All language subtitles for A.QWEQWE080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL.en

[birdsong]

[footsteps approaching]

[man groaning]

[whistling "On to Ashford"]

[Dunk]
You-- you might not
remember him, but, um...

Stay there.
I'm coming back.

[Dunk]
...he was a true knight.

[rooster crowing]

[Dunk]
Uh, different than
other men. Yeah.

[sighs]

He had a peaceable nature.

- Quiet and humble.
- [sighs]

A veteran of a hundred wars,
but an enemy to none.

He always knew
what was expected of him.

Hm.

He never complained.

- [sighs deeply]
- [horse nickering]

Even as he was dying,
he... he just...

[sheep bleating]

He just got on with it.

- [rooster crowing]
- [people chattering]

He-- he meant to be a benefit
to those around him.

It did not make him rich.

He-- he held no lands,
sired no children.

[whistling]

[singing]
♪ Off to Ashford
to see a fair maid ♪

♪ Heigh-ho, heigh-ho ♪

♪ I'll make her my love
and we'll rest in the shade ♪

♪ Heigh-ho, heigh-ho ♪

- Come on, Dunk!
- [horse whinnying]

- [rain pattering]
- [thunder rumbling]

[panting]

[Dunk]
He-- he wanted for nothing
but the open air.

Hey.

And a fire
to warm his feet at.

[cow mooing]

[chuckles]

[both laughing]

His skills as
a warrior were...

[grunting]

...unsung,

but he had a chin
cut from granite.

- Come on.
- And he was
a dogged fighter.

- He just, he kept on coming.
- [shouting]

- [horse chortling]
- [Arlan whistling]

♪ I'll steal a sweet kiss
from the point of my blade ♪

♪ Heigh-ho, heigh-ho ♪

[whistling]

Whoa! Whoa!

- [horse neighing]
- [panting]

[Dunk]
House Florent, Ser Arlan
took service in your guard

when your lord father
lost his sight.

♪ I'll make her my love
and we'll rest in the shade ♪

♪ Heigh-ho, heigh-ho ♪

[Dunk]
House Hayford,

Ser Arlan
fought side by side

with your brothers
at the Redgrass.

His squire, his--
his own nephew

was killed in the battle.

House Tyrell...

Ser Arlan often spoke
of his time in your service

as his very finest.

He said it was you, m'lord,
who told him that a hedge knight

was the bridge between lords
and the smallfolk.

[spitting]

I know him not, man.

[people laughing]

Was he a shit knight?

- He was not a shit knight.
- Well, he can't have been

a very good one
if no one remembers him.

Pick up your feet,
come on.

This is undignified, ser.

So, hie back to camp and
leave me be, if it please you.

I would not leave you, ser,

not while you must
suffer your master dying

over and over again.

Though it does not seem
like these lords

- are even listening to you.
- [scoffs]

Nothing I can do about that.

You are a knight
of the realm, ser.

You can say
fuck their permission.

Ride into the lists,
call out Longthorn Tyrell,

and turn his arsehole
into a lance-hole.

That's enough now.

Why do you treat
these royal lapdogs

like they're your betters?

They are my betters.

You're too brazen
for your own good.

Ser Arlan was a great knight.

Someone will remember him.

[fanfare playing]

Hey. Who's come?

Can't you see the banners,
you giant cunt?

[fanfare continues playing]

[horses whinnying]

Perhaps I should go back,
ser, check on the camp.

Make sure no thieves
have been nosing about.

Aye. I have an idea.

Can I have your sword
to run people off with?

- Or a mace?
- You have a knife.

That's enough.

You'd best be here
when I come back.

Rob me, and I'll hunt
you down, with dogs.

- You don't have dogs.
- I'll get some.

Where?

- [barks loudly]
- [gasps]

[people chattering]

[cheering and applause]

[Ashford herald]
Our Lord of Ashford

humbly welcomes
the great and honorable

- Baelor Targaryen...
- [fanfare playing]

...firstborn son
of King Daeron the Good.

