【讀你所愛，呵護你的心靈；掌握英語，開啟你的第三隻眼】
【“你為什麼那麼喜歡讀書呀？”
…我對自己的優勢與劣勢是有很現實的認識的。我的頭腦就是我的武器。我哥哥的武器是他的劍，Robert國王的武器是他的戰錘，而我的武器就是我的頭腦……要想讓寶劍永葆鋒利的話，你需要有磨刀石，要想讓你的頭腦保持清晰的話，你就需要書籍。”
“Why do you read so much？”
…I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses。 My mind is my weapon。 My brother has his sword， King Robert has his warhammer， and I have my mind 。 。 。 and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone， if it is to keep its edge。”】
【英語閱讀淺談】
一位朋友告訴我，以前，他也曾試圖讀《冰與火之歌》的原文，只是讀了幾頁，就讀不下去了，感覺讀不懂啊。可是，讀了幾次雙語閱讀，他突然發現，其實英語原文是蠻簡單的。讀者可以自己感覺一下。
成人的外語學習是從理解內容開始的，當你熟悉了內容以後，你會發現，英語只是用了我們不熟悉的方式表達著相似的內容。如果你能夠從雙語閱讀開始，熟悉了冰與火之歌中的每一個人物和他們的故事，你就一定能夠在不久後的某個時間，自由地走進原著的世界，獨立地用英語探索冰與火之歌中你喜愛的人物的生死沉浮。
我們每一個人，從父母帶領我們讀第一本書，到自己開始獨立閱讀，其實也就是一到兩年的時間。
當你走入了英語原著的閱讀世界以後，也許你就會明白，為什麼英美國家的人學校畢業以後還喜歡讀書。沒準，你也會喜歡上讀書的。
【本節導讀】
在這一節，我們有機會更多地瞭解Tyrion 和他世界。某種程度上，Tyrion是一個英雄，他的英雄之處在於，他生在地獄，但他憑藉自己的力量走出了地獄。
我們將體會到，Tyrion是如何將自己的弱點變成自己的盔甲，這樣別人就無法傷害他；我們也將看到Tyrion就“為什麼要讀書”這個當代問題的一個有意思地回答。我們的父母常常會苦口婆心地教育自己的孩子“為什麼要讀書”，但是父母通常會在實踐中給孩子一個完全相反的回答。Tyrion的父母也是不喜歡讀書的，但是他自己找到了讀書的用處。
在這一章中，我們還會透過Tyrion的閱讀，瞭解到Targaryen家族的龍的歷史。
【劉博士譯文】
冰與火之歌第一部：權力的遊戲
Tyrion
北方是沒有盡頭的。
Tyrion Lannister像其他人一樣熟知地圖，然而，當他在這條也算是國王大道的荒野道路上走了兩個星期以後，他明白了這樣一個道理：
地圖是一回事，而行走在路上則是另外一回事。
他們與國王是在同一天離開Winterfell城堡的。國王的出發隊伍聲勢浩大，人們在一片人聲鼎沸中，騎著馬離開了城堡，伴隨他們的還有貨運馬車的轟隆聲和女王所乘坐的巨大房車的咯吱聲，而四周的小雪已經紛紛揚揚。國王大道位於城堡及其城鎮的邊上。上了國王大道以後，那些旗幟、馬車還有一隊隊的騎士和江湖騎手們都轉向了南方，也一併帶走了他們的喧囂，而Tyrion則和Benjen Stark以及他的侄子轉向了北方。
從那以後，一路變得愈加寒冷，也愈加寧靜。
道路的西側是一片灰濛濛的崎嶇不平的石頭山丘，山頂上還點綴著高高的瞭望塔。道路的東側地勢較低，地面平坦地延伸出去，形成一片起伏的平原，平原一直延伸到視線的盡頭。道路上還有一些石橋橫跨在湍急而狹窄的溪流上，路邊還能看見一些小小的農場，農場的田地圍繞著那些用木頭和石頭搭成的農舍向外伸展出去，形成了一個個的圓環。這段路是一條行人常走的道路，路邊有一些簡陋的客棧供行人休息過夜。
然而，從Winterfell城出發第三天以後，路邊的農田開始被茂密的樹林所取代，國王大道也變得愈發孤寂。越往北走，路邊的石頭山丘也越高越荒涼，到了第五天的時候，山丘變成了巨大的山脈，它們就像是冷冷的灰藍色巨人一般聳立在那裡，它們的頭頂是是嶙峋的山峰，山肩上覆蓋著積雪。當北風吹來時，會從高處的山峰上吹來一陣陣的冰晶，冰晶形成的長長煙霧就如同許多旗幟在飄揚。
山脈如同一堵巨大的牆聳立在道路西側。道路蜿蜒地伸向東北方，然後鑽進了這片樹林。這是一片長滿了橡樹、四季常綠植物，以及黑荊棘灌木的森林，它比Tyrion所見過的任何森林都顯得古老而陰暗。Benjen Stark把這片森林稱為“狼之林”，的確，到了晚上，森林裡就會響起從遙遠的狼群傳來的狼嚎聲，有些嚎叫聲似乎並不那麼遙遠。Jon Snow的那條渾身雪白的巨狼每每聽到夜裡的狼嚎時，就會豎起它的耳朵，但它卻從來沒有嚎叫著迴應過。Tyrion覺得，這隻動物身上有一種讓人心裡發毛的東西。
他們一行人走到這裡的時候，如果不算那隻巨狼的話，已有八個人了。與Tyrion同行的還有他的兩個隨從，這樣才配得上他作為Lannister家人的身份 。Benjen Stark只帶了他的侄子，此外，他還為黑夜守護營帶了一些新的馬匹。不過，當他們在狼之林邊上的一處簡易哨所的木頭牆邊過夜時，他們又遇見了另外一個叫Yoren的黑夜守護營的兄弟。Yoren是一個駝背，他給人一種惡人的感覺，他的五官似乎都被他臉上那與他黑衣一樣黑的鬍子給遮住了。不過，他似乎還是像老樹根一樣硬朗，像石頭一般結實。與他同行的是兩個來自Fingers島的衣衫破爛的農家孩子。“他們是強姦犯，”Yoren一邊說，一邊用冷冷的目光看著他手下的這兩個孩子。Tyrion立刻就明白怎麼回事了。雖說長牆上的生活很艱苦，可那肯定要比被閹割的懲罰要好得多。
就這樣，五個大人，三個孩子，還有一隻巨狼，二十匹馬，以及Luwin博士交給Benjen Stark帶上的一籠子信鴉，就組成了他們這一行隊伍。無疑，這樣的一行人馬走在國王大道上，或是走在任何一條路上，都會讓人心中生疑的。
Tyrion注意到，Jon Snow一直在打量著Yoren和他那兩個鬱鬱寡歡的同伴，Jon的臉上有一種奇怪的神情，像是因為詫異而產生的不自在感。Yoren的一個肩膀是扭曲的，他的身上還散發出難聞的味道來，他的頭髮和鬍鬚也亂糟糟地黏在一塊，油乎乎的，還長滿了蝨子；他身上的黑衣又舊又破，打著補丁，看起來也很少洗過。他新招募的兩個年輕人身上更是難聞，而且看起來既愚蠢又殘暴。
很顯然，Jon這個孩子以前一直錯誤地以為，黑夜守護營裡的人都是像他叔叔那樣的人。如果他這麼以為的話，Yoren和他同伴的出現對於Jon來說是一個殘酷的打擊。Tyrion開始同情起Jon這個孩子來。他選擇了一條艱難的生活道路……或者也可以說，大人們為他選擇了一條艱難的生活道路。
Tyrion對於Jon的叔叔可沒有多少同情可言。Benjen Stark似乎和他的弟弟Eddard一樣厭惡Lannister家的人，當Tyrion早先告訴他自己的打算時，他很不高興，“我要警告你，Lannister，長牆那個地方可是沒有酒館的。”他一臉鄙視地低頭看著他說道。
“不過，你肯定能找到一個容得下我的地方，”Tyrion這樣回答他，“你也許已經看出來了，我的個頭很小的。”
當然了，沒有人會拒絕王后弟弟提出的要求的，因此，事情就這樣決定了。但是Benjen Stark對此很不高興，他只是簡短地說了一句，“我向你保證，你是不會喜歡這趟旅行的。”而且，從他們出發那一刻起，他就想方設法來兌現他的諾言。
他們出發僅過了一個星期，Tyrion的大腿就因為騎馬趕路而被磨破了皮，他的雙腿也嚴重抽筋，他還被凍得透心涼。他沒有一句抱怨。他才不會讓Benjen Stark看他的笑話呢。
不過，他在一件旅行毛披風的事情上進行了一個小小的報復。那件披風是一張又破又舊，滿是黴味的熊皮。Benjen出於黑夜守護營兄弟的英勇舉動，主動將這件披風借給Tyrion，他肯定以為Tyrion會婉言拒絕的。可是Tyrion卻不客氣地笑著接受了下來。當他們從Winterfell出發的時候，Tyrion把他最厚最暖和的衣服都帶上了，不過他很快就發現，這些衣服是根本沒法讓他暖和起來的。北方本來就很冷，而現在是一天比一天更冷。夜裡的溫度已經遠遠低於冰點以下了，而颳風的時候，風就像是一把刀子，一下子就穿透了他最厚實的毛外套。現在，Benjen Stark一定對自己當初的英勇衝動後悔不已。也許他也學到了一個教訓。
Lannister家族的人是從來不會拒絕的，既不會婉言拒絕也不會用其他方式拒絕。Lannister家族向來是來者通吃的。
隨著他們一刻不停地朝著北方趕路，沿途的農場和簡易哨所也越來越少，也越來越小；等到他們深深地穿行在狼之林的黑暗之中時，他們已經找不到任何屋子可以為他們提供庇護了，他們現在得完全依靠自己了。
