“Hard men for a hard land,” I heard you say.
It might be so: who can say for sure, now
that there is no longer even dust left
of them to erode: even their cold blades
have worn dull at the oil-stone of time.
And yet, it is like as not that a flight
South would not have thawed or softened them.
It is nearer the mark to say that the
land’s evil grew up out of close contact
with them, and thus, the men begot the land.
Can you tell I’ve been reading A Song of Ice and Fire?