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Sir Jaremy had finished the job of hacking its head off, yet had died all the same when the headless corpse pulled his own dagger from its sheath and buried it in his bowels. Strength and courage did not avail much against foemen who would not fall because they were already dead; even arms and armor offered small protection.
杰瑞米爵士本已砍下它的头，可依旧没能阻止无头尸鬼拔出他的匕首，深深插入他的肚腹。遇上早已死亡，怎么也不会倒下的敌人，无论力量还是勇气都没有太大用处；武器和护甲，所能提供的保护也殊为有限。
That grim thought soured Jon's fragile mood. "I need to see Hobb about the Old Bear's supper," he announced brusquely, sliding Longclaw back into its scabbard. His friends meant well, but they did not understand. It was not their fault, truly; they had not had to face Othor, they had not seen the pale glow of those dead blue eyes, had not felt the cold of those dead black fingers. Nor did they know of the fighting in the riverlands. How could they hope to comprehend? He turned away from them abruptly and strode off, sullen. Pyp called after him, but Jon paid him no mind.
这个悲惨的念头，使得琼恩原本脆弱的心绪更加恶劣。“我要去找哈布，请他安排熊老的晚餐。”他唐突地对大家宣布，然后将长爪插进剑鞘。他知道朋友们是一番好意，可惜他们不懂。这实在不能说是他们的错：他们用不着面对奥瑟，没有亲眼目睹那双死人蓝眼的惨白光芒，没能感受到死人黑手指的冰冷，自然更不关心三河流域的激烈战事。既然如此，又怎能期望他们了解呢？他唐突地转身，闷闷不乐地大步离去。派普在身后叫他，但琼恩没有理会。
They had moved him back to his old cell in tumbledown Hardin's Tower after the fire, and it was there he returned. Ghost was curled up asleep beside the door, but he lifted his head at the sound of Jon's boots.
火灾之后，他们让他搬回倾颓的哈丁塔，住在他以前那间旧石室里。当他回到房间，白灵正蜷缩在门边睡觉，但它一听见琼恩的靴子声，便抬起头来。
