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- Джордж Мартин
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Arya
hated
them
making
fun
of
Needle
.
"
It
’
s
castle
-
forged
steel
,
you
stupid
,
"
she
snapped
,
turning
in
the
saddle
to
glare
at
them
,
"
and
you
better
shut
your
mouth
.
"
The
orphan
boys
hooted
.
"
Where
’
d
you
get
a
blade
like
that
,
Lumpyface
?
"
Hot
Pie
wanted
to
know
.
"
Lumpyhead
,
"
corrected
Lommy
.
"
He
prob
’
ly
stole
it
.
"
"
I
did
not
!
"
she
shouted
.
Jon
Snow
had
given
her
Needle
.
Maybe
she
had
to
let
them
call
her
Lumpyhead
,
but
she
wasn
’
t
going
to
let
them
call
Jon
a
thief
.
"
If
he
stole
it
,
we
could
take
it
off
him
,
"
said
Hot
Pie
.
"
It
’
s
not
his
anyhow
.
I
could
use
me
a
sword
like
that
.
"
Lommy
egged
him
on
.
"
Go
on
,
take
it
off
him
,
I
dare
you
.
"
Hot
Pie
kicked
his
donkey
,
riding
closer
.
"
Hey
,
Lumpyface
,
you
gimme
that
sword
.
"
His
hair
was
the
color
of
straw
,
his
fat
face
all
sunburnt
and
peeling
.
"
You
don
’
t
know
how
to
use
it
.
"
Yes
I
do
,
Arya
could
have
said
.
I
killed
a
boy
,
a
fat
boy
like
you
,
I
stabbed
him
in
the
belly
and
he
died
,
and
I
’
ll
kill
you
too
if
you
don
’
t
let
me
alone
.
Only
she
did
not
dare
.
Yoren
didn
’
t
know
about
the
stableboy
,
but
she
was
afraid
of
what
he
might
do
if
he
found
out
.
Arya
was
pretty
sure
that
some
of
the
other
men
were
killers
too
,
the
three
in
the
manacles
for
sure
,
but
the
queen
wasn
’
t
looking
for
them
,
so
it
wasn
’
t
the
same
.
"
Look
at
him
,
"
brayed
Lommy
Greenhands
.
"
I
bet
he
’
s
going
to
cry
now
.
You
want
to
cry
,
Lumpyhead
?
"