The Will to Change: Rereading Sandor

[Lyanna Stark]

Oh my word, that is fantastic. Brilliantly done Milady! :bowdown:

The dream sequences are so very clearly eachother in reverse, aren't they? When put next to one another like that.

[Avlonnic]

<snip>

This is drifting off into the realm of craziness, but Renly Baratheon handing over the golden tine to Sandor made me think of the first chapter of the book. It’s similar, but instead of the fight ending in the direwolf’s death and the stag losing an entire foot of antler with its “tines snapped off”, the stag recognizes the superiority of its foe (direwolf/dog-turned-direwolf-replacement/what have you), the tine is freely given and thus, the antler, and by extension the stag, is preserved.

...It’s a pity he didn’t save that tine; it would’ve come in handy after the Brotherhood “foraged” him.

I was preparing to raise this point when I found your post. I really like your interpretation. When I read the chapter the first time, I immediately thought of the broken tine in the the direwolf's throat. I feared this foreshadowed Renly's involvement in a plot against the Starks or against the Hound. Then I thought that unlike the direwolf, the Hound (guard dog) had thrown away the broken tine easily so we knew he could surmount a threat from a "gilded stag", either Renly of the shiny armor or Joffrey, who is a gilded stag on the outside but a lion inside.

There were a couple of other posts I liked. Milady reminded us that the tourney rules meant Renly had forfeited his armor and so the antler tine was a partial payment. Also, it demonstrated the Hound didn't care about the gold (tine); he wanted to defeat these pretty knights and win. I had not make the connection. LongRider mentioned the symbolism of Renly's "crown" causing disruption among the commons as well as Sandor's evident disdain for the shiny knights. Really terrific input.

ETA: found the posters' names for the references in the 2nd paragraph and added them.

[Avlonnic]

A Literary Inspiration for Sandor Clegane

Many others must’ve noticed and commented on this across the decades, the veteran readers here most of all, yet I’ve never seen a detailed write-up on this topic, and I think it’s interesting not only for what it reveals about GRRM’s process of reinventing and recycling old writings but also because the parallels go deeper than it appears from the few existing comments, and there’s some subtle stuff that might be valuable in analysing Sandor. Before I get into these details, a summary of the plot of Dying of the Light, Martin’s first novel, published in 1977, will help to become familiar with the background of the tale and characters:

<snip>

And more seminally, there’s the direct allusion to the Stranger’s kiss:

“I ought to have shown her to the black cells as the daughter of a traitor, but instead I made her part of mine own household. She shared my hearth and hall, played with my own children. I fed her, dressed her, tried to make her a little less ignorant about the world, and how did she repay me for my kindness? She helped murder my son. When we find the Imp, we will find the Lady Sansa too. She is not dead . . . but before I am done with her, I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss.”

Sweet Cersei believes that the Stranger’s kiss means exactly the same as the Bargeman’s kiss. But in a droll turnaround, GRRM has made it one of passion instead, through the imagery and structuring the layout of Sansa’s dream as the reverse of Dirk’s: it begins with death and it ends in love, the undesirable transforms into the desirable. For the Hound, there’s no real basis for the kiss he gives in dreams besides Sansa’s own feelings, but just like Bretan had given Dirk plenty of reasons to fear him and reinforced his threat with a real ritual kiss, Sandor definitely has given her clues, loads of them, that she had time to process and interpret. If we take the parallels for what they are, an example of use of literary symbolism as foreshadowing of things to come and we throw in Martin’s remarks that it would mean something, it looks plausible for the author to ultimately make the Stranger’s kiss come to reality like he did with the Bargeman’s.

I have not read this story. This is an intriguing write up, Milady. Wow.

[Milady of York]

:love: Just got through reading, and I am stunned! You mean that all this time I prided myself on reading Fevre Dream, when all the goodies were in Dying of the Light? :drunk: It's an amazing essay, and the revelations into Sandor's character and his relationship with Sansa are so profound and momentous. Thank you for penning this, Milady, and if Martin's publishers notice an increase in Dying of the Light sales, they should look to the Hound's fans.

Oh my word, that is fantastic. Brilliantly done Milady! :bowdown:

The dream sequences are so very clearly eachother in reverse, aren't they? When put next to one another like that.

Thank you so much to you both, Brash and Lyanna!

I, too, was stunned upon finding all these parallels in the novel, for I'd not expected much besides the already known physical similarity in their scars. And look at what is in there! Many parallels, several more than expected; there's even a Littlefinger type there, you can't look more doomed when even your prototype ends up giving up the ghost. The dreams were the highlight and the most amazing find to me, and both are so similar indeed, so much so that when I came to that passage I had to read and reread it many times to make sure it was really written like that, because Dirk's previous dreams are different and that makes this one stand out. The story overall has helped greatly to understand some aspects about Sandor's scars and why they were described like they were, as well as answered some niggling questions about the dream at the Fingers in ASOS, so I hope this will be of value when we arrive there.

[DogLover]

What a wonderful and unexpected treat, Milady! You made my day! I've always wondered where GRRM derived inspiration for the Hound, so my enthusiastic thanks to you, as well.

[The Weirwoods Eyes]

just bookmarking, so I can easily find the thread when I have some time to sit down n read it. :)

[ornitorrinca]

Russian nesting dolls! That's not a bad idea. I would consider Tywin to be the primary 'doll' for Gregor et all;, tho.

...

OK, I have tweaked the "Russian Nesting Dolls as a response to Bran's vision of the giant who opens his visor" to reflect what you said because I completely agree with you. However, in the interests of not jumping ahead, I will keep it on my mantelpiece until we are into ACoK! ;)

:love: Just got through reading, and I am stunned! You mean that all this time I prided myself on reading Fevre Dream, when all the goodies were in Dying of the Light? :drunk: It's an amazing essay, and the revelations into Sandor's character and his relationship with Sansa are so profound and momentous. Thank you for penning this, Milady, and if Martin's publishers notice an increase in Dying of the Light sales, they should look to the Hound's fans.

Jajaja, truth!

...

Then I thought that unlike the direwolf, the Hound (guard dog) had thrown away the broken tine easily so we knew he could surmount a threat from a "gilded stag", either Renly of the shiny armor or Joffrey, who is a gilded stag on the outside but a lion inside.

...

That is an interesting observation, that here he proves that he can handle threats from other animals, notably stags. Such an encounter would make a dog wary in the event of future run-ins with stags, so I'll definitely keep this in mind while re-reading.

Milady of York, thanks for introducing some of us to the Proto-Hound. I assume there was no mention of a fear of fire on Bretan's part? As there is no backstory given for his burns, I suppose that makes sense. Either way, the fact that he used laser-cannons to burn down cities gives me more to ponder about a possible need for Sandor to face his fear and prejudice of fire and learn to wield it.

