梅拉悲伤的看了他一眼。这条地下暗河在地下六百步的深处，下去的路途陡峭曲折，她解释道。最后一段路还需要用绳子攀爬。“阿多已经不能再把你背在背上了。我很抱歉，布兰。”

Meera gave him a mournful look. The river was six hundred feet below, down steep slopes and twisty passages, she explained, and the last part required climbing down a rope. “Hodor could never make the climb with you on his back. I’m sorry, Bran.”

布兰记起曾经没有人可以攀爬的比他更好，哪怕是罗柏和琼恩。他真想大喊让他们离开他，但是他又想哭。但是他几乎是一个成年人了。所以他什么也没说。可是在他们走后，他进入阿多的身体然后跟着他们。

Bran remembered a time when no one could climb as good as him, not even Robb or Jon. Part of him wanted to shout at them for leaving him, and another part wanted to cry. He was almost a man grown, though, so he said nothing. But after they were gone, he slipped inside Hodor’s skin and followed them.

高大的马童没有反抗他的进入，就好像他第一次做的那样。在湖边的高塔上，外面下着狂风暴雨。好像一只被抽出了所有斗志的狗一样。阿多会把自己卷缩起来，藏在一个布兰无法触及的地方。他隐藏的地方在他的内心深处，布兰也无法接触的到。没有人会伤害你，阿多，他静静的对他目前的这个大孩子般的身体说。我只想像以前一样强健一段时间，我会把身体还给你，就像我以前所做的那样。

The big stableboy no longer fought him as he had the first time, back in the lake tower during the storm. Like a dog who has had all the fight whipped out of him, Hodor would curl up and hide whenever Bran reached out for him. His hiding place was somewhere deep within him, a pit where not even Bran could touch him. No one wants to hurt you, Hodor, he said silently, to the child-man whose flesh he’d taken. I just want to be strong again for a while. I’ll give it back, the way I always do.

没有人知道他上了阿多的身。布兰只能微笑，做他曾被告知所需要做的事情，不断的嘀咕着 阿多 。然后他就可以跟随梅拉和玖健，露出开心的笑容，没有人会怀疑那是不是他。他经常跟着他们，不知道他是否受欢迎。最后，他们还是欢迎他的到来。玖健轻松的用绳子把他们送了下去，但是这一切都在梅拉用叉子抓到一条白盲鱼之后结束了，他们该爬回去了。玖健的胳膊开始发抖，他发现他无法爬到顶端，所以他们把他绑在绳子上，让阿多给他拉上去。阿多…每拉一下阿多都会喊一声。 阿多阿多阿多…

No one ever knew when he was wearing Hodor’s skin. Bran only had to smile, do as he was told, and mutter “Hodor” from time to time, and he could follow Meera and Jojen, grinning happily, without anyone suspecting it was really him. He often tagged along, whether he was wanted or not. In the end, the Reeds were glad he came. Jojen made it down the rope easily enough, but after Meera caught a blind white fish with her frog spear and it was time to climb back up, his arms began to tremble and he could not make it to the top, so they had to tie the rope around him and let Hodor haul him up. “Hodor,” he grunted every time he gave a pull. “Hodor, hodor, hodor.”

新月如钩，就好像锋利的小刀一样。夏天挖出了一只胳膊，黑色的手臂覆盖着白霜，它的手指开开合合，好像要把自己从冻雪中挖出去一样。胳膊上的肉还足够填饱肚子，在那之后夏天又敲骨吸髓。当这一切都做完之后，这只胳膊才意识到自己已经死了，彻底不动了。

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. Summer dug up a severed arm, black and covered with hoarfrost, its fingers opening and closing as it pulled itself across the frozen snow. There was still enough meat on it to fill his empty belly, and after that was done he cracked the arm bones for the marrow. Only then did the arm remember it was dead.

