【读你所爱，呵护你的心灵；掌握英语，打开你的第三只眼】
[丹尼紧跟在后面，逞强。她大声地对自己说：“我是龙的血，我是龙的血，我是龙的血！”龙永远不会害怕。】
【“我是龙之血，”她在后面低声说，试图鼓起勇气。“我是龙的血。我是龙的血脉。”龙从不害怕。】
【如何学习拼读和记住英语中的人名和地名】
首先，我举两个我们学习英文名时常见的错误或误解：
凯撒大帝(Julius Caesar)，英文发音为[dulis si:zr]，不发凯撒大帝音(凯撒的发音可能来自拉丁语，但不是英文发音)。
Belarus:英语应该读，不应该翻译成白俄罗斯语(我曾经以为白俄罗斯的英语就是白俄，这就是英文名字意译的危害)。
正如我以前说过的，我们在英语学习中的一个挑战是很难理解英语中的名字和地点。原因之一是我们习惯于将英文单词翻译成我们所熟悉的中文名称，而英文中的大多数名称和地名(包括英美国家和非英美国家的名称)在中文中没有对应。
英语是一种语音语言。所谓表音语言，就是一个发音音节对应一个唯一的录音符号，所以你说的就是你写的。世界上大部分语言都是表音语言，但是随着不同民族文化的融合，纯粹一对一的表音语言越来越少。所以有些人说的英语不是表音语言。这种观点主要是英语教师的观点。从语言学上讲，英语绝对是一种语音语言，即单词是口语的发音记录。换句话说，英语单词本身就具有语音性质。但是，很多时候，我们忽略了英语单词的语音本质，主要依靠国际音标来学习英语发音。
什么是国际音标？
国际音标出现在19世纪末。其初衷是为所有人类语言建立一个标准的发音体系。从理论上讲，如果各国语言都采用国际音标对本国语言进行注音，外国人就可以很方便地学习各种语言。而人类世界与理论世界相距甚远，所以目前国际音标的主要使用者是外语(英语)学生、外语教师、语言学家和语言学学术研究人员。
国际音标(IPA)并没有像协会希望的那样成为大多数语言的音标/拼音系统。只有一些英国英语词典采用国际音标，而大多数美国英语词典不采用。大多数英国人和美国人通过传统的拼音方法学习新单词的发音。
国际音标对我们初学者学习英语非常重要，可以学习英语字母组合的基本发音规则。但是，一旦知道了这个规律，就要脱离国际音标，学会通过拼单词来练习发音。只有这样，你才能达到能读会拼的境界。这样才能彻底摆脱背单词的情况。背单词的人通常不会发音，不知道发音和拼写的关系。他们通常背诵字母组合加中文。
在火与冰系列中，乔治RR马丁不仅为多斯拉克人创造了一个全新的世界，一个全新的国家，更是一个全新的名字，甚至是一种全新的语言。因此，本书中出现的人名发音，必须按照音标语言的基本拼写规则拼写。一个有趣的现象是，正因为如此，从作者的角度，从HBO美剧的角度，从语言学家的角度，书中创造的许多人物的名字都有不同的发音。
以下是书中部分字符的国际音标(IPA)和发音。
[本节简介]
在这本书的前几章，布兰曾经问过他的父亲，“如果一个人害怕了，他还能勇敢吗？”他的父亲回答说：“只有在这个时候，人们才能勇敢，”他的父亲告诉他。【“一个人害怕了还能勇敢吗？”“那是一个人唯一可以勇敢的时候，”他的父亲告诉他。】
《火与冰》第一本书的很大一部分讲述了这些未来英雄曾经面临的恐惧和害怕。
龙母丹妮莉丝也许是美剧《权力的游戏》中最英雄的角色之一，而在这里，你可以看到她在童年时面对的最多的恐惧和害怕。在这一章里，她只有十三岁。
[刘博士翻译]
丹妮莉丝坦格利安和卓戈酋长在潘托斯外的荒野中结婚，这既让她感到害怕，也让她感受到一种野性的美。多斯拉克人有这种信仰，男人一辈子都是这么做的。
有的重要事件都必须在苍天之下光明磊落地进行。Drogo邀请了他的整个部落来参加他的婚礼，所有的族人都来了，包括四万名Dothrak的武士以及难以计数的妇女、儿童还有奴隶们。他们带着他们巨大的牧群在Pentos城外驻扎下来，他们用草编织成了巨大的宫殿，还把看得见的能吃的都给吃了，这让Pentos城里的那些上等人一天比一天担心害怕。
婚礼前的一个晚上，在Drogo族长城里大宅子的晚宴上，Illyrio一边享用着一盘盘的蜂蜜烤鸭和橘子汁拌甜椒，一边对对在座的人说：“我们城里的其他几位市政官已经把城市守卫的数量增加了一倍。”族长已将大宅子交给了Daenerys和她的哥哥在婚前居住，他自己则和他的族人住在了一起，。
Jorah Mormont爵士打趣道：“我们还是让Daenerys公主快快成婚为好，否则的话，那帮人会把Pentos城一半的财富都花在那些雇佣兵骑士和亡命之徒身上的。”在Danny被她的哥哥卖给了 Drogo族长的那天晚上，这名流亡骑士向Danny的哥哥献上了自己的剑，以表效忠；Viserys毫不犹豫地接受了他。从那以后，Mormont就成为了他们的常客。
Illyrio大人透过他那分叉的胡须微微笑了一下，但是Viserys脸上没有一丝笑意。“如果族长高兴的话，他明天就可以要她，”Danny的哥哥说。他瞥了一眼Danny，Danny立刻垂下了眼睛，“只要他把该付的报酬付了就好。”
Illyrio懒洋洋地挥了挥手，他那肥大的手指上戒指闪闪发光。“我跟你说过啦，一切都搞定了。你要相信我。族长已经答应帮你夺回你的王冠，你会得到你的王冠的。”
“是呀，可会是什么时候呢？”
“当族长觉得时机到了的时候，”Illyrio说道。“他得先娶了公主，婚礼以后，族长还必须带着他的婚礼队伍一路穿过平原，把公主介绍给那些在Vaes Dolthrak都城的女长老们。也许会在那以后的某个时间，如果有战争的吉兆的话。”