It was fascinating to see the parts of Bretan's character which were amalgamated into the more complex Sandor character, especially the most important parts which you elaborated on, but also little things like this line you quoted:

Bretan chose one (blade) and tested it - it moved through the air with a song and a shriek - then stepped back, satisfied, to one corner of the square.

which is revamped in Tyrion I:

His boy placed a longsword in his hand. He tested the weight of it, slicing at the cold morning air. Behind him, the yard rang to the clangor of steel on steel.

The parallels and the death-to-love reversal of Dirk and Sansa's dreams were nicely explained and have provided a number of clues as to Sandor's future. Thanks again!

[Lady Gwynhyfvar]

Milady - thanks for that wonderful literary comparison! I'm now left wondering why The Dying of the Light isn't on my shelf :(

Before we move on to the next section, I’d like to post an expansion of a segment from a piece I wrote for PtP last year, as it’s highly relevant to Sandor’s arc and pertinent to this particular installment. Thanks to brash and Milady for their encouragement and generosity in indulging my penchant for Arthurian comparative analysis ;)

Chretien de Troyes recorded the tale of Lancelot, or The Knight of the Cart in the 12th century. It’s a piece of Arthurian romance dealing primarily with the relationship between Lancelot and Gwenhwyfar, and was probably the first such literature to focus on that aspect and upon themes of courtly love.

In The Knight of the Cart a rival prince named Meleagant challenges Arthur to send his Queen to him with a knight. If he defeats the knight in single combat, he will release a number of Arthur’s subjects whom he holds captive. Arthur sends Gwenhwyfar with his foster brother Kay, who is defeated and Gwenhwyfar is seized and imprisoned. Gawain and Lancelot set out, separately, to attempt a rescue. Gawain comes upon Lancelot walking behind a cart whose dwarf driver tells him to get in if he would have news of the Queen. Lancelot hesitates for two steps because the cart (also known as a pillory) is a mode of transport reserved for criminals and not befitting a knight. He does mount, in most interpretations owning his treasonous affection for the Queen, and thereafter passes every test of his devotion to her, but most significantly showing little regard for his own ego and personal honor, which is stained through the act of mounting the cart. Although King Arthur sends other knights to rescue his queen, ultimately it is Lancelot who slays Meleagant and restores Gwenhwyfar to the protection of her husband.

At the Tourney of the Hand we are introduced to Sandor as Sansa’s rescuer, when Joffrey commands him to escort her back to the castle. During their brief journey together we learn that Sandor’s early longing to be a knight has been transformed into utter scorn for the institution by his vicious brother’s elevation to that rank. He has become instead the Lannisters’ guard dog, illustrated by his “snarling” and “growling” speech. Yet he foreshadows his future as Sansa’s personal knight errant when he climbs into the back of a cart with her and returns her to her father’s protection. Just as the tale of The Knight of the Cart symbolizes Lancelot’s willingness to stain his knightly honor in the defense of his true love, so Sandor’s story starkly illustrates the theme of the conflicts inherent in a knight’s honour.

Stories about the ideals of knighthood abound in ASoIaF, but Martin also continually challenges us to explore what makes a true knight, and what conflicts are present in those ideals. Sandor’s identification of his monstrous brother with the institution has led him to dismiss it outright. His relationship with Sansa will allow him to explore those ideals and conflicts. Viewed as an echo of The Knight of the Cart, this scene can be seen as symbolising the idea that true knights aren’t necessarily without flaws and that rescue can come from places unlooked for.

[Milady of York]

Thanks for your kind words, everyone! I am glad you found it an enjoyable read.

just bookmarking, so I can easily find the thread when I have some time to sit down n read it. :)

Welcome to the reread, TWE! I hope you'll want to join us once you're done catching up on what we've discussed so far.

At the Tourney of the Hand we are introduced to Sandor as Sansa’s rescuer, when Joffrey commands him to escort her back to the castle. During their brief journey together we learn that Sandor’s early longing to be a knight has been transformed into utter scorn for the institution by his vicious brother’s elevation to that rank. He has become instead the Lannisters’ guard dog, illustrated by his “snarling” and “growling” speech. Yet he foreshadows his future as Sansa’s personal knight errant when he climbs into the back of a cart with her and returns her to her father’s protection. Just as the tale of The Knight of the Cart symbolizes Lancelot’s willingness to stain his knightly honor in the defense of his true love, so Sandor’s story starkly illustrates the theme of the conflicts inherent in a knight’s honour.

Lovely post, Gwyn! I will happily indulge your love for Arthurian lore, always.

To what you've mentioned on Sandor being the Lannisters' guard dog and how it's underscored by his hound-like snarls and growls, I'd add that there's significance in what he's wearing in that scene, at least from a thematic standpoint if nothing else. Because he's wearing this:

Sandor Clegane seemed to take form out of the night, so quickly did he appear. He had exchanged his armor for a red woolen tunic with a leather dog’s head sewn on the front. The light of the torches made his burned face shine a dull red. “Yes, Your Grace?” he said.

“Take my betrothed back to the castle, and see that no harm befalls her,” the prince told him brusquely. And without even a word of farewell, Joffrey strode off, leaving her there.

A red woollen tunic, a Lannister colour. Sandor never wears the House Clegane colours in the books, not even once, which would be odd if we didn't know the type of relationship he has with his brother, the current head of the family, and his determination to differentiate himself from him at all costs appears to be extended even to clothing. He usually wears most frequently the colours green, gray and brown, dark and sombre ones, and never anything colourful. This is the only time he deviates from his usual discreet palette in clothing, not counting the white cloak as it's an "uniform," therefore not of his choice, and I do believe the relevance of this could be twofold: firstly, that he was wearing red for the same reason he wasn't wearing either yellow or black not a surcoat with his House colours during the tourney; to differentiate himself from Gregor, who does wear a surcoat with the family colours. Secondly, to highlight in a metaphorical manner how his allegiance shifts from House Lannister towards Sansa and make it gain in sheer significance as he's wearing his former masters' chief colour. Even if neither of the reasons came from himself, it'd still matter because it'd come from the writer and it's how he's making the point of distinguishing between the brothers in subtler aspects than just their outward actions. After all, it's the younger Clegane who adopts the family sigil if not the colours, whereas the elder wears the colours but doesn't identify with the sigil. And it's the sigil that contains the philosophy of the House's founder: loyalty, service, protection; the reasons for which his dogs died and he as their master earned a knighthood.

Incidentally, this penchant of Sandor's to wear dark and unassuming colours also serves to distinguish him from another "rival," Littefinger, with whom we did a series of comparative analyses in the past. If something Baelish's attire stands out for is being garish, colourful bordering on tacky. And costly too. In fact, one of the first things that Ned hears from him when he meets him for the first time in the Council is that he's mocked for his clothes by the best-dressed man in Westeros, Renly:

“Though much better dressed,” Littlefinger quipped. “Lord Renly spends more on clothing than half the ladies of the court.”

