yegorische: переводы

→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.

→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.

→LOOK DOWN!

→“I’m afraid . . . ”

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

→“I’m falling !”

→You’re flying tight now .

→“I can’t fly!”

→Teaching you how to fly .

→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.

→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.

→Bran screamed.

→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.

→There are different kinds of wings , the crow said.

→Bran felt along his shoulders, groping for feathers.

→Maybe you do too .

→“You have wings,” Bran pointed out.

→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.

→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.

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