LAST NIGHT ON HIS BLOG http://grrm.livejournal.com/410183.html GRRM RELEASED THE ABOVE IMAGE!!!!
WHAT SCENE IS THIS FROM THE BOOKS?!?!!?!
ALL CALENDAR ARTWORK ALWAYS DEPICTS BOOK SCENES AND GRRM HAS SAID THAT THE 2015 CALENDAR WOULD INCLUDE 1 PIECE OF ARTWORK FROM TH
IT DEPICTS DAENERYS RIDING SILVER, OUTSIDE THE GATES OF A CITY THAT APPEARS TO BE BURNING. ALL THREE OF HER DRAGONS, FULLY GROWN, FLY OVERHEAD. IN THE BACKGROUND THERE ARE SOLDIERS WITH SPEARS AND SHIELD AND MISMATCHED ARMOR AS WELL AS SOME DOTHRAKI RIDERS. IN THE FOREGROUND ARE A WOMAN AND THREE BOWING, DIRTY, SHOELESS FIGURES, SOME TATTOOED, AND APPEAR TO BE PLACING A LONG DARK BURNING OBJECT ON THE GRASSY GROUND BEFORE DANY.
IS THIS DRAGONBINDER, THE HORN EURON RETRIEVED FROM THE SMOKING RUINS OF VALYRIA AND THE THREE THRALLS FROM THE VICTARION CHAPTER OF WINDS OF WINTER?? THE THRALLS HE SELECTED TO BLOW THE HORN??!?!!?!?!?
The horn is 6 feet (1,83 meters) long. It is made from the horn of what must have been an enormous dragon. It has a black gleam, and is banded with red gold and Valyrian steel. When touched the horn feels warm and smooth. Its surface is shiny and reflective, though the reflection depicted is somehow twisted. The bands of the horn are covered by strange writings, Valyrian glyphs. When the horn sounds, the glyphs glow red-hot and then white-hot. It was smoking after it has been blown
VICTARION’S THREE THRALLS:
“Captain.” The voice belonged to Longwater Pyke. “The oarsmen await your pleasure.”
Three of them, and strong ones. “Send them to my cabin. I’ll want the priest as well.”
The oarsmen were all big. One was a boy, one a brute, one a bastard’s bastard. The Boy had been rowing for less than a year, the Brute for twenty. They had names, but Victarion did not know them. One had come from Lamentation, one from Sparrow Hawk, one from Spider Kiss. He could not be expected to know the names of every thrall who had ever pulled an oar in the Iron Fleet.
“Show them the horn,” he commanded, when the three had been ushered into his cabin.
“It will kill us too, then,” said the Boy.
Victarion did not oft forgive a thrall for talking out of turn, but the Boy was young, no more than twenty, and soon to die besides. He let it pass.
“The mute sounded the horn three times. You three will sound it only once. Might be you’ll die, might be you won’t. All men die. The Iron Fleet is sailing into battle. Many on this very ship will be dead before the sun goes down – stabbed or slashed, gutted, drowned, burned alive – only the Gods know which of us will still be here come the morrow. Sound the horn and live and I’ll make free men of you, one or two or all three. I’ll give you wives, a bit of land, a ship to sail, thralls of your own. Men will know your names.”
“Even you, Lord Captain?” asked the Bastard’s Bastard.
“I’ll do it then.”
“And me,” said the Boy.
The Brute crossed his arms and nodded.
If it made the three feel braver to believe they had a choice, let them cling to that. Victarion cared little what they believed, they were only thralls.
“You will sail with me on Iron Victory,” he told them, “but you will not join the battle. Boy, you’re the youngest – you’ll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you are strong. Blow the horn until you are too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?”
The Boy and the Bastard’s Bastard tugged their forelocks; the Brute might’ve done the same, but he was bald.
“You may touch the horn. Then go.”
They left him one by one. The three thralls, and then Moqorro. Victarion would not let him take the hell-horn.