one woke up as quickly as Meera Reed, no one was as hyper-vigilant as she.Bran pressed a finger to his mouth, motioning for silence.She heard the sound immediately, and he could see it in her face.Echoing footsteps, faint whimpers, heavy breathing. Meera picked up the weapon without saying a word, grasped the three-pronged frog spear in her right hand, and hung the gathered rope net in her left hand, and walked towards the well quietly with her bare feet.Jojen was still asleep, unaware of the changes around him, and Hodor moaned and rolled over, looking very uneasy.She moved in the shadows, skirting the moonlight, as quiet as a cat.Bran stared at her, finding it difficult even for him to detect the faint glint reflected off the spear.I can't let her fight the monster alone, he thought.Summer is in the distance, but... ...he slipped out of his skin and into Hodor. It's different from entering summer.Getting into summer was so easy, Bran didn't even have to think about it now.It's more difficult, like trying to put the right shoe on the left shoe, which doesn't fit well, and the shoe is scary, the shoe doesn't understand what's going on, and it's trying to push the foot away.He tasted the filth in Hodor's throat and almost fled in disgust.But he couldn't, and instead he struggled to sit up, tucking his legs under him—a pair of strong legs—and stood up.I can stand now.He takes a step.I can go.It felt so weird that I almost fell over immediately.He saw himself lying on the cold stone floor, a small disability, but "he" was not disabled now.He grabbed Hodor's longsword.The breathing of the well had become as loud as a blacksmith's bellows. Suddenly there was a cry, like a dagger piercing through the whole body.Out of the darkness, a huge shadow came up and crashed crookedly into the moonlight, and the fear rose in Bran, so strong that he found himself lying on the floor again, and Hodor yelled "Hodor, Hodor , Hodor", like when the thunder and lightning flashed on the tower in the lake that day.But the monster that haunted the night also screamed and writhed frantically in Meera's cable net.Bran saw the spear jerk out of the darkness, and the thing staggered and fell, struggling.The wailing still came from the well, even louder.The black mass on the ground rolled and resisted, screaming, "No, no. Don't. Please. Don't..." Meera stood above, silvery moonlight glinting on the tip of her frogspear. "Who are you?" she asked. "I'm Sam," sobbed the dark thing, "Sam, Sam, I'm Sam, let me out, you're hurting me..." He rolled in the moonlight, on Meera's tangled rope net Hodor was still yelling, "Hodor, Hodor, Hodor." Then Jojen added the twig to the fire, and blew on it to make the flames crackle and splutter again.With the light, Bran saw by the well a pale girl, thin and wrapped in hides and a big black cloak, trying to stop the crying of the baby in her arms.Things on the ground touch the dagger through the net, but unfortunately the holes are too small to do it.He wasn't a monster, and he wasn't "Mad Axe" dripping with blood, just a big fat man in black woolen clothes, black fur, black leather, and black mail. "He's a brother in black," Bran said. "He's from the Night's Watch, Meera." "Hoduo?" Hoduo squatted down, peeping at the people in the net. "Hodor," he said again. "Brother in black, yes." The fat man was still panting like a bellows. "I'm a member of the Night's Watch." A