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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Hodor
hodor
hodor
hodor
,
"
shouted
Hodor
,
eyes
wide
.
"
Someone
kindly
shut
that
halfwit
up
.
"
Two
ironmen
began
to
beat
Hodor
with
the
butts
of
their
spears
.
The
stableboy
dropped
to
the
floor
,
trying
to
shield
himself
with
his
hands
.
"
I
will
be
as
good
a
lord
to
you
as
Eddard
Stark
ever
was
.
"
Theon
raised
his
voice
to
be
heard
above
the
smack
of
wood
on
flesh
.
"
Betray
me
,
though
,
and
you
’
ll
wish
you
hadn
’
t
.
And
don
’
t
think
the
men
you
see
here
are
the
whole
of
my
power
.
Torrhen
’
s
Square
and
Deepwood
Motte
will
soon
be
ours
as
well
,
and
my
uncle
is
sailing
up
the
Saltspear
to
seize
Moat
Cailin
.
If
Robb
Stark
can
stave
off
the
Lannisters
,
he
may
reign
as
King
of
the
Trident
hereafter
,
but
House
Greyjoy
holds
the
north
now
.
"
"
Stark
’
s
lords
will
fight
you
,
"
the
man
Reek
called
out
.
"
That
bloated
pig
at
White
Harbor
for
one
,
and
them
Umbers
and
Karstarks
too
.
You
’
ll
need
men
.
Free
me
and
I
’
m
yours
.
"
Theon
weighed
him
a
moment
.
"
You
’
re
cleverer
than
you
smell
,
but
I
could
not
suffer
that
stench
.
"
"
Well
,
"
said
Reek
,
"
I
could
wash
some
.
If
I
was
free
.
"
"
A
man
of
rare
good
sense
.
"
Theon
smiled
.
"
Bend
the
knee
.
"
one
of
the
ironmen
handed
Reek
a
sword
,
and
he
laid
it
at
Theon
’
s
feet
and
swore
obedience
to
House
Greyjoy
and
King
Balon
.
Bran
could
not
look
.
The
green
dream
was
coming
true
.
"
M
’
lord
Greyjoy
!
"
Osha
stepped
past
Mikken
’
s
body
.
"
I
was
brought
here
captive
too
.
You
were
there
the
day
I
was
taken
.
"
