Onomatopoeiae of A Song of Ice and Fire

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.” Arya gave him a *whap* on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said.

A Game of Thrones, Jon II #asoiaf

Dunk closed his eyes. He heard a *crack,* a shout, a *thump.* “No,” he heard Lord Peake cry out, in anguish. *“Noooooo.”* For half a heartbeat, Dunk almost felt sorry for him. He opened his eyes again. Riderless, the big black stallion was slowing to a trot.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Mystery Knight #asoiaf

Fresh lances in hand, Paege and Frey put their spurs into their mounts once again. Clods of cracked, dry earth sprayed back from beneath their horses’ hooves with every stride. The *crack* of the lances breaking made Dunk wince. *Too much wine last night, and too much food.* He had some vague memory of carrying the bride up the steps and meeting John the Fiddler and Lord Peake upon a roof. *What was I doing on a roof?* There had been talk of dragons, he recalled, or dragon’s eggs, or something, but…

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Mystery Knight #asoiaf

“I can’t be expected to feed all the Seven Kingdoms. The boar is for my guests. So is my ale. I won’t have lords saying that I run short of food or drink before they were surfeit. The lake is full of fish, and you’ll find some other rogues camped down by the stumps. Hedge knights, if you believe them.” Her tone made it quite clear that she did not. “Might be they’d have food to share. It’s naught to me. Away with you now, I’ve work to do.” The door closed with a solid *thump* behind her, before Dunk could even think to ask where he might find these stumps.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Mystery Knight #asoiaf

Dunk’s world was spinning slowly all around him. *That potion. He’s put me back to sleep.* He closed his eyes and let all the pain drain out of him. He could hear the ravens *quork*ing and screaming at each other, and the sound of his own breath, and something else as well…a softer sound, steady, heavy, somehow soothing. “What’s that?” he murmured sleepily. “That sound…?” “That?” The maester listened. “That’s just rain.”

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Sworn Sword #asoiaf

Dunk groped at his face, pulled the cloth away. Above him torchlight played against a high ceiling. Ravens were walking on the rafters overhead, peering down with small black eyes and *quork*ing at him. *I am not blind, at least.* He was in a maester’s tower. The walls were lined with racks of herbs and potions in earthen jars and vessels of green glass. A long trestle table nearby was covered with parchments, books, and queer bronze instruments, all spattered with droppings from the ravens in the rafters.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Sworn Sword #asoiaf

One of the Kingsguard knights was carrying a wounded brother from the field. They both looked alike in their white armor and white cloaks. The third of the white knights was down, and the Laughing Storm had joined Prince Baelor against Prince Maekar. Mace, battle-axe, and longsword clashed and *clang*ed, ringing against helm and shield. Maekar was taking three blows for every one he landed, and Dunk could see that it would be over soon. *I must make an end to it before more of us are killed.*

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

The great three-headed beast covered the prince’s shield, red wings and gold fire. *No, look only where you mean to strike,* he remembered suddenly, but his lance had already begun to slide off line. Dunk tried to correct, but it was too late. He saw his point strike Aerion’s shield, taking the dragon between two of its heads, gouging into a gout of painted flame. At the muffled *crack,* he felt Thunder recoil under him, trembling with the force of the impact, and half a heartbeat later something smashed into his side with awful force.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

“Get him yourself,” said Raymun angrily. “If you think I wish any part of this, you’re as thick as you are vile.” “Vile?” Ser Steffon *tsk*ed. “Guard your tongue, Raymun. We’re both apples from the same tree. And you are my squire. Or have you forgotten your vows?”