Prince of Dragonstone,

Hand of the King...

and heir to the Iron Throne.

[horse nickering]

Uh, and his brother,
Maekar.

[Baelor Targaryen]
My Lord of Ashford.

It's a great honor
to receive Your Grace.

It's a great honor
to be received.

My daughter, Gwin.

[Aerion Targaryen]
Boy, stop gaping.
See to my horse.

[clearing throat]
I'm-- I'm not
a stable boy, m'lord.

Not clever enough?

- Um...
- Well, if you
can't manage horses,

then fetch me some wine
and a pretty wench.

Oh, m'lord pardons.

I'm-- I'm no
serving man, either.

I have-- I have the honor
to be a knight.

Oh. Well...

knighthood has fallen
on sad days.

[horse whinnying loudly]

- [crowd gasping]
- Whoa, whoa. Whoa, whoa.

- [townsperson] Move away!
- Easy.

- Easy now, come on.
- [groaning]

Come on.
Yeah, it's okay. It's okay.

There you are, girl.

Far too many people around.

- [horse nickering]
- I agree. [chuckles]

[horse master]
Where the fuck am I meant
to put all these horses?

[Donnel of Duskendale]
The pretty ones are
always temperamental.

Ah, she just got a bit excited,
that's all.

[Roland Crakehall]
He meant the princeling,
not the palfrey.

[clearing throat]
Excuse me, m'lords.

[clearing throat]
I'm-- I'm Ser Duncan the Tall.

Well met.
I'm Ser Roland Crakehall,

and this is my sworn brother,
Ser Donnel of Duskendale.

Gods, boy.

Do you ride your horse
into battle or does it ride you?

[Donnel]
Forgive Ser Roland.

It's not often he must look up
to cast his eyes down.

Yes, yes,
I'm quite the rascal.

Now, tell me, Ser Duncan,

is there a proper place
to shit around here?

Uh, not really, no.

[sighs]

A man of such birth
has never deigned

to disturb
his arsehole with hay.

[scoffs] He'll deign before
the week is out, I'd wager.

Where are you from, man?

You don't smell House-bred.

- No place, really.
- [chuckles] I know it.

My family's from there.

You're not a Darklyn
of Duskendale?

We were crabbers
at Duskendale.

Far back as it goes.

[Willem Wylde]
Ser Donnel?

May I ask, ser,
how the son of a crabber

came to have the honor
of being a knight
in the Kingsguard?

Same way
we became crabbers.

"Same way we became..."

Are you Baelor Targaryen?

Uh, n-no.

Then would you move
the fuck out of the way?

Yeah. Yeah. Of course.
Apologies.

Sorry.

[head maid]
The princes be needing
their fucking hands washed!

[maid]
I'm on my way, ma'am.

[indistinct chatter]

[head maid] Move!
A carriage is comin' through!

[heavy door creaking open]

[Lord Ashford]
The spring rains have swollen
many of our streams.

Perhaps the young princes
have just been delayed?

[Maekar Targaryen]
Fuck me.

"Delayed."
They're not delayed.

Do not curse
our gracious host.

I said "fuck me,"
not "fuck him."

It's not his fault
Father bade us

attend this
miserable circus.

Might we discuss
this another time?

I say we go hunting.

Daeron has done this before.

You should not have
commanded him
to enter the lists.

- [person shushing]
- [Dunk gasps softly]

[whispering]
The prince's sons
are missing.

[Maekar]
You'd be more concerned
if it was your son, I wager.

- Oh.
- Probably dead.

- Dead?
- Wars have started for less.

[liquid pouring]

[faint chatter continues]

[whispering]
You're big and stupid.

[Baelor]
They have only been
missing a day.

No doubt, Ser Roland
will turn him up

and Aegon along with him.

When the tourney
is over, perhaps.

[Baelor]
Daeron belongs
on a tourney field

no more than
Aerys or Rhaegel.

By which you mean
he'd sooner ride a whore
than a horse.

That is not what I said.

