I don't know the right words.
Ought to be a septon here.
You were a true knight.
You never beat me when I didn't deserve it.
Fuck.
Except that time in Maidenpool.
It was the inn boy ate the widow woman's pie.
Not me. I told you.
Why, you...
Doesn't matter now.
I'd leave your sword, but it...
it would only rust in the ground.
I wish you didn't die, ser.
I'll take good care of the horses.
Eat like a king if I sold you three.
For a year or two.
Then what?
That road ends in outlawry or beggary.
We could go to a city.
King's Landing? Lannisport?
Could join the City Watch.
Stop raping, ser.
Fits my grip as well as it ever fit his.
And there is a tourney at Ashford Meadow.
Hello there. Are you the stableboy?
I want the palfrey rubbed down.
And oats for all three. You tend to them?
I could, if I wanted.
None of that. See to the horses.
You'll get a copper if you do well, and a clout in the ear if not.
Sit where you like.
There's good lamb roasted with a crust of herbs
and some ducks my son shot down. Which will you have?
Both.
You're big enough for it.
- How much farther to Ashford? - Day's ride.
Is my boy seeing to your horses or has he run off again?
No, he's there.
Half the town's gone down the tourney.
Mine would, too, if I allowed it.
I swear, I couldn't tell you why.
Knights are built the same as other men.
And I never knew a joust to change the price of eggs.
Bound for the tourney yourself?
I dreamed of you.
Stay the fuck away from me. You hear?
My lord?
Never you mind that one, ser.
I'll see about your food.
Hiya! Take that! Yah!
Oi!
My lord.
- You thief! - I did not mean to offend you.
Take that armor off you. Now!
And be glad Thunder didn't kick you in that fool head of yours.
He's a war horse, not a boy's pony.
I could ride him as well as you.
Close your insolent mouth.
I--
I'm a knight, I'll have you know.
You don't look to be a knight.
- What, all knights look the same, do they? - No.
But they don't look like you either.
Your belt's made of rope.
So long as it holds my scabbard, it serves.
Are you going to the tourney, then? Do you mean to enter the lists?
Yeah, I suppose I do.
Take me with you, ser. Please.
And what might your mother say to that?
Not much.
She's dead.
Is the innkeeper not your...
You're an orphan boy.
Are you?
I was. Once.
Till my ser took me in.
Taught me arms and riding, and...
and taught me everything, really.
Best he could.
If you could bring me to Ashford, I could squire for you, ser.
And you can teach me best you can.
No, I have no need for a squire, lad.
Every knight needs a squire.
And you look like you need one more than most.
And you look like you need a good clout in the ear.
Fill me a sack of oats.
I'm off for Ashford. Alone.
Look, lad, I promise you...
you're better off not squiring for the likes of me.
For your help.
Sulk all you wish.
I know you'll scoop it up as soon as I'm gone.
Sorry.
Piss off.
Beg pardon, men.
I wish to speak to the master of the games.
Oh!
What do you want, man?
Got you again!
I came for the tourney.
My lord's tourney is a contest for knights.
- You a knight? - Hyah!
Oi! Psst!
A knight with a name, mayhaps?
Dunk.
Ser Dunk.
I was squire to Ser Arlan of Pennytree since I was a boy.
He knighted me before he passed, with his own sword.
That's his penny there in the hilt.
Well, a sword it is for a certainty.
But I've never heard of this Arlan of Pennytree.
You were his squire, you say?
He always meant for me to be a knight one day...
as he was.
Am I to be a knight one day, ser?
As you are?
When he was dying, he called for his longsword
and bade me kneel.
Charged me to be a good knight.
To defend the weak and the innocent.
Serve the realm with all my might. And I swore that I would.
Any knight can make a knight, it's true.
Were there witnesses to your dubbing?
Only a robin in a thorn tree.
This is Ashford town, lad.
Know what comes to men here who pretend at sacred oaths?
- I'm not-- - We hang you
naked by your hands and your feet...
lower you down asshole first onto a sharpened point
and fuck you dry.
Call it the Ashford chair. So, I ask you again.
Were there witnesses to your dubbing besides a fuckin' songbird?
Well, the-- see, it was raining.
I'm bullshitting you.
"Ashford chair."
You take a boot to the head?
This is the Reach, not the Riverlands.
- "Ashford chair." - Think we're fending off
some scourge of cottagers, scuttling about, entering tourneys?
You'd need coin.
Armor. Horses. Men.
Training, gods be good.
Imagine the poor farmer charging down Lyonel Baratheon in the lists.
Mm, that would be--
A different sort of entertainment.
Mm. Well, I'm no farmer.
Yet you've come dressed as one.
Look, man, my Lord Ashford
fancies himself of great import. Gods know why.
Well, that means I'm to ward off every landed knight
and sellsword vying to challenge.
You understand? There are princes about.
No, of course.
Your late master.
He'll be known to the true knights here assembled?
There was a pavilion flying the banner of House Dondarrion.
Aye, Ser Manfred of that house.
