« Ouf, un chapitre Arya, elle n’est donc pas morte ! » C’est sans doute ce que je me suis dit en primolecture (car le coup de hache de fin de chapitre.. franchement). A part ça, je me rends compte que je ne me souvenais pas du tout des détails de la virée de Sandor et Arya. Notamment le côté « on coupe du bois » dans un village.
Au début, Arya se sent vide (un peu logique avec toutes ces pertes). Et elle adore ses rêves de loup.
But if her nights were full of wolves, her days belonged to the dog. Sandor Clegane made her get up every morning, whether she wanted to or not. He would curse at her in his raspy voice, or yank her to her feet and shake her. Once he dumped a helm full of cold water all over her head. She bounced up sputtering and shivering and tried to kick him, but he only laughed. “Dry off and feed the bloody horses,” he told her, and she did.
Ils ont récupéré une jument (Craven, ouch ce nom) et Arya est partagée entre son désir de partir et le fait qu’elle sait que cela ne servirait à rien
The Hound no longer watched her as closely as he had. Sometimes he did not seem to care whether she stayed or went, and he no longer bound her up in a cloak at night. One night I’ll kill him in his sleep, she told herself, but she never did. One day I’ll ride away on Craven, and he won’t be able to catch me, she thought, but she never did that either. Where would she go? Winterfell was gone. Her grandfather’s brother was at Riverrun, but he didn’t know her, no more than she knew him. Maybe Lady Smallwood would take her in at Acorn Hall, but maybe she wouldn’t. Besides, Arya wasn’t even sure she could find Acorn Hall again. Sometimes she thought she might go back to Sharna’s inn, if the floods hadn’t washed it away. She could stay with Hot Pie, or maybe Lord Beric would find her there. Anguy would teach her to use a bow, and she could ride with Gendry and be an outlaw, like Wenda the White Fawn in the songs.
But that was just stupid, like something Sansa might dream. Hot Pie and Gendry had left her just as soon as they could, and Lord Beric and the outlaws only wanted to ransom her, just like the Hound. None of them wanted her around. They were never my pack, not even Hot Pie and Gendry. I was stupid to think so, just a stupid little girl, and no wolf at all.
Sandor ne dit rien à Arya sur la destination (pas sûr qu’il sache précisément d’ailleurs) et lui parle de Sansa
“Did you hit her with an axe too?”
“I hit you with the flat of the axe, you stupid little bitch. If I’d hit you with the blade there’d still be chunks of your head floating down the Green Fork. Now shut your bloody mouth. If I had any sense I’d give you to the silent sisters. They cut the tongues out of girls who talk too much.”
Arya a des occasions d’attaquer Sandor mais elle ne passe jamais à l’action. Ils évitent les gens qu’ils voient au loin
Sometimes in their wanderings they glimpsed other people; farmers in their fields, swineherds with their pigs, a milkmaid leading a cow, a squire carrying a message down a rutted road. She never wanted to speak to them either. It was as if they lived in some distant land and spoke a queer alien tongue; they had nothing to do with her, or her with them.
Besides, it wasn’t safe to be seen. From time to time columns of horsemen passed down the winding farm roads, the twin towers of Frey flying before them. “Hunting for stray northmen,” the Hound said when they had passed. “Any time you hear hooves, get your head down fast, it’s not like to be a friend.”
On a ensuite la rencontre avec un soldat Piper mourant. J’avais complètement oublié. On voit bien la trahison Bolton mais côté soldats
His left shoulder was all twisted and swollen where it met his arm; a blow from a mace, he said, it had broken his shoulder and smashed his chainmail deep into his flesh. “A northman, it was,” he wept. “His badge was a bloody man, and he saw mine and made a jape, red man and pink maiden, maybe they should get together. I drank to his Lord Bolton, he drank to Ser Marq, and we drank together to Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin and the King in the North. And then he killed me.” His eyes were fever bright when he said that, and Arya could tell that it was true.
Arya donne à boire (que de l’eau) au soldat puis Sandor lui montre comment l’achever (hint, hint). Sandor n’est pas un gentil pour autant car il ne va pas l’enterrer ni laisser ses possessions pourir.
There were two silver stags in the archer’s purse, and almost thirty coppers. His dagger had a pretty pink stone in the hilt. The Hound hefted the knife in his hand, then flipped it toward Arya. She caught it by the hilt, slid it through her belt, and felt a little better. It wasn’t Needle, but it was steel. The dead man had a quiver of arrows too, but arrows weren’t much good without a bow. His boots were too big for Arya and too small for the Hound, so those they left. She took his kettle helm as well, even though it came down almost past her nose, so she had to tilt it back to see.
Là, Sandor lui révèle qu’il l’emmène chez sa tante. Arya n’est pas ravie et elle s’enfonce dans le déni.
She didn’t know her mother’s sister any more than she knew her great uncle Blackfish. We should have gone into the castle. They didn’t really know that her mother was dead, or Robb either. It wasn’t like they’d seen them die or anything. Maybe Lord Frey had just taken them captive. Maybe they were chained up in his dungeon, or maybe the Freys were taking them to King’s Landing so Joffrey could chop their heads off. They didn’t know. “We should go back,” she suddenly decided. “We should go back to the Twins and get my mother. She can’t be dead. We have to help her.”