[groaning]

[Maekar]
I do not need to be reminded
of my son's failings.

He can change.
He will change,
gods be damned.

Or I swear,
I'll see him dead.

You.

Who are you?

What do you mean
by spying on us?

Show yourself.

Um...
[clearing throat]

My Lords, I do apologize
for my interruption.

I, um...

I have asked
Ser Manfred Dondarrion

to vouch for me
so that I might
enter the lists,

- but he has refused to do so.
- [Maekar] Who?

What the fuck is going on?

We are the intruders here, brother.

Come closer, ser.

And others, too.

You see, they say they know not
Ser Arlan of Pennytree.

But he served them.
I swear it.

I have his sword and shield.

[scoffs] Sword and shield
do not make a knight.

Mm?

Unless you have better proof
to support what you say.

- Some writing or--
- Do you remember him,
Your Grace?

It was many years ago.

You may have forgotten.

Ser Arlan of Pennytree.

He never won a tourney
that I know.

But he never shamed
himself, either.

Yes, ser.

I mean, no.
No, he didn't.

He overthrew Lord Stokeworth
in the melee at King's Landing

and years before,
he unhorsed
the Grey Lion himself.

He-- he told me of that
many a time.

Then, you will recall
the Grey Lion's true name,

I have no doubt.

Um...

Ser Damon Lannister.

The Grey Lion,
he's Lord of Casterly Rock now.

So he is.

And enters the lists
upon the morrow.

How can you possibly remember
some fucking hedge knight

who chanced to unhorse
Damon Lannister 16 years ago?

I make it a practice to learn
all I can of my foes.

And why would you deign
to joust with a hedge knight?

It was many years past,
at Storm's End.

Lord Baratheon
held a hastilude

to celebrate
the birth of a grandson.

The lots made Ser Arlan
my opponent in the first tilt.

We broke four lances
before I finally unhorsed him.

It was seven.

[laughing]

I be-- believe.

Tales grow in the telling,
I know.

Mm.

Do not think ill
of your old master,

but it was four lances only,
I fear.

As you say, Your Grace.

I-It was four.
I do apologize.

The old man, Ser Arlan,
he used to say

that I was thick
as a castle wall

and slow as an aurochs.

No harm was done, ser.
Rise.

You gave him back
his horse and armor

and took no ransom.

Ser Arlan often told me that
you were the soul of chivalry...

- Ugh.
- ...and that one day,

the Seven Kingdoms
would be safe in your hands.

Not for many years yet,
I pray.

No, I-- I did not mean
that the King should--

You wish to enter the lists.

Is that it?

- Yes.
- The decision rests

with the master of the games,

but I see no reason
to deny you.

As you say, m'lord.

Mm.

[sighs]
Your Grace--

Very well, ser,
You are grateful.

Now, fuck off!

You must
forgive my brother, ser.

His sons went astray
on the way here,
and he fears for them.

[softly] Of course.

Um, I trust
they will not be found dead.

[Baelor] Ser.

You are not
of Ser Arlan's blood?

No, I am not.

[Baelor]
By law, only a trueborn son

is entitled to inherit
a knight's arms.

You must needs find
a new device, ser.

A sigil of your own.

I will.

Thank you again,
Your Grace.

I will fight bravely.
You'll see.

It's this way.

[puppeteer]
You are no knight.

- [grunting]
- [crowd groaning]

[crowd exclaiming]

You are Florian the Fool.

- I am, my lady.
- [crowd gasping]

As great a fool
as ever lived.

[crowd jeering]

And as great a knight
as well!

[cheering and applause]

A fool and a knight.

I have never heard
of such a thing.

[Florian the Fool]
Sweet lady.

All men are fools,
and all men are knights...

[whispering]
...where women are concerned.

[laughter]

[cheering and applause]

[violin playing]

[Dunk]
Hello there.

[coin jingles]

And, uh, one for last night.

- [both chuckle softly]
- [Egg] That was great.

How'd you do the fire tricks?

Oh.

[gasps] Is it pollen?