变成狼的时候，布兰和夏天还有他的族群在一起。变成乌鸦的时候，他会和murder一起飞翔，在日落时环绕小山，观察敌人的动静，感受空气中冰冷的味道。变成阿多的时候，他会探索整个洞穴。他发现山洞深处满是骸骨，竖井深深的通向大地深处，洞顶悬挂着巨大的蝙蝠骨骼。他甚至还穿过横跨深渊的石桥，在石桥的另一面发现了很多小径和石室。其中一个住满了歌者，他们都像布兰登一样坐在鱼梁木王座上，鱼梁木的根须残绕着他们，已经浑然一体。他们中的大部分在他看来已经死了，但是当他从他们面前走过时他们睁开眼睛，用目光跟随着他的火把，其中一个用满是皱纹的嘴张开又闭上，好像是要试图讲话。 “阿多。”布兰对他说道，他感到了真正的阿多在内心的波动。

Bran ate with Summer and his pack, as a wolf. As a raven he flew with the murder, circling the hill at sunset, watching for foes, feeling the icy touch of the air. As Hodor he explored the caves. He found chambers full of bones, shafts that plunged deep into the earth, a place where the skeletons of gigantic bats hung upside down from the ceiling. He even crossed the slender stone bridge that arched over the abyss and discovered more passages and chambers on the far side. One was full of singers, enthroned like Brynden in nests of weirwood roots that wove under and through and around their bodies. Most of them looked dead to him, but as he crossed in front of them their eyes would open and follow the light of his torch, and one of them opened and closed a wrinkled mouth as if he were trying to speak. “Hodor,” Bran said to him, and he felt the real Hodor stir down in his pit.

坐在大厅中坐在自己王座上的布林登，已经是一般尸体一半树木。他看起来更像是用扭曲的木头，陈腐的骨头和腐烂的毛皮雕刻成的可怕的雕像。在这一片废墟中唯一能让他看起来还是个活物的就是在他脸上的那只红色眼睛，就好像将要熄灭的火炉中最后还在燃烧的煤块一样。被扭曲的根须所缠绕的破成碎片的苍白的皮肤挂在一个黄色的骷髅上。

Seated on his throne of roots in the great cavern, half-corpse and half-tree, Lord Brynden seemed less a man than some ghastly statue made of twisted wood, old bone, and rotted wool. The only thing that looked alive in the pale ruin that was his face was his one red eye, burning like the last coal in a dead fire, surrounded by twisted roots and tatters of leathery white skin hanging off a yellowed skull.

他的目光依然吓到了布兰-----鱼梁木的根须从他的肌体中穿过，蘑菇长在他的脸颊，白色的蠕虫在他空着的那个眼眶里生长。他更喜欢没有火炬的时候，在黑暗中他可以假装那是对他低语的三眼乌鸦，而不是一具可怕的会说话的尸体。

The sight of him still frightened Bran—the weirwood roots snaking in and out of his withered flesh, the mushrooms sprouting from his cheeks, the white wooden worm that grew from the socket where one eye had been. He liked it better when the torches were put out. In the dark he could pretend that it was the three-eyed crow who whispered to him and not some grisly talking corpse.

有一天我也会像他一样。这个想法让布兰充满了恐惧。失去双腿已经够糟了。难道还要他把其他的部分也都失去，把余生都用来让鱼梁木爬满他的身体吗？ 布林登大人把他的生命变成了一棵树，叶子告诉他们。他不吃饭，不喝水，他睡觉，沉浸在梦中，他会观察这个世界。 我将会成为一个骑士，布兰回忆着。我曾经可以跑，可以攀爬，可以战斗。但是那看起来像是一千年以前的事情了。

One day I will be like him. The thought filled Bran with dread. Bad enough that he was broken, with his useless legs. Was he doomed to lose the rest too, to spend all of his years with a weirwood growing in him and through him? Lord Brynden drew his life from the tree, Leaf told them. He did not eat, he did not drink. He slept, he dreamed, he watched. I was going to be a knight, Bran remembered. I used to run and climb and fight. It seemed a thousand years ago.

