[He nods.] Aye, they wander through their grasslands with their herds of horses. They attack cities, or they're well paid not to. [But then, with a little shake of his head, he dismisses the subject.]
[There had been times when he had found Sam's interest in books tedious. What had it mattered how men of the Watch had lived five hundred years ago, a thousand? What had it mattered if there had been six hundred or nine hundred Lord Commanders before Jon? What the men of the Watch needed was a man who could tend to their wounds as Maester Aemon had. But the Watch has need of anything the Citadel knows of the White Walkers and the Night King, and Jon had been glad of Sam's desire to read anything he could cast his eyes on when Sam had sent the message about the dragonglass on Dragonstone.
Though there is nothing Jon can do about that now. His gaze flicks back to Claire's face; it had become lost, staring at the wolf in the chalice.]
In truth, the Winterfell I grew up in is said to be eight thousand years old. I don't know if it's so old as all that, but the one you knew during those three hundred years, that was as close to the real one as I could make it. The one you visit now is only -- a mummer's version of Winterfell, little pieces of it.
I can make more of it for you to look about in, the older parts, the crypts. The parts I've seen. [He hesitates, then adds, a little more shyly,] If you would like that. There are statues of the old kings of winter and the direwolves that were their companions.
no subject
[There had been times when he had found Sam's interest in books tedious. What had it mattered how men of the Watch had lived five hundred years ago, a thousand? What had it mattered if there had been six hundred or nine hundred Lord Commanders before Jon? What the men of the Watch needed was a man who could tend to their wounds as Maester Aemon had. But the Watch has need of anything the Citadel knows of the White Walkers and the Night King, and Jon had been glad of Sam's desire to read anything he could cast his eyes on when Sam had sent the message about the dragonglass on Dragonstone.
Though there is nothing Jon can do about that now. His gaze flicks back to Claire's face; it had become lost, staring at the wolf in the chalice.]
In truth, the Winterfell I grew up in is said to be eight thousand years old. I don't know if it's so old as all that, but the one you knew during those three hundred years, that was as close to the real one as I could make it. The one you visit now is only -- a mummer's version of Winterfell, little pieces of it.
I can make more of it for you to look about in, the older parts, the crypts. The parts I've seen. [He hesitates, then adds, a little more shyly,] If you would like that. There are statues of the old kings of winter and the direwolves that were their companions.