Tyrion無論是在安營紮寨還是拆除帳篷方面從來就幫不上什麼忙。他個子太小，腿腳又不靈活，總是礙事。因此，當Stark、Yoren和其他人開始搭建簡易帳篷、照顧馬匹，或是生火的時候，他已經習慣於帶上他的毛披風和酒袋，走到一邊去讀一會書。
這是他們在路上的第十八個晚上了，Tyrion的這袋酒是來自夏季島（Summer Isles）的一種稀有甜酒，它有著琥珀般的顏色。這袋酒是他從Casterly Rock一路帶到北方來的。他讀的書是一本有關龍的歷史和特徵方面的研究書籍。Tyrion還得到了Eddard Stark大人的允許，從Winterfell城堡的圖書館借了幾本稀有的古籍，他在去北方長牆的路上也隨身帶上了這幾本書。
Tyrion在一個聽不見營地喧鬧的地方找了一個舒適之處，它的旁邊是一條湍急的小溪，溪水清澈，但寒冷刺骨。一棵奇形怪狀的老橡樹為他提供了躲避寒風的庇護之地。Tyrion用毛披風將自己包裹地舒舒服服，然後背靠樹幹坐下，他先喝了一小口酒，接著開始讀起書中有關龍骨特性的部分來。書中寫道，龍骨的顏色是黑色的，因為它含有很高的鐵的成分。它像鋼一樣堅硬，但卻更輕更有彈性，當然了，它還完全不懼怕火燒。Dothrak民族對於用龍骨做成的弓極為看重，這也毫不奇怪。使用這種弓的箭手射箭能比所有木製的弓都要射得更遠。
Tyrion對龍有一種近乎病態的痴迷。當他第一次來到王城參加他姐姐與國王Robert Baratheon的婚禮時，他專門去尋找那些曾經掛在Targaryen王朝寶殿牆上的龍頭骨。Robert國王現在已用旗幟和壁毯代替了這些龍頭骨，但是Tyrion毫不放棄，直到他在一個潮溼的地窖裡找到了儲藏在這裡的龍頭骨。
他原本以為龍骨會是非常壯觀的，甚至還可能是讓人恐懼的。他從來沒有想到過，他看見的龍頭骨會是美麗的。是的，它們非常漂亮。它們漆黑如黑瑪瑙，圓潤而光亮，在火把的照耀下，龍骨似乎還閃耀著微弱的光芒。龍骨喜歡火焰，Tyrion能夠感覺出來。當他將火把伸入其中一個大一點的龍頭骨的口中時，影子在他身後的牆上不斷地跳躍和舞動。龍牙就如同用黑色的鑽石做成的長而彎曲的匕首。火把的火焰對他們來說根本算不了什麼；他們曾沐浴在更猛烈的大火之中。當Tyrion走開的時候，他簡直可以發誓，那些龍的空洞洞的眼窩是目視著他離開的。
總共有十九個龍頭骨。最古老的一個已有三千多年的歷史，而最近的一個則只有一百五十年的時間。時間最近的龍頭也是所有龍頭中個頭最小的一個；那是一對龍的頭骨，它們並不比一隻藏獒的個頭大多少，而且呈現出怪異的畸形來。它們是在龍石島（Dragonstone）上孵化出來的最後兩隻龍崽子的遺體。它們是Targaryen家族最後的兩條龍，也許也是這個世界上最後的龍，而且它們也沒能活多久。
從最小的龍頭骨開始，按照尺寸從小到大排列，可以一直排到歌謠和傳說中的三隻魔鬼般的巨龍，它們是Aegon Targaryen國王和他的姐妹們放出來在古老的七國大地上肆虐的龍。遊吟歌手們給它們起了神一樣的名字：Belerion 龍，Meraxes龍以及Vhaghar龍。當Tyrion站在他們那張開的大嘴之間的時候，他目瞪口呆。你甚至可以騎在馬上順著Vhaghar龍的喉嚨走進去，只是你卻無法騎著馬再走出來。Meraxes龍還要大一些。而最大的一隻龍是Belerion龍，它也被稱之為黑色恐怖。它能夠將一隻野牛整個地吞下去，甚至是能將一頭傳說中游蕩在比Ibben港還要遙遠的寒冷荒原上的猛獁象給吞下去。
Tyrion在潮溼的地窖裡站了許久，他目不轉睛地看著Balerion龍那巨大的、眼窩空空的頭骨，直到他的火把即將燃盡。他使勁地猜想，這傢伙在活著的時候該有多大，他想象著，當它展開它那巨大的黑色翅膀，噴著火焰橫掃過天空的時候會是怎樣一副情景。
Tyrion自己的祖上，也就是Casterly Rock的Loren王，曾與Reach國的Mern王聯手反抗過Targaryen王朝的征服，他們也曾試圖抵擋過龍的火焰。這大約是將近三百年前的事情了。那時候，七國是七個獨立的王國，而不僅僅只是更大的帝國中的一個省份而已。當時，這兩名國王的麾下飄揚著六百面家族的旗幟，他們率領著五千名騎士，還有十倍於騎士的自由騎手和武士們。根據歷史家們的記載，Aegon王的龍族軍隊人數也許只有他們的五分之一，而且其中大多數都是Aegon王從他上一場戰鬥中所殺死的國王手下所徵集計程車兵，這些士兵的忠誠與否是難以預料的。
兩軍的部隊是在Reach王國那廣闊的平原上交鋒的，戰場是一片金色的麥田，麥子已經成熟，等待著人們來收割。當兩位國王的聯盟部隊發起進攻的時候，Targaryen王的軍隊嚇得渾身發抖，散成一團並開始逃跑。歷史家們這樣描述這段歷史：只過了短短的一段時間，征服之戰就結束了……而這短短的一段時間就是在Aegon Targaryen王和他的姐妹們加入戰鬥之前的那段時間。
這是唯一的一次，Vhaghar龍、Meraxes龍和Balerion龍三條龍被同時放了出來。遊吟歌手們把這一段故事稱之為“龍之火的田野”。
那一天，有近四千人被燒死，其中也包括了Reach王國的Mern國王。Loren國王僥倖逃脫，並因此活到了向Targaryen王朝投降並宣誓效忠。他後來還生了一個兒子，Tyrion為此對他非常感激。
“你為什麼那麼喜歡讀書呀？”
Tyrion抬起頭，順著聲音的方向看去。Jon Snow正站在不遠處，好奇地打量著他。Tyrion用手指卡在閱讀的那一頁併合上了書，然後說道：“看著我，然後告訴我，你看見了什麼。”
Jon Snow這個孩子用懷疑地神情看著他，說“這是在玩什麼把戲嗎？我看見你了呀，Tyrion Lannister。”
Tyrion嘆了口氣，“Snow，作為一個私生子來說，你真是太有禮貌了。你看見的就是一個侏儒。你多大了，有十二歲了？“
“十四歲，”Jon Snow說。
“你才十四歲，可我已經永遠長不到你現在的身高了。我的腿又短又彎，走起路來都很費勁。我需要有一種特製的馬鞍，這樣我才不會從馬背上掉下來。你要是感興趣想知道的話，這種馬鞍還是我自己設計的呢。要是沒有這種馬鞍的話，我就只能騎小馬駒了。我的胳膊倒是足夠強壯，可惜，它們也太短了。所以我永遠成為不了一名劍手。要是我生在農民家裡的話，他們很有可能早就把我趕出家門，讓我自身自滅去了，或是把我賣給某個奴隸販子，做他的小丑怪物。唉，可惜我出生在Casterly Rock城堡的Lannister家族，而那些小丑怪物是隻有窮人才有資格當的。大家都對我抱有期望。我父親曾做了二十年的國王的首相。可是，後來偏偏是我的哥哥把這個國王給殺掉的。生活就是這樣充滿了小小的諷刺。我的妹妹嫁給了新的國王，而我那討厭的侄子有一天也會繼承他的王位。所以，為了我家族的榮譽，我也必須盡我的責任才行，你說是不是？可是我怎麼盡責任呢？哎，就我身體而言，我的雙腿也許太短了，可是我的頭又太大了，不過我倒情願認為，它大得剛好能容得下我的頭腦。我
對自己的優勢與劣勢是有很現實的認識的。我的頭腦就是我的武器。我哥哥的武器是他的劍，Robert國王的武器是他的戰錘，而我的武器就是我的頭腦……要想讓寶劍永葆鋒利的話，你需要有磨刀石，要想讓你的頭腦保持清晰的話，你就需要書籍。”
Tyrion用手指敲了敲那本書的皮製封面，然後說道，“Jon Snow，這就是我為什麼喜歡讀書的原因。”
Jon這個孩子默默地將這一切記在心裡。要不是他的名字叫Snow的話，他還真長著一張Stark家族的臉：那是一張長長的，嚴肅的，充滿警惕的臉，一張不露聲色的臉。不管他的母親是誰，她並沒有在她兒子的身上留下多少自己的痕跡。“你在讀什麼書呢？”Jon Snow又問。
“有關龍的書，”Tyrion告訴他。
“那有什麼用處？再也不會有龍啦，”Jon帶著年輕人的輕鬆與自信說道。
“大家都這麼說，”Tyrion回答道，“很可惜，是不是？當我在你這個年齡的時候，我還曾夢想過擁有一條屬於我自己的龍呢。”
“是嗎？”Jon將信將疑地問道。也許他以為Tyrion是在取笑他呢。
“哦，當然啦。
即使是一個發育不良、畸形、醜陋的小孩子，當他騎在龍背上的時候，他也是可以俯瞰這個世界的。”
Tyrion把熊皮披風掀到一邊，爬著站了起來。“我以前的時候，常常會在Casterly Rock城堡的火爐裡生一堆火，然後盯著火焰看上幾個小時，假裝它們就是龍噴出來的火焰。有時候，我還會想象我的父親在火焰中燃燒。還有些時候，是我的妹妹在火中燃燒。”Jon Snow盯著Tyrion，一副既恐懼又痴迷的模樣。Tyrion怪笑起來，“別這樣看著我，私生子。我知道你的秘密。你也做過同樣的夢。”
“沒有，”Jon Snow說，他嚇壞了，“我才不會……”