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

He could *hear* them, at least. The horns of the heralds carried well, and from time to time a roar from the crowd told him that someone had fallen, or risen, or done something especially bold. He heard faint hoofbeats too, and once in a great while the clash of swords or the *snap* of a lance. Dunk winced whenever he heard that last; it reminded him of the noise Tanselle’s finger had made when Aerion broke it.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

The dragon puppet was scattered all about them, a broken wing here, its head there, its tail in three pieces. And in the midst of it all stood Prince Aerion, resplendent in a red velvet doublet with long, dagged sleeves, twisting Tanselle’s arm in both hands. She was on her knees, pleading with him. Aerion ignored her. He forced open her hand and seized one of her fingers. Dunk stood there stupidly, not quite believing what he saw. Then he heard a *crack,* and Tanselle screamed.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

Ser Humfrey inclined his head stiffly to his foe as his destrier was brought out, and then ignored him while he mounted, fastened his helm, and took up lance and shield. The spectators grew quiet as the two knights took their places. Dunk heard the *clang* of Prince Aerion’s dropping his visor. The horn blew.

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, The Hedge Knight #asoiaf

Out on the waters of Slaver’s Bay, another of the Qartheen galleys went up in a sudden *whooosh* of flame. Tyrion could hear elephants trumpeting to the east. The arms of the six sisters rose and fell, throwing corpses. Shield slammed against shield as two spear walls came together beneath the walls of Meereen. Dragons wheeled overhead, their shadows sweeping across the upturned faces of friend and foe alike.

The Winds of Winter, Tyrion II #asoiaf

The green beast was circling above the bay, banking and turning as longships and galleys clashed and burned below him, but it was the white dragon the sellswords were gawking at. Three hundred yards away the Wicked Sister swung her arm, *chunk-THUMP,* and six fresh corpses went dancing through the sky. Up they rose, and up, and up. Then two burst into flame.

The Winds of Winter, Tyrion II #asoiaf

Three hundred yards from where he stood rose the Wicked Sister, her long arm swinging up with a clutch of corpses—*chunk-THUMP*—and there they flew, naked and swollen, pale dead birds tumbling boneless through the air. The siege camps shimmered in a gaudy haze of rose and gold, but the famous stepped pyramids of Meereen hulked black against the glare.

The Winds of Winter, Tyrion II #asoiaf

Out beyond the city walls, the distant *thump* of a trebuchet releasing could be heard. Dead men and body parts came spinning down out of the night. One crashed amongst the pit fighters, showering them with bits of bone and brain and flesh. Another bounced off the Chainmaker’s weathered bronze head and tumbled down his arm to land with a wet splat at his feet. A swollen leg splashed in a puddle not three yards from where Selmy sat waiting on his queen’s horse.

The Winds of Winter, Barristan I #asoiaf

A steady *drip-drip-drip* punctuated his words, as snowmelt ran off his cloak to puddle on the floor. The snow had been falling on King’s Landing most of the night; outside the drifts were ankle deep. Ser Kevan Lannister pulled his cloak about himself more closely. “So you say, ser. Words are wind.”

A Dance with Dragons, Epilogue #asoiaf

“I am lost at sea,” she said as she limped along beside her meandering rivulet, “so perhaps I’ll find some crabs, or a nice fat fish.” Her whip slapped softly against her thigh, *wap wap wap*. One step at a time, and the stream would see her home.

A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys X #asoiaf

“Down,” the prince commanded. *You must not let him smell your fear.* “Down, down, *down.*” He brought the whip around and laid a lash across the dragon’s face. Viserion *hiss*ed.

A Dance with Dragons, The Dragontamer #asoiaf

Quentyn let his whip uncoil. “Viserion,” he called, louder this time. He could do this, he would do this, his father had sent him to the far ends of the earth for this, he would not fail him. “*VISERION!*” He snapped the whip in the air with a *crack* that echoed off the blackened walls.

A Dance with Dragons, The Dragontamer #asoiaf

The dragon moved awkwardly on the ground, like a man scrabbling on his knees and elbows, but quicker than the Dornish prince would have believed. When the Windblown were too late to get out of his way, Viserion let loose with another roar. Quentyn heard the rattle of chains, the deep *thrum* of a crossbow.

