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Jon
琼恩
Sam? Jon called softly.
“山姆？”琼恩轻声唤道。
The air smelled of paper and dust and years. Before him, tall wooden shelves rose up into dimness, crammed with leatherbound books and bins of ancient scrolls. A faint yellow glow filtered through the stacks from some hidden lamp. Jon blew out the taper he carried, preferring not to risk an open flame amidst so much old dry paper. Instead he followed the light, wending his way down the narrow aisles beneath barrel-vaulted ceilings. All in black, he was a shadow among shadows, dark of hair, long of face, grey of eye. Black moleskin gloves covered his hands; the right because it was burned, the left because a man felt half a fool wearing only one glove.
空气里弥漫着陈年积灰和腐朽纸张的味道。在他面前是一座座高大的木书架，顶端没入黑暗，架上堆满了皮面装订的书册，以及一箱一箱的古老卷轴。在房间某处有一盏油灯，微弱的黄光从书堆中渗透出来。这里到处都是老旧纸张，为避免引火，琼恩吹熄了手中蜡烛，跟随灯光，在拱形天花板下的狭窄过道里穿梭。他一身黑衣、一头黑发、一张长脸，一双灰眼，彷佛是黑暗中的阴影。他连双手都戴着黑色鼹鼠皮手套：右手是因为灼伤未愈，左手则是因为手套戴一边显得很可笑。
Samwell Tarly sat hunched over a table in a niche carved into the stone of the wall. The glow came from the lamp hung over his head. He looked up at the sound of Jon's steps.
山姆威尔·塔利弓着背，坐在一张嵌进石墙壁龛里的桌子边。光线便是来源于悬挂他头顶的一盏油灯。他听见琼恩的脚步声，抬起头来。
Have you been here all night?
“你整晚都在这儿？”
Have I? Sam looked startled.
“真的？”山姆似乎很惊讶。
You didn't break your fast with us, and your bed hadn't been slept in. Rast suggested that maybe Sam had deserted, but Jon never believed it. Desertion required its own sort of courage, and Sam had little enough of that.
“你没来和我们吃早餐，你的床也没有睡过的痕迹。”雷斯特认为山姆弃营逃跑，但琼恩不相信。当逃兵总还需要一点勇气，而山姆是连那点勇气也没有的。
Is it morning? Down here there's no way to know.
“已经早上了吗？在这下面没法知道时间。”