“沒有？從來沒有？”Tyrion的眉毛一揚，“好吧，Stark家裡的人肯定是對你寵愛有加的。我敢肯定，Stark夫人對待你就像她對待自己的親生孩子一樣。還有你的哥哥Robb，他也一直對你很好，為什麼不呢？他現在得到了Winterfell城，而你卻得到了長牆。還有你的父親……他打發你去加入黑夜守護營一定也是有非常好的理由的。”
“住嘴，”Jon Snow說道，他氣得臉色發青，“黑夜守護營是一個崇高的職位！”
Tyrion笑出了聲來，“你不會聰明到連這也相信吧。黑夜守護營就是帝國中所有被拋棄的人的廢物堆。我見到你看著Yoren和他那幫孩子時的表情了。這些人才是你的新兄弟，Jon Snow，你覺得你會喜歡他們嗎？愁眉苦臉的農民、欠債不還的人、偷獵者、強姦犯、小偷，還有像你一樣的私生子，最終你們都聚到了長牆上，來防禦那些妖魔鬼怪，還有你的奶媽給你講過的所有其他的怪物。好訊息是，世界上並沒有什麼妖魔鬼怪，所以你們的工作實際上並沒有什麼危險；壞訊息是，你會把你的老二給凍掉的，不過，反正你們也不能生兒育女，所以我覺得這也無所謂啦。”
“住嘴！”Jon Snow尖叫起來。他往前邁了一步，他的雙手握成了拳頭，他幾乎就要哭了。
Tyrion突然感到一陣連他自己也覺得不可思議的內疚感。他也向前走了一步，打算拍拍Jon Snow的肩膀，或是隨便說些道歉的話。
他根本沒有看到那隻狼，他不知道它在什麼地方，也不知道它是如何向他撲過來的。在前一刻，他正朝著Jon Snow走去，而在下一刻，他已經背朝下地躺在了堅硬的石頭地面上，他的書在他摔倒的時候從他的手中飛了出去。這突如其來的摔倒在地讓他一時喘不過氣來，他的嘴裡滿是泥土、鮮血還有腐葉。他試著想站起來，卻感到背上一陣疼痛的抽搐。他一定是在摔倒的時候把背給扭傷了。他沮喪地咬緊牙關，抓住一根樹根，把自己拉著坐起來。“幫我一下，”他一邊對Snow說，一邊伸出了一隻手。
突然間，那隻狼又擋在了他們中間。它沒有咆哮。這個該死的傢伙從不發出一點聲音。它只是用它那雙鮮紅的眼睛看著Tyrion，同時露出它的牙齒來。這就已經足夠了。Tyrion又癱倒在地上，一邊嘟囔著，“得，別幫我了。我就呆在這裡，等你們離開我再起來。”
Jon Snow撫摸著Ghost身上那厚厚的白毛，他的臉上又露出了笑容，“客客氣氣地求我幫你。”
Tyrion Lannister感覺到心中升起一團怒火，他使勁地將這股憤怒壓了下去。這並不是他這一生中第一次受人羞辱，也不會是最後一次。而且這一次他也許是自作自受呢。“Jon，如果你能好心地幫我一下的話，我會非常感激你的，”Tyrion用柔和的聲音說道。
“坐下，Ghost，”Jon 說。巨狼坐在了它的後腿上，但它那雙紅眼睛卻一刻也沒有離開過Tyrion。Jon走到Tyrion身後，把雙手放著他的腋下，輕鬆地就把他扶著站了起來。然後Jon又把書撿了起來，把它交還給了Tyrion。
“它為什麼要襲擊我？”Tyrion一邊問，一邊瞥了一眼巨狼。他用手背擦去嘴角的血和泥土。
“也許它以為你是個妖怪呢。”
Tyrion用尖利的眼光看了他一眼，然後，他大笑起來，同時，他的鼻子裡像是情不自禁地打了一個可笑的噴嚏。“哦，天哪，”Tyrion笑得連氣都喘不上來。他搖著頭說道，“我想我看起來還真是像一個妖怪呢。他要是遇見了妖精又會怎麼做？”
“你還是不知道為好。”Jon又撿起酒袋，把它遞給了Tyrion。
Tyrion拔出酒袋的瓶塞，仰著頭，往嘴裡擠了一大口酒。酒順著他的喉嚨流到肚子裡，就像是一股溫涼的火焰，讓他的身體暖和起來。他把酒袋遞給Jon Snow，“想喝點嗎？”
Jon拿過酒囊，小心翼翼地嚐了一口。Jon把酒嚥了下去，然後問道，“你說的都是真的嗎，那些關於黑夜守護營的事情。”
Tyrion點了點頭。
Jon Snow的嘴巴抿成一條直線，看起來很嚴肅， “如果真是這樣的話，那也只能這樣了。”
Tyrion咧著嘴笑了。“好樣的，混小子。
大多數的人寧願否認這一明擺著的事實也不願意去面對它。”
“大多數人是這樣，”Jon Snow說，“可是你不是這樣的。”
“是的，”Tyrion承認道，“我不是這樣的。我現在甚至已經很少夢見龍了。現在已經沒有龍了。”Tyrion把落在地上的熊皮披風抱了起來。“走吧，我們該回營地了，要不然你的叔叔會帶人來救你的。”
回營地的路並不遠，但是地面崎嶇不平。當他們回到營地的時候，Tyrion的腿已經抽筋得很厲害了。Jon Snow伸出手來，想扶著他走過一片樹根糾纏的地方。但是Tyrion甩開了他的手。
他會走他自己的路，就像他一生中都在走自己的路一樣。
不過，當看見營地的時候，他還是很高興的。在一座早已被廢棄的簡易哨所的一面坍塌的牆邊，已經搭起了一座帳篷來，一個可以遮風擋雨的地方。馬都已經喂好了食，火堆也已生了起來。Yoren坐在一塊石頭上，正在給一隻松鼠剝皮。Tyrion的鼻子聞到了燉菜的香味。他拖著沉重的腳步走到他的手下Morrec正在燉菜的地方。Morrec一言不發地把勺子遞給他。Tyrion嚐了一口，然後把勺子遞了回去。“再加點胡椒，”他說道。
Benjen Stark從那他與侄子合住的帳篷裡走了出來。“你在這兒呢，Jon，見鬼，別老是一個人瞎跑。我還以為異族把你給抓走了呢。”
“是妖怪把他抓走了，”Tyrion對Benjen說道，然後大笑起來。Jon Snow 也笑了。Benjen莫名其妙地看著Yoren。老頭只是咕噥了一聲，聳了聳肩，然後又繼續幹他那給松鼠剝皮的血腥工作去了。
燉菜裡有了松鼠肉，才成為了名副其實的燉肉。那天晚上，他們圍坐在火堆旁，用黑麵包和硬乳酪就著燉菜吃了晚餐。Tyrion把他的那一袋酒也拿出來和大家一起喝，最後，連Yoren也喝得醉醺醺的。一行人一個個地回到他們的帳篷裡休息，最後，只剩下Jon Snow一個人，他抽籤抽著了當晚的第一班崗。
和以往一樣，Tyrion是最後一個回帳篷休息的。當他走回他的隨從為他搭建的帳篷時，他停頓了一下，回頭看著Jon Snow。這個孩子就站在火堆旁，他的表情平靜而堅強，他的目光深深地凝視著燃燒的火焰。
Tyrion Lannister苦笑了一下，然後就進帳篷睡覺去了。
【英語原文】
A Song of Ice and Fire Book One： Game of Thrones
Tyrion
The north went on forever。
Tyrion Lannister knew the maps as well as anyone， but a fortnight on the wild track that passed for the kingsroad up here had brought home the lesson that the map was one thing and the land quite another。
They had left Winterfell on the same day as the king， amidst all the commotion of the royal departure， riding out to the sound of men shouting and horses snorting， to the rattle of wagons and the groaning of the queen’s huge wheelhouse， as a light snow flurried about them。 The kingsroad was just beyond the sprawl of castle and town。 There the banners and the wagons and the columns of knights and freeriders turned south， taking the tumult with them， while Tyrion turned north with Benjen Stark and his nephew。
It had grown colder after that， and far more quiet。
