Dawn is an Others greatsword

[markg171]

Description of Others blades:

The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

The pale sword came shivering through the air.

Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other’s danced with pale blue light.

Then Royce’s parry came a beat too late. The pale sword bit through the ringmail beneath his arm.

When the blades touched, the steel shattered.

The watchers moved forward together, as if some signal had been given. Swords rose and fell, all in a deathly silence. It was cold butchery. The pale blades sliced through ringmail as if it were silk.

So Others' swords are pale, not forged from human metal, glow/dance with light, are incredibly hard, and incredibly sharp.

Description of Dawn:

The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star.

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

The Smiling Knight was a madman, cruelty and chivalry all jumbled up together, but he did not know the meaning of fear. And Dayne, with Dawn in hand . . . the outlaw's longsword had so many notches by the end that Ser Arthur had stopped to let him fetch a new one. "It's that white sword of yours I want," the robber knight told him as they resumed, though he was bleeding from a dozen wounds by then. "Then you shall have it, ser," the Sword of the Morning replied, and made an end of it.

Dawn is also said to be like a Valyrian Steel sword in its properties. Description of Valyrian Steel sword:

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.

So Dawn is pale, forged from non human metal, alive with light, incredibly strong, and incredibly sharp.

But wait, aren't Others' swords cold? No. Rather, the Others are cold, and by extension from wielding the sword, the sword is also cold. Because the cold starts before the blades are introduced

“Will, where are you?” Ser Waymar called up. “Can you see anything?” He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. “Answer me! Why is it so cold?”

It was cold. Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek.

A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.
Will heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in a long hiss. “Come no farther,” the lordling warned. His voice cracked like a boy’s. He threw the long sable cloak back over his shoulders, to free his arms for battle, and took his sword in both hands. The wind had stopped. It was very cold.

The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Then only after prolonged interaction near the Other, his sword starts freezing

The pale sword came shivering through the air.

Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.
Behind him, to right, to left, all around him, the watchers stood patient, faceless, silent, the shifting patterns of their delicate armor making them all but invisible in the wood. Yet they made no move to interfere.

Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other’s danced with pale blue light.

...

Ser Waymar Royce found his fury. “For Robert!” he shouted, and he came up snarling, lifting the frost-covered longsword with both hands and swinging it around in a flat sidearm slash with all his weight behind it.

It's the same with Sam:

The lower branches of the great green sentinel shed their burden of snow with a soft wet plop. Grenn spun, thrusting out his torch. "Who goes there?" A horse's head emerged from the darkness. Sam felt a moment's relief, until he saw the horse. Hoarfrost covered it like a sheen of frozen sweat, and a nest of stiff black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back was a rider pale as ice. Sam made a whimpery sound deep in his throat. He was so scared he might have pissed himself all over again, but the cold was in him, a cold so savage that his bladder felt frozen solid. The Other slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword-slim it was, and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new-fallen snow.

...

The Other's sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam's ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.

...

Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.

When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's cold."

The Other comes, and with it the cold.Then it's sword is introduced. Just like with Royce. Then when Sam stabs it with obsidian, the Other begins to melt. And when Grenn tries to pick up the dagger, which came into contact with the Other, the dagger is freezing cold. The dagger was not cold, until it came into contact with the Other.

It's the Others that are cold, and by extension, their swords when they wield them. The fact that the cold comes with the Other and not the blade, and that the dragonglass dagger was cold after contact with an Other shows this.

The descriptions of the two blades seem to be near identical. Dawn is an Others greatsword.

[Blazfemur]

nah, Ice is. The original Ice. the ancestral Stark blade. it's currently being wielded by a Stark. 13th Lord Commander Stark. The Night's King, and Last Hero.

thats enough crackpot for today

[The Dragon has three heads]

Dawn is something important, not sure what yet.

But there's too many coincidences with house Dayne for it to be a red herring

[yolkboy]

The descriptions of the two blades seem to be near identical.

Other's blades are blue, dawn is white.

Grrm said Others blades are made of ice. I think their are similarities, and they are purposeful, so well noticed. Just not the same thing i think.

[JonCon's Red Beard]

nah, Ice is. The original Ice. the ancestral Stark blade. it's currently being wielded by a Stark. 13th Lord Commander Stark. The Night's King, and Last Hero.

thats enough crackpot for today

That doesn't sound crackpot at all.

[Ser Cold Fingers]

I remember from somewhere that the Others are said to do things with Ice that does not seem possible. So I would assume that their blades melt.

Wouldn't the Other have a blade that Sam killed? What happened to that Blade? I assumed it melted.

Dawn though...must be important or it is one hell of a Red Herring.

I still think it is LB but what do I know? Just some country hick in Texas who thinks the internets is gonna take over...I'm scared of my toaster at times.

