Well, his raven squawked. "Well." “好吧？”他的乌鸦呱呱叫，“好吧？”

　　I am, my lord, Jon lied... loudly, as if that could make it true. "And you?" “大人，我很好。”琼恩撒了谎……还特意大声，仿佛这样可让谎言成真。“您呢？”

　　Mormont frowned. "A dead man tried to kill me. How well could I be?" 莫尔蒙又是眉头一皱。“有个死人想杀我，你觉得我能好到哪里去？”

　　He scratched under his chin. 他抓了抓下巴。

　　His shaggy grey beard had been singed in the fire, and he'd hacked it off. 由于长长的灰胡子被火烧到，他便把胡子给割了。

　　The pale stubble of his new whiskers made him look old, disreputable, and grumpy. 新长出来的白色短须使他看起来不仅丑陋了些，老上许多，更显得脾气暴躁。

　　"You do not look well. How is your hand?" “说实话，你的气色不太好，手怎么样了？”

　　Healing. Jon flexed his bandaged fingers to show him. “正在复原。”琼恩动动自己绑了绷带的手指给他看。

　　He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. 扔那堆窗帘所带来的灼伤比他预期中严重许多，现在他的右手臂缠满了丝绷带，一直绑到手肘。

　　At the time he'd felt nothing; the agony had come after. 当时他一点感觉也没有，之后才开始疼痛。

　　His cracked red skin oozed fluid, and fearsome blood blisters rose between his fingers, big as roaches. 他裂开的红皮肤内流出液体，一个个吓人的充血水泡布满指间，大得像蟑螂似的。

　　"The maester says I'll have scars, but otherwise the hand should be as good as it was before." “学士说会留下疤痕，但除此之外应该没有大碍。”

　　A scarred hand is nothing. On the Wall, you'll be wearing gloves often as not. “手上有疤没关系，在长城这儿，你大多时候都会戴手套。”

　　As you say, my lord. It was not the thought of scars that troubled Jon; it was the rest of it. “大人，您说的是。”困扰琼恩的不是疤痕，而是其他的部分。