ng, said the Stark words. Not for the first time, she reflected on what a strange people these northerners were.“The man died well, I’ll give him that,” Ned said. He had a swatch of oiled leather in one hand. He ran it lightly up the greatsword as he spoke, polishing the metal to a dark glow. “I was glad for Bran’s sake. You would have been proud of Bran.”“I am always proud of Bran,” Catelyn replied, watching the sword as he stroked it. She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North.“He was the fourth this year,” Ned said grimly. “The poor man was half-mad. Something had put a fear in him so deep that my words could not reach him.” He sighed. “Ben writes that the strength of the Night’s Watch is down below a thousand. It’s not only desertions. They are losing men on rangings as well.”“Is it the wildlings?” she asked.“Who else?” Ned lifted Ice, looked down the cool steel length of it. “And it will only grow worse. The day may come when I will have no choice but to call the banners and ride north to deal with this King-beyond-the-Wall for good and all.”“Beyond the Wall?” The thought made Catelyn shudder.Ned saw the dread on her face. “Mance Rayder is nothing for us to fear.”“There are darker things beyond the Wall.” She glanced behind her at the heart tree, the pale bark and red eyes, watching, listening, thinking its long slow thoughts.His smile was gentle. “You listen to too many of Old Nan’s stories. The Others are as dead as the children of the forest, gone eight thousand years. Maester Luwin will tell you they never lived at all. No living man has ever seen one.”“Until this morning, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either,” Catelyn reminded him.“I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully,” he said with a rueful smile. He slid Ice back into its sheath. “You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. What is it, my lady?”Catelyn took her husband’s hand. “There was grievous news today, my lord. I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself.” There was no way to soften the blow, so she told him straight. “I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead.”His eyes found hers, and she could see how hard it took him, as she had known it would. In his youth, Ned had fostered at the Eyrie, and the childless Lord Arryn had become a second father to him and his fellow ward, Robert Baratheon. When the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen had demanded their heads, the Lord of the Eyrie had raised his moon-and-falcon banners in revolt rather than give up those he had pledged to protect.And one day fifteen years ago, this second father had become a brother as well, as he and Ned stood together in the sept at Riverrun to wed two sisters, the daughters of Lord Hoster Tully.“Jon?.?.?.?” he said. “Is this news certain?”“It was the king’s seal, and the letter is in Robert’s own hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn was taken quickly. Even Maester Pycelle was helpless, but he brought the milk of the poppy, so Jon did not linger long in pain.”“That is some small mercy, I suppose,” he said. She could see the grief on his face, but even then he thought first of her. “Your sister,” he said. “And Jon’s boy. What word of them?”“The message said only that they were well, and had returned to the Eyrie,” Catelyn said. “I wish they had gone to Riverrun instead. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband’s place, not hers. Lord Jon’s memory will haunt each stone. I know my sister. She needs the comfort of family and friends around her.”“Your uncle waits in the Vale, does he not? Jon named him Knight of the Gate, I’d heard.”Catelyn nodded. “Brynden will do what he can for her, and for the boy. That is some comfort, but still?.?.?.?”“Go to her,” Ned urged. “Take the children. Fill her halls with noise and shouts and laughter. That boy of hers needs other children about him, and Lysa should not be alone in her grief.”“Would that I could,” Catelyn said. “The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to Winterfell to seek you out.”It took Ned a moment to comprehend her words, but when the understanding came, the darkness left his eyes. “Robert is coming here?” When she nodded, a smile broke across his face.Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in signs. “I knew that would please you,” she said. “We should send word to your brother on the Wall.”“Yes, of course,” he agreed. “Ben will want to be here. I shall tell Maester Luwin to send his swiftest bird.” Ned rose and pulled her to her feet. “Damnation, how many years has it been? And he gives us no more notice than this? How many in his party, did the message say?”“I should think a hundred knights, at the least, with all their retainers, and half again as many freeriders. Cersei and the children travel with them.”“Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes,” he said. “It is just as well. That will give us more time to prepare.”“The queen’s brothers are also in the party,” she told him.Ned grimaced at that. There was small love between him and the queen’s family, Catelyn knew. