Chapter 22 Chapter 22 Bran

Dancer was in snow-white wool with the gray direwolf arms of House Stark embroidered on it; Bran wore gray breeches and a white tunic with squirrel fur trim on the sleeves and collar.Pinned to his chest was a wolf's head brooch of silver and polished jet.In fact, he would have liked to wear a living Summer instead of a silver wolf, but Ser Rodrik forbade it. At first, the low stone steps made Xiao Wu hesitate, but as soon as Bran urged her, she immediately passed over with ease.Inside the gate made of oak and steel, eight rows of long tables filled the Great Hall of Winterfell, four rows on each side, leaving an aisle in the middle.People crowded on the benches one after another. "Long live Stark!" Bran sprinted past, people stood up and shouted loudly, "Long live Winterfell! Long live Winterfell!"

He was old enough to know that it wasn't him they were cheering for - they were celebrating the harvest, Robb and his triumphs, his lord father and his grandfather they were blessing eight thousand years All dead Starks.Even so, he was still very proud.The time it took to cross the hall was long enough to make him forget that he was a cripple.Finally he ran to the high platform, under the watchful eyes of everyone, Osha and Ado unfastened his belt and buckle, carried him off Xiao Wu, and put him on his father's high seat. Ser Rodrik sat on Bran's left, with his daughter Beth beside him.Rickon sat on Bran's right hand, his messy brown hair was too long and fell loose on the ermine cloak.Ever since his mother left, he refused anyone to fix it for him.The waitress who cut his hair last time was bitten by him. "I want to ride a horse too," Hoduo said when he took Xiao Wu away, "I can ride a horse better than you."

"You can't, stop talking," he told his brother.At this time, only Rodrik shouted loudly, and the audience was silent.Then Bran raised his voice and welcomed them in the name of his elder brother Robb, King of the North, and begged them to thank the Gods old and new for a glorious victory and a bountiful harvest. "May this good fortune continue," he concluded, lifting his father's silver cup. "Endless!" Pewter cups, earthenware cups and iron horn cups collided.Bran's wine had been mixed with honey, and with cinnamon and cloves, and it was sweet and delicious, but much stronger than the drink he had been drinking before.He swallowed the wine juice, only to feel countless hot and curvy fingers winding in his chest, he put down the glass, his head was dizzy.

"Well done, Bran," Ser Rodrik said to him, "Lord Eddard would be proud of you." At the next table, Maester Luwin nodded his approval as the servants brought in the food. . Bran had never seen such a sumptuous banquet, with dishes one after another, so dizzying that he couldn't see them all. At first he planned to taste every dish, but he quickly dismissed the idea.There were bison shanks roasted with leeks, venison pie stuffed with carrots, bacon and mushrooms, lamb chops coated with honey and cloves, spiced duck, peppered wild boar, roast goose, chicken and pigeon kebabs, beef on barley, Frozen fruit soup.Lord Wyman had brought from White Harbor twenty chests of sea food sealed in salt and algae: whitefish and snails, crab and mussels, and clams, herring, cod, salmon, lobster, and lamprey.Everywhere was brown bread, honey cake and oatmeal biscuits, turnips, peas and beets, beans, squash and big red onions, and baked apples, berry pies and pears poached in spirits.Wheels of snow-white cheese stood beside the salt dish at every table, and jugs of mulled wine and chilled autumn ale passed from table to table, and Lord Wyman's musicians played with enthusiasm and grace. , but the music of harps, fiddles and trumpets was quickly drowned out by laughter, chatter, and the barking of dogs fighting for leftovers.The singers sang melodiously, and they performed "Iron Gun", "Burning the Ship" and "The Bear and the Pretty Girl" in turn, but it seemed that only Hodor was listening.He leaned over to the flute player and hopped on one foot.

The noise gradually increased and combined into a continuous roar, like a large-scale chorus, which made people dizzy.Ser Rodrik talked to Maester Luwin through Beth's curly hair, and Rickon screamed gleefully at Brother Walder.Bran didn't want the Freys to sit on the dais, but his master reminded him that they would be his relatives soon.Robb will soon marry their aunt, and Arya will marry their uncle. "She won't," Bran said. "Arya won't." But Maester Luwin ignored his protests, and the two sat down beside Rickon in the end. Every time a dish was served, the servants gave it to Bran to taste first. As the supreme lord, he had the right to choose the favorite part of any dish.So when the duck was served, he couldn't eat it anymore.After each dish, he had to nod and waved away.If a plate smelled really good, he would name it to some nobleman on the dais, whom Maester Luwin had taught him before: it was a gesture of friendship and honor.He sent some salmon to the poor sad Lady Hornwood, wild boar to the boisterous Umbers, a plate of stuffed goose with berries to Clay Seven, and a giant lobster to the stable steward. Joseth—he was neither a noble lord nor a special guest, but it was thanks to his careful training that Xiao Wu was able to ride Bran.And he sent candy to Hodor and Old Nan, for no other reason than that he loved them.Ser Rodrik reminded him that he should give his foster brother something too, so he picked boiled beets for Little Walder and buttered turnips for Big Walder.

