[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]