Yeah, we, uh,
we collect it on the way.

[Egg] I've never seen
such giant puppets.

Do you make them yourself?

My uncle builds them,
but I paint.

Could you paint
something for me?

Uh, I-- I have the coin to pay.

I, um... just...

[chuckles] Um, I need to paint
something over the chalice.

Well, what would you want?

Um...

[clicking tongue]
I... [sighs]

I don't-- I don't actually know.
[chuckles]

I, uh...

Sorry, you must think me
a fool. [chuckles]

All men are fools,
and all men are knights.

Mm.

Um...

Yeah.
[clearing throat]

The-- the gray is a bit drab.

Aye, um...

Yeah, the--
the field should be
the color of sunset

'cause the old man always
liked sunsets and, uh--

An elm tree.
A big one.

Like the one by the river
with the brown trunk

and the green branches.

Aye.
An elm tree,
that would serve.

But with
a shooting star above.

- Could you do that?
- Mm-hmm.

Thank you, um,
I'm-- I'm Ser Duncan the Tall.

[laughing]

Um, I'm Tanselle.

The-- the boys used to call me
Tanselle Too-Tall.

[chuckles]

You're not too tall.
I mean, you're just right for...

Uh...

For?

Puppets.

Yeah, puppets. [chuckles]

[sighs]
Okay, I'll, um...

- Wait. The shield.
- Yes, sorry.

- Yes, the shield.
- Yeah.

Was that ill-handled?

- Hm?
- The-- the puppet girl.

Oh.

It-- it just-- it didn't feel
well-handled.

She is painting
your shield.

Yeah, for pay.

[townsperson shouting]

You are both gigantic.

[crowd shouting]

Is that promising?

It's a...

commonality.

Right, yeah. [clearing throat]
C-Commonality.

[townsperson]
I don't know.

[indistinct chatter]

Do you think I'll ever make
a knight one day?

Sure, why not?
You're a likely lad.

- I'm a bit puny.
- [chuckles]

- You'll grow.
- Even for my age.

Everyone's always told me so.

Everyone's always told me
I was stupid.

And?

Hm?

- Hm? What?
- What?

What did you do when people
said you were stupid, ser?

What business
is that of yours?

My problems are my own.

I thought...
Aren't you trying to help me?

Help you what? Grow?

Yes!
Hedge knight, you.

What is this piss froth?
I need muscle.

Will you heed my call to war?

Aha! Good.

Go! Get up, come.

- [crowd exclaiming]
- Ready!

Hey!

Dry those palms,
you clam-handed cunt.

We're not in your sister's
chambers now.

- Ready?
- [spitting]

[crowd continues shouting]

- Go!
- Pull!

If we lose this,
I'll be drowning your firstborn!

- Come on!
- Pull! Pull!

Pull, you cunt-strapped
dandelions!

[♪ dramatic string music
playing]

I'll be back. I'll be back!
I'll be back.

Lyonel!
What are you doing?

- I'm thirsty.
- Lyonel!

- Pull!
- [Egg shouting]

I'm thirsty, cunt.

[crowd continues shouting]

- I'm thirsty!
- [Dunk shouting]

[smacking]
Looking good.

[grunting]

Fucking pull!

[crowd roaring]

[crowd exclaiming]

[joyful chatter]

[faint cheering]

- You do good work.
- None better.

I need some armor
on the morrow.

Gorget, greaves,
and great helm.

Are you jousting
or working?

Both, perhaps.

You're a big one,
though I've armored bigger.

I have some pieces
in the wagon that might do.

Nothing prettied up
with gold or silver, like.

Just good steel,
strong and plain.

I make helms
that look like helms,

not winged pigs
and fancy foreign fruit.

But mine'll serve you better
if you take a lance in the face.

That's all I want.
How much?

Eight hundred stag,
for I'm feeling kindly.

Eight hundred?

Perhaps I could trade you some
armor made for a smaller man.

A half helm,
a mail hauberk.

Steely Pate sells
only his own work.

[sighs]
I could make use of the metal.