Ser Arlan served his lord father in Dorne a few years past.
Ser Manfred will remember us.
By scent alone, no doubt.
If he'll speak to your good honor, bring him here with you
before the tourney begins on the morrow.
Leave your escorts behind.
- As you say. - Aye.
You are aware that those vanquished in tourney
forfeit their arms, armor, and horse to the victors, and must ransom them back?
- Aye. - And you have coin
- to pay such ransom? - Oh, gods, no.
I mean, I won't have need of coin.
Ah!
Seven fu--
Mind those two. Good girl.
Pardon, sers. I need speak with Ser Manfred.
Good.
He's napping, ser. Wake him for a stag.
I...
I don't have a stag.
What kind of knight don't got a stag?
- It's a hedge knight, ain't it? - What?
It's like a knight, but sadder.
No, I'm-- I'm not sad--
He's gotta sleep in the hedges 'cause no lord'll have it.
Aw. That is sad.
And Ser Manfred's fucked its wife, too.
- No, I don't have a wife. - Oh!
'Cause we're used to husbands coming 'round.
Likes fucking wives, that one.
Near as much as he likes fucking us.
Told me he's on a mission to turn the whole world red.
- Well, we're already red. - So we are.
Well, when do you expect Ser Manfred to wake, then?
It might wanna try back at evenfall.
Evenfall.
- Goodbye. - Yeah.
Arse.
Why'd she say that, huh?
We're not sad.
Certainly not rising-to-the-level-of-a-comment sad.
Besides, Ser Arlan always said that...
a hedge knight was the truest kind of knight.
When we win our first tilt, we'll have the loser's armor
and horse, or his gold.
Won't be sad then.
I know. Said if we did win.
Look, it's not a crime against the king to enjoy a nice thought for a trice.
Do not muck about with me, Raymun.
You're a good-for-nothing useless rat.
What are you gawping at, you blue-eyed cunt?
That's a longsword you wear?
Yes, it is mine by right.
That's an odd thing to say.
I'm Ser Steffon Fossoway. Come try me.
As you see, me cousin here is not ripe yet.
Do it, ser.
I may not be ripe, but my cousin's rotten to the core.
- Knock the seeds out of him. - Quiet!
I thank you, but I have matters to attend.
What, matters of the hedge, I have no doubt.
Fucking size of ya.
Stupid bastard. Ser Grance!
Perhaps we should seek quieter accommodations.
Oh. Fuck.
He's napping still.
- Still? - Mm.
On account of his gouty toes.
One of life's absurd little miseries, to be sure.
Makes for restless nights. The poor dear.
Right, absolutely. It's just...
Well, it is of some urgency that I speak with him,
so I may enter the lists on the morrow.
- What's this? - It means the joust.
Awful dangerous, that.
Yes, well...
I'm not troubled with a wealth of options, am I?
And if I mean to take service in a castle--
It must put its body at hazard for the pleasure of strangers.
Ain't that our job?
Ah! Shut up! You're meant to be dead.
Find a safer trade, lad. You'll be happier for it.
One whore to another.
Must you mock me?
I was only asking for a bit of help.
I'll try Ser Manfred back in the morning.
Sorry, lad.
Aye. We don't mean to mock you.
We see plenty of green boys every tourney.
All with glory in their minds, but never in their hands.
Well, perhaps I will be different.
Be good to your body, knight. Last one you're like to have.
Our brave hero forges on, leaving all he knows behind.
A father and a friend, may seem the world unkind.
Fate has set his lonely path through corridors of chance.
A boy from nothing risks it all, ignoring looks askance.
Perhaps he's only stupid holding fast his mirror shield.
Great honor his ambition, must keep a truth concealed.
For if his humble shape is bared, a foul and fiery demise.
Should the dragon discover none but a man in great disguise.
Halfman! Halfman!
Do I look like a half man to you?
Aye. Half man, half giant.
Look, I'm sorry.
I should not have urged you to try my cousin.
He'd have broken your hand or a knee, if he could.
He likes to batter men in the yard,
you know, in case he meets them in the lists.
He did not break you.
I'm his blood.
Though he is the senior branch of the apple tree,
which he never ceases to remind me.
Will you and your cousin ride in the tourney?
He will. I would that I could, but I'm only a squire.
Fight well for a squire.
You have the look of a challenger. Whose shield do you mean to strike?
Makes no difference.
That's what you're supposed to say.
Though it makes all the difference in the world.
You hungry?
Always.
Lyonel Baratheon. The Laughing Storm, they call him.
I thought he'd be bigger.
Four thousand years ago...
- Four thousand years... - Where are you going?
...ago-- cunts. I can't hear myself.
I've had a profound thought, if anyone would care to listen.
Four thousand years ago,
our ancestors gathered in that big field outside
to blood each other with sticks and have a little bit of gay fun.
And they say it was this country's first-ever joust.
Well, I say...
The fuck was I gonna say?
"First-ever joust..."
Ah.
Men could not have devised such a joy.