Viserys咬牙切齿，他急不可待，“让Dothrak的吉兆见鬼去吧。篡位者还坐在我父亲的王位上呢。我究竟还要等多久？”
Illyrio耸了耸他那巨大的肩膀，“你已经等了有大半辈子了，我伟大的国王。你再多等几个月，或是多等几年，又有什么区别？”
Jorah骑士曾经东游到过都城Vaes Dothrak，他点头表示赞同。“陛下，我建议你要沉住气。Dothrak人是说话算数的民族，只不过他们会按照自己的时间节奏行事。势力弱的人可以向族长求助，但绝对不能随意指责他。”
Viserys怒气冲天，“Mormont，管好你的舌头，要不然我会把它给割掉的。我可不是势力弱的人，我是七国的真正帝王。龙是不会乞求他人的。”
Jorah爵士毕恭毕敬地垂下了眼睛。Illyrio露出一副难以捉摸的笑容，他从一盘烤鸭上撕下一只鸭翅， 细细咀嚼着那鲜嫩的鸭肉，蜜汁和油顺着他的手指流到了他的胡须上。“再也没有龙了！”Danny看着她的哥哥，心里想道，只是她不敢大声说出来。
然而，那天晚上她的确梦见了一条龙。Viserys又在打她，弄疼她。在梦中，她一丝不挂，她害怕极了，不知所措。她想逃开，但她的身体似乎又重又笨拙。他的拳头又落了下来，Danny一个趔趄摔倒在地。“你把龙给惹恼了，”他一边踢着Danny一边尖叫道，“你把龙给惹恼了，你把龙给惹恼了！”Danny的腿上满是鲜血。她闭上眼睛，低声抽泣着。这时，仿佛是报应一般，她听到了一种可怕的撕裂声和大火燃烧的噼啪声。当她再次望去时，Viserys已经不见了，巨大的火柱从她四周升起，火柱的中间是一条龙。龙慢慢地转过它那巨大的脑袋。当它那如同鎏金般的眼睛看着Danny的时候，Danny猛地醒了过来，她全身发抖，身上出了一层薄薄的汗。她从来没有这么害怕过…直到她的婚礼到来的那一天。
婚礼仪式是从天一亮就开始的，并一直持续到日落。那是极为漫长的一天，充斥着无休止的饮酒、吃肉以及角斗。在那用草编织成的宫殿里，人们又用泥土堆出了一个巨大的高台，Danny就坐在高台上Drogo族长的身边，台子底下是人山人海的Dothrak族人。Danny以前从未在一个地方见过这么多的人，也从未见过这么多奇奇怪怪让她害怕的人。那些马帮首领在造访自由城的时候，也许会穿上华丽的服饰，喷上浓浓的香水。然而在这广阔天空下的草原上，他们依旧保留了古老的传统。无论是男人还是女人，他们的上身都只穿一件染了色的皮背心，他们那用马鬃做成的绑腿上系着有青铜挂饰的束带；武士们用油脂坑里取来的油脂将他们长长的辫子抹得油光发亮。他们狼吞虎咽地吃着抹了蜂蜜和撒了胡椒的烤马肉，大口喝着发酵的马奶和Illyrio送来的美酒，并围着火堆彼此说着笑话。他们的声音在Danny耳中听起来既刺耳又陌生。
Viserys坐在Danny的高台下方，他身穿一件崭新华丽的黑色毛外套，外套胸前绣着一条鲜红的龙图案。他的身边是Illyrio和Jorah爵士。他们所坐的位置是专为贵宾准备的地方，就在高台上族长的血盟骑士座位的正下方，但是Danny从她哥哥那淡紫色的眼睛里可以看出他的愤怒。他对于自己坐在比妹妹要低的位置极不满意，每当奴隶们把一道菜先献给族长和他的新娘，再把他们所谢绝的菜端给他时，Viserys就满是愤怒。但他对此无能为力，他只能忍气吞声。他就这样堆积着他的郁闷，随着时间一点点地过去，每一次这样的侮辱都让他的心情愈加黑暗。
Danny坐在高台上的一大群人中间，可她从未像现在这样感到孤独。她的哥哥早就告诉她，要面带微笑，于是她就一直微笑着，直到她的脸笑得生疼，她的眼泪止不住地流进她的眼睛里。她竭尽全力地隐藏着自己的眼泪，她知道，要是Viserys看到她哭的话，他会多么生气；她也害怕，如果Drogo族长看见的话会是怎样的反应。奴隶们给她端来了各种食物，有热气腾腾的肉块、粗粗的黑香肠，还有Dothrak的传统血豆腐饼，后来又端上了水果、甜菜汤，以及Pentos城里厨房制作的精致糕点，但是Danny通通挥手拒绝了。她的肚子里已是翻江倒海，她知道自己是一点东西也咽不下去的。
她也没有其他人可以交谈。Drogo族长不时的向他的血盟骑士们下着命令或是开一些玩笑，或是听到他们的回答后哈哈大笑，但他几乎没有看一眼身边的Dany。他们说的是不同的语言， Danny完全听不懂Dothraki语，而族长只知道几句自由城里的下等人所说的Valyrian语言，他完全不会说七国中流行的通用语。Danny甚至情愿Illyrio和她的哥哥能和她说几句话，但是他们在台子下面太远了，没法听见Danny说话。
因此，Danny就这样身着婚纱坐在那里，慢慢地喝着她的蜂蜜红酒，她不敢吃东西，她默默地在心里与自己说话。她对自己说，我是龙的血脉，我是暴风之子Daenerys ，我是龙石岛的公主，我是征服者Aegon王的血统和后裔。
当太阳刚刚爬过天空中四分之一的距离时，Danny目睹了她的婚礼上第一个人丧命。一些女人正伴着鼓的节奏在为族长翩翩起舞。Drogo面无表情地观看着，但他的目光追随着她们的动作，并时不时地会往舞场中扔下一枚铜质挂饰，让舞蹈者去争抢。
武士们也在一旁观看着。终于，一名武士走进了舞场，他抓住一名舞者的胳膊把她推到在地，然后就像一匹公马骑一匹母马一样骑上了她。Illyrio事先警告过Danny，可能会有这样的事情发生，“Dothrak族人像他们所放养的动物一样交配。在他们的部落里没有隐私可言，他们不会像我们这样懂得什么是罪恶和羞耻。”