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had come late to Robert’s cause, when victory was all but certain, and he had never forgiven them. “Well, if the price for Robert’s company is an infestation of Lannisters, so be it. It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court.”“Where the king goes, the realm follows,” she said.“It will be good to see the children. The youngest was still sucking at the Lannister woman’s teat the last time I saw him. He must be, what, five by now?”“Prince Tommen is seven,” she told him. “The same age as Bran. Please, Ned, guard your tongue. The Lannister woman is our queen, and her pride is said to grow with every passing year.”Ned squeezed her hand. “There must be a feast, of course, with singers, and Robert will want to hunt. I shall send Jory south with an honor guard to meet them on the kingsroad and escort them back. Gods, how are we going to feed them all? On his way already, you said? Damn the man. Damn his royal hide.”3．DAENERYSHer brother held the gown up for her inspection. “This is beauty. Touch it. Go on. Caress the fabric.”Dany touched it. The cloth was so smooth that it seemed to run through her fingers like water. She could not remember ever wearing anything so soft. It frightened her. She pulled her hand away. “Is it really mine?”“A gift from the Magister Illyrio,” Viserys said, smiling. Her brother was in a high mood tonight. “The color will bring out the violet in your eyes. And you shall have gold as well, and jewels of all sorts. Illyrio has promised. Tonight you must look like a princess.”A princess, Dany thought. She had forgotten what that was like. Perhaps she had never really known. “Why does he give us so much?” she asked. “What does he want from us?” For nigh on half a year, they had lived in the magister’s house, eating his food, pampered by his servants. Dany was thirteen, old enough to know that such gifts seldom come without their price, here in the free city of Pentos.“Illyrio is no fool,” Viserys said. He was a gaunt young man with nervous hands and a feverish look in his pale lilac eyes. “The magister knows that I will not forget my friends when I come into my throne.”Dany said nothing. Magister Illyrio was a dealer in spices, gemstones, dragonbone, and other, less savory things. He had friends in all of the Nine Free Cities, it was said, and even beyond, in Vaes Dothrak and the fabled lands beside the Jade Sea. It was also said that he’d never had a friend he wouldn’t cheerfully sell for the right price. Dany listened to the talk in the streets, and she heard these things, but she knew better than to question her brother when he wove his webs of dream. His anger was a terrible thing when roused. Viserys called it “waking the dragon.”Her brother hung the gown beside the door. “Illyrio will send the slaves to bathe you. Be sure you wash off the stink of the stables. Khal Drogo has a thousand horses, tonight he looks for a different sort nificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.They had wandered since then, from Braavos to Myr, from Myr to Tyrosh, and on to Qohor and Volantis and Lys, never staying long in any one place. Her brother would not allow it. The Usurper’s hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one.At first the magisters and archons and merchant princes were pleased to welcome the last Targaryens to their homes and tables, but as the years passed and the Usurper continued to sit upon the Iron Throne, doors closed and their lives grew meaner. Years past they had been forced to sell their last few treasures, and now even the coin they had gotten from Mother’s crown had gone. In the alleys and wine sinks of Pentos, they called her brother “the beggar king.” Dany did not want to know what they called her.“We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.There came a soft knock on her door. “Come,” Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio’s servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister’s many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up for it. She was Illyrio’s favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked.They filled her bath with hot water brought up from the kitchen and scented it with fragrant oils. The girl pulled the rough cotton tunic over Dany’s head and helped her into the tub. The water was scalding hot, but Daenerys did not flinch or cry out. She liked the heat. It made her feel clean. Besides, her brother had often told her that it was never too hot for a Targaryen. “Ours is the house of the dragon,” he would say. “The fire is in our blood.”The old woman washed her long, silver-pale hair and gently combed out the snags, all in silence. The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. “Drogo is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer. Daenerys said nothing. She had always assumed that she would wed Viserys when she came of age. For centuries the Targaryens had married brother to sister, since Aegon the Conqueror had taken his sisters to bride. The line must be kept pure, Viserys had told her a thousand times; theirs was the kingsblood, the golden blood of old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not mate with the beasts of the前两天，