netting thread was wrapped around his chin, forcing him to look up, and other threads were lodged deep in his cheeks. "I am a crow, please, let me out." Bran was suddenly uncertain. "Are you the Three-Eyed Raven?" He couldn't be the Three-Eyed Raven. "I don't think so." The fat man rolled his eyes, but there were only two. "I'm Sam. Samwell Tarly. Let me out, it hurts me." He struggled again. Meera snorted in disgust. "Don't move. If you tear my net, I will throw you back into the well. Lie still and I will untie it for you." "Who are you?" Jojen asked the girl with the baby. "Gilly," she said, "named after the violet. He's Sam. We didn't mean to scare anyone." She shook the baby, whispered softly, and finally stopped the howling. Meera unties the rope net for the fat brother in black.Jojen walked to the well and peered down. "Where are you from?" "From Craster's Keep," said the girl, "are you the one?" Jojen turned to look at her. "that person?" "He said Sam wasn't the one," she explained, "there was another one. He was sent to find that one." "Who said that?" Bran asked. "Cold hands." Gilly replied softly. Meera lifted one end of the rope net, and the fat man sat up.He was shaking, Bran realized, and still gasping for breath. "He said there would be people here," he breathed, "in the castle. But I didn't know you were at the top of the stairs and you were going to throw a net and poke me in the stomach." Touch the belly with your hand. "Is there blood? I can't see." "It's nothing serious, just trying to stab you down," Meera said. "Come on, let me see." She got down on one knee and touched around his navel. "You're wearing mail. You haven't even broken the skin." "Ah, but it still hurts," Sam complained. "Are you really a brother of the Night's Watch?" The fat man nodded, his jaw trembling slightly.His skin looked pale and saggy. "I'm just a clerk, looking after Lord Lord Lord Mormont's crows." For a moment, he seemed on the verge of tears. "But I lost them at the Fist of the First Men, and it was all my fault. I got lost, and I couldn't even find the Wall. It was a hundred leagues long, and seven hundred feet high, and I couldn't find it." arrive!" "You've found it," Meera said. "Put your ass up, I'm going to catch the net." "How did you get across the Wall?" Jojen asked as Sam struggled to his feet. "Does this well lead to some underground river, and then you can come here? But you are not wet at all..." "There's a door here," said Fat Sam, "a secret door, as old as the Wall itself, called the Black Door." Brother Li De exchanged a look. "Can we find the door at the bottom of the well?" Jojen asked. Sam shook his head. "You can't. I have to lead the way." "Why?" Meera wondered, "if there really is a door..." "You won't find it. And if you did, it won't open. It won't open for you. It's the Black Door." Sam tugged at the faded black wool sleeves. "He said that only the men of the night watchman can open it, and a brother who swears the oath is needed." "He," Jojen frowned, "this... cold hand?" "That's not his real name," said Gilly, shaking the baby, "it's just a nickname we—Sam and I—had for him. His hands were as cold as ice, but he and those crows grew from dead hands. Li rescued us and let us ride here on the back of a deer." "Deer?" Bran wondered. "A deer?" Meera couldn't believe it. "A raven?" Jojen said. "Hodor?" said Hodor. "Is he green?" Bran wondered. "Any