On the benches below, people from Winterfell Castle, commoners from the winter town, visitors from nearby villages and towns, and the attendants of the visiting nobles sat together.There were faces Bran had never seen before and people he knew, yet they all seemed equally foreign to him.He watched them from a distance, as if sitting by a bedroom window looking at the courtyard below, everything was a part of nothingness. Osha walks around the table, pouring wine for others.One of Rambad Tawha's men slid his hand up her skirt, and she threw the jug over the head, smashing the jug and laughing.Mikken did put his hand inside a woman's bodice, but she didn't mind.Bran watched as Fran teased his red bitch with the bone, and laughed as Old Nan tore at the hot pie with her wrinkled fingers.At the high table, Lord Wyman stormed a plate of steaming eels as if it were an army of enemies.He was so fat that Ser Rodrik had to order a very wide chair made for him to sit in, but he was always smiling and jovial, and Bran couldn't help but secretly liked him.The poor Countess of Hornwood sat next to him, her face as pale as a stone sculpture, listlessly fiddled with the food in front of her.On the other side of the table, Hauser and Morse were fighting over wine, and their horns clashed like knights fighting.

It's too hot, too loud, and full of drunk people.Bran felt itching under his gray sweater, and he longed to be somewhere else, as long as he didn't stay here.How cool it is in the godswood.Steam rises from hot springs, red weirwood leaves rustle.The smell is fresher there than here, and the moon is coming up, my brother will sing about it. "Bran?" Ser Rodrik said. "Why don't you eat?" The daydreams were so vivid that for a long time Bran couldn't figure out where he was. "I'll eat later," he said, "I'm full." The old knight's white beard was stained with red wine. "You did a good job, Bran. Not only today, but you also performed very competently when you received them. I believe that one day, you will become an outstanding lord."

I want to be a knight.Bran took his father's goblet and took another sip of the spiced mead.It feels so good to have something to hold in your hand.With the lifelike head of a snarling direwolf carved into the side of the mug, its silver-plated muzzle pressed against the palm of his hand, Bran remembered the last time his lord father drank from it. That night, in order to welcome King Robert and his court to Winterfell, a grand welcome banquet was held.It was still summer, and the parents sat on the high platform with Robert and the Queen and the Queen's brothers.Uncle Bunyan was there too, all in black.Bran and his siblings sat with the king's children, Joffrey, Tommen, and Princess Myrcella.During the whole banquet, the little princess looked at Robb with admiring eyes.Arya across the table grimaced when no one was looking; Sansa listened intently to the royal harper's knightly songs; and Rickon kept asking why Jon wasn't with them. "Because he's a bastard," Bran had to whisper to him at last.

Everything seems to be a lifetime away.Everything was swept away by a cruel god who stretched out a giant palm from the clouds, lifted it up to Xiao Han, and wiped everything away.The girls are locked up, Jon goes to the Wall, Robb and his mother are at war, King Robert and his father are in the grave, and maybe Uncle Benjen is too... Even the one sitting on the bench below is no longer an old friend.Jory is dead, and Fat Tom, Porter, Erin, Desmond, Hullen, the former stable master, and his son Harwin... They went south with their father, Sister Mordane and Vayon Poole went too.The rest went to battle with Robb, and Bran knew that soon some of them would die too.It's not that he doesn't like straw heads, pockmarked Tim, wisecracks and other newcomers, but he misses old friends more.

He looked back and forth at the happy or sad faces on the bench, but he didn't know if he would see them next year or in the future.He should have cried, but held back.He was a Stark of Winterfell, his father's son, his brother's heir, and was almost full-grown. At the end of the hall, the door suddenly opened, a gust of cold wind blew in, and the torch suddenly lit up.The wine belly led the two new guests in. "This is Miss Meera of House Reed," the round guard said loudly over the commotion. "This is her brother, Jojen. They are watching from Graywater." People looked up from their wine glasses and dinner plates to see who came.Bran heard Little Walder muttering to Big Walder beside him, "Frog eater." Ser Rodrik got up. "You are welcome, my friends, and please share with us the feast of the harvest." The servants hurried Come, set a table on the dais, and bring stools and chairs.