近年来，晚年大学火爆，入学之难一点点不亚于“入托难”。为了就读晚年大学，白叟们“抢”名额，乃至自动当起了“留级生”。

晚年大学“一座难求”的背面是晚年人的“精力空巢”，他们巴望被重视和充沛自我。

“只读书不结业”成了普遍现象

坐落江苏南京的金陵晚年大学，设置了9个系、90多个专业、240多门课，有320多个班级，每学期1.3万多人次就学，入学名额一号难求。

“报名有必要靠抢，否则必定上不了。”在该校英语白话班就学的一位白叟和记者说，渐渐的变多的白叟走出国门，白话班十分火爆。“不只有英语角、英语沙龙，还有河海大学的留学生每个月来校园进行白话沟通，所以咱们都抢着上。”

金陵晚年大学副校长王玉珍和记者说，每年招生时节，校园周边的小宾馆悉数住满。校园需求提早把教室门、空调悉数翻开，便利没有订到宾馆的白叟在教室等候。许多晚年人深夜就开端排队，本年校园测验网络报名，不到一分钟时刻一切课程悉数抢光。“不会上网的白叟有定见，说选不上课。有子女在国外的，凭仗时差为白叟选到了课。”

因为课程丰厚，且在书画和文史研究方面师资雄厚，依托当地的专家构成了专业研究院，有部分学员从外省赶到金陵晚年大学学习。一位山东的老太太为了入学书画系，在南京租房专门学习已有几年时刻。

一边是学员进不来，另一边是学员不想结业。在晚年大学里学习十几年仍未结业的不在少数，对许多晚年人来说，在这里学习渐渐的变成了日子的高兴源泉。“只读书不结业”成了普遍现象。

金陵晚年大学的电钢琴讲堂

《江苏省2018晚年人口信息和老龄工作开展情况陈述》显现，约有385万60岁至89岁晚年人有学习需求。

晚年日子的精力支柱

金陵晚年大学的一位白叟，得知自己在英语经典歌曲演唱班的考试没有经过从而无法进行下一阶段的学习后，哭成了泪人。没有老伴没有孩子，英语经典歌曲演唱班成了白叟日子里的仅有等待。

“等待”二字，道出了许多晚年人对精力日子的渴求。跟着家庭结构小型化，茕居、夫妻相依为命的晚年人渐渐的变多，精力安慰需求越来越难以从子女处得到满意。特别晚年人退休后，交际圈会快速萎缩。

每周的电子琴和书法课，是年逾八旬的赵志勇最等待的。上课前一天，他就早早地把书包拾掇好。“待在家里很闷的，没人说话。去校园咱们一同说说讲讲，能充沛自己的日子。”

许多白叟不肯将晚年日子“绑缚”在家庭特别是子女的家庭日子上，他们有着完成自我价值的渴求。江苏省老龄办副主任刘育林和白叟聊地利发现，许多人泣诉在家里带孙子、围着灶台转，看上去忙叨叨的，其实心里空落落的。

“养教结合是活跃应对人口老龄化的一项重要行动，晚年大学成为晚年人精力养老、健康日子的有利选项。”刘育林说。

刚退休不久的廖美云现在总算有时刻开展自己的兴趣喜好。她表明，时刻30%留给家庭，60%留给自己的喜好，剩余的留给交际。“尽管也步入了晚年队伍，但咱们有自己的活法。前段时刻晚年大学举行文艺汇演，咱们合唱团的扮演得到咱们共同好评。被人认可的感觉真好！”

对失能半失能白叟来说，医疗是养老的刚需；对健康白叟而言，进入晚年大学已成为养老日子的一种方法。

“亮光的晚年”

需求更齐备的晚年教育系统

“外面的人想进来，里边的人不想出去。”晚年人旺盛的学习需求和学习资源供应不平衡，是现在最实际的问题。王玉珍以为需构成完善的晚年教育系统：分层次、分类别。搞好社区办学，开展遍及性、根底性晚年教育，让更多白叟能够就近入学，不要舍近求远；市级晚年大学则有侧重地开展“优势学科”，处理有学习根底白叟的“进修”需求。“往后应构成市、区、社区等联动的晚年教育联盟。”

针对不肯结业的“留级生”，专家建议可经过在晚年大学内设置社团的方法，给这些学员一个活动、学习的出口。如设置拍摄校友会，让校园里现已学习多年的学员参加其间，由社团定时安排采风、讲座等活动。既为想进来的新同学腾挪空间，也为“忧虑脱离校园后孤寂”的老学员供应新的活动途径。

在课程设置上，跟着更多“50、60”后迈入晚年阶段，其本身文化水平及当下社会的开展对校园的课程设置提出了更高的要求。“十几年前咱们校园的电脑课很抢手，现在智能手机遍及了，电脑课也随之萎缩。”王玉珍介绍，随之而来的是英语类课程，满意白叟出国玩耍、探望孩子时沟通的需求；形象设计班，满意白叟对服装挑选、颜色调配、妆容润饰的需求；卫生保健类课程，满意白叟对摄生的需求等。

质量高、收费低，是公办晚年大学火爆的重要原因。当时市场上的优质民办晚年教育组织为数不多，能够由政府出台宏观政策，活跃支持社会力气办学。可采纳公办民营的方法，根底设施建造由政府担任，办学质量上由公立晚年大学辅导等，促进晚年教育供应对立的处理。

“参加社会的途径变窄了，这也是导致更多晚年人参加晚年大学的原因。”刘育林表明，往后在底层社会管理方面能够充沛的发挥退休白叟的及其重要的效果，让他们削减孤独感，增加被需求感，从这一层面动身缓解晚年大学的“入学难”。

最美不过夕阳红

进步晚年人的日子品质

完成“亮光晚年”

小伙伴们你或家人上晚年大学了吗

对晚年大学有什么观点

欢迎一同来留言评论吧