West of the road were flint hills， grey and rugged， with tall watchtowers on their stony summits。 To the east the land was lower， the ground flattening to a rolling plain that stretched away as far as the eye could see。 Stone bridges spanned swift， narrow rivers， while small farms spread in rings around holdfasts walled in wood and stone。 The road was well trafficked， and at night for their comfort there were rude inns to be found。
Three days ride from Winterfell， however， the farmland gave way to dense wood， and the kingsroad grew lonely。 The flint hills rose higher and wilder with each passing mile， until by the fifth day they had turned into mountains， cold blue-grey giants with jagged promontories and snow on their shoulders。 When the wind blew from the north， long plumes of ice crystals flew from the high peaks like banners。
With the mountains a wall to the west， the road veered north by northeast through the wood， a forest of oak and evergreen and black brier that seemed older and darker than any Tyrion had ever seen。 “The wolfswood，” Benjen Stark called it， and indeed their nights came alive with the howls of distant packs， and some not so distant。 Jon Snow’s albino direwolf pricked up his ears at the nightly howling， but never raised his own voice in reply。 There was something very unsettling about that animal， Tyrion thought。
There were eight in the party by then， not counting the wolf。 Tyrion traveled with two of his own men， as befit a Lannister。 Benjen Stark had only his bastard nephew and some fresh mounts for the Night’s Watch， but at the edge of the wolfswood they stayed a night behind the wooden walls of a forest holdfast， and there joined up with another of the black brothers， one Yoren。 Yoren was stooped and sinister， his features hidden behind a beard as black as his clothing， but he seemed as tough as an old root and as hard as stone。 With him were a pair of ragged peasant boys from the Fingers。 “Rapers，” Yoren said with a cold look at his charges。 Tyrion understood。 Life on the Wall was said to be hard， but no doubt it was preferable to castration。
Five men， three boys， a direwolf， twenty horses， and a cage of ravens given over to Benjen Stark by Maester Luwin。 No doubt they made a curious fellowship for the kingsroad， or any road。
Tyrion noticed Jon Snow watching Yoren and his sullen companions， with an odd cast to his face that looked uncomfortably like dismay。 Yoren had a twisted shoulder and a sour smell， his hair and beard were matted and greasy and full of lice， his clothing old， patched， and seldom washed。 His two young recruits smelled even worse， and seemed as stupid as they were cruel。
No doubt the boy had made the mistake of thinking that the Night’s Watch was made up of men like his uncle。 If so， Yoren and his companions were a rude awakening。 Tyrion felt sorry for the boy。 He had chosen a hard life 。 。 。 or perhaps he should say that a hard life had been chosen for him。
He had rather less sympathy for the uncle。 Benjen Stark seemed to share his brother’s distaste for Lannisters， and he had not been pleased when Tyrion had told him of his intentions。 “I warn you， Lannister， you’ll find no inns at the Wall，” he had said， looking down on him。
“No doubt you’ll find some place to put me，” Tyrion had replied。 “As you might have noticed， I’m small。”
One did not say no to the queen’s brother， of course， so that had settled the matter， but Stark had not been happy。 “You will not like the ride， I promise you that，” he’d said curtly， and since the moment they set out， he had done all he could to live up to that promise。
By the end of the first week， Tyrion’s thighs were raw from hard riding， his legs were cramping badly， and he was chilled to the bone。 He did not complain。 He was damned if he would give Benjen Stark that satisfaction。