"Who are they?" Rickon asked. "The Clay People," answered little Walder contemptuously, "are robbers and cowards who eat frogs and have green teeth." Maester Luwin squatted beside Bran and whispered in his ear, "Please be sure to welcome them warmly. Well, I thought they wouldn't come... Do you know where they are?" Bran nodded. "Marshmen. From the Neck." "Howland Reed was a close friend of your father's," Ser Rodrik put in. "These two must be his sons." As the visitors made their way through the corridors of the great hall, Bran was sure that the taller one was indeed a lady, though she couldn't tell from her attire.She wore frayed sheepskin breeches and a sleeveless blouse over a bronze armor.Though about Robb's age, he was slender as a child, with long brown hair tied back and barely breasts.On one side of her slender hip hung a finely woven net, and on the other a long bronze dagger; under her arm hung a large rusty old iron helmet, a frog spear, and a round leather The shield is strapped to the back. Her brother, who was several years younger than her, was unarmed.He was dressed in green from head to toe, even the leather of his boots.As he came nearer, Bran saw that his eyes were the color of moss, and his teeth were as white as anyone else's.Both Reeds were short and thin as swords, and even Bran wasn't much shorter than them.They knelt on one knee under the high platform. "Honorable Lord Stark," the girl said, "For thousands of years, my family has sworn loyalty to the King of the North. Now that the King has reappeared, my lord father has specially ordered us to come here, and on behalf of all the people, I once again swear allegiance to you .” She is looking at me!Bran realized that something had to be said. "My brother has gone to fight in the South," said he. "If it is convenient, tell me your oath." "To the Lord of Winterfell we pledge our loyalty to Greywater Watch," they said in unison. "To you we devote our hearths, our hearts, and our harvest, my lord. Our swords, our spears, and our bows are at your call. .Please have mercy on our misery, help us in our distress, treat everyone justly and equally, and we will always follow you." "I swear in the name of the earth and the rivers." The boy in green said. "I swear by bronze and steel," said his sister. "By ice and fire we swear." They finished in unison. Bran wanted to say something.Should I swear to them too?But their set of oaths had never been taught to him. "May your winter be short and your summer long," he said at last, using a common greeting. "Please, I'm Brandon Stark." The girl Meera stood up first and helped her brother up.The boy kept staring at Bran. "We've brought you presents, fish, frogs and game birds," he said. "Thank you." Bran wondered if he had to eat the frog as a courtesy. "Please enjoy the wine and meat of Winterfell." He tried to remember the customs of the Marshmen, they had taught him.According to legend, they lived in the depths of the neck swamp for generations and rarely left the swamp.These people are very poor, live by fishing and catching frogs, live in huts woven with thatch and reeds, and hide on hidden floating islands deep in the swamp.It is said that they are a cowardly nation, not only accustomed to using poisonous weapons, but also often avoiding their opponents to fight guerrillas, and dare not fight face to face.Before Bran was born, however, Howland Reed became one of his father's staunchest allies, helping him fight for Robert's crown. The boy, Jojen, looked around the hall curiously as he took his seat. "Where's the direwolf?" "In the godswood," Rickon replied, "Fluffy is not good." "My brother would love to see them," said the girl. Little Walder yelled loudly, "It's better not to let them see you, or they will bite you." "They won't bite as long as I'm around." Bran was glad they wanted to see the pup. "Xiamen has never been able to, and he will drive away Shaggy Dog." He is very curious about the two "clay figurines", and he has never seen this nation before.Though my father wrote to the lords of Greywaterwatch every year, he never summoned a Marshman.He wanted to talk to them more, but unfortunately the hall was too noisy, apart from the people sitting beside him, he couldn't hear anything in the distance. Sitting beside him was Ser Rodrik. "Do they really eat frogs?" he asked the old knight. "Yes," said Ser Rodrik, "frogs, fish, lizards, and all kinds of wild fowl." Maybe they don't have sheep or cattle there, Bran thought.So he ordered his servants to bring them chops of mutton, slices of bison roast, and a whole plate of goulash on barley.It seems they are quite satisfied.The girl smiled when she caught him watching her.Bran blushed, don't start. A long time later, when all the sweets had been served and the people were downing their glasses of summer red, the servants cleared away the leftovers and pushed the tables against the walls to make room for dancing.The music gets wilder and the drummers join in.Heather Umber himself carried