他现在是什么？只是残废的男孩，史塔克家的布兰登， 一个不存在的王国的王子，一个被焚毁的城堡的主人，废墟的继承人。他把三眼乌鸦想象成了一个巫师，一个智慧的，年迈的老巫师，可以治愈他的双腿。但是那只是一个蠢小孩的梦罢了，他现在意识到。这不是我这个年纪的人应该有的幻想了，他告诉自己。 一千只眼睛，一百种皮肤，像古树的树根一样智慧。这和成为骑士一样不错。无论如何几乎都一样好。

What was he now? Only Bran the broken boy, Brandon of House Stark, prince of a lost kingdom, lord of a burned castle, heir to ruins. He had thought the three-eyed crow would be a sorcerer, a wise old wizard who could fix his legs, but that was some stupid child’s dream, he realized now. I am too old for such fancies, he told himself. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. That was as good as being a knight. Almost as good, anyway.

月亮在天空中成为了一个黑色的洞。在洞穴外面，世界照常运转。太阳起起落落，月亮盈缺交替，寒风怒吼。在山中，玖健。黎德变得更加温怒和孤独，这让他的姐姐很悲痛。她经常和布兰一起靠着小小的营火坐在一起，讨论这每一件事，也可能什么也不说，抚摸着躺在他俩之间的夏天。同时他的哥哥会独自徘徊在山洞中，玖健甚至还喜欢在天亮的时候向洞顶攀爬。他会几个小时都站在那里，看着外面的森林，被毛皮包裹着的身体瑟瑟发抖。

The moon was a black hole in the sky. Outside the cave the world went on. Outside the cave the sun rose and set, the moon turned, the cold winds howled. Under the hill, Jojen Reed grew ever more sullen and solitary, to his sister’s distress. She would often sit with Bran beside their little fire, talking of everything and nothing, petting Summer where he slept between them, whilst her brother wandered the caverns by himself. Jojen had even taken to climbing up to the cave’s mouth when the day was bright. He would stand there for hours, looking out over the forest, wrapped in furs yet shivering all the same.

“他想要回家。”梅拉告诉布兰。“他不会尝试为自己的命运而奋斗。他说绿色之梦不会说谎。”

“He wants to go home,” Meera told Bran. “He will not even try and fight his fate. He says the greendreams do not lie.”

“他正变得勇敢。”布兰说。人唯有恐惧方能勇敢。在很久以前的那个下着夏雪的日子里，他们发现了冰原狼的幼仔，那时他的父亲和他说了这句话，他仍然记得。

“He’s being brave,” said Bran. The only time a man can be brave is when he is afraid, his father had told him once, long ago, on the day they found the direwolf pups in the summer snows. He still remembered.

“他正变得愚蠢。”梅拉说。“我曾希望，当找到你的三眼乌鸦时…现在我却怀疑我们为什么要来。”

“He’s being stupid,” Meera said. “I’d hoped that when we found your three-eyed crow … now I wonder why we ever came.”

为了我，布兰想。“他的绿色之梦。”他说。

For me, Bran thought. “His greendreams,” he said.

“他的绿色之梦。”梅拉提高了嗓门。

“His greendreams.” Meera’s voice was bitter.

“阿多。”阿多附和道。

“Hodor,” said Hodor.

梅拉开始哭泣。

Meera began to cry.

