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Jon
瓊恩
Are you well, Snow?" Lord Mormont asked, scowling.
“雪諾，你還好吧？”莫爾蒙司令皺眉問。
Well, his raven squawked. "Well."
“好吧？”他的烏鴉呱呱叫，“好吧？”
I am, my lord, Jon lied... loudly, as if that could make it true. "And you?"
“大人，我很好。”瓊恩撒了謊……還特意大聲，仿佛這樣可讓謊言成真。“您呢？”
Mormont frowned. "A dead man tried to kill me. How well could I be?" He scratched under his chin. His shaggy grey beard had been singed in the fire, and he'd hacked it off. The pale stubble of his new whiskers made him look old, disreputable, and grumpy. "You do not look well. How is your hand?"
莫爾蒙又是眉頭一皺。“有個死人想殺我，你覺得我能好到哪里去？”他抓了抓下巴。由于長長的灰胡子被火燒到，他便把胡子給割了。新長出來的白色短須使他看起來不僅丑陋了些，老上許多，更顯得脾氣暴躁。“說實話，你的氣色不太好，手怎么樣了？”
Healing. Jon flexed his bandaged fingers to show him. 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. At the time he'd felt nothing; the agony had come after. His cracked red skin oozed fluid, and fearsome blood blisters rose between his fingers, big as roaches. "The maester says I'll have scars, but otherwise the hand should be as good as it was before."
“正在復原。”瓊恩動動自己綁了繃帶的手指給他看。扔那堆窗簾所帶來的灼傷比他預期中嚴重許多，現在他的右手臂纏滿了絲繃帶，一直綁到手肘。當時他一點感覺也沒有，之后才開始疼痛。他裂開的紅皮膚內流出液體，一個個嚇人的充血水泡布滿指間，大得像蟑螂似的。“學士說會留下疤痕，但除此之外應該沒有大礙。”
A scarred hand is nothing. On the Wall, you'll be wearing gloves often as not.
“手上有疤沒關系，在長城這兒，你大多時候都會戴手套。”
As you say, my lord. It was not the thought of scars that troubled Jon; it was the rest of it.
“大人，您說的是。”困擾瓊恩的不是疤痕，而是其他的部分。
