BRAN

布兰

   It seemed as though he had been falling for years.

他不断下坠，仿佛经过了好多好多年。

   Fly, a voice whispered in the darkness, but Bran did not know how to fly, so all he could do was fall.

快飞吧，一个声音在黑暗中低语，然而布兰不知该怎么飞，所以只好继续不断坠落。

   Maester Luwin made a little boy of clay, baked him till he was hard and brittle, dressed him in Bran’s clothes, and flung him off a roof. Bran remembered the way he shattered. “But I never fall,” he said, falling.

鲁温师傅曾经捏制了一个陶土娃娃，烧烤得又硬又脆，为它穿上布兰的衣服，然后从城楼上扔下去。布兰一直记得陶土娃娃摔得粉身碎骨的模样。“但我绝对不会摔下去。”他说，然后继续往下坠。

   The ground was so far below him he could barely make it out through the grey mists that whirled around him, but he could feel how fast he was falling, and he knew what was waiting for him down there. Even in dreams, you could not fall forever. He would wake up in the instant before he hit the ground, he knew. You always woke up in the instant before you hit the ground.

虽然四周都是灰蒙蒙的雾气，看不清地面究竟有多远，但他可以感觉到自己掉落的速度有多快，也知道下面等着自己的是什么。即便在梦中，你也不可能永无止尽地这么一直掉下去。他知道，他会在落地前的一刹那醒来，人总是在落地前的一刹那醒来的。

   And if you don’t? the voice asked.

那要是你醒不来呢？那个声音问。

   The ground was closer now, still far far away, a thousand miles away, but closer than it had been. It was cold here in the darkness. There was no sun, no stars, only the ground below coming up to smash him, and the grey mists, and the whispering voice. He wanted to cry.

地面变得更近，虽然依旧遥遥无期，相距千里，但总是近了些。置身半空又暗又冷，没有太阳，没有星辰，只有迎面扑来的大地和灰雾，还有这陌生的细语。他好想哭。

   Not cry. Fly.

不要哭，飞。

   “I can’t fly,” Bran said. “I can’t, I can’t?.?.?.?”

“我不会飞，”布兰说，“不会，不会啊……”

   How do you know? Have you ever tried?

你怎么知道？你试过吗？

   The voice was high and thin. Bran looked around to see where it was coming from. A crow was spiraling down with him, just out of reach, following him as he fell. “Help me,” he said.

那声音高亢而尖细，布兰环顾四周想找出声音的来源。他见到一只乌鸦正随着他盘旋直落，但保持在他够不到的距离外。“救救我。”他说。

   I’m trying, the crow replied. Say, got any corn?

我正在想办法，乌鸦回答，嘿，你可有玉米？

   Bran reached into his pocket as the darkness spun dizzily around him. When he pulled his hand out, golden kernels slid from between his fingers into the air. They fell with him.

黑暗在他周围晕眩地旋转，布兰忙把手伸进口袋，抽出来时，金黄的谷粒由他指间滑下，与他一同坠落。

   The crow landed on his hand and began to eat.

乌鸦停在他手上，开始啄食。

   “Are you really a crow?” Bran asked.

“你真的是乌鸦？”布兰问。

   Are you really falling? the crow asked back.

你真的在往下坠？乌鸦反问。

   “It’s just a dream,” Bran said.

“这只是一场梦。”布兰说。

   Is it? asked the crow.

是吗？乌鸦又问。

   “I’ll wake up when I hit the ground,” Bran told the bird.

“我摔到地面的时候自然会醒的。”布兰告诉鸟儿。

   You’ll die when you hit the ground, the crow said. It went back to eating corn.

等摔到地面你就死了，乌鸦说完，径自去吃玉米。

   Bran looked down. He could see mountains now, their peaks white with snow, and the silver thread of rivers in dark woods. He closed his eyes and began to cry.

布兰低下头，现在他可以看见白雪皑皑的连绵峰峦，银色河流在深绿树林中留下的蜿蜒丝线。他闭上双眼，哭了起来。

   That won’t do any good, the crow said. I told you, the answer is flying, not crying. How hard can it be? I’m doing it. The crow took to the air and flapped around Bran’s hand.

哭哭啼啼没用的，乌鸦说，我说了，惟一的办法就是飞，不是掉眼泪。这有什么难？我不就在飞？乌鸦腾空飞起，拍着翅膀，绕在布兰手边。

   “You have wings,” Bran pointed out.