这时布兰开始憎恨自己是一个残废。“别哭了。”他安慰道。他想抱着她，紧紧的抱着她，就好像他受伤时他妈妈曾经在临冬城对他所做过的一样。她就在那里，只有几步远，但是想要够到的话却好像有几百里格。想要到她身边，他需要用手在地上拖着伤腿爬行。地面粗糙且凹凸不平，他的速度也不会很快，身上将会满是刮伤和淤青。我会上阿多的身，他想。阿多将会抱着她，轻拍她的背。这个想法让布兰觉得非常古怪，但是在梅拉跑离火堆，冲进黑暗的隧道时，他仍然在想。他听着她的脚步声渐行渐远，直到只剩下歌者们的歌声。

Bran hated being crippled then. “Don’t cry,” he said. He wanted to put his arms around her, hold her tight the way his mother used to hold him back at Winterfell when he’d hurt himself. She was right there, only a few feet from him, but so far out of reach it might have been a hundred leagues. To touch her he would need to pull himself along the ground with his hands, dragging his legs behind him. The floor was rough and uneven, and it would be slow going, full of scrapes and bumps. I could put on Hodor’s skin, he thought. Hodor could hold her and pat her on the back. The thought made Bran feel strange, but he was still thinking it when Meera bolted from the fire, back out into the darkness of the tunnels. He heard her steps recede until there was nothing but the voices of the singers.

新月如钩，就好像锋利的小刀一样。时光飞逝，一天接着一天，每一天感觉都比前一天更短。黑夜更长，山洞中不曾有阳光普照，也不曾有月光洒落。甚至连星星在这里都很陌生。那些是属于地面上正常时间的世界的事物，日夜日夜日夜轮转。

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. The days marched past, one after the other, each shorter than the one before. The nights grew longer. No sunlight ever reached the caves beneath the hill. No moonlight ever touched those stony halls. Even the stars were strangers there. Those things belonged to the world above, where time ran in its iron circles, day to night to day to night to day.

“是时候了。” 布林登大人宣布。

“It is time,” Lord Brynden said.

他话语中的一些东西好像冰冷的手指在布兰的背上爬来爬去。“是时候做什么了？”

Something in his voice sent icy fingers running up Bran’s back. “Time for what?”

“做下一步该做的事情。让你超越异形者，变成一个真正的绿先知。”

“For the next step. For you to go beyond skinchanging and learn what it means to be a greenseer.”

“树会教导你。”叶子说。她点头示意，另一个歌者走上前来，白色头发，被梅拉称为雪锁头的那位。他端着一个鱼梁木碗，上面雕刻着一打脸孔。好像心树的脸一样。在里面是一坨白色的浆糊，稠密厚重，有暗红色的纹理环绕其间。“你必须喝下它。”叶子说。她把碗递给了布兰。

“The trees will teach him,” said Leaf. She beckoned, and another of the singers padded forward, the white-haired one that Meera had named Snowylocks. She had a weirwood bowl in her hands, carved with a dozen faces, like the ones the heart trees wore. Inside was a white paste, thick and heavy, with dark red veins running through it. “You must eat of this,” said Leaf. She handed Bran a wooden spoon.

布兰不确定的看着碗。“这是什么？”

The boy looked at the bowl uncertainly. “What is it?”

“一团鱼梁木种子。”

“A paste of weirwood seeds.”

这个东西的某些部分让布兰看起来很不舒服。红色的纹理仅仅是鱼梁木的汁液，他假定。但是在火炬光线的反射下它们看起来真的很像血。他把勺子伸进面团，然后犹豫不决。“这会让我成为绿先知吗？”

Something about the look of it made Bran feel ill. The red veins were only weirwood sap, he supposed, but in the torchlight they looked remarkably like blood. He dipped the spoon into the paste, then hesitated. “Will this make me a greenseer?”

“你的天赋让你称为绿先知。” 布林登大人说道。“这会唤醒你的天赋，并且让你和树木能够结合到一起。”

“Your blood makes you a greenseer,” said Lord Brynden. “This will help awaken your gifts and wed you to the trees.”

布兰不想和树结合…但是谁会和一个残废的男孩结婚呢？一千只眼睛，一百种皮肤，像古树的树根一样深邃的智慧，成为一名绿先知。

Bran did not want to be married to a tree … but who else would wed a broken boy like him? A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees. A greenseer.

他吃下了。

He ate.

