gcd88653掉发长白发怎么办

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colors,suretocausethemgriefiftheyencounteredanyLannisterforcesontheriver,butitwastheonlysailtheyhad.Briennetooktherudder.Jaimethrewouttheleeboard,hischainsrattlingashemoved.Afterthat,theymadebetterspeed,withwindandcurrentbothfavoringtheirflight.“Wecouldsaveadealoftravelingifyoudeliveredmetomyfatherinsteadofmybrother,”hepointedout.“LadyCatelyn’sdaughtersareinKing’sLanding.Iwillreturnwiththegirlsornotatall.”JaimeturnedtoSerCleos.“Cousin,lendmeyourknife.”“No.”Thewomantensed.“Iwillnothaveyouarmed.”Hervoicewasasunyieldingasstone.Shefearsme,eveninirons.“Cleos,itseemsImustaskyoutoshaveme.Leavethebeard,buttakethehairoffmyhead.”“You’dbeshavedbald?”askedCleosFrey.“TherealmknowsJaimeLannisterasabeardlessknightwithlonggoldenhair.Abaldmanwithafilthyyellowbeardmaypassunnoticed.I’dsoonernotberecognizedwhileI’minirons.”Thedaggerwasnotassharpasitmighthavebeen.Cleoshackedawaymanfully,sawingandrippinghiswaythroughthematsandtossingthehairovertheside.Thegoldencurlsfloatedonthesurfaceofthewater,graduallyfallingastern.Asthetanglesvanished,alousewentcrawlingdownhisneck.Jaimecaughtitandcrusheditagainsthisthumbnail.SerCleospickedothersfromhisscalpandflickedthemintothewater.JaimedousedhisheadandmadeSerCleoswhetthebladebeforehelethimscrapeawaythelastinchofyellowstubble.Whenthatwas

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done,theytrimmedbackhisbeardaswell.Thereflectioninthewaterwasamanhedidnotknow.Notonlywashebald,buthelookedasthoughhehadagedfiveyearsinthatdungeon;hisfacewasthinner,withhollowsunderhiseyesandlineshedidnotremember.Idon’tlookasmuchlikeCerseithisway.She’llhatethat.Bymidday,SerCleoshadfallenasleep.Hissnoressoundedlikeducksmating.Jaimestretchedouttowatchtheworldflowpast;afterthedarkcell,everyrockandtreewasawonder.Afewone-roomshackscameandwent,perchedontallpolesthatmadethemlooklikecranes.Ofthefolkwholivedtheretheysawnosign.Birdsflewoverhead,orcriedoutfromthetreesalongtheshore,andJaimeglimpsedsilveryfishknifingthroughthewater.Tullytrout,there’sabadomen,hethought,untilhesawaworse-oneofthefloatinglogstheypassedturnedouttobeadeadman,bloodlessandswollen.Hiscloakwastangledintherootsofafallentree,itscolorunmistakablyLannistercrimson.Hewonderedifthecorpsehadbeensomeoneheknew.TheforksoftheTridentweretheeasiestwaytomovegoodsormenacrosstheriverlands.Intimesofpeace,theywouldhaveencounteredfisherfolkintheirskiffs,grainbargesbeingpoleddownstream,merchantssellingneedlesandboltsofclothfromfloatingshops,perhapsevenagailypaintedmummer’sboatwithquiltedsailsofhalfahundredcolors,makingitswayupriverfromvillagetovillageandcastletocastle.Butthewarhadtakenitstoll.Theysailedpastvillages,butsawnovillagers.Anemptynet,slashedandtornandhangingfromsometrees,wastheonlysignoffisherfolk.Ayounggirlwateringherhorserodeoffassoonassheglimpsedtheirsail.Latertheypassedadozenpeasantsdigginginafieldbeneaththeshellofaburnttowerhouse.Themengazedatthemwithdulleyes,andwentbacktotheirlaborsoncetheydecidedtheskiffwasnothreat.TheRedForkwaswideandslow,ameanderingriverofloopsandbendsdottedwithtinywoodedisletsandfrequentlychokedbysandbarsandsnagsthatlurkedjustbelowthewater’ssurface.Brienneseemedtohaveakeeneyeforthedangers,though,andalwaysseemedtofindthechannel.WhenJaime







































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鍖椾含鍝�涓�鍖婚櫌鐪嬬櫧鐧滈�庢瘮杈冨�?