He took a small revenge in the matter of his riding fur， a tattered bearskin， old and musty-smelling。 Stark had offered it to him in an excess of Night’s Watch gallantry， no doubt expecting him to graciously decline。 Tyrion had accepted with a smile。 He had brought his warmest clothing with him when they rode out of Winterfell， and soon discovered that it was nowhere near warm enough。 It was cold up here， and growing colder。 The nights were well below freezing now， and when the wind blew it was like a knife cutting right through his warmest woolens。 By now Stark was no doubt regretting his chivalrous impulse。 Perhaps he had learned a lesson。 The Lannisters never declined， graciously or otherwise。 The Lannisters took what was offered。
Farms and holdfasts grew scarcer and smaller as they pressed northward， ever deeper into the darkness of the wolfswood， until finally there were no more roofs to shelter under， and they were thrown back on their own resources。
Tyrion was never much use in making a camp or breaking one。 Too small， too hobbled， too inthe-way。 So while Stark and Yoren and the other men erected rude shelters， tended the horses， and built a fire， it became his custom to take his fur and a wineskin and go off by himself to read。
On the eighteenth night of their journey， the wine was a rare sweet amber from the Summer Isles that he had brought all the way north from Casterly Rock， and the book a rumination on the history and properties of dragons。 With Lord Eddard Stark’s permission， Tyrion had borrowed a few rare volumes from the Winterfell library and packed them for the ride north。
He found a comfortable spot just beyond the noise of the camp， beside a swift-running stream with waters clear and cold as ice。 A grotesquely ancient oak provided shelter from the biting wind。 Tyrion curled up in his fur with his back against the trunk， took a sip of the wine， and began to read about the properties of dragonbone。 Dragonbone is black because of its high iron content， the book told him。 It is strong as steel， yet lighter and far more flexible， and of course utterly impervious to fire。 Dragonbone bows are greatly prized by the Dothraki， and small wonder。 An archer so armed can outrange any wooden bow。
Tyrion had a morbid fascination with dragons。 When he had first come to King’s Landing for his sister’s wedding to Robert Baratheon， he had made it a point to seek out the dragon skulls that had hung on the walls of Targaryen’s throne room。 King Robert had replaced them with banners and tapestries， but Tyrion had persisted until he found the skulls in the dank cellar where they had been stored。
He had expected to find them impressive， perhaps even frightening。 He had not thought to find them beautiful。 Yet they were。 As black as onyx， polished smooth， so the bone seemed to shimmer in the light of his torch。 They liked the fire， he sensed。 He’d thrust the torch into the mouth of one of the larger skulls and made the shadows leap and dance on the wall behind him。 The teeth were long， curving knives of black diamond。 The flame of the torch was nothing to them； they had bathed in the heat of far greater fires。 When he had moved away， Tyrion could have sworn that the beast’s empty eye sockets had watched him go。
There were nineteen skulls。 The oldest was more than three thousand years old； the youngest a mere century and a half。 The most recent were also the smallest； a matched pair no bigger than mastiffs skulls， and oddly misshapen， all that remained of the last two hatchlings born on Dragonstone。 They were the last of the Targaryen dragons， perhaps the last dragons anywhere， and they had not lived very long。