它尝起来有些苦，尽管不像橡子面那么苦。第一勺是最难吃的。他差点给吐出来。第二勺稍好一些，第三勺几乎是甜的了。剩下的他很快就给吃完了。为什么他会认为是苦的呢？ 它尝起来像蜂蜜，像新雪，像胡椒和肉桂，像他妈妈给他的最后一吻。空的木碗在他指尖打滑落下，掉在山洞的地面上。“我没感觉到有什么不同，然后会发生什么？”

It had a bitter taste, though not so bitter as acorn paste. The first spoonful was the hardest to get down. He almost retched it right back up. The second tasted better. The third was almost sweet. The rest he spooned up eagerly. Why had he thought that it was bitter? It tasted of honey, of new-fallen snow, of pepper and cinnamon and the last kiss his mother ever gave him. The empty bowl slipped from his fingers and clattered on the cavern floor. “I don’t feel any different. What happens next?”

叶子碰了一下他的手。“树会教导你。树会记得。”她抬起手，其他的歌者开始在山洞中移动，一个接一个的熄灭火把。黑暗顿时笼罩了他们。

Leaf touched his hand. “The trees will teach you. The trees remember.” He raised a hand, and the other singers began to move about the cavern, extinguishing the torches one by one. The darkness thickened and crept toward them.

“闭上眼睛。”三眼乌鸦说道。“滑动你的身体，就好像进入夏天那样。但是这次，你要进入树根。跟着他们进入大地，到山上的树上，然后告诉我你看到了什么。”

“Close your eyes,” said the three-eyed crow. “Slip your skin, as you do when you join with Summer. But this time, go into the roots instead. Follow them up through the earth, to the trees upon the hill, and tell me what you see.”

布兰闭上眼睛，放松身体，尝试进入树根，他想。进入鱼梁木，变成一棵树。有一瞬间他可以看到被黑暗覆盖的山洞，可以听到下面奔腾的河流。

Bran closed his eyes and slipped free of his skin. Into the roots, he thought. Into the weirwood. Become the tree. For an instant he could see the cavern in its black mantle, could hear the river rushing by below.

然后他立刻又一次回到了家里。

Then all at once he was back home again.

艾德。史塔克大人坐在神木林湖边的一块石头上，心树苍白的根须环抱着他，就好像老人苍老的胳膊。巨剑寒冰躺在他的膝盖上，他正在用油布擦洗。

Lord Eddard Stark sat upon a rock beside the deep black pool in the godswood, the pale roots of the heart tree twisting around him like an old man’s gnarled arms. The greatsword Ice lay across Lord Eddard’s lap, and he was cleaning the blade with an oilcloth.

“临冬城。”布兰低语道。

“Winterfell,” Bran whispered.

他的父亲向上看来，“谁在那？”他问道。天旋地转…

His father looked up. “Who’s there?” he asked, turning …

。。。布兰非常害怕，被某种力量强行拉走。他的父亲，黑色的水池和神木林开始褪色，消失。他又回到了山洞，他的鱼梁木王座上的苍白的粗树根环绕着他，就好像妈妈抱着自己的孩子。一直点着的火把来到了他的面前。

… and Bran, frightened, pulled away. His father and the black pool and the godswood faded and were gone and he was back in the cavern, the pale thick roots of his weirwood throne cradling his limbs as a mother does a child. A torch flared to life before him.

“告诉我们你看到了什么。”从远处看叶子几乎是一个小女孩，不比布兰或者他的姐妹们大多少。但是走近看的话她就老多了。她要看起来有200多岁。

“Tell us what you saw.” From far away Leaf looked almost a girl, no older than Bran or one of his sisters, but close at hand she seemed far older. She claimed to have seen two hundred years.

布兰的喉咙很干。他强忍着说，“临冬城。我回到了临冬城。我看到了我父亲。他没死，他没死，我看到了他，他回到了临冬城，他还活着。”

Bran’s throat was very dry. He swallowed. “Winterfell. I was back in Winterfell. I saw my father. He’s not dead, he’s not, I saw him, he’s back at Winterfell, he’s still alive.”