当Danny意识到发生了什么事的时候，她吓坏了，她赶紧把目光从这两人的身上挪开，但此时，第二名武士又走进了舞场，接着是第三个武士；没多久，Danny就无法将目光移向任何一个方向了。接下来，有两名武士都抓住了同一名舞者。Danny听到了一声叫喊，看见一个人被推搡了一下，一眨眼的功夫，两名武士都亮出了他们的Arakh马刀，那是一种长长的利刃，它一半像剑，另一半像镰刀。一场死亡之舞开始了。两名武士绕着圈子，不时挥出一刀，或是冲向对方，或是一边在头顶上挥舞着马刀，一边高声辱骂对手。周围没有一个人出来干预他们。
决斗的结束就如同开始一般迅速。两把Arakh马刀撞击着，抖动着，Danny看得眼花缭乱。其中一人脚下一个趔趄，而另一人则将他的马刀平平地挥舞出去。利刃砍在了Dothraki人腰部的上方，把他从脊柱到肚脐整个给切开了，他的内脏全都流到了地上。当失败者死亡之时，胜利者随手抓住了离他最近的一个女人，那甚至都不是他们为之争抢过的女人，然后将她按在了地上。奴隶们上前拖走了尸体，女人的舞蹈又重新开始了。
Illyrio大人也事先警告过Danny。他说，“在Dothrak人的一场婚礼上至少会有三人丧命，否则大家就会认为这是一场无趣的婚礼。”Danny的婚礼一定是受到特别恩宠的，因为在一天还未结束，就已经有十多个人丧命了。
随着时间一点点地过去，Danny心中的恐惧也越来越深，直到她只能强忍，才没有尖叫出来。她害怕这些Dothrak人，他们的行为看起来如此怪异而可怕，仿佛他们只是披着人皮的野兽，根本就算不上是真正的人。她也害怕她的哥哥，害怕如果自己辜负了他的话，他又会做出什么事来。她最为害怕的是，在今天晚上的星空下会发生什么事。她的哥哥已经把她拱手交给了这个坐在她身边喝酒的彪形大汉，而这个人的表情是如此平静而残忍，就如同一面青铜面具一般。
我是龙的血脉，Danny再次告诉自己。
终于，在夕阳西下时分，Drogo族长用两手使劲一拍，鼓声、叫喊声和饮酒作乐声嘎然而止。Drogo起身，然后把身边的Danny也拉着站起来。给新娘献礼的时候到了。
Danny知道，在献礼之后，当太阳下山时，就是她第一次完成她的婚礼的时间了。Danny努力让自己不去想它，却又无法摆脱这个念头。她紧紧抱住自己，不让自己发起抖来。
她的哥哥Viserys给她的礼物是三个女仆。Danny知道他哥哥没花一分钱。她们肯定都是Illyrio大人提供的。Irri和Jhiqui是有着紫铜色皮肤、乌黑的头发和杏仁般眼睛的Dothrak人，而Doreah则是一个金发蓝眼睛的Lysene族女孩。当三个女仆被一个个带到Danny面前时，她的哥哥告诉她，“亲爱的妹妹，这三人可不是一般的仆人，她们都是Illyrio和我亲自为你挑选的。Irri会教你骑马，Jhiqui会教你说Dothraki语，而Doreah会教你女人的爱术。”他微微一笑，“她非常棒，Illyrio和我敢向你发誓。”
Jorah Mormont爵士为自己所送的礼物感到愧疚，“我的公主，这区区小礼，是我这个潦倒的流亡骑士所能给予的全部了。”他一边说着，一边把一小摞旧书放在Danny面前。Danny看出，这些都是用通用语写成的七国的历史和歌谣。Danny由衷地感谢了他。
Illyrio大人低声吩咐下去，四个健壮的奴隶立刻走上前来，他们抬着一个巨大的用青铜绑着的松木箱子。Danny打开箱子，发现箱子里装的满满的都是产自于自由城的上好天鹅绒和织锦。在布匹的最顶层，包裹在柔软布料中的，是三个巨大的蛋。Danny简直是目瞪口呆。这是Danny所见过的最漂亮的东西了。每一只蛋都各不相同，它们表面的纹理色彩是如此浓郁，Danny一开始还以为表面上镶嵌着珠宝呢；每只蛋都那么大，Danny需要用双手才能捧住它。她小心翼翼地捧起一只，她本以为那一定是用某种细瓷或是精美的珐琅做成的，甚至也有可能是用玻璃吹成的。可这只蛋可比那要沉得多，仿佛它是由一块完整的石头打磨成的一样。蛋壳的表面覆盖有细小的鳞片，当她在手指间转动着这只蛋时，那些鳞片在夕阳下闪闪发光，就像是打磨得很亮的金属一样。一只蛋是深绿色的，它的表面上点缀着青铜色的斑点，当Danny转动它的时候，斑点时隐时现。另一只蛋是浅浅的乳白色，上面还有一丝丝金色的条纹；最后一只蛋是黑色的，漆黑得如同午夜的海水，然而上面那深红色的波纹和漩涡却赋予它一种有生命的感觉。“ 这是什么呀？”Danny声音沙哑得问道，她诧异不已。
“它们是龙蛋，它们来自于比Asshai城还要遥远的影子大陆（Shadow Lands），”Illyrio大人说道。“无尽的时间将它们都变成了石头，可是它们仍旧燃烧着美丽的光芒。”
“我会永远珍惜它们的。”Danny以前听过龙蛋的故事，但她却从来没有见到过，也没有想到过自己能够亲眼见到。这真的是一份奢华的礼物，不过她知道，Illyrio是花得起这样的大价钱的。他作为把Danny卖给Drogo族长这笔交易的中间人，因此从贩卖马匹和奴隶交易上赚了一大笔钱。
族长的血盟骑士们送给她的是部落传统的三件兵器，那些武器都非常漂亮。Haggo送给她的是一条手柄镶有银饰的马鞭；Cohollo送给她的是一把精美的arakh马刀，刀身上还嵌有金子，Qotho送给她的是一张用龙骨做成的比Danny还要高的弯弓。Illyrio和Jorah爵士事前已经教过她如何用传统的方式拒绝这些礼物了：“oh，我那比我的血还要亲的血盟兄弟啊，这是一件只有伟大的勇士才配得上的礼物，而我只是一个女人而已。让我的丈夫大人代替我接受这些礼物吧。”所以 Drogo族长也收到了他的“新娘礼物”。