From there the skulls ranged upward in size to the three great monsters of song and story， the dragons that Aegon Targaryen and his sisters had unleashed on the Seven Kingdoms of old。 The singers had given them the names of gods： Balerion， Meraxes， Vhaghar。 Tyrion had stood between their gaping jaws， wordless and awed。 You could have ridden a horse down Vhaghar’s gullet， although you would not have ridden it out again。 Meraxes was even bigger。 And the greatest of them， Balerion， the Black Dread， could have swallowed an aurochs whole， or even one of the hairy mammoths said to roam the cold wastes beyond the Port of Ibben。
Tyrion stood in that dank cellar for a long time， staring at Balerion’s huge， empty-eyed skull until his torch burned low， trying to grasp the size of the living animal， to imagine how it must have looked when it spread its great black wings and swept across the skies， breathing fire。
His own remote ancestor， King Loren of the Rock， had tried to stand against the fire when he joined with King Mern of the Reach to oppose the Targaryen conquest。 That was close on three hundred years ago， when the Seven Kingdoms were kingdoms， and not mere provinces of a greater realm。 Between them， the Two Kings had six hundred banners flying， five thousand mounted knights， and ten times as many freeriders and men-at-arms。 Aegon Dragonlord had perhaps a fifth that number， the chroniclers said， and most of those were conscripts from the ranks of the last king he had slain， their loyalties uncertain。
The hosts met on the broad plains of the Reach， amidst golden fields of wheat ripe for harvest。 When the Two Kings charged， the Targaryen army shivered and shattered and began to run。 For a few moments， the chroniclers wrote， the conquest was at an end 。 。 。 but only for those few moments， before Aegon Targaryen and his sisters joined the battle。
It was the only time that Vhaghar， Meraxes， and Balerion were all unleashed at once。 The singers called it the Field of Fire。
Near four thousand men had burned that day， among them King Mern of the Reach。 King Loren had escaped， and lived long enough to surrender， pledge his fealty to the Targaryens， and beget a son， for which Tyrion was duly grateful。
“Why do you read so much？”
Tyrion looked up at the sound of the voice。 Jon Snow was standing a few feet away， regarding him curiously。 He closed the book on a finger and said， “Look at me and tell me what you see。”
The boy looked at him suspiciously。 “Is this some kind of trick？ I see you。 Tyrion Lannister。”
Tyrion sighed。 “You are remarkably polite for a bastard， Snow。 What you see is a dwarf。 You are what， twelve？”
“Fourteen，” the boy said。
“Fourteen， and you’re taller than I will ever be。 My legs are short and twisted， and I walk with difficulty。 I require a special saddle to keep from falling off my horse。 A saddle of my own design， you may be interested to know。 It was either that or ride a pony。 My arms are strong enough， but again， too short。 I will never make a swordsman。 Had I been born a peasant， they might have left me out to die， or sold me to some slaver’s grotesquerie。 Alas， I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock， and the grotesqueries are all the poorer。 Things are expected of me。 My father was the Hand of the King for twenty years。 My brother later killed that very same king， as it turns out， but life is full of these little ironies。 My sister married the new king and my repulsive nephew will be king after him。 I must do my part for the honor of my House， wouldn’t you agree？ Yet how？ Well， my legs may be too small for my body， but my head is too large， although I prefer to think it is just large enough for my mind。 I have a realistic grasp of my own strengths and weaknesses。 My mind is my weapon。 My brother has his sword， King Robert has his warhammer， and I have my mind 。 。 。 and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone， if it is to keep its edge。” Tyrion tapped the leather cover of the book。 “That’s why I read so much， Jon Snow。”