If it's not too rusted,
I'll take it

and armor you for...

600.

I only have two stags.

[Steely Pate]
Buys you a day.

Send your squire
along with the rest,

or else I'll sell me wares
to the next man.

You'll get it all back,
I swear it.

I mean to be
a champion here.

Do you, now?

And the others
all came just...

just to cheer you on?

[horse nickering]

[♪ gentle music playing]

Is there any measure of a fool
I fail to meet?

If I win, I'll come back
and buy you again.

- I promise.
- [chortling]

Best girl.

[nickering]

[♪ gentle music
continues playing]

[coins jingling]

That's for her.

See she has some
oats tonight, yeah?

And an apple, too.

[crowd chattering]

[Dunk]
No turning back now,
I suppose.

[grunting softly]

You know, the old man
lived nigh on 60 years

- and was never a champion.
- There's a bug in my cider.

If I could call myself
a champion of Ashford Meadow...

even for an hour...

maybe some great house
might take me into its service.

Perhaps even
House Targaryen.

You suppose the dragon house
employs many hedge knights, ser?

Enough of that.

I'll have you know
Ser Donnel of the Kingsguard

is but the son of a crabber.

Ser Donnel?

- Of Duskendale?
- Yeah.

His father owns half
the crabbing fleets in Westeros.

What?!

How would you know?

I like fishing.

[raucous laughter]

[loud horn blowing]

[people cheering]

It's time!

Right, come on, let's go.

Come on, pick your feet up.
Let's go.

[horn blowing]

[Egg]
Wait for me!

[horns continue blowing]

[Egg] Ser Duncan!

Ser Duncan!

- [Dunk] Oh.
- [Egg grunting]

- [Dunk] You alright?
- [Egg] Yeah.

[crowd clamoring]

- [crowd continues shouting]
- [horse whinnying]

[crowd cheering]

[jouster laughing]

- [jouster exclaiming]
- [crowd cheering]

For the new gods
and old!

[crowd cheering]

- Lance!
- [people shouting indistinctly]

Shield, and lance.

[horse whinnying]

Helmet!

Hey, who's that?

Prince Valarr,
Baelor's son.

- Second in line to the throne.
- [Valarr] Shield!

He's the favorite,
I'd wager.

I'll take that bet, ser.

[crowd calming]

[horse neighing]

[horse whinnying,
stomping]

Lord Ashford fucks his sheep!

[laughter]

[horn blowing]

[horse whinnying]

[shouting]

[jouster shouting]

[♪ tense music playing]

[crowd roaring]

Come on! Whoo!

[crowd continues cheering]

[horn blowing]

[Leo Tyrell] Squire!
Lance, lance, lance!

[overlapping shouting]

- [horse whinnying]
- [shouting continues]

- [crashing]
- [crowd cheering]

Ser.
Put me down, ser.

[cheering continues]

Hyah! Hyah!

[horse neighing, whinnying]

- Whoa!
- Whoa!

[jousters shouting]

- [horse whinnying]
- [Dunk exhales sharply]

[noises muffling]

[muffled shouting]

[breathing heavily]

Die!

Do you yield,
Blackfyre bastards?!

[exclaiming]

[blade scraping]

Splendid riding tonight.

Mm, the part with the fish
was disgusting.

Something the matter, ser?

[blade continues scraping]

Do great knights
live in the hedges

and die by the side
of a muddy road?

[scoffs]

I think not.

Ser Arlan wasn't gifted
with sword or lance,

and he drank,
and he whored,

and he was a hard man
to know.

He made no friends, either.

He lived nigh on 60 years
and never was a champion.

Mm, what chance do I have?
Truly?

[sighs]

But he was good to me.

I wasn't his family...

but he kept me
like we were.

He raised me to be
an honorable man.

And all these noble lords

can't even
remember his name.

His name was
Ser Arlan of Pennytree.

And I am his legacy.

On the morrow...

we will show them
what his hand has wrought.

[♪ somber music playing]

[♪ dramatic music playing]