“可你有翅膀。”布兰指出。

   Maybe you do too.

说不定你也有。

   Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers.

布兰沿着肩膀摸索，想找自己的羽毛。

   There are different kinds of wings, the crow said.

　翅膀不只一种，乌鸦说。

   Bran was staring at his arms, his legs. He was so skinny, just skin stretched taut over bones. Had he always been so thin? He tried to remember. A face swam up at him out of the grey mist, shining with light, golden. “The things I do for love,” it said.

布兰看到自己的手脚，好瘦啊，瘦得跟皮包骨一样。难道他一直都这么瘦？他试着去回忆。一张脸从灰雾中浮现，闪耀着金色的光芒。“好好想一想，我为爱情做了些什么，”它说。

   Bran screamed.

布兰尖叫起来。

   The crow took to the air, cawing. Not that, it shrieked at him. Forget that, you do not need it now, put it aside, put it away. It landed on Bran’s shoulder, and pecked at him, and the shining golden face was gone.

乌鸦腾空飞起，嘎嘎大叫。不是那个，它对他嘶声叫道，忘记那个，你现在需要的不是它，忘记那件事，抛开那个念头。它停在布兰肩头，啄他，那张亮澄澄的金黄脸孔便随即消失。

   Bran was falling faster than ever. The grey mists howled around him as he plunged toward the earth below. “What are you doing to me?” he asked the crow, tearful.

这时，布兰越掉越快，朝地面急速扑去，灰雾在他耳际怒吼。“你对我做了什么？”他噙着眼泪问乌鸦。

   Teaching you how to fly.

我在教你飞。

   “I can’t fly!”

“我不会飞！”

   You’re flying tight now.

你现在不就在飞。

   “I’m falling!”

“我在往下掉！”

   Every flight begins with a fall, the crow said. Look down.

飞，都是从坠落开始的，乌鸦说，往下看。

   “I’m afraid?.?.?.?”

“我怕……”

   LOOK DOWN!

往下看！

   Bran looked down, and felt his insides turn to water. The ground was rushing up at him now. The whole world was spread out below him, a tapestry of white and brown and green. He could see everything so clearly that for a moment he forgot to be afraid. He could see the whole realm, and everyone in it.

布兰往下看，觉得五脏六腑简直都要融化。地面正朝他迎面袭来，整个世界摊在下方，如同一幅五颜六色的织锦。每一件事物都清晰无比，他甚至暂时忘却了恐惧。王国全境和行走其间的形色人事尽收眼底。

   He saw Winterfell as the eagles see it, the tall towers looking squat and stubby from above, the castle walls just lines in the dirt. He saw Maester Luwin on his balcony, studying the sky through a polished bronze tube and frowning as he made notes in a book. He saw his brother Robb, taller and stronger than he remembered him, practicing swordplay in the yard with real steel in his hand. He saw Hodor, the simple giant from the stables, carrying an anvil to Mikken’s forge, hefting it onto his shoulder as easily as another man might heft a bale of hay. At the heart of the godswood, the great white weirwood brooded over its reflection in the black pool, its leaves rustling in a chill wind. When it felt Bran watching, it lifted its eyes from the still waters and stared back at him knowingly.

他以翱空翔鹰之姿俯瞰临冬城，高处观之，原本高耸的塔楼竟显得矮胖，城墙则成了泥地上的线条。他看到阳台上的鲁温师傅，一边用只擦得晶亮的青铜管子观测天象，一边皱着眉头在记事本上涂涂写写。他看见哥哥罗柏在广场上练习剑术，手中拿着精钢打造的真正武器，个头比记忆中更要高壮。他看见在马房里工作的那个头脑简单的巨人阿多，轻而易举地把铁砧扛在肩上，仿佛常人举起稻束，送往铁匠密肯的锻炉。在神木林的深处，高大苍白的鱼梁木正对着黑水潭里的倒影沉思，树叶在冷风中作响。当它发觉布兰看着自己，它也自止水里抬起视线，定定地回望他。

   He looked east, and saw a galley racing across the waters of the Bite. He saw his mother sitting alone in a cabin, looking at a bloodstained knife on a table in front of her, as the rowers pulled at their oars and Ser Rodrik leaned across a rail, shaking and heaving. A storm was gathering ahead of them, a vast dark roaring lashed by lightning, but somehow they could not see it.