The boy absorbed that all in silence。 He had the Stark face if not the name： long， solemn， guarded， a face that gave nothing away。 Whoever his mother had been， she had left little of herself in her son。 “What are you reading about？” he asked。
“Dragons，” Tyrion told him。
“What good is that？ There are no more dragons，” the boy said with the easy certainty of youth。
“So they say，” Tyrion replied。 “Sad， isn’t it？ When I was your age， used to dream of having a dragon of my own。”
“You did？” the boy said suspiciously。 Perhaps he thought Tyrion was making fun of him。
“Oh， yes。 Even a stunted， twisted， ugly little boy can look down over the world when he’s seated on a dragon’s back。” Tyrion pushed the bearskin aside and climbed to his feet。 “I used to start fires in the bowels of Casterly Rock and stare at the flames for hours， pretending they were dragonfire。 Sometimes I’d imagine my father burning。 At other times， my sister。” Jon Snow was staring at him， a look equal parts horror and fascination。 Tyrion guffawed。 “Don’t look at me that way， bastard。 I know your secret。 You’ve dreamt the same kind of dreams。”
“No，” Jon Snow said， horrified。 “I wouldn’t 。 。 。”
“No？ Never？” Tyrion raised an eyebrow。 “Well， no doubt the Starks have been terribly good to you。 I’m certain Lady Stark treats you as if you were one of her own。 And your brother Robb， he’s always been kind， and why not？ He gets Winterfell and you get the Wall。 And your father 。 。 。 he must have good reasons for packing you off to the Night’s Watch
“Stop it，” Jon Snow said， his face dark with anger。 “The Night’s Watch is a noble calling！”
Tyrion laughed。 “You’re too smart to believe that。 The Night’s Watch is a midden heap for all the misfits of the realm。 I’ve seen you looking at Yoren and his boys。 Those are your new brothers， Jon Snow， how do you like them？ Sullen peasants， debtors， poachers， rapers， thieves， and bastards like you all wind up on the Wall， watching for grumkins and snarks and all the other monsters your wet nurse warned you about。 The good part is there are no grumkins or snarks， so it’s scarcely dangerous work。 The bad part is you freeze your balls off， but since you’re not allowed to breed anyway， I don’t suppose that matters。”
“Stop it！” the boy screamed。 He took a step forward， his hands coiling into fists， close to tears。
Suddenly， absurdly， Tyrion felt guilty。 He took a step forward， intending to give the boy a reassuring pat on the shoulder or mutter some word of apology。
He never saw the wolf， where it was or how it came at him。 One moment he was walking toward Snow and the next he was flat on his back on the hard rocky ground， the book spinning away from him as he fell， the breath going out of him at the sudden impact， his mouth full of dirt and blood and rotting leaves。 As he tried to get up， his back spasmed painfully。 He must have wrenched it in the fall。 He ground his teeth in frustration， grabbed a root， and pulled himself back to a sitting position。 “Help me，” he said to the boy， reaching up a hand。
And suddenly the wolf was between them。 He did not growl。 The damned thing never made a sound。 He only looked at him with those bright red eyes， and showed him his teeth， and that was more than enough。 Tyrion sagged back to the ground with a grunt。 “Don’t help me， then。 I’ll sit right here until you leave。”