a huge silver-encrusted warhorn, which he blew in response to the song "End of the Long Night"—the dawn war between the Night's Watch and the White Walkers. And, all the dogs in the hall barked. Two of Glover's men—.But Morse Amber was the first to step up and act.He reached out and grabbed a passing maid, and knocked the flagon in her hand to the ground, smashing it to pieces.On the stone floor littered with rushes and bones and crumbs he led her, twirling her, tossing her in the air.The girl squealed with glee and flushed with shame as she unscrewed her lifted skirt. Others quickly joined.Hodor begins to dance on his own, while Lord Wyman invites young Beth Cassel for company.Although he is so fat, his movements are still graceful.When he got tired of dancing, Clay Seven took over from him and danced with the children.Sir Rodrik approached Lady Hornwood, but she apologized and left.For the sake of etiquette, Bran summoned Hodor after watching for a long time.He was hot and tired, flushed from the wine he had just had, and sentimental from the dancing.After all, this was another thing he could never do again. "I want to leave." "Hodor," Hodor roared, kneeling on the ground.Maester Luwin and Strawhead carried him into the basket together.The residents of Winterfell City have long been accustomed to such a scene, but to outsiders, it is undoubtedly still very new.There must be some guests whose curiosity exceeds the restraint of etiquette, and Bran can feel their eyes. Fortunately, he didn't go through the aisle, but went out through the back door, and Bran bowed his head quickly when he passed the lord's door.In the dim corridor outside the hall, Joses, the stable master, was also conducting a special riding activity.He pushed a woman Bran didn't know against the wall, her skirt rolled up at her waist.The woman kept giggling, but when Hodor stopped paying attention, she started screaming. "Leave them alone, Hodor," Bran told him, "take me back to my room." With him on his back, Hodor climbed the winding stairs to the tower, and knelt beside the iron handles nailed by Mikken.Bran grabbed his hand and moved back to the bed, and Hodor took off his pants and socks for him. "You can go back to the banquet, but don't disturb Joses and that woman," Brand said. "Hodor," Hodor replied, nodding. When he blew out the candle by the bed, the darkness covered him like a soft, familiar blanket.The faint sound of music drifted in from outside the blinds. At this moment, the stories his father told him in his childhood suddenly came to mind.Once he asked Duke Eddard if the Kingsguard were the best knights in the Seven Kingdoms. "Not anymore," he answered, "but once, they were wonders, the brightest warriors in the whole world." "Who is the strongest among them?" "Among the best knights I have ever seen was Sir Arthur Dayne, whose sword was called Dawn, and was forged from the core of a fallen meteorite. He was revered as the Sword of Dawn, and if it were not Howland Reed, Dad would have died by his hands." The father showed a sad look, and he didn't speak anymore.Bran wished he had asked. He went to sleep with dreams of knights in shining armor and fighting each other with swords like sparks, but when the dream came, he was back in the godswood.The smell from the kitchen and hall was so strong it seemed as if it had never left the party.He cruised under the tree, and his younger brother followed him closely.The night is so alive, full of the howls of human play.The sound made him restless.He longed to run, longed to hunt, longed—suddenly, the clash of steel made his ears stand on end.The younger brother heard it too.So they galloped through the undergrowth toward the place where the sound came from.At the pale old man's feet they leaped across the still water, chasing the smell of strangers, the smell of man, a mix of leather and earth and steel. They were in the woods when they found the intruders; a woman and a young man.There was not a trace of fear in the other party, even if they showed their white teeth, it would not work.The younger brother let out a low growl, but the visitor still did not stop. "Here they come," the woman said.It's Meera, whispered something inside, the vague call of a boy lost in a wolf dream. "You know how big they are?" "They'll be bigger when they grow up," said the young male, looking at them fearlessly with wide green eyes. "The black one is full of fear and anger, but the gray one is stronger... stronger than he knows... Can you feel it, sister?" "No," she said, slipping one hand on the long, brown knife. "Be careful, Jojen." "He won't hurt me, because today is not my death day." The man walked towards them without any fear.He reached out his hand towards his nose, and the touch felt as gentle as a midsummer breeze.However, with the stroking of fingers, the surrounding forests gradually melted, smoke spewed out from the ground, and the whole world laughed wildly and began to spin.He was dizzy and kept falling, falling, falling...