Danny还收到了其他Dothrak族人献上的众多礼物：有软鞋、珠宝和头上戴的银发环，带有铜饰的腰带、染成各色的背心，以及柔软的皮草，沙绸、香罐、针线，还有羽毛和紫色玻璃小瓶，以及一件用一千张老鼠皮缝制成的长袍。“这真是一件漂亮的礼物，我的族长夫人（Khaleesi），”Illyrio大人给Danny介绍了这最后一件礼物以后，说道，“你真是太幸运了。”送给Danny的礼物如一座座小山堆积在她的周围，她从来没有想象过会有这么多的礼物，比她想要的或是能用的还要多。
最后， Drogo族长献上了他为自己的新娘准备的礼物。当他离开Danny身边去取礼物的时候，一阵期盼的肃静从营地中央扩散开来，直到整个营地都陷入一片宁静。当族长返回时，那挤得密密麻麻的Dothrak族人在他面前让出一条路来，他把马儿牵到了Danny的面前。
那是一匹年轻的母马，她精神焕发，光彩夺目。Danny对马的了解有限，但即便这样，她也知道这不是一匹普通的马。这匹马的身上有一种摄人心魄的魅力。她通体是灰色的，就像是冬天的海水一般，她的鬃毛犹如一片银色的烟雾。
Danny犹疑地伸出手去，她抚摸着马的脖子，银色的鬃毛从她的手指尖滑落。 Drogo族长用Dothraki语说了些什么，Illyrio大人翻译道，“族长说，那银色的鬃毛和你的银发很相配。”
“她真漂亮，”丹妮喃喃地说道。
“这匹马是这个族群的骄傲，”Illyrio又说，“他们的习俗是，族长夫人的坐骑一定要与她在族长身边的位置相配才行。”
Drogo走上前去，他用手抱住Danny的腰，把Danny像小孩子一样轻松地举了起来，并把她放在那薄薄的马鞍上，Dothrak人用的这种马鞍比她以前坐过的马鞍要小许多。Danny坐在马背上，不知道如何是好。之前没有人给她讲过这一部分。“我该做什么呢？”她问Illyrio。
Jorah Mormont爵士回答了她，“抓住缰绳，开始骑吧，你不用走太远的。”
Danny紧张地用手抓住缰绳，然后将双脚伸进那短短的马镫。她只是一个技术平平的骑手，她在旅途中的大多数时间乘坐的是船、客运马车或是轿子，而不是骑马。她祈祷着，希望自己不会摔下来出丑，然后，她用双膝轻轻地、最胆怯地碰了一下她的马。
然后，在这漫长的一天里，也许是在她一生的时间里，她第一次忘记了害怕。
那匹银灰色的马儿步履如丝绸一般平稳而轻盈，她前方的人群为她让出一条路来，每个人的目光都落在她和她的马身上。Danny发现，马儿的步伐比她预想的要快，可不知什么原因，这并没有使她恐惧，反而使她兴奋起来。马儿开始一阵小跑，Danny的脸上终于露出了笑容。Dothrak族人手忙脚乱地让开一条路。Danny只需要用腿轻轻地一夹，或是轻轻地摆动一下缰绳，马儿就会立刻做出回应。她让马儿快跑起来，现在Dothrak族人一边跑着让路，一边给她喝彩，或是大笑或是叫喊。当她调转马头往回骑的时候，她看见前面有一个巨大的火坑，火坑就在道路的正前方。Danny和马被两边的人群夹在中间，她也来不及停下马来。Daenerys的心中不知从哪里鼓起了一种她从未有过的勇敢，她让她的马儿继续向前奔跑。
银色的马儿从火焰中一跃而过，就如同她长了翅膀一般。
当Danny在Illyrio面前勒住她的马时，她说：“请告诉Drogo族长，他把风带给了我。”这个肥胖的Pentos人一边用Dothraki语重复着Danny的话，一边若有所思地捋着他的黄胡子。Danny看到，她的新婚丈夫第一次露出了笑容。
就在这时，最后一缕阳光消失在西边Pentos城那高高的城墙后面。Danny没有意识到时间过得那么快。 Drogo族长吩咐他的血盟骑士把他自己的马也牵了过来，那是一匹瘦而结实的红色种马。就在族长给他的马备马鞍的时候，Viserys偷偷地挤到了骑在马上的Danny身边，他用手指使劲地戳着Danny的腿，一边说：“一定要让他满意，我亲爱的妹妹，否则，我向你发誓，我会让你看到这条龙从未有过的怒火。”
听到她哥哥的这些话，恐惧又重回Danny的心中。她又一次感到了自己只是一个孩子，一个只有十三岁的孤零零的孩子，她还没有准备好去面对那即将发生在她身上的事情。
当星星出来的时候，Danny和族长一起骑马出发了，族人和草宫殿都落在了他们身后。 Drogo族长一言不发，只是驱赶着他的马儿，朝着暮色深处奔去。他那长辫子上的银色铃铛在风中轻轻作响。 Danny一边在后面紧跟着，一边努力让自己勇敢起来，她大声对自己说，“我是龙的血脉，我是龙的血脉，我是龙的血脉！”龙是永远不会害怕的。
这之后，她也不知道他们骑了有多远，或是骑了有多久，但是，当他们在一条小溪边的草地上停下来时，天已是一片漆黑。Drogo族长从马背上一跃而下，然后又将Danny从她的马背上抱了下来。Danny觉得，自己在Drogo的手中脆弱得就像是玻璃一样，四肢柔弱得如同水一般。当Drogo去把马儿拴好的时候，Danny穿着她的婚纱站在那里，她全身发着抖，她是那样的无助。当Drogo转过身看着她的时候，她开始痛哭起来。
Drogo族长盯着她脸上的眼泪，他的脸上丝毫没有表情。“不，”他说道。Drogo伸出手来，用他那满是老茧的拇指粗鲁地擦去Danny脸上的眼泪。
“你会说通用语！”Danny吃惊地说道。
“不，”Drogo又重复着那个字。