It was true enough. Lord Renly was in dark green velvet, with a dozen golden stags embroidered on his doublet. A cloth-of-gold half cape was draped casually across one shoulder, fastened with an emerald brooch. “There are worse crimes,” Renly said with a laugh. “The way you dress, for one.”

And this isn't the first time someone aims a jab at Baelish for his clothes. Jaime does it too, when the ambushes Ned coming out from a brothel:

“Show me your steel, Lord Eddard. I’ll butcher you like Aerys if I must, but I’d sooner you died with a blade in your hand.” He gave Littlefinger a cool, contemptuous glance. “Lord Baelish, I’d leave here in some haste if I did not care to get bloodstains on my costly clothing.”

This comes from a man who's notorious for dressing as luxuriously as Lannister gold can pay, which goes to show the extent of the derision implied in his flippant comment. Another Lannister not known for dressing exactly poorly either will take note of how Littlefinger dresses like, too:

Lord Petyr was seated on his window seat, languid and elegant in a plush plum-colored doublet and a yellow satin cape, one gloved hand resting on his knee. “The king is fighting hares with a crossbow,” he said. “The hares are winning. Come see.”

Tyrion had to stand on his toes to get a look. A dead hare lay on the ground below; another, long ears twitching, was about to expire from the bolt in his side. Spent quarrels lay strewn across the hard-packed earth like straws scattered by a storm. “Now!” Joff shouted. The gamesman released the hare he was holding, and he went bounding off. Joffrey jerked the trigger on the crossbow. The bolt missed by two feet. The hare stood on his hind legs and twitched his nose at the king. Cursing, Joff spun the wheel to winch back his string, but the animal was gone before he was loaded. “Another!” The gamesman reached into the hutch. This one made a brown streak against the stones, while Joffrey’s hurried shot almost took Ser Preston in the groin.

Littlefinger turned away. “Boy, are you fond of potted hare?” he asked Podrick Payne.

Pod stared at the visitor’s boots, lovely things of red-dyed leather ornamented with black scrollwork.

There's no direct making fun of his clothes here, but the description of the colours he's wearing: plum, yellow, and red, does give a picture of flamboyance, conveying the image a nouveau riche's dress as opposed to how the old blood aristocracy dresses. This is just one example of how Littlefinger wears his wealth on his back, ostentatiously so, not minding so much about whether he'll look right or not in a garish palette. And that is met with subtle and not-so-subtle mocking. Sandor, in contrast, is never mocked for how he dresses, not even in this stance, where his attire is described by a young lady that knows about elegant dressing as much as Renly does, and all that Sansa states is the colour, that it was woollen and had a leather dog as decoration; there's nothing else to it, not whether it's a long tunic or a short tunic, though I'd say long based on that the noblemen's tunics used to be longer than commoners', not a detail on the colour and style of the leather dog, and definitely nothing indicating she assesses it negatively or deems it in poor taste. And while the Hound, as a Lannister retainer would be allowed to wear that colour for the same reason Jory can wear the gray trimmed with white cloak of the Starks instead of the Cassel colours, it's more likely he was wearing that because it's his best outfit, as indicated by the colour itself, because red was one of the costliest colours back in the medieval era, and one of those reserved for the nobles, though in Westeros it seems to be more common than in reality.

[Mahaut]

Thank you so much for this wonderful piece of writing Milady! I had been wondering about the analogies between those two ever since I stumbled upon the information in the SSM section ^_^

The coincidence isn’t fortuitous. As a matter of fact, both men reject to be addressed that way because of honour. Lack of honour in Sandor’s case, as he believes knights don’t have any and refuses to partake in the hypocrisy of swearing holy oaths that their actions will render as worthy as sheep pellets, thus doesn’t accept the association to knighthood through being called a ser, forcing people to use other forms or his sobriquet. And Bretan’s insistence in a correct form of address emanates from honouring the old customs of his society regarding the duties to kethi and teyn that determine who is allowed this familiarity:

And so too Bretan, who slapped Dirk soundly because he used the wrong form of address, a form permitted only to kethi. Another dying custom, Garse had said; even the highbonds were growing lax. But not Bretan Braith, young and not high at all, who clung to traditions that men generations older than himself had already discarded as dysfunctional.

To a Kavalar, his name is the container of his identity and his values. A glance at their naming traditions sheds light on why it shouldn’t be taken lightly: only their first name is imposed at birth by the kethi, the members of a holdfast, and therefore its exclusive use is for them and for the teyn when they are bonded. Their middle name is the name of their holdfast, determining their group membership and their loyalty. Some of them, those who are highbonds, can choose a second middle name that’s normally an animal. And the surname is chosen by each man individually; they can pick the name of someone they admire from history, someone whose ideas they like or whose deeds they wish to emulate. So, Bretan is the name he got at birth, Braith is his people, and Lantry is the name of his heroic role model; one man, one group, one ideal.

Sandor often reminds me of a proto-knight. He seems to have kept the original concept of medieval knighthood (a knight is essentially a warrior on horseback) and rejects the more modern and fancy aspects of it like the ribbons, the vows etc. So I was wondering if, like Bretan Braith Lantry, there wasn't a wish on Sandor's part to honour an older custom and ideal of knighthood that may be purer and more achievable because it wasn't corrupt by the whole pageantry and people like Gregor. What do you think?

In The Knight of the Cart a rival prince named Meleagant challenges Arthur to send his Queen to him with a knight. If he defeats the knight in single combat, he will release a number of Arthur’s subjects whom he holds captive. Arthur sends Gwenhwyfar with his foster brother Kay, who is defeated and Gwenhwyfar is seized and imprisoned. Gawain and Lancelot set out, separately, to attempt a rescue. Gawain comes upon Lancelot walking behind a cart whose dwarf driver tells him to get in if he would have news of the Queen. Lancelot hesitates for two steps because the cart (also known as a pillory) is a mode of transport reserved for criminals and not befitting a knight. He does mount, in most interpretations owning his treasonous affection for the Queen, and thereafter passes every test of his devotion to her, but most significantly showing little regard for his own ego and personal honor, which is stained through the act of mounting the cart. Although King Arthur sends other knights to rescue his queen, ultimately it is Lancelot who slays Meleagant and restores Gwenhwyfar to the protection of her husband.

