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Dancer was draped in bardings of snowy white wool emblazoned with the grey direwolf of House Stark, while Bran wore grey breeches and white doublet, his sleeves and collar trimmed with vair. Over his heart was his wolf's-head brooch of silver and polished jet. He would sooner have had Summer than a silver wolf on his breast, but Ser Rodrik had been unyielding.
小舞披着一身雪白的羊毛衣，衣上绣着史塔克家族的灰色冰原狼纹章；布兰穿着灰马裤，白上装，袖子和领口镶了松鼠皮。他的胸前别着白银和铮亮黑玉制成的狼头胸针。其实他本想带上活生生的夏天，而非戴只银狼，可惜罗德利克爵士不准。
The low stone steps balked Dancer only for a moment. When Bran urged her on, she took them easily. Beyond the wide oak-and-iron doors, eight long rows of trestle tables filled Winterfell's Great Hall, four on each side of the center aisle. Men crowded shoulder to shoulder on the benches. "Stark!" they called as Bran trotted past, rising to their feet. "Winterfell! Winterfell!"
起初，低矮的石阶让小舞踌躇不前，然而布兰一加催促，它立刻轻松地越了过去。在橡木和钢铁制成的大门内，八列长桌占满了临冬城的大厅，一边四列，中间空出走道。人们接踵磨肩地挤在长凳上。“史塔克万岁！”布兰疾跑而过，人们纷纷起立，高声呼喊，“临冬城万岁！临冬城万岁！”
He was old enough to know that it was not truly him they shouted for—it was the harvest they cheered, it was Robb and his victories, it was his lord father and his grandfather and all the Starks going back eight thousand years. Still, it made him swell with pride. For so long as it took him to ride the length of that hall he forgot that he was broken. Yet when he reached the dais, with every eye upon him, Osha and Hodor undid his straps and buckles, lifted him off Dancer's back, and carried him to the high seat of his fathers.
他已经够大，知道他们欢呼的对象并非自己——他们是在庆祝丰收，庆祝罗柏和他的节节胜利，他们祝福的是他的父亲大人和他的祖父，祝福的是八千年来所有故去的史塔克。虽然如此，他仍旧感到十分骄傲。穿越大厅这段时间，足以使他忘记自己是个残废。最后他跑到高台，在众目睽睽之下，欧莎和阿多替他解开皮带和环扣，将他抱下小舞，放到父亲的高位上。