也许他只知道那一个字，Danny想，不过，即便是这一个字也让Danny觉得，她对Drogo的了解又多了一些，这让Danny莫名地觉得好受了一些。Drogo轻轻地触摸着她的头发，他的手指从Danny那一缕缕的银中带金的头发中滑落下来，同时用Dothraki语轻声地喃喃自语。Danny听不懂这些话，但她从他的语调中能够感到温暖，一种她从未想到过这个男人也会有的温柔。
Drogo又将手指放在Danny的下巴上，把她的头抬起来，这样Danny就可以仰望他的眼睛。Drogo比所有的人个子都要高，他在Danny面前就更显得高大了。他用两手抱着Danny的腋下，把她举起来，然后让她坐在溪边的一块圆圆的石头上。接着，他在Danny的对面盘腿坐在了地上。这样，他们两人的脸终于在一个高度了。“不，”他又说道。
“你就知道这一个词吗？”Danny问他。
Drogo没有作答。他那长长的、厚实的辫子在他身边的地上盘成了一团。Drogo把辫子拉到他右方的肩旁前，然后开始一个一个地把铃铛从头发上解下来。过了一会儿，Danny也弯下身来帮助他。在解完了所有的铃铛以后，Drogo做了个手势。Danny明白了他的意思。她开始慢慢地、小心地解开他的辫子。
Danny用了很长的时间才解开了Drogo所有的辫子。而这段时间里，Drogo就一直静静地坐在那里看着她。辫子解开以后，Drogo摆了摆头，他的头发就像一条黑暗的河流一般在身后垂了下来，发丝油亮亮的。Danny以前从未见过这么长，这么黑，又这么厚的头发。
现在轮到Drogo了。
（此后省略500个字）。
【英语原文】
A Song of Ice and Fire
Book One: Game of Thrones: Daenerys
Daenerys Targaryen wed Khal Drogo with fear and barbaric splendor in a field beyond the walls of Pentos, for the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man’s life must be done beneath the open sky.
Drogo had called his khalasar to attend him and they had come, forty thousand Dothraki warriors and uncounted numbers of women, children, and slaves. Outside the city walls they camped with their vast herds, raising palaces of woven grass, eating everything in sight, and making the good folk of Pentos more anxious with every passing day.
“My fellow magisters; have doubled the size of the city guard,” Illyrio told them over platters of honey duck and orange snap peppers one night at the manse that had been Drogo’s. The khal had joined his khalasar, his estate given over to Daenerys and her brother until the wedding.
“Best we get Princess Daenerys wedded quickly before they hand half the wealth of Pentos away to sellswords and bravos,” Ser Jorah Mormont jested. The exile had offered her brother his sword the night Dany had been sold to Khal Drogo; Viserys had accepted eagerly. Mormont had been their constant companion ever since.
Magister Illyrio laughed lightly through his forked beard, but Viserys did not so much as smile. “He can have her tomorrow, if he likes,” her brother said. He glanced over at Dany, and she lowered her eyes. “So long as he pays the price.”
Illyrio waved a languid hand in the air, rings glittering on his fat fingers. “I have told you, all is settled. Trust me. The khal has promised you a crown, and you shall have it.”
