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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 231/751
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Sometimes
he
would
ride
out
with
Hallis
Mollen
and
be
gone
for
days
at
a
time
,
visiting
distant
holdfasts
.
Whenever
he
was
away
more
than
a
day
,
Rickon
would
cry
and
ask
Bran
if
Robb
was
ever
coming
back
.
Even
when
he
was
home
at
Winterfell
,
Robb
the
Lord
seemed
to
have
more
time
for
Hallis
Mollen
and
Theon
Greyjoy
than
he
ever
did
for
his
brothers
.
"
I
could
tell
you
the
story
about
Brandon
the
Builder
,
"
Old
Nan
said
.
"
That
was
always
your
favorite
.
"
Thousands
and
thousands
of
years
ago
,
Brandon
the
Builder
had
raised
Winterfell
,
and
some
said
the
Wall
.
Bran
knew
the
story
,
but
it
had
never
been
his
favorite
.
Maybe
one
of
the
other
Brandons
had
liked
that
story
.
Sometimes
Nan
would
talk
to
him
as
if
he
were
her
Brandon
,
the
baby
she
had
nursed
all
those
years
ago
,
and
sometimes
she
confused
him
with
his
uncle
Brandon
,
who
was
killed
by
the
Mad
King
before
Bran
was
even
born
.
She
had
lived
so
long
,
Mother
had
told
him
once
,
that
all
the
Brandon
Starks
had
become
one
person
in
her
head
.
"
That
's
not
my
favorite
,
"
he
said
.
"
My
favorites
were
the
scary
ones
.
"
He
heard
some
sort
of
commotion
outside
and
turned
back
to
the
window
.
Rickon
was
running
across
the
yard
toward
the
gatehouse
,
the
wolves
following
him
,
but
the
tower
faced
the
wrong
way
for
Bran
to
see
what
was
happening
.
He
smashed
a
fist
on
his
thigh
in
frustration
and
felt
nothing
.
"
Oh
,
my
sweet
summer
child
,
"
Old
Nan
said
quietly
,
"
what
do
you
know
of
fear
?
Fear
is
for
the
winter
,
my
little
lord
,
when
the
snows
fall
a
hundred
feet
deep
and
the
ice
wind
comes
howling
out
of
the
north
.
Fear
is
for
the
long
night
,
when
the
sun
hides
its
face
for
years
at
a
time
,
and
little
children
are
born
and
live
and
die
all
in
darkness
while
the
direwolves
grow
gaunt
and
hungry
,
and
the
white
walkers
move
through
the
woods
.
"
"
You
mean
the
Others
,
"
Bran
said
querulously
.
"
The
Others
,
"
Old
Nan
agreed
.
"
Thousands
and
thousands
of
years
ago
,
a
winter
fell
that
was
cold
and
hard
and
endless
beyond
all
memory
of
man
.
There
came
a
night
that
lasted
a
generation
,
and
kings
shivered
and
died
in
their
castles
even
as
the
swineherds
in
their
hovels
.
Women
smothered
their
children
rather
than
see
them
starve
,
and
cried
,
and
felt
their
tears
freeze
on
their
cheeks
.
"
Her
voice
and
her
needles
fell
silent
,
and
she
glanced
up
at
Bran
with
pale
,
filmy
eyes
and
asked
,
"
So
,
child
.
This
is
the
sort
of
story
you
like
?
"
"
Well
,
"
Bran
said
reluctantly
,
"
yes
,
only
...
"
Old
Nan
nodded
.
"
In
that
darkness
,
the
Others
came
for
the
first
time
,
"
she
said
as
her
needles
went
click
click
click
.
"
They
were
cold
things
,
dead
things
,
that
hated
iron
and
fire
and
the
touch
of
the
sun
,
and
every
creature
with
hot
blood
in
its
veins
.
They
swept
over
holdfasts
and
cities
and
kingdoms
,
felled
heroes
and
armies
by
the
score
,
riding
their
pale
dead
horses
and
leading
hosts
of
the
slain
.
All
the
swords
of
men
could
not
stay
their
advance
,
and
even
maidens
and
suckling
babes
found
no
pity
in
them
.
They
hunted
the
maids
through
frozen
forests
,
and
fed
their
dead
servants
on
the
flesh
of
human
children
.
"