I think it is interesting to mention that Gawain is also invited to climb into the cart but refuses because it would be a bad deal to exchange his horse against the cart. In most Arthurian tales, Gawain is a positive figure: he's young, handsome, an excellent warrior, and considered to be the best knight of the Round Table. As a result, when a medieval author shows that his hero surpasses Gawain, he demonstrates his superiority over all existing knights. In this case, Lancelot is better than Gawain because, as you said, he puts courtly values before his own personal honour which reflects badly on Gawain. Funnily enough, in this particular episode, Lancelot is the best knight precisely because he doesn't act like the other knights. And it all reminds us of someone we know ;)

Regarding Sandor and the cart, in SOS, he also uses it at the Twins to hide his and Arya's identity showing again little concern for his personal honour.

There is also something else in Chrétien's Lancelot that I find relevant to Sandor. Chrétien wrote a courtly love story with a twist. Originally, Occitan (Southern French) courtly poetry emphasised the service owed to the lady by her knight. However, Chrétien wrote for a Northern French public who had bathed in the chansons de geste and expected martial prowess. Consequently, he deliberately turned the service to the lady into a military service. This reminds me of Sandor because it is also as a warrior that he serves/protects Sansa during the riot or Arya at the Twins for example.

[Lady Gwynhyfvar]

To what you've mentioned on Sandor being the Lannisters' guard dog and how it's underscored by his hound-like snarls and growls, I'd add that there's significance in what he's wearing in that scene, at least from a thematic standpoint if nothing else. Because he's wearing this:

Sandor Clegane seemed to take form out of the night, so quickly did he appear. He had exchanged his armor for a red woolen tunic with a leather dog’s head sewn on the front. The light of the torches made his burned face shine a dull red.

*snip

Thanks Milady! I always love discussion of the symbolism of the clothing, and you make some very good points about Sandor's garb. Interesting that here his face also echoes the red of his clothing.

I'm sure you're aware that George has commented on the presence of red dyes in Westeros, and while they definitely seem to be more present in his world than they would have been in real life, there's no doubt that where they are, they signify wealth and power still.

I think it is interesting to mention that Gawain is also invited to climb into the cart but refuses because it would be a bad deal to exchange his horse against the cart. In most Arthurian tales, Gawain is a positive figure: he's young, handsome, an excellent warrior, and considered to be the best knight of the Round Table. As a result, when a medieval author shows that his hero surpasses Gawain, he demonstrates his superiority over all existing knights. In this case, Lancelot is better than Gawain because, as you said, he puts courtly values before his own personal honour which reflects badly on Gawain. Funnily enough, in this particular episode, Lancelot is the best knight precisely because he doesn't act like the other knights. And it all reminds us of someone we know ;)

Regarding Sandor and the cart, in SOS, he also uses it at the Twins to hide his and Arya's identity showing again little concern for his personal honour.

There is also something else in Chrétien's Lancelot that I find relevant to Sandor. Chrétien wrote a courtly love story with a twist. Originally, Occitan (Southern French) courtly poetry emphasised the service owed to the lady by her knight. However, Chrétien wrote for a Northern French public who had bathed in the chansons de geste and expected martial prowess. Consequently, he deliberately turned the service to the lady into a military service. This reminds me of Sandor because it is also as a warrior that he serves/protects Sansa during the riot or Arya at the Twins for example.

Excellent points Mahaut, especially the one about Arya from ASoS! In considering Gawain I often find parallels to him in the handsome young super-knights of Westeros-- Jaime and Loras specifically. Probably no accident that Sandor is shown in contrast to those two at the Tourney, defeating Jaime and being granted the victor's laurels over Loras due to what is one of Sandor's most chivalrous moments to date.

I love your observation that Chretien merged the courtly love tradition of the troubadours of southern France with the chansons de geste (songs of heroic deeds) of the north. It's probably worth noting that Chretien also introduced physical love to the courtly love ideal, which previously was often limited to affaires de coeur, and not necessarily physical. So Chretien's story was more physical all around, which certainly fits with the raw physicality of our hero.

[Milady of York]

I knew the mention of Round Table stories would stir our other courtly love connoisseur, and now I luckily have two "Arthurianologists" to indulge.

Thanks Milady! I always love discussion of the symbolism of the clothing, and you make some very good points about Sandor's garb. Interesting that here his face also echoes the red of his clothing.

I'm sure you're aware that George has commented on the presence of red dyes in Westeros, and while they definitely seem to be more present in his world than they would have been in real life, there's no doubt that where they are, they signify wealth and power still.

Certainly! In a past occasion I did stress that the fact that he's wearing red also is an indication of Sandor's purchasing capabilities and overall wealth in conjuction with the jewelled brooch he is seen wearing once, which also demonstrates that if he's not dressed all fancy and his armour is plain, it has more to do with his own personality and tastes than with wealth.

Sandor often reminds me of a proto-knight. He seems to have kept the original concept of medieval knighthood (a knight is essentially a warrior on horseback) and rejects the more modern and fancy aspects of it like the ribbons, the vows etc. So I was wondering if, like Bretan Braith Lantry, there wasn't a wish on Sandor's part to honour an older custom and ideal of knighthood that may be purer and more achievable because it wasn't corrupt by the whole pageantry and people like Gregor. What do you think?

I'd say that sounds right, Mahaut. For all that he's adapted to the stark "they are for killing" reality of knights, he still found a way to keep to the original and most essential aspects of knighthood without the trappings of the grand pageantry and the incense, oils and vigils. As Ser Barristan Selmy says in ADWD:

As the afternoon melted into evening, he bid his charges to lay down their swords and shields and gather round. He spoke to them about what it meant to be a knight. “It is chivalry that makes a true knight, not a sword,” he said. “Without honour, a knight is no more than a common killer. It is better to die with honor than to live without it.” The boys looked at him strangely, he thought, but one day they would understand.

This would be what Sandor is referring to when he insists they are all just killers: it's due to the lack of adherence to a code they've sworn to uphold, and that he's so incensed by that hints that it does bother him. That's one reason he clings to his grandfather's story the way he does, because that's not just the story of a true self-made man who earns everything he has in life through hard work but also it speaks of the three qualities already mentioned that are the backbone of knighthood and are all lauded in the old chansons de geste, in which it's way more honourable to earn your spurs doing great deeds that involve sacrifice. I've said that he didn't have no example of true knights growing up, only of hypocrisy and brutality, but looking closer, I would reconsider that perhaps he really did have one in his grandfather, even if only based on hearsay, and has moulded his own code accordingly aligned with this influence, and tends to serve obediently and be loyal, sometimes to a fault, and be more of a protector than an outright aggressor like Ragnorak put it.

[Mahaut]

Excellent points Mahaut, especially the one about Arya from ASoS! In considering Gawain I often find parallels to him in the handsome young super-knights of Westeros-- Jaime and Loras specifically. Probably no accident that Sandor is shown in contrast to those two at the Tourney, defeating Jaime and being granted the victor's laurels over Loras due to what is one of Sandor's most chivalrous moments to date.