horns?" The fat man was also confused, "You mean the deer?" "Cold hands," Bran said impatiently. "Green men ride deer. Old Nan said they even had horns." "He's not a green man. He's dressed in black, like a brother Night's Watch, but his skin is as pale as a wight's, and his hands are as cold as ice. I was scared at first, but wights have blue eyes, and neither Can talk, or maybe forget how to talk at all. But he's different." The fat man turned to Jojen. "He's waiting there. Let's go. Have you anything warmer to wear? It's cold at the Black Gate, and it's colder on the other side of the Wall. You—" "Why doesn't he come with you?" Meera gestured to Gilly and the baby. "They could both come, why didn't he? Why don't you take him through this black door?" "He...he can't." "Why not?" "Because of the Wall. According to him, the Wall is not just ice and stone, with magic woven into it... ancient and powerful magic. He cannot cross the Wall." The castle kitchen suddenly became very quiet.Bran could hear the soft crackle of the flames, the night wind stirring the leaves, the creaking of the thin weirwood stretched toward the moon.On the opposite side were the dwellings of monsters, giants, and ghouls. He remembered what Old Nan had said, but as long as the Great Wall stood firm, they couldn't get through.Go to sleep, my little Brandon, baby.You need not be afraid.There are no monsters here. "I'm not the one you're taking," Jojen Reed told Fat Sam, whose black suit was baggy and stained. "He is." "Oh." Sam looked down at him uncertainly, perhaps realizing that Bran was crippled then. "I'm not...not strong enough to carry you on my back, I..." "Hodor can carry me." Bran pointed to the basket. "I sit inside, on his back." Sam stared at him. "You're Jon Snow's brother. The one who fell..." "No," said Jojen, "that child is dead." "Don't say it," Bran warned, "please." 山姆疑惑了片刻，但最后道，“我……我可以守秘。吉莉也可以。”他望向女孩，她点点头。“琼恩……琼恩也是我兄弟，是我迄今为止最好的朋友，但他跟断掌科林去霜雪之牙侦察，一直没回来。我们在先民拳峰等他，然……然后……” “琼恩就在附近，”布兰说，“夏天看到他了。他跟一群野人在一起，但他们杀了一个人，于是琼恩夺马逃走。我敢打赌，他回黑城堡去了。” 山姆瞪大眼睛望向梅拉。“你肯定那是琼恩?你看到他了?” “我是梅拉，”梅拉轻笑，“夏天是……” 一个阴影脱离了残破的拱顶，穿过月光，跳将下来。即使一条腿受伤，那只冰原狼落地时仍然轻盈犹如飘雪。女孩吉莉发出一声惊呼，牢牢抱住婴儿，抱得如此之紧，以至于孩子又号哭起来。 “他不会伤害你，”布兰说。“他才是夏天。” “琼恩说你们都有狼，”山姆摘下手套，“我认识白灵。”他伸出颤抖的手，指头又白又软，胖得像小香肠。夏天走近嗅了嗅，然后舔舔那只手。 这时布兰下定决心。“我们跟你走。” “你们所有人?”山姆似乎很吃惊。 梅拉揉揉布兰的头发。“他是我们的王子。” 夏天绕着井转圈，嗅来嗅去，然后停在第一格阶梯上，回头望向布兰。他也想去。 “如果我把吉莉留在这儿，到回来之前，她会安全吗?”山姆询问。 “应该没问题，”梅拉说，“她可以享用我们的火堆。” 玖健确认，“城堡空的，没人。” 吉莉环顾四周。“卡斯特跟我们讲过城堡，但我不晓得它们有这么大。” 这不过是厨房。布兰不知她看到临冬城会怎么想，如果真能看到的话。 他们花了点时间收拾，然后把布兰放进阿多背上的柳条篮里。等准备好出发时，吉莉已坐在火堆旁给婴儿喂奶。“你要回来找我哦，”她告诉山姆。 “我会尽快回来，”他承诺，“然后我们去暖和的地方。”布兰听到这话，不禁怀疑自己在做什么。我还能再去暖和的地方吗? “我认识路，我走前面，”山姆在顶上犹豫不决，“实在太多阶梯了。”他叹口气，开始往下走。玖健紧跟在后，接着是夏天，然后是背布兰的阿多。梅拉殿后，手中拿着捕蛙矛和索网。 这是一段很长的路。井的顶端沐浴在月光中，但每转一圈它就变得更加狭小，更加黯淡。他们的脚步在潮湿的石头之间回荡，水声也越来越响。“我们是不是该点火炬?”玖健问。 “不用，眼睛会调节适应，”山姆说。“一只手扶墙，就不会掉下去。” 每转一圈，井变得更加黑暗，更加凄冷。当布兰终于抬头，望向上方时，井口已不到半个月亮大。“阿多，”阿多低声说，“阿多阿多阿多阿多阿多阿多，”井也轻声回应，“阿多阿多阿多阿多阿多阿多。”水声近了，但布兰向下窥探，只看到黑暗。 又转了一两圈，山姆突然停下。此时他离布兰和阿多四分之一圆周，在下方约六尺处，然而布兰几乎看不见人。但他看得见那道门，山姆口中的“黑门”。它根本不是黑的。 白色的鱼梁木，上面有一张脸。 木头散发出光芒，好似牛奶与月光的混合，如此微弱，除开门本身，几乎不能照亮任何东西，连站在它跟前的山姆也是漆黑一团。那张脸苍白古老，满是褶皱。死气沉沉。嘴闭紧，眼也闭紧，脸颊塌陷，额头枯瘪，下巴松弛。若一个人活上一千岁都死不了，只是越来越老，那么他的脸最后就会像这个样。 门睁开眼睛。 白色的眼睛，看不见东西。“你是谁?”门问，井轻声呼应，“谁——谁——谁——谁——谁——谁——谁?” “我是黑暗中的利剑，”山姆威尔·塔利道，“长城上的守卫。抵御寒冷的烈焰，破晓时分的光线，唤醒眠者的号角，守护王国的坚盾。” “去吧，”那扇门说。它的嘴唇张开，越张越大，越张越大，直到最后，除了一圈褶皱包围的大嘴，什么也没剩下。山姆让到一边，挥手示意玖健通过。夏天跟在后面，边嗅边走，然后轮到布兰。阿多弯下腰，但弯得不够低，结果门的上沿轻轻擦过布兰头顶，一滴水落在脸上，沿着鼻子缓缓流淌。它带有奇特的温热，咸如泪水。