“不，”叶子说。“他已经死了，孩子，不要试图把他从死亡中唤醒。”

“No,” said Leaf. “He is gone, boy. Do not seek to call him back from death.”

“我看到了他。”布兰可以感觉到粗糙的木头压着一侧的脸颊。“他在擦拭寒冰。”

“I saw him.” Bran could feel rough wood pressing against one cheek. “He was cleaning Ice.”

“你看到了你希望看到的。你的内心渴望你的父亲和你的家，所以你看到了他们。”

“You saw what you wished to see. Your heart yearns for your father and your home, so that is what you saw.”

“人们在知道他有所渴望的时候，必须知道如何去通过鱼梁木观看。” 布林登大人说道。“你看到的都是往日的阴影，布兰，你在通过临冬城的神木林的心树观看。树的时间概念和人是不同的。太阳，油和水，这些事鱼梁木不懂得的事情，不是时间的问题。对于人来说，时间就像大河。我们都在它的洪流之中，从过去到现在顺流而行，总是在同一个方向。树却不一样。他们的树根生长，死亡都在同一个地方，时间没有改变他们。橡树就是橡果，橡果就是橡树。鱼梁木…人类的一千年对鱼梁木来说就是一瞬间，通过这种方式，我们可以看到过去。”

“A man must know how to look before he can hope to see,” said Lord Brynden. “Those were shadows of days past that you saw, Bran. You were looking through the eyes of the heart tree in your godswood. Time is different for a tree than for a man. Sun and soil and water, these are the things a weirwood understands, not days and years and centuries. For men, time is a river. We are trapped in its flow, hurtling from past to present, always in the same direction. The lives of trees are different. They root and grow and die in one place, and that river does not move them. The oak is the acorn, the acorn is the oak. And the weirwood … a thousand human years are a moment to a weirwood, and through such gates you and I may gaze into the past.”

“但是。”布兰问道。“他听到了我的声音。”

“But,” said Bran, “he heard me.”

“他听到了风的低语，叶子的摩挲。你不能对他说话，你尽力去尝试了，我知道。我也有我自己的幽灵，布兰，一个我爱着的兄弟，一个我恨着的兄弟，一个我渴望的女人。通过树，我仍然可以看到他们，但是我的话语从没有传到他们耳朵里。过去的就是过去了。我们可以从过去学到教训，但是我们不能改变它。”

“He heard a whisper on the wind, a rustling amongst the leaves. You cannot speak to him, try as you might. I know. I have my own ghosts, Bran. A brother that I loved, a brother that I hated, a woman I desired. Through the trees, I see them still, but no word of mine has ever reached them. The past remains the past. We can learn from it, but we cannot change it.”

“我会再次看到我的父亲吗？”

“Will I see my father again?”

“当你可以熟练使用你的天赋时，你将随心所欲的看你想看的地方，看树木看到的昨天，几年或者几千年前的记忆。人们的生命被囚禁在永恒的 现在 中，活在过去的迷雾和未知的未来之间。一些飞蛾的生命仅仅有一天的时间，对于它们来说一小段时间可能就相当于人类的几年或者数十年。一棵橡树可以活三百年，一棵红木可以活三千年。一棵鱼梁木可以在不被外力干扰的情况下永远活下去。对于它们来说季节更替就好像拍打一下翅膀一样，过去，现在和未来融为一体。你的视线不仅仅被限制在神木林。歌者在心树上雕刻眼睛来唤醒它们。那就是绿先知所需要学会使用的第一课…但是在那时你将会很好的通过树木本身来观看。”

“Once you have mastered your gifts, you may look where you will and see what the trees have seen, be it yesterday or last year or a thousand ages past. Men live their lives trapped in an eternal present, between the mists of memory and the sea of shadow that is all we know of the days to come. Certain moths live their whole lives in a day, yet to them that little span of time must seem as long as years and decades do to us. An oak may live three hundred years, a redwood tree three thousand. A weirwood will live forever if left undisturbed. To them seasons pass in the flutter of a moth’s wing, and past, present, and future are one. Nor will your sight be limited to your godswood. The singers carved eyes into their heart trees to awaken them, and those are the first eyes a new greenseer learns to use … but in time you will see well beyond the trees themselves.”

