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JON
琼恩
A blowing rain lashed at Jon's face as he spurred his horse across the swollen stream. Beside him, Lord Commander Mormont gave the hood of his cloak a tug, muttering curses on the weather. His raven sat on his shoulder, feathers ruffled, as soaked and grumpy as the Old Bear himself. A gust of wind sent wet leaves flapping round them like a flock of dead birds. The haunted forest, Jon thought ruefully. The drowned forest, more like it.
狂风夹着细雨，抽打在琼恩脸上，他踢踢马刺，跨过涨水的溪流。在他身旁，莫尔蒙总司令扯紧斗篷的兜帽，喃喃地诅咒着天气。他的乌鸦停在肩上，风弄皱了羽毛，使它看来和熊老本人一样又湿又躁。朔风突起，湿叶纷飞，好似一群死亡的飞鸟。鬼影森林啊，琼恩可怜兮兮地想，不如说是水淹森林。
He hoped Sam was holding up, back down the column. He was not a good rider even in fair weather, and six days of rain had made the ground treacherous, all soft mud and hidden rocks. When the wind blew, it drove the water right into their eyes. The Wall would be flowing off to the south, the melting ice mingling with warm rain to wash down in sheets and rivers. Pyp and Toad would be sitting near the fire in the common room, drinking cups of mulled wine before their supper. Jon envied them. His wet wool clung to him sodden and itching, his neck and shoulders ached fiercely from the weight of mail and sword, and he was sick of salt cod, salt beef, and hard cheese.
他暗自希望跟在后面的山姆还撑得住。就算天气和煦，他也骑得不好，而今，雨下了整整六天，路况变得十分凶险，处处是软泥和碎石。狂风卷起，漫天的雨落入眼睛。温暖的雨水混合融雪，注满所有的小溪与河流，让人以为南方的长城也说不定会被它们冲垮。此刻，派普和陶德一定会坐在大厅的炉火边，喝着晚餐前的开胃热葡萄酒。琼恩羡慕他们。他自己一身浸透的羊毛衣粘在身上，湿漉发痒，脖子和肩膀则因盔甲与长剑的重量而压得疼痛，更难受的是，他已彻底受够了盐鳕鱼，咸牛肉和硬奶酪的滋味。
Up ahead a hunting horn sounded a quavering note, half drowned beneath the constant patter of the rain. "Buckwell's horn," the Old Bear announced. "The gods are good; Craster's still there." His raven gave a single flap of his big wings, croaked "Corn," and ruffled his feathers up again.
前方，一只猎号发出震颤的声调，隔着交织的急雨显得分外朦胧。“是布克威尔，”熊老宣布，“诸神保佑，卡斯特总算没挪窝。”他的乌鸦把大黑翅膀扇了一扇，嘶哑地叫声“玉米”，便又继续整理羽毛。