So, who was it?
Huh?
Who was it?
Fuck it. A hundred gold to the man, beast, or god who sticks me best.
Now, eat your birds so we can dance!
You ever been punched in the face before?
I beg your pardon, Ser Lyonel?
Big men get punched more than little men. Did you know that?
No, but I believe it.
That why you slouch? So you don't get punched?
I don't slouch.
Oh, you've been cowering all evening like a maiden on her wedding night.
I meant no disrespect, ser, honest.
Where I grew up, you learn to go unnoticed, is all.
The seven above gave you tallness.
So, be tall.
Or I will name you a heretic and burn you.
Drown you. Drop you off a tall pl--
I don't know. What do they do to heretics?
Burn them, my lord.
Fine.
What have you brought me?
Ser, I-- beggin' your pardons. I didn't realize.
You wish to curry my favor some.
Yet you come with an empty hand.
Lord Cafferen,
the smug cunt in red...
he is scarce to pay his rents.
His people starve each winter, yet even he shinied up this...
bauble from his family's cellars,
for he understands that all men, in their way,
wish only for your help, or your head.
You've come for my head, then.
What?
No! No.
Then, why the fuck are you in my tent?
Supper.
Alright.
Actually makes sense.
- Supper. - What is your name, man?
Dunk-- Ser Dunk.
That's ridiculous.
Do you like dancing?
Doesn't everyone?
Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!
The swells heaved. You could lick salt from the air.
But I'd come to find what men do when they die at sea.
So, drove I on into the storm.
- Weren't you afraid? - Ahh.
Within every man, there are many men.
Mm.
But that I had to do, Stormlanders had always done.
And if they had done it, I could do it, too.
Hm.
You know, it's best not to agonize.
Yeah, I agonize a lot.
Mm.
Sometimes, I think I agonize too much,
and I just end up agonizing over that.
Mm.
I'm quick and strong, sure.
- Sure. - But so are you.
Sure.
Plus, you've trained sword and lance
with the finest masters-at-arms in the realm.
I mean...
what chance do I have? Truly?
Oh, you have no chance.
But it's a great honor to test oneself against a worthy foe.
- No disrespect, ser. - Mm.
That's easy for you to say.
You have a name, an inheritance.
One loss, and I won't be able to ransom back my own horse.
A knight without a horse is no knight at all.
- Aye. - Mm.
So, what should I do?
I don't know.
I'm really quite drunk.
Okay.
Thanks.
Sorry.
Ser Arlan of Pennytree.
He served your Lord Father
to hunt the Vulture King in the Red Mountains.
I was only a boy, but--
I thought you said you were a Dornishman.
No, he said he's hung like a Dornishman.
No, I said I've hung Dornishmen.
Perhaps we would speak on the morn.
I know your penny knight not.
Nor you, brother. Be gone.
But Ser Arlan took a wound in your father's service.
How could you have forgotten him?
My lord father took 800 swords into those mountains.
We've forgotten men who reaped much more than a wound.
Please, ser, I will not be allowed to challenge
unless a knight or a lord will vouch for me.
And what is that to me?
You!
What...
What are you doing?
Cooking a fish. Do you want some?
No! I mean, how did you get here? Did you steal a horse?
I rode in the back of a lamb cart.
Lamb cart.
- Well, you best find another one. - You can't make me go.
I'd had enough of that inn.
Now, listen, I'll have no more insolence from you, boy.
I should throw you over my horse and take you home.
You'd need to ride all the way to King's Landing.
- You'd miss the tourney. - King's Landing?
- You're from Flea Bottom? - No.
Aye.
What are those doing there?
I washed them.
I made the fire, caught the fish, and groomed the horses.
I would have raised your pavilion, but I couldn't find one.
- There's my pavilion. - That's a tree.
Yes, and it's all the pavilion a true knight needs.
I'd sooner sleep under the stars than in some smoky tent.
What if it rains?
The tree will shelter me.
Trees leak.
So they do.
What's your name?
- Dunk. - Ser Dunk.
That's no name for a knight. Is it short for Duncan?
Yeah. Yes.
Ser Duncan of...
Ser Duncan the Tall.
Never heard of him.
Do you know every knight in the Seven Kingdoms, then?
The good ones.
- You got a name, thief? - Egg.
Egg.
Well, Egg, by rights, I should beat you bloody,
send you on your way.
But you look as though you don't eat much.
And if you'll swear to do as you're told...
I'll let you serve me for the tourney.
After that, well...
we'll see.
I don't have much, but if you prove worth your keep...
you'll have clothes on your back and food in your belly.
The clothes might be rough-spun and the food,
salt beef and salt fish,
but you won't go hungry.
I promise not to beat you.
Except when you deserve it.
Yes, my lord.
"Ser."
I'm only a hedge knight.
A falling star brings luck to those who see it.
Go to sleep, boy.
All the other knights are in their pavilions by now,
staring up at silk instead of sky.
Do you want a clout in the ear?
So, the luck is ours alone?