“I thought your sister was the one with a head full of songs,” the Hound growled. “Frey might have kept your mother alive to ransom, that’s true. But there’s no way in seven hells I’m going to pluck her out of his castle all by my bloody self.”
“Not by yourself. I’d come too.”
He made a sound that was almost a laugh. “That will scare the piss out of the old man.”
“You’re just afraid to die!” she said scornfully.
Now Clegane did laugh. “Death don’t scare me. Only fire. Now be quiet, or I’ll cut your tongue out myself and save the silent sisters the bother. It’s the Vale for us.”
Arya didn’t think he’d really cut her tongue out; he was just saying that the way Pinkeye used to say he’d beat her bloody. All the same, she wasn’t going to try him. Sandor Clegane was no Pinkeye. Pinkeye didn’t cut people in half or hit them with axes. Not even with the flat of axes.
Et là, on a un rêve de loup… qui est très éclairant quand on connait la suite. Personne n’avait rien vu en primolecture, je suppose ^^
A la fin de ce rêve, Arya est persuadée que sa mère est morte
Là, ils se dirigent vers un village où ils restent. Pourtant les nouvelles sont inquiétantes. Je ne pense pas que j’avais fait le lien non plus entre les clans de la Montagne mieux équipés vu qu’ils reviennent de Port Réal avec leurs gains
The Burned Men are fearless since Timett One-Eye came back from the war. And half a year ago, Gunthor son of Gurn led the Stone Crows down on a village not eight miles from here. They took every woman and every scrap of grain, and killed half the men. They have steel now, good swords and mail hauberks, and they watch the high road—the Stone Crows, the Milk Snakes, the Sons of the Mist, all of them.
Arya est toujours en crise/manque d’identité
She was no one’s daughter now. She was no one. Not Arya, not Weasel, not Nan nor Arry nor Squab, not even Lumpyhead. She was only some girl who ran with a dog by day, and dreamed of wolves by night.
Arya vit mal le village, et elle étripe (le « belly » en écho au fait que Sandor n’a pas les tripes de se battre ?)… pas une chatte comme Joffrey mais un soldat de chiffon, car une petite villageoise agit… comme une enfant de son âge….
All the same, Arya soon decided that she hated it. The villagers were cowards. None of them would even look at the Hound’s face, at least not for long. Some of the women tried to put her in a dress and make her do needlework, but they weren’t Lady Smallwood and she was having none of it. And there was one girl who took to following her, the village elder’s daughter. She was of an age with Arya, but just a child; she cried if she skinned a knee, and carried a stupid cloth doll with her everywhere she went. The doll was made up to look like a man-at-arms, sort of, so the girl called him Ser Soldier and bragged how he kept her safe. “Go away,” Arya told her half a hundred times. “Just leave me be.” She wouldn’t, though, so finally Arya took the doll away from her, ripped it open, and pulled the rag stuffing out of its belly with a finger. “Now he really looks like a soldier!” she said, before she threw the doll in a brook. After that the girl stopped pestering her, and Arya spent her days grooming Craven and Stranger or walking in the woods. Sometimes she would find a stick and practice her needlework, but then she would remember what had happened at the Twins and smash it against a tree until it broke.
Sandor trouve là son premier lieu de repos mais son passé le rattrape et il ne peut pas rester
“And you . . . a man like you brings blood with him.”
Sandor’s mouth tightened. “So you do know who I am.”
“Aye. We don’t get travelers here, that’s so, but we go to market, and to fairs. We know about King Joffrey’s dog.”
“When these Stone Crows come calling, you might be glad to have a dog.”
“Might be.” The man hesitated, then gathered up his courage. “But they say you lost your belly for fighting at the Blackwater. They say—”
“I know what they say.” Sandor’s voice sounded like two woodsaws grinding together. “Pay me, and we’ll be gone.”
Ils s’en vont avec un peu de paye (et une épée au lieu d’une hache… ils sont bien équipés les villageois)
When they left, the Hound had a pouch full of coppers, a skin of sour ale, and a new sword. It was a very old sword, if truth be told, though new to him. He swapped its owner the longaxe he’d taken at the Twins, the one he’d used to raise the lump on Arya’s head. The ale was gone in less than a day, but Clegane sharpened the sword every night, cursing the man he’d swapped with for every nick and spot of rust. If he lost his belly for fighting, why does he care if his sword is sharp?
Sandor change de destination : Vivesaigues (« encore » dit à raison Arya^^). Elle évoque le Mur mais Sandor n’est pas convaincu car c’est… loin. On n’en saura pas plus sur la destination choisie
J’avais oublié plein de détails mais c’était très plaisant à lire
Je sers la Garde et c'est ma joie. For this night, and all the nights to come
MJ de Chanson d'Encre et de Sang (2013-2020) et de parties en ligne de jeu de rôle
MJ par intérim de Les Prétendants d'Harrenhal (2024-), rejoignez-nous
DOH : #TeamLoyalistsForeverUntilNow. L’élu des 7, le Conseiller-Pyat Pree qui ne le Fut Jamais
Yfos, le il y a 2 années.
Yfos
Worgen Stone
R.Graymarch
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Lau
R.Graymarch. Raison: citation
Obsidienne
Ysilla
Ysilla.