Jon Snow stroked Ghost’s thick white fur， smiling now。 “Ask me nicely。”
Tyrion Lannister felt the anger coiling inside him， and crushed it out with a will。 It was not the first time in his life he had been humiliated， and it would not be the last。 Perhaps he even deserved this。 “I should be very grateful for your kind assistance， Jon，” he said mildly。
“Down， Ghost，” the boy said。 The direwolf sat on his haunches。 Those red eyes never left Tyrion。 Jon came around behind him， slid his hands under his arms， and lifted him easily to his feet。 Then he picked up the book and handed it back。
“Why did he attack me’？” Tyrion asked with a sidelong glance at the direwolf。 He wiped blood and dirt from his mouth with the back of his hand。
“Maybe he thought you were a grumkin。”
Tyrion glanced at him sharply。 Then he laughed， a raw snort of amusement that came bursting out through his nose entirely without his permission。 “Oh， gods，” he said， choking on his laughter and shaking his head， “I suppose I do rather look like a grumkin。 What does he do to snarks？”
“You don’t want to know。” Jon picked up the wineskin and handed it to Tyrion。
Tyrion pulled out the stopper， tilted his head， and squeezed a long stream into his mouth。 The wine was cool fire as it trickled down his throat and warmed his belly。 He held out the skin to Jon Snow。 “Want some？”
The boy took the skin and tried a cautious swallow。 “It’s true， isn’t it？” he said when he was done。 “What you said about the Night’s Watch。”
Tyrion nodded。
Jon Snow set his mouth in a grim line。 “If that’s what it is， that’s what it is。”
Tyrion grinned at him。 “That’s good， bastard。 Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it。”
“Most men，” the boy said。 “But not you。”
“No，” Tyrion admitted， “not me。 I seldom even dream of dragons anymore。 There are no dragons。” He scooped up the fallen bearskin。 “Come， we had better return to camp before your uncle calls the banners。”
The walk was short， but the ground was rough underfoot and his legs were cramping badly by the time they got back。 Jon Snow offered a hand to help him over a thick tangle of roots， but Tyrion shook him off。 He would make his own way， as he had all his life。 Still， the camp was a welcome sight。 The shelters had been thrown up against the tumbledown wall of a long-abandoned holdfast， a shield against the wind。 The horses had been fed and a fire had been laid。 Yoren sat on a stone， skinning a squirrel。 The savory smell of stew filled Tyrion’s nostrils。 He dragged himself over to where his man Morrec was tending the stewpot。 Wordlessly， Morrec handed him the ladle。 Tyrion tasted and handed it back。 “More pepper，” he said。
Benjen Stark emerged from the shelter he shared with his nephew。 “There you are。 Jon， damn it， don’t go off like that by yourself。 I thought the Others had gotten you。”
“It was the grumkins，” Tyrion told him， laughing。 Jon Snow smiled。 Stark shot a baffled look at Yoren。 The old man grunted， shrugged， and went back to his bloody work。
The squirrel gave some body to the stew， and they ate it with black bread and hard cheese that night around their fire。 Tyrion shared around his skin of wine until even Yoren grew mellow。 One by one the company drifted off to their shelters and to sleep， all but Jon Snow， who had drawn the night’s first watch。
Tyrion was the last to retire， as always。 As he stepped into the shelter his men had built for him， he paused and looked back at Jon Snow。 The boy stood near the fire， his face still and hard， looking deep into the flames。
Tyrion Lannister smiled sadly and went to bed。