“Yes, but when?”
“When the khal chooses,” Illyrio said. “He will have the girl first, and after they are wed he must make his procession across the plains and present her to the dosh khaleen at Vaes Dolthrak. After that, perhaps. If the omens favor war.”
Viserys seethed with impatience. “I piss on Dothraki omens. The Usurper sits on my father’s throne. How long must I wait?”
Illyrio gave a massive shrug. “You have waited most of your life, great king. What is another few months, another few years?”
Ser Jorah, who had traveled as far east as Vaes Dothrak, nodded in agreement. “I counsel you to be patient, Your Grace. The Dothraki are true to their word, but they do things in their own time. A lesser man may beg a favor from the khal, but must never presume to berate him.”
Viserys bristled. “Guard your tongue, Mormont, or I’ll have it out. I am no lesser man, I am the rightful Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The dragon does not beg.”
Ser Jorah lowered his eyes respectfully. Illyrio smiled enigmatically and tore a wing from the duck. Honey and grease ran over his fingers and dripped down into his beard as he nibbled at the tender meat. There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.
Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid . . . until the day of her wedding came at last.
The ceremony began at dawn and continued until dusk, an endless day of drinking and feasting and fighting. A mighty earthen ramp had been raised amid the grass palaces, and there Dany was seated beside Khal Drogo, above the seething sea of Dothraki. She had never seen so many people in one place, nor people so strange and frightening. The horselords might put on rich fabrics and sweet perfumes when they visited the Free Cities, but out under the open sky they kept the old ways. Men and women alike wore painted leather vests over bare chests and horsehair leggings cinched by bronze medallion belts, and the warriors greased their long braids with fat from the rendering pits. They gorged themselves on horseflesh roasted with honey and peppers, drank themselves blind on fermented mare’s milk and Illyrio’s fine wines, and spat jests at each other across the fires, their voices harsh and alien in Dany’s ears.