I love your observation that Chretien merged the courtly love tradition of the troubadours of southern France with the chansons de geste (songs of heroic deeds) of the north. It's probably worth noting that Chretien also introduced physical love to the courtly love ideal, which previously was often limited to affaires de coeur, and not necessarily physical. So Chretien's story was more physical all around, which certainly fits with the raw physicality of our hero.

Excellent points too, Lady Gwynhyfvar. I would also love to comment some more on the physical aspect but it will have to wait as it is not specifically related to the discussion at hand.

I knew the mention of Round Table stories would stir our other courtly love connoisseur, and now I luckily have two "Arthurianologists" to indulge.

[snip]

I'd say that sounds right, Mahaut. For all that he's adapted to the stark "they are for killing" reality of knights, he still found a way to keep to the original and most essential aspects of knighthood without the trappings of the grand pageantry and the incense, oils and vigils. As Ser Barristan Selmy says in ADWD:

As the afternoon melted into evening, he bid his charges to lay down their swords and shields and gather round. He spoke to them about what it meant to be a knight. “It is chivalry that makes a true knight, not a sword,” he said. “Without honour, a knight is no more than a common killer. It is better to die with honor than to live without it.” The boys looked at him strangely, he thought, but one day they would understand.

This would be what Sandor is referring to when he insists they are all just killers: it's due to the lack of adherence to a code they've sworn to uphold, and that he's so incensed by that hints that it does bother him. That's one reason he clings to his grandfather's story the way he does, because that's not just the story of a true self-made man who earns everything he has in life through hard work but also it speaks of the three qualities already mentioned that are the backbone of knighthood and are all lauded in the old chansons de geste, in which it's way more honourable to earn your spurs doing great deeds that involve sacrifice. I've said that he didn't have no example of true knights growing up, only of hypocrisy and brutality, but looking closer, I would reconsider that perhaps he really did have one in his grandfather, even if only based on hearsay, and has moulded his own code accordingly aligned with this influence, and tends to serve obediently and be loyal, sometimes to a fault, and be more of a protector than an outright aggressor like Ragnorak put it.

I wanted to comment earlier but sadly, real life got in the way :(

I think you make a good point about the Clegane grandfather. There seems to be a strong connection between Sandor and his grandfather too, since both get severe leg injury in defence of someone else. In the grandfather's case, the loss of his leg is both a source of social promotion and honour for his family. I am wondering if there could be something similar in store for Sandor. But I may be ahead of the discussion at hand here. Anyway, in light of your essay, I would say that the grandfather's image acts both as an ideal of the past and as a model to (in)consciously emulate.

[DogLover]

The temptation of resorting to trickery is there because of the money, for even if you never win even a single tourney in your life, you still can earn a sizable amount of gold by way of "ransoms," because the rules state that the knight you unhorsed in each tilt forfeits his armour and horse to you. For tourneys, the armour used is usually the flashiest, not the plainer one for battle, which can have gold, silver and gems for decoration in it, and the horses are usually destriers, the most expensive type, ocassionally coursers, and never another type of horse. The defeated knight must pay the victor a certain amount to get his things and horse back, otherwise he'll lose it permanently. You see now why Renly went to offer his golden tine to Sandor, it's a gracious acknowledgement of defeat as well as a way of telling him that his richly gilded things are now his. With just his armour, Sandor had plenty of money already but he doesn't show interest in it, and continues jousting as ferociously as ever, because he wants a chance at the championship. Apart from the money for the winner, he must've also gotten an extra amount of ransom gold for the knights he defeated pre and post Renly, including for the golden armour and imposing charger of Jaime that obviously got ransomed since he still has them afterwards.

Thanks for expounding on this, Milday. And I now recall that Sandor did tell Arya he won horses off the knight who acted so dismissively towards him when entering the Twins in disguise.

Agreed. In thinking of the power of testimony in breaking the culture of silence that permeates Gregor's atrocities and gaining some measure of justice for his victims, we only have to look at how Oberyn Martell approaches the fight for Tyrion's trial by combat. There, he too invokes testimony as a means of confronting Gregor and getting the truth out in the open. Oberyn may not have been personally victimised or traumatised by the Mountain, but his advocating on behalf of Elia and her children is no less effective:

Ser Gregor grunted. He made a ponderous charge to hack at the Dornishman’s head. Prince Oberyn avoided him easily. “You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.”

“Did you come to talk or to fight?”

“I came to hear you confess.”

[...]

“Be quiet.” Ser Gregor seemed to be moving a little slower, and his greatsword no longer rose quite so high as it had when the contest began. “Shut your bloody mouth.”

“You raped her,” the prince said, moving to the right.

“Enough!” Ser Gregor took two long strides and brought his sword down at Oberyn’s head, but the Dornishman backstepped once more. “You murdered her,” he said.

“SHUT UP!”

Testimony, in effect, empowers the victim and disarms the perpetrator. This is what happens to Sandor on the night he tells Sansa his story and fuels his resistance to Gregor the next day. Sandor didn't get the chance to confront Gregor publicly like Oberyn did, yet he sets himself on the path for healing nonetheless.

Excellent comparison, brashcandy. As touching as it is that Oberyn wanted to extract a confession from Gregor for Elia's sake, I wonder if his untimely demise was related to his own personal desire for vengeance (as well as his cockiness). If Sandor is truly on a healing path, then he must relinquish the destructive desire for revenge.

Chretien de Troyes recorded the tale of Lancelot, or The Knight of the Cart in the 12th century. It’s a piece of Arthurian romance dealing primarily with the relationship between Lancelot and Gwenhwyfar, and was probably the first such literature to focus on that aspect and upon themes of courtly love.

In The Knight of the Cart a rival prince named Meleagant challenges Arthur to send his Queen to him with a knight. If he defeats the knight in single combat, he will release a number of Arthur’s subjects whom he holds captive. Arthur sends Gwenhwyfar with his foster brother Kay, who is defeated and Gwenhwyfar is seized and imprisoned. Gawain and Lancelot set out, separately, to attempt a rescue. Gawain comes upon Lancelot walking behind a cart whose dwarf driver tells him to get in if he would have news of the Queen. Lancelot hesitates for two steps because the cart (also known as a pillory) is a mode of transport reserved for criminals and not befitting a knight. He does mount, in most interpretations owning his treasonous affection for the Queen, and thereafter passes every test of his devotion to her, but most significantly showing little regard for his own ego and personal honor, which is stained through the act of mounting the cart. Although King Arthur sends other knights to rescue his queen, ultimately it is Lancelot who slays Meleagant and restores Gwenhwyfar to the protection of her husband.

