“You helped me when I needed your help,” said Jon Snow.
“I gave you nothing,” Tyrion smiled, “save words.”
– George R.
R.
Martin
*
“Bloody Horas…
Why can’t he just leave me alone?” Sam muttered, staring miserably at the book.
The binding had clearly suffered from the fall.
The corners were cracked, and several pages had been creased and bent.
He carefully ran a hand over them, as though trying to smooth away the damage, but the marks remained.
Arthur watched him with sympathy.
“What did he want from you?”
In truth, he was far more curious about why Horas kept calling Sam “piggy,” but asking that outright would have been rude.
Sam let out a heavy sigh and sat back down against the trunk of the tree.
“It’s a long story,” he mumbled.
“My father sent me here to foster, and ever since then Horas and Hobber have been tormenting me…”
Arthur frowned.
“Why?”
“Because they can,” Sam replied with a bitter laugh.
“They’re stronger, more confident, and they think it’s…
fun.
Though of course they say they’re training me.”
Arthur pressed his lips together.
He knew the type.
There were always boys who enjoyed humiliating someone weaker than themselves.
Arthur himself had always been too quick and too tall for most people to pick on him.
And from those who could, he simply ran away.
“Have you tried telling your father?” he asked cautiously.
“He knows,” Sam said gloomily.
“My father wants me to become a warrior…
but I’m simply not made for it.”
“Well, you did a decent job fighting back,” Arthur offered.
Sam gave a humorless snort, rubbing his wrists.
“I don’t think that’ll stop them…
Maybe if their father sees how useless I am, he’ll send me home.
Otherwise they’ll never leave me be.
That’s why I come here, to the grove.
Until now, they never found me here, but today…”
He sighed and opened his book, retreating once more into the familiar world of its pages.
Arthur felt a genuine pang of pity for him.
Sam seemed like the sort of person who simply wasn’t suited for fighting.
He had met people like that before, people who curled into themselves beneath insults and beatings, too frightened to strike back.
Yet today Sam had found the courage to stand against his tormentor.
That had to mean there was something inside him after all.
“Right then, what’s this writing?” Arthur asked, changing the subject and pointing to the symbols in the book.
Sam blinked, as though only now remembering he wasn’t alone, and followed Arthur’s finger.
“Oh, that…
That’s High Valyrian,” he explained.
“Valyrian?” Arthur repeated, sitting down beside him.
“The language they spoke in Valyria?”
“High Valyrian. Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
It was once the tongue of the dragonlords,” Sam said eagerly.
“No one really speaks it anymore.
Astapori and Meereenese descend from it, but they’re completely different…”
“And you know it?” Arthur did not even bother hiding his interest.
Perhaps now he would finally learn the meaning of those mysterious words.
Sam flushed slightly.
“A little,” he admitted modestly.
“I’ve been trying to learn it, but it’s very difficult…”
“I see…” Arthur said, absently digging at the earth with his wooden sword.
Then he made up his mind.
“Could you translate this?”
Quickly, he scratched the first line of the strange symbols that appeared before his eyes whenever he willed them into existence.
He copied them carefully, doing his best to reproduce every curve and flourish exactly.
Sam leaned closer and frowned in concentration.
“Well…
I’ll try,” he murmured.
“This one looks like ‘never’…
and this one is the opposite, ‘always.’ This word resembles ‘star,’ and here there’s something about blood…
or maybe I’m reading it wrong…
This one definitely means ‘black’…”
“Nothing else?” Arthur asked, unable to hide his disappointment.
Sam looked up, studying his new acquaintance with surprise.
He knew it was wrong to judge a person by appearances, but still…
It seemed strange that a boy like Arthur had ever seen writing like this.
“You remembered it just from looking at it?”
“I’ve got a good memory,” Arthur shrugged.
Sam tapped the cover of his book thoughtfully.
He didn’t know words like these yet.
In truth, he had exaggerated a little.
He had only begun studying Valyrian here.
Before that, Lord Randyll Tarly, his father, had forbidden him from reading books at all.
“I’d like to help, but I’m still learning,” he said apologetically, staring at the unfamiliar words.
“You already know more than I do,” Arthur snorted.
He was disappointed, but at least now he knew what he needed to decipher those symbols.
All he had to do was learn Valyrian.
Or become rich enough to hire a translator.
Both seemed nearly impossible.
“Perhaps,” Sam said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
“Books are the only good thing about this island.”
“What about the peaches?” Arthur replied with a grin.
Only then did he remember why he had come here in the first place.
Walking over to the tree, he pulled down a slender branch and selected a ripe peach with a warm blush along one side.
Then he tossed it to Sam.
To Arthur’s surprise, Sam caught it neatly.
“Yes…
and the peaches,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you.”
For a moment silence settled between them.
Arthur sat down in the grass and bit eagerly into his own fruit.
Juice immediately ran down his chin, but he paid it no mind.
In fact, he scarcely noticed, savoring every sweet mouthful.
Paul had been right.
A flavor like this was impossible to forget.
Sam’s question caught him off guard.
“Well…
I grew up in an orphanage near a sept,” Arthur replied, offering a half-truth.
“They taught me to read there…
and I saw them in one of the books.”
“You can read?” Sam asked brightly.
The next moment he was peppering Arthur with questions about books he had read and recommendations for books he ought to read.
Arthur, however, had read little beyond The Seven-Pointed Star, passages of which the septons forced them to memorize, and The Book of Holy Prayers.
So it was mostly Sam who did the talking.
To his credit, he was a marvelous storyteller.
Despite the septons having nearly beaten all desire for reading out of him, Arthur found himself wanting to read some of the books Sam described.
Most of all, he was fascinated by Wonders, the account of the world’s marvels written by Lomas Longstrider.
It was clearly Sam’s favorite book.
The hours slipped away amid conversation and sweet peaches.
The sun had already begun its descent toward the horizon when Arthur remembered that people might be looking for him.
Besides, the old armorer had told him to return that evening for his armor.
It was time to say goodbye.
“You fought well, you know,” he told Sam, who seemed a little downcast at their parting.
Arthur had explained that they might not see each other again tomorrow, though Sam had offered to bring Wonders so they could read it together.
The boy didn’t know Davos’s plans, but it seemed unlikely the ship would linger long in one place when they still needed to reach Highgarden.
“I wasn’t fighting,” Sam muttered.
“I was just…
scared for you.”
Arthur chuckled.
“Then next time, be scared the same way and nobody will dare come near you.”
They exchanged another look, and Sam nodded slowly, as though seriously considering the advice.
“Where are you from, Arthur?” he asked suddenly.
“The North?”
“Is it that obvious?”
Sam looked embarrassed.
“Well…
a little.”
Arthur only grinned and said nothing.
He finished the last of his peach, wiped the juice from his chin, and rose to his feet.
“Right.
I’d better go.”
Sam stood as well, clutching his book against his chest.
“Will we…
see each other again?”
“Maybe.” Arthur smirked.
“If I ever find myself in Tarly lands, I’ll stop by for a visit, provided I’m invited.”
“Of course you are…” Sam said, shaking the hand Arthur offered.
Then Arthur left him the wooden sword and took off down the path toward the harbor at almost a run.
He was already terribly late and dearly hoped the ship had not sailed without him.
“See you, Sam!” the cabin boy shouted before disappearing around a bend.
“See you…” replied the heir to Horn Hill.
Then he frowned thoughtfully.
He was certain he had never told Arthur his family name.
A/N:
While everyone else is waiting for updates, com / Captain_Lag (remove the spaces)