“什么时候？”布兰想要知道。

“When?” Bran wanted to know.

“一年，三年或者十年。这些我并没有看见。时间到了，它就会自己出现。我保证。但是我现在很累了，树木在召唤我，我们将在早上的时候再开始上课。”

“In a year, or three, or ten. That I have not glimpsed. It will come in time, I promise you. But I am tired now, and the trees are calling me. We will resume on the morrow.”

阿多把布兰抱回住所，不停的低声咕嘟着 “阿多。”叶子打着火把走在他们前面。他希望梅拉和玖健能在这儿，那样他就可以告诉他们他看见了。但是他们居住的石室冰冷无人。阿多把布兰放在床上，盖上兽皮，然后给他们升起了营火。一千只眼睛，一百种皮肤，像古树的树根一样深邃的智慧。

Hodor carried Bran back to his chamber, muttering “Hodor” in a low voice as Leaf went before them with a torch. He had hoped that Meera and Jojen would be there, so he could tell them what he had seen, but their snug alcove in the rock was cold and empty. Hodor eased Bran down onto his bed, covered him with furs, and made a fire for them. A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees.

看着火焰，布兰决定醒着，直到梅拉回来。玖健将会不高兴，他知道，但是梅拉会对此很高兴，他不记得闭上了眼睛。

Watching the flames, Bran decided he would stay awake till Meera came back. Jojen would be unhappy, he knew, but Meera would be glad for him, He did not remember closing his eyes.

…但是他莫名其妙的又回到了临冬城。从神木林俯视着他的父亲。艾德大人看起来非常年轻。他的头发是棕色的，没有一丝灰白，他低下头“…让他们长大以后亲如兄弟，彼此间只有爱。”他祈祷道。“让我的妻子在她的心里原谅…”

… but then somehow he was back at Winterfell again, in the godswood looking down upon his father. Lord Eddard seemed much younger this time. His hair was brown, with no hint of grey in it, his head bowed. “… let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them,” he prayed, “and let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive …”

“父亲。”布兰的声音就像是风中的呓语，叶子的呢喃。“父亲，是我，布兰，布兰登。”

“Father.” Bran’s voice was a whisper in the wind, a rustle in the leaves. “Father, it’s me. It’s Bran. Brandon.”

艾德。史塔克抬起头，看着神木林，皱着眉头。但是他没有说话。他看不到我，布兰意识到，绝望。他想冲出去碰触他，但是他所能做的只有观看和倾听。我在树里，通过它红色的眼睛看世界，但是鱼梁木不会说话，所以我也不会。

Eddard Stark lifted his head and looked long at the weirwood, frowning, but he did not speak. He cannot see me, Bran realized, despairing. He wanted to reach out and touch him, but all that he could do was watch and listen. I am in the tree. I am inside the heart tree, looking out of its red eyes, but the weirwood cannot talk, so I can’t.

艾德。史塔克继续祈祷。布兰感到他的眼里充满泪水。但是那是布兰的眼泪，还是鱼梁木的？如果我哭泣，树木也会同样哭泣吗？

Eddard Stark resumed his prayer. Bran felt his eyes fill up with tears. But were they his own tears, or the weirwood’s? If I cry, will the tree begin to weep?