At the Tourney of the Hand we are introduced to Sandor as Sansa’s rescuer, when Joffrey commands him to escort her back to the castle. During their brief journey together we learn that Sandor’s early longing to be a knight has been transformed into utter scorn for the institution by his vicious brother’s elevation to that rank. He has become instead the Lannisters’ guard dog, illustrated by his “snarling” and “growling” speech. Yet he foreshadows his future as Sansa’s personal knight errant when he climbs into the back of a cart with her and returns her to her father’s protection. Just as the tale of The Knight of the Cart symbolizes Lancelot’s willingness to stain his knightly honor in the defense of his true love, so Sandor’s story starkly illustrates the theme of the conflicts inherent in a knight’s honour.

Stories about the ideals of knighthood abound in ASoIaF, but Martin also continually challenges us to explore what makes a true knight, and what conflicts are present in those ideals. Sandor’s identification of his monstrous brother with the institution has led him to dismiss it outright. His relationship with Sansa will allow him to explore those ideals and conflicts. Viewed as an echo of The Knight of the Cart, this scene can be seen as symbolising the idea that true knights aren’t necessarily without flaws and that rescue can come from places unlooked for.

Thank you so much for this wonderful piece of writing Milady! I had been wondering about the analogies between those two ever since I stumbled upon the information in the SSM section ^_^

Sandor often reminds me of a proto-knight. He seems to have kept the original concept of medieval knighthood (a knight is essentially a warrior on horseback) and rejects the more modern and fancy aspects of it like the ribbons, the vows etc. So I was wondering if, like Bretan Braith Lantry, there wasn't a wish on Sandor's part to honour an older custom and ideal of knighthood that may be purer and more achievable because it wasn't corrupt by the whole pageantry and people like Gregor. What do you think?

I think it is interesting to mention that Gawain is also invited to climb into the cart but refuses because it would be a bad deal to exchange his horse against the cart. In most Arthurian tales, Gawain is a positive figure: he's young, handsome, an excellent warrior, and considered to be the best knight of the Round Table. As a result, when a medieval author shows that his hero surpasses Gawain, he demonstrates his superiority over all existing knights. In this case, Lancelot is better than Gawain because, as you said, he puts courtly values before his own personal honour which reflects badly on Gawain. Funnily enough, in this particular episode, Lancelot is the best knight precisely because he doesn't act like the other knights. And it all reminds us of someone we know ;)

Regarding Sandor and the cart, in SOS, he also uses it at the Twins to hide his and Arya's identity showing again little concern for his personal honour.

There is also something else in Chrétien's Lancelot that I find relevant to Sandor. Chrétien wrote a courtly love story with a twist. Originally, Occitan (Southern French) courtly poetry emphasised the service owed to the lady by her knight. However, Chrétien wrote for a Northern French public who had bathed in the chansons de geste and expected martial prowess. Consequently, he deliberately turned the service to the lady into a military service. This reminds me of Sandor because it is also as a warrior that he serves/protects Sansa during the riot or Arya at the Twins for example.

I just love your Arthurian legends/courtly love essays on PtP and have read them numerous times. I do hope to see more of this here, Lady Gwyn and Mahaut!

[brashcandy]

<snip>

Like with Bretan, there’s also death imagery embedded into Sandor by way of the Stranger, that’d be the Westerosi simile to the Bargeman by description and by role. There’s his steed with that name, and his marred face that harks back to the god’s inhuman one as well as his continual walking in and out of shadows. There’s his killer aspect in sending souls to the other side, and then there’s his gravedigger aspect putting bodies to rest. And more seminally, there’s the direct allusion to the Stranger’s kiss:

<snip>

I wanted to highlight this section because it holds significant meaning for our understanding of the Hound as you've explained so evocatively. Added to this death imagery is what Sandor tells Sansa in our current chapter under consideration:

"...The septons preach about the seven hells. What do they know? Only a man who's been burned knows what hell is truly like..."

Indeed, Sandor's trauma has resulted in terrible knowledge of the liminal space between life and death that few could appreciate.

Stories about the ideals of knighthood abound in ASoIaF, but Martin also continually challenges us to explore what makes a true knight, and what conflicts are present in those ideals. Sandor’s identification of his monstrous brother with the institution has led him to dismiss it outright. His relationship with Sansa will allow him to explore those ideals and conflicts. Viewed as an echo of The Knight of the Cart, this scene can be seen as symbolising the idea that true knights aren’t necessarily without flaws and that rescue can come from places unlooked for.

Great post, Gwyn. Sandor really does reflect the truth that true knights don't have to be flawless. He's often taken to task for his lack of genteel speech and courtly manners, but when we consider that these are just as much a part of the show and sham of knighthood, then Sandor's attitude represents a refreshing change. When he comes straight out and tells Sansa it would have been a "small chance of that" for Joff to escort her back home it may come across as needlessly impolite, yet we as readers appreciate that the sooner Sansa's illusions about Joff were dispelled, the better off she would have been.

Excellent comparison, brashcandy. As touching as it is that Oberyn wanted to extract a confession from Gregor for Elia's sake, I wonder if his untimely demise was related to his own personal desire for vengeance (as well as his cockiness). If Sandor is truly on a healing path, then he must relinquish the destructive desire for revenge.

Yes, Oberyn's case shows how the pursuit of justice and vengeance can become easily blurred, leading to a self-destructive end. By gaining access to an empathic listener in Sansa, Sandor is able to begin the process of letting go of the desire to kill his brother. It's more about his own personal redemption and relief, whilst Oberyn's testimony takes the form of a public condemnation meant to denounce Gregor and humiliate the Lannisters. The latter is perfectly understandable, yet it presents a cautionary tale on how allowing the abuser to have a "say" in your ability to heal from a traumatic event and move on, can be ultimately futile and disastrous.

[ornitorrinca]

What are your opinions of Sandor's raucous laughter during the Tournament? I think there is more to it than just "Nice! My asshole brother just made a fool of himself in front of the entirety of Westerosi nobility!"

Did he want his brother to hear him? According to Ned, it was unmistakably Sandor and pretty darn loud. I completely get why he would be laughing riotously at his brother's major fail, but was it louder than warranted, purposefully or even subconsciously? (What would that imply? That he is goading his brother on to initiate this inevitable violence?) Laughing at another's bad fortunate generally encourages that person to feel worse, but Sandor would know that in Gregor's case, disrespect results in violence: violence for Loras and possible violence for Sandor. If he didn't want conflict with Gregor, was the urge to laugh that uncontrollable? And if he did want Gregor to hear, he would have had to expect a future confrontation over it, right?

Did Sandor perhaps anticipate what was coming, since Loras's trick was a sure-fire way to invoke Gregor's wrath? Maybe he didn't expect horse-murder and attempted Loras-murder, but Gregor simply is not the type to leave the field in a huff. Maybe he felt he had to get the laughter in while he could, since things were about to go downhill fast and this might also have been his first and only opportunity to point and laugh openly at his brother. In this case, he wouldn't be goading his brother into action by laughing, but releasing even more Gregor-induced stress after his encounter with Sansa and preparing himself for the inevitable confrontation. I kind of like this possibility, personally.

