Series: A Song of Ice and Fire (No. 1) There Eddard Stark of Winterfell rules in Robert’s name. There his family dwells in peace and comfort: his proud wife, Catelyn; his sons Robb, Brandon, and Rickon; his daughters Sansa and Arya; and his bastard son, Jon Snow. LanguageEnglish. Game of Thrones Ebooks. IdentifierAGameOfThrones Identifier-arkark://t01z5t94j. OcrABBYY FineReader George R. R. Martin was born September 20, , in Bayonne, New Jersey. His father was Raymond Collins Martin, a longshoreman, and his.
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Read "A Game of Thrones A Song of Ice and Fire: Book One" by George R. R. Martin available from Rakuten Kobo. Sign up today and get $5 off your first. For the first time, all five novels in the epic fantasy series that inspired HBO's Game of Thrones are together in one eBook bundle. An immersive entertainment . Editorial Reviews. terney.info Review. Readers of epic fantasy series are: (1) patient--they Kindle Store · Kindle eBooks · Literature & Fiction.
The Rosie Effect. Doctor Sleep. Mightier Than the Sword. Jeffrey Archer. The Widow. Fiona Barton. The Escape. Leaving Time with bonus novella Larger Than Life. Jodi Picoult. Pretty Girls. Karin Slaughter. Justin Cronin. Lost Girls. The Dressmaker.
Rosalie Ham. Clockwork Princess. Sycamore Row. The Nest. Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney. Wild Justice. The Fall of Reach. Eric Nylund.
The Last Mile. The Sound of Thunder. The Racketeer. Dead Reckoning. The Burning Room. Michael Connelly. A Wanted Man with bonus short story Not a Drill. The Flood. William C. A Sparrow Falls. First Strike. The Ice Dragon. George R. Wild Cards I. A Game of Thrones: The Graphic Novel. Wild Cards II: Aces High. Wild Cards Trust. Dangerous Women. John Joseph Adams. Wild Cards III: Jokers Wild.
The Book of Swords. Gardner Dozois. A Clash of Kings: The Graphic Novel: Volume Two. October Fevre Dream. Inside Straight. Wild Cards VI: Ace in the Hole. Old Venus. A Wild Cards Collection. The Living Dead. Volume One. Volume I. Volume II. Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror. Down These Strange Streets. The Illustrated Edition. Wild Cards V: Down and Dirty. Wild Cards IV: Aces Abroad. Suicide Kings. Wild Cards VII: Dead Man's Hand.
Mississippi Roll. Songs of the Dying Earth. Dying of the Light.
High Stakes. Lisa Tuttle. Low Chicago. Old Mars.
Harry Turtledove. The Armageddon Rag. Texas Hold'em. A Wild Cards Collection: The Fort Freak Triad. Not to mention the youngest Stark, Rickon, who is a perfect example of a very minor character that is remarkably fleshed out, although he appears in less than two entire pages in the nine-hundred and seven pages of dense text.
And I could go on and on, but I would end up being a verbose as Martin. It is no exaggeration to say that Martin has been dubbed the American Tolkien.
He is. Like p PopTart Apr 22, Believe me when I say even if you don't like fantasy, you will problably like this book. The series' tag line is the sopranos in middle earth.
It has everything. It seems so real that you can almost forget that it's fiction. The shows amazing so far, so good and the book is even better. Two warnings. He remembered the hearth tales Old Nan told them. The wildlings were cruel men, she said, slavers and slayers and thieves. They consorted with giants and ghouls, stole girl children in the dead of night, and drank blood from polished horns.
And their women lay with the Others in the Long Night to sire terrible half-human children. But the man they found bound hand and foot to the holdfast wall awaiting the king's justice was old and scrawny, not much taller than Robb. He had lost both ears and a finger to frostbite, and he dressed all in black, the same as a brother of the Night's Watch, except that his furs were ragged and greasy.
The breath of man and horse mingled, steaming, in the cold morning air as his lord father had the man cut down from the wall and dragged before them. Robb and Jon sat tall and still on their horses, with Bran between them on his pony, trying to seem older than seven, trying to pretend that he'd seen all this before. A faint wind blew through the holdfast gate. Over their heads flapped the banner of the Starks of Winterfell: a grey direwolf racing across an ice-white field.
Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind.
His closely trimmed beard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. He had a grim cast to his grey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening and talk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Bran could not recall much of what had been said.
Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of his guardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. They forced his head down onto the hard black wood.
Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward Theon Greyjoy brought forth the sword. It was as wide across as a man's hand, and taller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held an edge like Valyrian steel. His father peeled off his gloves and handed them to Jory Cassel, the captain of his household guard.
Bran's bastard brother Jon Snow moved closer. Father will know if you do. His father took off the man's head with a single sure stroke. Blood sprayed out across the snow, as red as surnmerwine. One of the horses reared and had to be restrained to keep from bolting. Bran could not take his eyes off the blood. The snows around the stump drank it eagerly, reddening as he watched.
The head bounced off a thick root and rolled. It came up near Greyjoy's feet. Theon was a lean, dark youth of nineteen who found everything amusing. He laughed, put his boot on the head, and kicked it away. He put a hand on Bran's shoulder, and Bran looked over at his bastard brother. Jon was fourteen, an old hand at justice. It seemed colder on the long ride back to Winterfell, though the wind had died by then and the sun was higher in the sky. Bran rode with his brothers, well ahead of the main party, his pony struggling hard to keep up with their horses.
He was big and broad and growing every day, with his mother's coloring, the fair skin, red-brown hair, and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark.
He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.
Robb was not impressed. Race you to the bridge? Robb cursed and followed, and they galloped off down the trail, Robb laughing and hooting, Jon silent and intent. The hooves of their horses kicked up showers of snow as they went.