[JonCon's Red Beard]

I kinda have the feeling that the friendship between Arthur and Rhaegar was not only due to them being good pals, but they kinda "nerded" about old prophecies and stuff. We don't know anything about Dawn and what's the mythology about it. Maybe Rhaegar believed that Dawn would be needed for the eventual fight against the Long Night, after all, the current Targaryens have Dayne blood. And maybe that's why Arthur wanted Rhaegar to be King, because he knew someone would need to fight the "real danger".

(see, that's crackpot :P )

[Ser Cold Fingers]

The cracked pot is currently being held together by my 'JonJon' and 'Rhaegar is Quaithe' bumperstickers...and that cracked pot is the lifeblood of my portable lemon tree named Ashara.

[markg171]

Other's blades are blue, dawn is white.

Grrm said Others blades are made of ice. I think their are similarities, and they are purposeful, so well noticed. Just not the same thing i think.

It seems from the descriptions that the Others blade only glows blue. Other than that, they are described as pale and translucent, and even alive with moonlight. It's the glow that is only ever described as blue. And only one of the Others blade is said to have this blue to it. The other Others in the prologue are just described having pale swords. So I don't know if they actually are blue. And even then if theirs are blue, and Dawn is white, everything else is extremely similar.

As to the Others blades being made of ice, I don't see why Dawn couldn't be magically bound ice too. GRRM said they're made of:

Ice. But not like regular old ice. The Others can do things with ice that we can't imagine and make substances of it

He says they can make substances out of ice. That doesn't seem to indicate that the final product, would have the same properties of ice (i.e melt). A lot of people speculate that the Daynes were involved in the Long Night, and I think Dawn could have been a greatsword they took during the fight. If it's forged of ice, but not ice was all the spells are done, then it could stay in its form even when it gets taken to Dorne. Valyrian Steel swords maintain their spells so I don't see why Others blades wouldn't either.

[yolkboy]

It seems from the descriptions that the Others blade only glows blue. Other than that, they are described as pale and translucent, and even alive with moonlight. It's the glow that is only ever described as blue. And only one of the Others blade is said to have this blue to it. The other Others in the prologue are just described having pale swords. So I don't know if they actually are blue. And even then if theirs are blue, and Dawn is white, everything else is extremely similar.

As to the Others blades being made of ice, I don't see why Dawn couldn't be magically bound ice too. GRRM said they're made of:

He says they can make substances out of ice. That doesn't seem to indicate that the final product, would have the same properties of ice (i.e melt). A lot of people speculate that the Daynes were involved in the Long Night, and I think Dawn could have been a greatsword they took during the fight. If it's forged of ice, but not ice was all the spells are done, then it could stay in its form even when it gets taken to Dorne. Valyrian Steel swords maintain their spells so I don't see why Others blades wouldn't either.

I'm not saying the Other's blades would melt necessarily, I'm saying their blades are freezing cold. That's why Waymar's blade is described as turning "white with frost" after it touches the Other's blade. It's also why his steel "shatters".

Dawn is never described as having this property, and we do get an account of Jaime being knighted with it.

[markg171]

I remember from somewhere that the Others are said to do things with Ice that does not seem possible. So I would assume that their blades melt.

Wouldn't the Other have a blade that Sam killed? What happened to that Blade? I assumed it melted.

Dawn though...must be important or it is one hell of a Red Herring.

I still think it is LB but what do I know? Just some country hick in Texas who thinks the internets is gonna take over...I'm scared of my toaster at times.

It's never said what happens to that Others blade. It's last seen in Small Paul

The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul's axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul's mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, "Oh," as he lost the axe. Impaled, his blood smoking around the sword, the big man tried to reach his killer with his hands and almost had before he fell. The weight of him tore the strange pale sword from the Other's grip.

Then it doesn't appear when Small Paul returns as a wight

The huge dark shape stooped under the lintel, into the hall, and shambled toward them. In the dim light of the fire, the shadow became Small Paul.

"Go away," Sam croaked. "We don't want you here."

Paul's hands were coal, his face was milk, his eyes shone a bitter blue. Hoarfrost whitened his beard, and on one shoulder hunched a raven, pecking at his cheek, eating the dead white flesh. Sam's bladder let go, and he felt the warmth running down his legs. "Gilly, calm the horse and lead her out. You do that."

...

The wight turned his head to look at her, but Sam shouted "NO!" and he turned back. The raven on his shoulder ripped a strip of flesh from his pale ruined cheek. Sam held the dagger before him, breathing like a blacksmith's bellows. Across the longhall, Gilly reached the garron. Gods give me courage, Sam prayed. For once, give me a little courage. Just long enough for her to get away.