向东望，他看到一艘帆船乘风破浪，穿越咬人湾。他看见母亲独坐船舱，盯着面前桌上一把沾满血渍的尖刀。水手使劲划桨，罗德利克爵士靠着桅栏颤抖喘息。一阵暴风正在他们前方形成，一团怒吼的翻滚乌云，充满无边的雷霆电闪，但不知怎么的，他们却看不到。

   He looked south, and saw the great blue-green rush of the Trident. He saw his father pleading with the king, his face etched with grief. He saw Sansa crying herself to sleep at night, and he saw Arya watching in silence and holding her secrets hard in her heart. There were shadows all around them. One shadow was dark as ash, with the terrible face of a hound. Another was armored like the sun, golden and beautiful. Over them both loomed a giant in armor made of stone, but when he opened his visor, there was nothing inside but darkness and thick black blood.

他又向南望，只见三叉戟河的蓝绿河水奔涌浩荡，他看到父亲脸上刻满哀伤，正向国王苦苦哀求；看到大姐珊莎夜里哭着入眠；看到二姐艾莉亚静静地观望，把秘密藏在心中。他们全被黑影所笼罩，其中一个暗影黑如灰烬，还有张猎犬般恐怖的脸，另一个则全身耀眼金甲，美丽宛如阳光。他们之后站着一个身穿石甲的巨人，更为高壮，当他揭开面罩，里面空空如也，惟有无尽的幽暗和浓浓的黑血。

   He lifted his eyes and saw clear across the narrow sea, to the Free Cities and the green Dothraki sea and beyond, to Vaes Dothrak under its mountain, to the fabled lands of the Jade Sea, to Asshai by the Shadow, where dragons stirred beneath the sunrise.

抬起眼，他的视线越过狭海，清晰地望向自由贸易城邦及彼方宛如绿色汪洋的多斯拉克草原，望向峰峦脚下的维斯·多斯拉克，望向玉海的传奇之地，望向亚夏之外的阴影之地，魔龙正在那里初曙的旭日下蠢蠢欲动。

   Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived. North and north and north he looked, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond that curtain. He looked deep into the heart of winter, and then he cried out, afraid, and the heat of his tears burned on his cheeks.

　　最后他向北望去，看到闪亮如蓝色水晶的绝境长城，看到私生子哥哥琼恩孤独地睡在冰冷的床上，温暖和热度的记忆渐渐消逝，皮肤也随之苍白坚实。他眺望长城之外，视线穿过无边无际、白雪覆盖的森林，越过结冻的河岸，广阔的蓝白冰河，以及不见任何活物踪迹的死寂冰原。他不断朝北望，望向世界尽头的光幕，然后穿过那层光幕，朝寒冬之心看去，这时，他不禁害怕得叫出声来，滚烫的泪水在两颊灼灼发热。

   Now you know, the crow whispered as it sat on his shoulder. Now you know why you must live.

现在你知道了吧？乌鸦端坐在他肩膀上悄声道，现在你知道为什么要活下去了吧？

   “Why?” Bran said, not understanding, falling, falling.

“为什么？”布兰不解地问，仍旧不停地往下掉，往下掉。

   Because winter is coming.

因为凛冬将至。

   Bran looked at the crow on his shoulder, and the crow looked back. It had three eyes, and the third eye was full of a terrible knowledge. Bran looked down. There was nothing below him now but snow and cold and death, a frozen wasteland where jagged blue-white spires of ice waited to embrace him. They flew up at him like spears. He saw the bones of a thousand other dreamers impaled upon their points. He was desperately afraid.

布兰看看肩膀上的乌鸦，乌鸦也看着他。它原来有三只眼睛，第三只眼里充满一种恐怖的知识。布兰再度下望，如今下方空无一物，惟有冰雪、寒冷和死亡，在一片冰冻的荒原上，插满了锯齿状的蓝白冰针，正等着拥抱他。它们如飞矛般朝他射来，他看到上面挂满成千个做梦人的枯骨，一阵绝望的恐惧笼罩了他。

   “Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?” he heard his own voice saying, small and far away.

“人在恐惧的时候还能勇敢吗？”他听见自己细小邈远的声音这么说。

   And his father’s voice replied to him. “That is the only time a man can be brave.”