A Dance with Dragons, The Dragontamer #asoiaf

The butcher’s wagon was outside, waiting in the alley. The driver gave the mule a lick and rumbled through, iron-rimmed wheels *clack*ing loudly over bricks. The quartered carcass of an ox filled the wagon bed, along with two dead sheep. Half a dozen men entered afoot. Five wore the cloaks and masks of Brazen Beasts, but Pretty Meris had not troubled to disguise herself.

A Dance with Dragons, The Dragontamer #asoiaf

Her cheeks grew warm, flushed. She could feel her heart fluttering beneath her breast, and for one long moment she could not catch her breath. Hands closed around her throat, hard as stone, choking her. Her own hands shot up to claw at the arms of her attacker, but there was no one there. A terrible sense of fear filled her, and she heard a noise, a hideous *crunch*ing noise, accompanied by blinding pain.

A Dance with Dragons, The Ugly Little Girl #asoiaf

“*OPEN THE GATE!*” Big Liddle roared. His voice was thunder. Seven hundred feet above, the sentries heard and raised their warhorns to their lips. The sound rang out, echoing off the Wall and out across the world. *Ahoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.* One long blast. For a thousand years or more, that sound had meant rangers coming home. Today it meant something else. Today it called the free folk to their new homes.

A Dance with Dragons, Jon XII #asoiaf

Midday had come and gone before he and Penny reached the well, where a scrawny one-legged slave was drawing water. He squinted at them suspiciously. “Nurse always comes for Yezzan’s water, with four men and a mule cart.” He dropped the bucket down the well once more. There was a soft *splash.* The one-legged man let the bucket fill, then began to draw it upward. His arms were sunburnt and peeling, scrawny to look at but all muscle.

A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion XI #asoiaf

Though he had not attempted escape, nor offered violence to his captors, he would ignore their commands oft as not or reply with muttered curses. None of this had amused Nurse, who made his displeasure clear by confining Mormont in an iron cage and having him beaten every evening as the sun sank into Slaver’s Bay. The knight absorbed the beatings silently; the only sounds were the muttered curses of the slaves who beat him and the dull *thuds* of their clubs pounding against Ser Jorah’s bruised and battered flesh.

A Dance with Dragons, Tyrion XI #asoiaf

As he opened the door to the captain’s cabin, the dusky woman turned toward him, silent and smiling … but when she saw the red priest at his side her lips drew back from her teeth, and she *hisssss*ed in sudden fury, like a snake. Victarion gave her the back of his good hand and knocked her to the deck. “Be quiet, woman. Wine for both of us.” He turned to the black man. “Did the Vole speak true? You saw my death?”

A Dance with Dragons, The Iron Suitor #asoiaf

“*NO!*” Victarion bellowed. “Stand back! All of you. Pyke, put up your steel. Vole, back to your ship. Humble, take the wizard to my cabin. The rest of you, about your duties.” For half a heartbeat he was not certain they would obey. They stood about muttering, half with blades to hand, each looking to the others for resolve. Monkey shit rained down around them all, *splat splat splat.* No one moved until Victarion seized the sorcerer by the arm and pulled him to the hatchway.

A Dance with Dragons, The Iron Suitor #asoiaf

They found Her Grace sewing by the fire, whilst her fool danced about to music only he could hear, the cowbells on his antlers *clang*ing. “The crow, the crow,” Patchface cried when he saw Jon. “Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh.” Princess Shireen was curled up in a window seat, her hood drawn up to hide the worst of the greyscale that had disfigured her face.

A Dance with Dragons, Jon XI #asoiaf

… and folded. The dragon gave one last *hiss* and stretched out flat upon his belly. Black blood was flowing from the wound where the spear had pierced him, smoking where it dripped onto the scorched sands. *He is fire made flesh,* she thought, *and so am I.*

A Dance with Dragons, Daenerys IX #asoiaf