Or maybe he was just so taken aback and delighted by Loras's scheme and its consequences that he got lost in the humor of the moment without thinking of what was about to befall Loras; then the murder of the horse brought him back to himself and he had to jump in as fast as possible. In that case, then, the volume of his laughter would be genuine, and he wouldn't even have considered that his brother might hear it. I doubt this could be possible, mainly because Gregor's violence is always on his mind, especially during these scenes.

Then: did Gregor hear his brother laughing at him? If they really have spent the past decade or more avoiding each other, it’s possible he would not have recognized his brother’s voice. But Sandor can’t be sure of that, can he? On one hand, Gregor might've been so angry over what had just happened that he was completely fixated on killing the immediate causes of his disgrace - his horse (for simply acting like a horse) and Loras - and so, he couldn't hear anything. On the other hand, maybe he did hear Sandor, and this would further fuel the intensity of their battle and explain why he seems so intent on killing Sandor then and there (yes, he's "so bad he doesn't need a reason to kill," but Sandor's laughter might've been justification as far as Gregor is concerned).

I think the question of whether or not Gregor heard Sandor's laughter (in addition to Sandor's "winning" their fight in the eyes of all present) is worth keeping in mind in later scenes involving/mentioning the elder Clegane in relation to Sandor.

[brashcandy]

What are your opinions of Sandor's raucous laughter during the Tournament? I think there is more to it than just "Nice! My asshole brother just made a fool of himself in front of the entirety of Westerosi nobility!"

<snip>

I think Gregor's fall has genuinely moved Sandor to hilarity for the most part, although there's the obvious extra enjoyment that comes along with seeing a foe humiliated. With that in mind, it's interesting to juxtapose it with another raucous laughter that Ned observes during the tourney, when Jaime falls off his horse:

Jaime Lannister was back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, and over it all Ned could hear King Robert laughing, louder than anyone.

As we see in this incident, while nearly everyone finds the Kingslayer's fall to be amusing, Robert takes special pleasure from it, due to his contentious relationship with Jaime, one that we saw playing out the previous night during the feast when he pushes the knight over in a drunken state. Sandor's laughter when telling Sansa that he might have to kill Gregor the next day was not one that indicated genuine mirth on his part, but here we see that for just a moment he can experience real satisfaction in seeing Gregor tricked by Loras. I have no doubt that Sandor might have wanted Gregor to hear him laughing, just as Robert wanted Jaime to hear. Overall, it's a moment that affords Sandor an instant of relishing in his brother's disgrace, one that is heightened by his cathartic experience with Sansa the night before.

[ornitorrinca]

I think Gregor's fall has genuinely moved Sandor to hilarity for the most part, although there's the obvious extra enjoyment that comes along with seeing a foe humiliated. With that in mind, it's interesting to juxtapose it with another raucous laughter that Ned observes during the tourney, when Jaime falls off his horse:

Jaime Lannister was back on his feet, but his ornate lion helmet had been twisted around and dented in his fall, and now he could not get it off. The commons were hooting and pointing, the lords and ladies were trying to stifle their chuckles, and failing, and over it all Ned could hear King Robert laughing, louder than anyone.

As we see in this incident, while nearly everyone finds the Kingslayer's fall to be amusing, Robert takes special pleasure from it, due to his contentious relationship with Jaime, one that we saw playing out the previous night during the feast when he pushes the knight over in a drunken state. Sandor's laughter when telling Sansa that he might have to kill Gregor the next day was not one that indicated genuine mirth on his part, but here we see that for just a moment he can experience real satisfaction in seeing Gregor tricked by Loras. I have no doubt that Sandor might have wanted Gregor to hear him laughing, just as Robert wanted Jaime to hear. Overall, it's a moment that affords Sandor an instant of relishing in his brother's disgrace, one that is heightened by his cathartic experience with Sansa the night before.

Right, the comparison between Robert and Sandor is there and important, and as Robert definitely wanted Jaime to hear his laughter, I feel that Sandor did, too. Robert, however, is the King and doesn’t have to fear a violent reprisal from Jaime (who, moreover and hilariously for Robert, is left in no condition to confront anyone, trapped as he is in his own helmet). In the previous chapter, Robert pushes Jaime down in front of everyone, while Sandor reveals the extent of his brother’s depravity and how easily Gregor is provoked to violence. He had every right to laugh heartily at the spectacle of Gregor being thrown, but where Robert could laugh with impunity, Sandor could not. Not forcing himself to control his laughter, thus allowing (or wanting) his brother to hear, was a brave act on his part. Yes, I agree that it is an extension of the emotional release he found by talking to Sansa. But I’d be surprised if he let the situation get the better of him, forgetting in his laughter just what his brother was capable of. He knows Gregor too well to think nothing would happen. The laughter comes off almost as a challenge against what Gregor is about to do (only the 2 brothers -and now Sansa- could be expected to know that something of that magnitude was brewing), and Sandor is fully prepared to defend Loras, hence his swift intervention.

[Milady of York]

Right, the comparison between Robert and Sandor is there and important, and as Robert definitely wanted Jaime to hear his laughter, I feel that Sandor did, too. Robert, however, is the King and doesn’t have to fear a violent reprisal from Jaime (who, moreover and hilariously for Robert, is left in no condition to confront anyone, trapped as he is in his own helmet). In the previous chapter, Robert pushes Jaime down in front of everyone, while Sandor reveals the extent of his brother’s depravity and how easily Gregor is provoked to violence. He had every right to laugh heartily at the spectacle of Gregor being thrown, but where Robert could laugh with impunity, Sandor could not. Not forcing himself to control his laughter, thus allowing (or wanting) his brother to hear, was a brave act on his part. Yes, I agree that it is an extension of the emotional release he found by talking to Sansa. But I’d be surprised if he let the situation get the better of him, forgetting in his laughter just what his brother was capable of. He knows Gregor too well to think nothing would happen. The laughter comes off almost as a challenge against what Gregor is about to do (only the 2 brothers -and now Sansa- could be expected to know that something of that magnitude was brewing), and Sandor is fully prepared to defend Loras, hence his swift intervention.

I would agree with Brash's assessment, and besides what she said in comparing Robert's hilarity regarding Jaime's fall, there's something else to consider here: proximity.

The reason Ned was able to hear Robert laughing above so much noise is his placement near the king's dais, in the site for the high lords that's usually placed next or below the royal seats in tourneys because of rank and precedence. Robert is naturally loud, but since he was nearby, he'd be heard even louder above the others by Ned, who's also familiar with his voice. And if he heard Sandor in the same way, it would indicate he, too, was near Ned, and that's the simplest explanation for why he heard his laughter so loud. That added in, it doesn't look like there's a desire for provocation on Sandor's part involved here.