父亲剩余的祈词都被突然出现的木头的哗哗声所淹没。艾德。史塔克融化了，就像早上的太阳。现在两个孩子在神木林里飞舞，叫喊着用树枝打闹。女孩在两人中个子更高，更大一些。艾丽娅！在她突然从一块岩石上跳起然后袭向男孩时布兰渴望的想。但是不对。如果这个女孩是艾丽娅，男孩就是布兰自己。但是他从没有留过这么长的头发。艾丽娅也从没这样和我打闹过。她用树枝打男孩的大腿，下手如此之重，以至于男孩掉进了水池里，扑腾叫喊。“安静点，笨蛋。”女孩扔掉她的树枝说道。“只是水啦，你想让老奶妈听到，再去告诉爸爸吗？”她跪下然后把她的兄弟拉离水塘，但是在她做完这些之后，他们两个就离开了。

The rest of his father’s words were drowned out by a sudden clatter of wood on wood. Eddard Stark dissolved, like mist in a morning sun. Now two children danced across the godswood, hooting at one another as they dueled with broken branches. The girl was the older and taller of the two. Arya! Bran thought eagerly, as he watched her leap up onto a rock and cut at the boy. But that couldn’t be right. If the girl was Arya, the boy was Bran himself, and he had never worn his hair so long. And Arya never beat me playing swords, the way that girl is beating him. She slashed the boy across his thigh, so hard that his leg went out from under him and he fell into the pool and began to splash and shout. “You be quiet, stupid,” the girl said, tossing her own branch aside. “It’s just water. Do you want Old Nan to hear and run tell Father?” She knelt and pulled her brother from the pool, but before she got him out again, the two of them were gone.

在这之后往日的影像变得越来越快，直到布兰感到迷失和眩晕。他再也没有看到他的父亲，也没有看到像艾丽娅的女孩，而是看到了一个怀孕的裸体女人浑身湿漉漉的跪在心树前祈祷。乞求旧神能够让她生一个可以替她复仇的儿子。然后又出现了一个苗条的棕发女孩，踮着脚尖亲吻一个和阿多一样高大的年轻骑士，苍白而又凶猛，鱼梁木分成三根枝条，然后把它们像箭一样发射出去。树本身在不断的萎缩，每看一段记忆，树就更小一些，变成树苗，最终消失。只有不断的在树木间切换才能减少这种情况的发生。现在布兰看见的领主们高大坚毅，这些严酷的人们穿着兽皮和锁子甲。一些还带着他在洞穴中的雕像上看到过的面具。但是他们在他没来得及给他们起个名字的时候就消失了。

After that the glimpses came faster and faster, till Bran was feeling lost and dizzy. He saw no more of his father, nor the girl who looked like Arya, but a woman heavy with child emerged naked and dripping from the black pool, knelt before the tree, and begged the old gods for a son who would avenge her. Then there came a brown-haired girl slender as a spear who stood on the tips of her toes to kiss the lips of a young knight as tall as Hodor. A dark-eyed youth, pale and fierce, sliced three branches off the weirwood and shaped them into arrows. The tree itself was shrinking, growing smaller with each vision, whilst the lesser trees dwindled into saplings and vanished, only to be replaced by other trees that would dwindle and vanish in their turn. And now the lords Bran glimpsed were tall and hard, stern men in fur and chain mail. Some wore faces he remembered from the statues in the crypts, but they were gone before he could put a name to them.

然后他继续观看，一个大胡子的男人把一个俘虏绑在心树前。一个白发女人穿过一片红色的暗红色的叶子走向他们，一把青铜镰刀拿在她的手里。

Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand.

“不！”布兰想道。“不要！”但是他们听不到他的话语，只有他的父亲曾经听到过。女人拉住俘虏的头发，把镰刀放在他的喉咙上，用力一拉。穿过数个世纪的迷雾，残废的男孩只能看到男人的腿在地面上踢打…但是当俘虏的生命在一片红色的潮水中离开身体时，布兰登。史塔克尝到了血的味道。

“No,” said Bran, “no, don’t,” but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed. And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man’s feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood.