Hoster Tully, Lord of Riverrun, lay abed in his solar, with its commanding view to the east where the rivers Tumblestone and Red Fork met beyond the walls of his castle. He was sleeping when Catelyn entered, his hair and beard as white as his featherbed, his once portly frame turned small and frail by the death that grew within him.
城堡顶层的房间里，奔流城公爵霍斯特·徒利卧病在床，床位朝东，腾石河和红叉河汇流处尽收眼底。凯特琳进来时，他正在熟睡，须发皆白，色泽竟和羽毛床褥无异，那曾经魁伟的身躯，如今已被逐渐扩散的死亡之气消磨得又瘦又小。
Beside the bed, still dressed in mail hauberk and travel-stained cloak, sat her father's brother, the Blackfish. His boots were dusty and spattered with dried mud. "Does Robb know you are returned, Uncle?" Ser Brynden Tully was Robb's eyes and ears, the commander of his scouts and outriders.
床边，静坐着她的叔叔黑鱼，他依然穿戴锁甲，一身风尘仆仆的斗篷，长靴蒙尘，满是干泥。“叔叔，你回来了，罗柏知道吗？”布林登·徒利爵士掌管着罗柏的侦察部队，等于是他的耳目。

No. I came here straight from the stables, when they told me the king was holding court. His Grace will want to hear my tidings in private first I'd think. The Blackfish was a tall, lean man, grey of hair and precise in his movements, his clean-shaven face lined and windburnt. "How is he?" he asked, and she knew he did not mean Robb.
“还没有。我一进马厩，听他们说国王正在主持朝政，就直接过来了。我想我的消息应该私下报告给陛下。”黑鱼一头灰发，身形瘦长，动作精准，他刮得干净的脸上满是皱纹和风伤。“他情形如何？”他问，她知道他问的不是罗柏。
Much the same. The maester gives him dreamwine and milk of the poppy for his pain, so he sleeps most of the time, and eats too little. He seems weaker with each day that passes.
“还是老样子。学士给他喝梦酒和罂粟花奶止痛，所以他大部分时间都在睡。他吃得太少，似乎一天天虚弱下去了。”
Does he speak?
“说过话没？”
Yes... but there is less and less sense to the things he says. He talks of his regrets, of unfinished tasks, of people long dead and times long past. Sometimes he does not know what season it is, or who I am. Once he called me by Mother's name.
“有……可越来越没条理。他常说起自己的悔恨，说起没完成的任务，还有过世很久的人和陈年往事。有时候他连季节都分辨不清，甚至把我当成我母亲。”