Игра престолов

Tyrion

           SerRodriktossedJyckhisswordandscabbard,andwheeledtomeetthefoe.Morrechelpedhimselftoabowandquiver,andwenttoonekneebesidetheroad.Hewasabetterarcherthanswordsman.AndBronnrodeuptoofferTyrionadouble-bladedaxe.

           "Ihaveneverfoughtwithanaxe."Theweaponfeltawkwardandunfamiliarinhishands.Ithadashorthaft,aheavyhead,anastyspikeontop.

           "Pretendyou’resplittinglogs,"Bronnsaid,drawinghislongswordfromthescabbardacrosshisback.Hespat,andtrottedofftoformupbesideChiggenandSerRodrik.SerWillismounteduptojointhem,fumblingwithhishelmet,ametalpotwithathinslitforhiseyesandalongblacksilkplume.

           "Logsdon’tbleed,"Tyrionsaidtonooneinparticular.Hefeltnakedwithoutarmor.HelookedaroundforarockandranovertowhereMarillionwashiding."Moveover."

           "Goaway!"theboyscreamedbackathim."I’masinger,Iwantnopartofthisfight!"

           "What,lostyourtasteforadventure?"Tyrionkickedattheyouthuntilheslidover,andnotamomenttoosoon.Aheartbeatlater,theriderswereonthem.

           Therewerenoheralds,nobanners,nohornsnordrums,onlythetwangofbowstringsasMorrecandLharysletfly,andsuddenlytheclansmencamethunderingoutofthedawn,leandarkmeninboiledleatherandmismatchedarmor,faceshiddenbehindbarredhalfhelms.Inglovedhandswereclutchedallmannerofweapons:longswordsandlancesandsharpenedscythes,spikedclubsanddaggersandheavyironmauls.

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