Viserys was seated just below her, splendid in a new black wool tunic with a scarlet dragon on the chest. Illyrio and Ser Jorah sat beside him. Theirs was a place of high honor, just below the khal’s own bloodriders, but Dany could see the anger in her brother’s lilac eyes. He did not like sitting beneath her, and he fumed when the slaves offered each dish first to the khal and his bride, and served him from the portions they refused. He could do nothing but nurse his resentment, so nurse it he did, his mood growing blacker by the hour at each insult to his person.
Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down.
There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, and laughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language. Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even have welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.
So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself. I am blood of the dragon, she told herself. I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror.
The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die. Drums were beating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyes followed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for the women to fight over.
The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare. Illyrio had told her that might happen. “The Dothraki mate like the animals in their herds. There is no privacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do.”
Dany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but a second warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was no way to avert her eyes. Then two men seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhs were out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe. A dance of death began as the warriors circled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shrieking insults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere.
It ended as quickly as it began. The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, one man missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc. Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki’s waist, and opened him from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust. As the loser died, the winner took hold of the nearest woman-not even the one they had been quarreling over-and had her there and then. Slaves carried off the body, and the dancing resumed.
Magister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. “A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair,” he had said. Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before the day was over, a dozen men had died.
As the hours passed, the terror grew in Dany, until it was all she could do not to scream. She was afraid of the Dothraki, whose ways seemed alien and monstrous, as if they were beasts in human skins and not true men at all. She was afraid of her brother, of what he might do if she failed him. Most of all, she was afraid of what would happen tonight under the stars, when her brother gave her up to the hulking giant who sat drinking beside her with a face as still and cruel as a bronze mask.
I am the blood of the dragon, she told herself again.
When at last the sun was low in the sky, Khal Drogo clapped his hands together, and the drums and the shouting and feasting came to a sudden halt. Drogo stood and pulled Dany to her feet beside him. It was time for her bride gifts.
And after the gifts, she knew, after the sun had gone down, it would be time for the first ride and the consummation of her marriage. Dany tried to put the thought aside, but it would not leave her. She hugged herself to try to keep from shaking.
Her brother Viserys gifted her with three handmaids. Dany knew they had cost him nothing; Illyrio no doubt had provided the girls. Irri and Jhiqui were copper-skinned Dothraki with black hair and almondshaped eyes, Doreah a fair-haired, blue-eyed Lysene girl. “These are no common servants, sweet sister,” her brother told her as they were brought forward one by one. “Illyrio and I selected them personally for you. Irri will teach you riding, Jhiqui the Dothraki tongue, and Doreah will instruct you in the womanly arts of love.” He smiled thinly. “She’s very good, Illyrio and I can both swear to that.”
Ser Jorah Mormont apologized for his gift. “It is a small thing, my princess, but all a poor exile could afford,” he said as he laid a small stack of old books before her. They were histories and songs of the Seven Kingdoms, she saw, written in the Common Tongue. She thanked him with all her heart.
Magister Illyrio murmured a command, and four burly slaves hurried forward, bearing between them a great cedar chest bound in bronze. When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce . . . and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. Dany gasped. They were the most beautiful things she had ever seen, each different than the others, patterned in such rich colors that at first she thought they were crusted with jewels, and so large it took both of her hands to hold one. She lifted it delicately, expecting that it would be made of some fine porcelain or delicate enamel, or even blown glass, but it was much heavier than that, as if it were all of solid stone. The surface of the shell was covered with tiny scales, and as she turned the egg between her fingers, they shimmered like polished metal in the light of the setting sun. One egg was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how Dany turned it. Another was pale cream streaked with gold. The last was black, as black as a midnight sea, yet alive with scarlet ripples and swirls. “What are they?” she asked, her voice hushed and full of wonder.
“Dragon’s eggs, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai,” said Magister Illyrio. “The eons have turned them to stone, yet still they burn bright with beauty.”
“I shall treasure them always.” Dany had heard tales of such eggs, but she had never seen one, nor thought to see one. It was a truly magnificent gift, though she knew that Illyrio could afford to be lavish. He had collected a fortune in horses and slaves for his part in selling her to Khal Drogo.
The khal’s bloodriders offered her the traditional three weapons, and splendid weapons they were. Haggo gave her a great leather whip with a silver handle; Cohollo a magnificent arakh chased in gold, and Qotho a double-curved dragonbone bow taller than she was. Magister Illyrio and Ser Jorah had taught her the traditional refusals for these offerings. “This is a gift worthy of a great warrior, O blood of my blood, and I am but a woman. Let my lord husband bear these in my stead.” And so Khal Drogo too received his “bride gifts.”
Other gifts she was given in plenty by other Dothraki: slippers and jewels and silver rings for her hair, medallion belts and painted vests and soft furs, sandsilks and jars of scent, needles and feathers and tiny bottles of purple glass, and a gown made from the skin of a thousand mice. “A handsome gift, Khaleesi,” Magister Illyrio said of the last, after he had told her what it was. “Most lucky.” The gifts mounted up around her in great piles, more gifts than she could possibly imagine, more gifts than she could want or use.