[DogLover]

A GAME OF THRONES: SANDOR IV SUMMARY

EDDARD XI

SANSA III

EDDARD XXII

EDDARD XXIII

EDDARD XIV

SANSA IV

EDDARD XI, Chapter 43

Eddard sits the Iron Throne, listening to petitions and doling out judgment while King Robert enjoys a hunting trip with an entourage that also includes Sandor Clegane.

A party of villagers from Sherrer in the Riverlands had come to tell Ned of “brigands” who terrorized their lands. However, the villagers, including three knights who bore witness, insisted the men who laid waste to the lands (Wendish Town, Mummer’s Ford, and Sherrer) and slaughtered the inhabitants and livestock, were actually soldiers carrying out orders given by Lannisters with Gregor Clegane leading the charge. While the raiders carried no banners, the fact that they were armored, rode war horses, and were led by someone as unmistakable as Gregor drew the obvious conclusion that the raiders were under orders and much more than mere brigands.

The brewer, Joss, shook his head. “It grieves me, m’lord, but no, the armor they showed us was plain, only…the one who led them, he was armored like the rest, but there was no mistaking him all the same. It was the size of him, m’lord. Those as say the giants are all dead never saw this one, I swear. Big as an ox he was, and a voice like stone breaking.”

“The Mountain!” Ser Marq said loudly. “Can any man doubt it? This was Gregor Clegane’s work.”

After Maester Pycelle tries to cast doubt on the accusations by telling the accusers that there are many large men, several knights spit back, including Ser Raymun who states “Even his brother is a pup beside him.”

Grand Maester Pycelle retorts back, claiming that an anointed knight wouldn’t just turn brigand. Ser Marq responds by calling Gregor “Lord Tywin’s mad dog.”

After listening to what the knights want in return for the massacre—the king’s leave to retaliate—Ned thinks he does not doubt that Gregor was commanded to lead a raid party to burn and pillage, but finds the situation a sticky once since, if the knights of the Riverlands retaliate, the Lannisters would simply claim the Tully’s were the ones to break the king’s peace. Ultimately, Ned sends a party under the leadership of Beric Dondarrion, along with Thoros of Myr, Ser Gladden, and Lord Lothar, to seek justice.

And then announces the punishment:

“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, by the word of Eddard of the House Stark, his Hand, I charge you to ride to the westlands with all haste, to cross the Red Fork of the Trident under the king’s flag, and there bring the king’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane, and to all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him, and attaint him, and strip him of all rank and titles, of all lands and incomes and holdings, and do sentence him to death. May the gods take pity on his soul.”

Sansa III, Chapter 44

Sansa , who witnessed the judgment passed on Gregor Clegane, tells Arya about it, recounting that Beric Dondarrion had been charged to take the command against Gregor Clegane. Arya asks why Jaime and the Hound haven’t been beheaded for their crimes:

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. “Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyle, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should behead them.”

“It’s not the same,” Sansa said. “The Hound is Joffrey’s sworn shield. Your butcher’s boy attacked the prince.”

Eddard XII, Chapter 45

Petyr Baelish pays Ned a visit and lets him know that Lord Tywin, displeased with Ned’s judgment and sentence, is gathering an army. He also lets him know that some of the king’s hunting party has returned. Ned asks about the Hound:

“The Hound?” Ned asked, frowning. Of all the Lannister party, Sandor Clegane was the one who concerned him the most, now that Ser Jaime had fled the city to join his father.

Lord Baelish tells Ned that Sandor returned with Joffrey and, of course, went straight to the queen, stating, “I would have given a hundred silver stages to have been a roach in the rushes when he learned that Lord Beric was off to behead his brother.” Ned responds with how obvious it is that the Hound hates his brother. Petyr informs Ned that he has just deprived the Hound of his own opportunity to kill Gregor.

“Ah, but Gregor was his to loathe, not yours to kill. Once Dondarrion lops the summit off our Mountain, the Clegane lands and incomes will pass to Sandor, but I wouldn’t hold my water waiting for his thanks, not that one.”

Eddard XIII, Chapter 47

A dying Robert tells Eddard that he didn’t tell the Hound about the orders to execute Gregor, leaving it to Cersei to pass on the news:

“A fuck you, Ned,” the king said hoarsely. “I killed the bastard, didn’t I?” A lock of matted black hair fell across his eyes as he glared up at Ned. “Ought to do the same for you. Can’t leave a man to hunt in peace. Ser Robar found me. Gregor’s head. Ugly thought. Never told the Hound. Let Cersei surprise him.”

Eddard XIV, Chapter 49

An injured Ned wakes to the sound of men practicing in the yard below his window and sees Sandor Clegane:

Ned watched Sandor Clegane gallop across the hard-packed ground to drive an iron-tipped lance through a dummy’s head. Canvas ripped and straw exploded as Lannister guardsmen joked and cursed.

Ned wonders if this is meant to intimidate him:

Is this a brave show for my benefit, he wondered. If so, Cersei was a greater fool than he’d imagined. Damn her, he thought, why is the woman not fled? I have given her chance after chance…

Later, King Robert dies and Ned plans to support Stannis’ claim and is meeting with the small council, but Cersei acts quickly. Joffrey summons Ned and the rest of the small council to the throne room. When Ned slowly makes his way to the Iron Throne, he sees Sandor next to Joffrey.

Above them, Prince Joffrey sat amidst the barbs and spikes in a cloth-of-gold doublet and a red satin cape. Sandor Clegane was stationed at the foot of the throne’s steep narrow stair. He wore mail and soot-grey plate and his snarling dog’s-head helm.

Joffrey demands immediate oaths of fealty from his “loyal councilors.” Ned presents Robert’s letter: his will and testament. Cersei mocks him and rips up the letter. Ned, refusing to back down, declares in front of everyone that Stannis is Robert’s true heir. Cersei demands that Ned be seized, prompting Ned’s men to draw their swords. Ned then hears the Hound draw his own sword: “With an ominous rasp of metal on metal, the Hound drew his longsword. The knights of the Kingsguard and twenty Lannister guardsmen in crimson cloaks moved to support him.” The gold cloaks quickly join the Lannisters and the slaughter of Ned’s men begins. One of Ned’s men, Cayn, almost freed himself, but the Hound cuts off Cayn’s sword hand and then kills him by slicing down from shoulder to breastbone.

SANSA IV, Chapter 51

Sansa is confined to her room during the slaughtering of the Stark household. Other than Ned and Sansa, who are prisoners, only Jeyne survives the bloodshed and is placed in Sansa’s room. Jeyne, bruised and clearly terrified, screams, “They’re killing everyone,” and tells Sansa that the Hound had broken down her door with a warhammer.