随后父亲的声音回答道：“人惟有恐惧的时候方能勇敢。”

   Now, Bran, the crow urged. Choose. Fly or die.

　就是现在，布兰，乌鸦催促，你得做出抉择，若是不飞，就只有摔死一途。

   Death reached for him, screaming.

死亡厉声尖叫着朝他伸出魔爪。

   Bran spread his arms and flew.

布兰伸展手臂，飞了。

   Wings unseen drank the wind and filled and pulled him upward. The terrible needles of ice receded below him. The sky opened up above. Bran soared. It was better than climbing. It was better than anything. The world grew small beneath him.

看不见的翅膀饱饮长风，充满空气，将他带往高处。下方可怕的冰针逐渐消退，天顶苍穹豁然开朗。布兰展翅翱翔，这感觉比爬墙还棒，比任何事都棒。他下面的世界越来越小。

   “I’m flying!” he cried out in delight.

“我会飞了！”他开心地叫道。

   I’ve noticed, said the three-eyed crow. It took to the air, flapping its wings in his face, slowing him, blinding him. He faltered in the air as its pinions beat against his cheeks. Its beak stabbed at him fiercely, and Bran felt a sudden blinding pain in the middle of his forehead, between his eyes.

我知道，三眼乌鸦说。它振翅而飞，翅膀拍打着他的脸颊，减缓他的速度，遮蔽他的视线。他不由得在空中摇摆不定。乌鸦的尖喙狠狠啄进他额头中央，两眼之间的地方，布兰突然觉得一阵尖锐的疼痛。

   “What are you doing?” he shrieked.

“你干什么？”他尖叫道。

   The crow opened its beak and cawed at him, a shrill scream of fear, and the grey mists shuddered and swirled around him and ripped away like a veil, and he saw that the crow was really a woman, a serving woman with long black hair, and he knew her from somewhere, from Winterfell, yes, that was it, he remembered her now, and then he realized that he was in Winterfell, in a bed high in some chilly tower room, and the black-haired woman dropped a basin of water to shatter on the floor and ran down the steps, shouting, “He’s awake, he’s awake, he’s awake.”

乌鸦张嘴对他嘎嘎叫，那是充满恐惧的刺耳呐喊，随后原本笼罩他的灰雾突然开始颤抖旋转，如同布幔被一把掀开，他这才发现那只乌鸦赫然是个满头黑发的女侍。他好像在什么地方见过她，在临冬城里见过她，对，是这样没错，这下他记起她了。接着他明白自己正是身在临冬城，在某个寒冷高塔房间里的床上，而那个黑发女人失手把一盆水掉在地上。她顾不上摔破的盆子，径自奔下楼梯，一边高喊：“他醒了！他醒了！他醒过来啦！”

   Bran touched his forehead, between his eyes. The place where the crow had pecked him was still burning, but there was nothing there, no blood, no wound. He felt weak and dizzy. He tried to get out of bed, but nothing happened.

布兰摸摸双眼之间，刚才乌鸦啄的地方还热辣辣的，但额头上却没有任何痕迹，既没有流血也没有伤口。他觉得虚弱又晕眩，试着想下床，却动弹不得。

   And then there was movement beside the bed, and something landed lightly on his legs. He felt nothing. A pair of yellow eyes looked into his own, shining like the sun. The window was open and it was cold in the room, but the warmth that came off the wolf enfolded him like a hot bath. His pup, Bran realized?.?.?.?or was it? He was so big now. He reached out to pet him, his hand trembling like a leaf.

就在这时，床边有了动静，有个东西轻轻跳上他的双脚，用一双黄澄澄、像是闪亮太阳般的眸子看进他的眼睛。窗子敞开，屋里很冷，但狼传来的暖意却像热水澡一般包围住他。布兰方才明白这是他的小狼……真的吗？他长得好大了。他伸出落叶般颤抖的手摸摸他。

   When his brother Robb burst into the room, breathless from his dash up the tower steps, the direwolf was licking Bran’s face. Bran looked up calmly. “His name is Summer,” he said.

等到哥哥罗柏三步并作两步跑上高塔，上气不接下气地冲进房间时，冰原狼正舔着布兰的脸。布兰抬起头，一脸安详地说：“我要叫它‘夏天’。”