And last of all, Khal Drogo brought forth his own bride gift to her. An expectant hush rippled out from the center of the camp as he left her side, growing until it had swallowed the whole khalasar. When he returned, the dense press of Dothraki gift-givers parted before him, and he led the horse to her.
She was a young filly, spirited and splendid. Dany knew just enough about horses to know that this was no ordinary animal. There was something about her that took the breath away. She was grey as the winter sea, with a mane like silver smoke.
Hesitantly she reached out and stroked the horse’s neck, ran her fingers through the silver of her mane. Khal Drogo said something in Dothraki and Magister Illyrio translated. “Silver for the silver of your hair, the khal says.”
“She’s beautiful,” Dany murmured.
“She is the pride of the khalasar, “ Illyrio said. “Custom decrees that the khaleesi must ride a mount worthy of her place by the side of the Khal “
Drogo stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her up as easily as if she were a child and set her on the thin Dothraki saddle, so much smaller than the ones she was used to. Dany sat there uncertain for a moment. No one had told her about this part. “What should I do?” she asked Illyrio.
It was Ser Jorah Mormont who answered. “Take the reins and ride. You need not go far.”
Nervously Dany gathered the reins. in her hands and slid her feet into the short stirrups. She was only a fair rider; she had spent far more time traveling by ship and wagon and palanquin than by horseback. Praying that she would not fall off and disgrace herself, she gave the filly the lightest and most timid touch with her knees.
And for the first time in hours, she forgot to be afraid. Or perhaps it was for the first time ever.
The silver-grey filly moved with a smooth and silken gait, and the crowd parted for her, every eye upon them. Dany found herself moving faster than she had intended, yet somehow it was exciting rather than terrifying. The horse broke into a trot, and she smiled. Dothraki scrambled to clear a path. The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. She sent it into a gallop, and now the Dothraki were hooting and laughing and shouting at her as they jumped out of her way. As she turned to ride back, a fire pit loomed ahead, directly in her path. They were hemmed in on either side, with no room to stop. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.
The silver horse leapt the flames as if she had wings.
When she pulled up before Magister Illyrio, she said, “Tell Khal Drogo that he has given me the wind.” The fat Pentoshi stroked his yellow beard as he repeated her words in Dothraki, and Dany saw her new husband smile for the first time.
The last sliver of sun vanished behind the high walls of Pentos to the west just then. Dany had lost all track of time. Khal Drogo commanded his bloodriders to bring forth his own horse, a lean red stallion. As the khal was saddling the horse, Viserys slid close to Dany on her silver, dug his fingers into her leg, and said, “Please him, sweet sister, or I swear, you will see the dragon wake as it has never woken before.”
The fear came back to her then, with her brother’s words. She felt like a child once more, only thirteen and all alone, not ready for what was about to happen to her.
They rode out together as the stars came out, leaving the khalasar and the grass palaces behind. Khal Drogo spoke no word to her, but drove his stallion at a hard trot through the gathering dusk. The tiny silver bells in his long braid rang softly as he rode. “I am the blood of the dragon,” she whispered aloud as she followed, trying to keep her courage up. “I am the blood of the dragon. I am the blood of the dragon.” The dragon was never afraid.
Afterward she could not say how far or how long they had ridden, but it was full dark when they stopped at a grassy place beside a small stream. Drogo swung off his horse and lifted her down from hers. She felt as fragile as glass in his hands, her limbs as weak as water. She stood there helpless and trembling in her wedding silks while he secured the horses, and when he turned to look at her, she began to cry.
Khal Drogo stared at her tears, his face strangely empty of expression. “No,” he said. He lifted his hand and rubbed away the tears roughly with a callused thumb.
“You speak the Common Tongue,” Dany said in wonder.
“No,” he said again.
Perhaps he had only that word, she thought, but it was one word more than she had known he had, and somehow it made her feel a little better. Drogo touched her hair lightly, sliding the silver-blond strands between his fingers and murmuring softly in Dothraki. Dany did not understand the words, yet there was warmth in the tone, a tenderness she had never expected from this man.
He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head, so she was looking up into his eyes. Drogo towered over her as he towered over everyone. Taking her lightly under the arms, he lifted her and seated her on a rounded rock beside the stream. Then he sat on the ground facing her, legs crossed beneath him, their faces finally at a height. “No,” he said.
“Is that the only word you know?” she asked him.
Drogo did not reply. His long heavy braid was coiled in the dirt beside him. He pulled it over his right shoulder and began to remove the bells from his hair, one by one. After a moment Dany leaned forward to help. When they were done, Drogo gestured. She understood. Slowly, carefully, she began to undo his braid.
It took a long time. All the while he sat there silently, watching her. When she was done, he shook his head, and his hair spread out behind him like a river of darkness, oiled and gleaming. She had never seen hair so long, so black, so thick.
Then it was his turn. ....