Small Paul moved toward him. Sam backed off until he came up against a rough log wall. He clutched the dagger with both hands to hold it steady. The wight did not seem to fear the dragonglass. Perhaps he did not know what it was. He moved slowly, but Small Paul had never been quick even when he'd been alive. Behind him, Gilly murmured to calm the garron and tried to urge it toward the door. But the horse must have caught a whiff of the wight's queer cold scent. Suddenly she balked, rearing, her hooves lashing at the frosty air. Paul swung toward the sound, and seemed to lose all interest in Sam.

There was no time to think or pray or be afraid. Samwell Tarly threw himself forward and plunged the dagger down into Small Paul's back. Half-turned, the wight never saw him coming. The raven gave a shriek and took to the air. "You're dead!" Sam screamed as he stabbed. "You're dead, you're dead." He stabbed and screamed, again and again, tearing huge rents in Paul's heavy black cloak. Shards of dragonglass flew everywhere as the blade shattered on the iron mail beneath the wool.

Sam's wail made a white mist in the black air. He dropped the useless hilt and took a hasty step backwards as Small Paul twisted around. Before he could get out his other knife, the steel knife that every brother carried, the wight's black hands locked beneath his chins. Paul's fingers were so cold they seemed to burn. They burrowed deep into the soft flesh of Sam's throat. Run, Gilly, run, he wanted to scream, but when he opened his mouth only a choking sound emerged.

His fumbling fingers finally found the dagger, but when he slammed it up into the wight's belly the point skidded off the iron links, and the blade went spinning from Sam's hand. Small Paul's fingers tightened inexorably, and began to twist. He's going to rip my head off, Sam thought in despair. His throat felt frozen, his lungs on fire. He punched and pulled at the wight's wrists, to no avail. He kicked Paul between the legs, uselessly. The world shrank to two blue stars, a terrible crushing pain, and a cold so fierce that his tears froze over his eyes. Sam squirmed and pulled, desperate . . . and then he lurched forward.

Small Paul was big and powerful, but Sam still outweighed him, and the wights were clumsy, he had seen that on the Fist. The sudden shift sent Paul staggering back a step, and the living man and the dead one went crashing down together. The impact knocked one hand from Sam's throat, and he was able to suck in a quick breath of air before the icy black fingers returned. The taste of blood filled his mouth. He twisted his neck around, looking for his knife, and saw a dull orange glow. The fire! Only ember and ashes remained, but still . . . he could not breathe, or think . . . Sam wrenched himself sideways, pulling Paul with him . . . his arms flailed against the dirt floor, groping, reaching, scattering the ashes, until at last they found something hot . . . a chunk of charred wood, smouldering red and orange within the black . . . his fingers closed around it, and he smashed it into Paul's mouth, so hard he felt teeth shatter.

Yet even so the wight's grip did not loosen. Sam's last thoughts were for the mother who had loved him and the father he had failed. The longhall was spinning around him when he saw the wisp of smoke rising from between Paul's broken teeth. Then the dead man's face burst into flame, and the hands were gone.

Sam sucked in air, and rolled feebly away. The wight was burning, hoarfrost dripping from his beard as the flesh beneath blackened. Sam heard the raven shriek, but Paul himself made no sound. When his mouth opened, only flames came out. And his eyes . . . It's gone, the blue glow is gone.

So no idea where the sword went.

[Lykos]

I don't think Dawn is that cool, but I think there might be a connection.

It seems to be made to hold the opposite power. The one was alive with moonlight the other alive with (i assume sun-) light. To find the white walkers you'll have to follow the Eye of the Ice Dragon to find the Daynes you'll need to look for the Sword of the Morning.

Jon in Storm

The Sword of the Morning still hung in the south, the bright white star in its hilt blazing like a diamond in the dawn, but the blacks and greys of the darkling forest were turning once again to greens and golds, reds and russets.

So again blue versus white.

[Victor227]

Dawn is a conventional sword. That is, it has the properties of a sword. It's a really good sword, to be sure, but it's still a sword. Against the Smiling Knight, Dawn managed to batter his sword, dent it, generally inflict wear and tear in it without receiving wear and tear in turn. The Others on the other hand, can outright freeze and shatter conventional steel with their blades.

It's undoubtedly a special sword, but I don't think it's of the Others' make.

[markg171]

I'm not saying the Other's blades would melt necessarily, I'm saying their blades are freezing cold. That's why Waymar's blade is described as turning "white with frost" after it touches the Other's blade. It's also why his steel "shatters".

Dawn is never described as having this property, and we do get an account of Jaime being knighted with it.

But see I don't believe that the Others swords are cold. Rather, the Others are cold, and by extension from wielding the sword, the sword is also cold. Because the cold starts before the blades are introduced

“Will, where are you?” Ser Waymar called up. “Can you see anything?” He was turning in a slow circle, suddenly wary, his sword in hand. He must have felt them, as Will felt them. There was nothing to see. “Answer me! Why is it so cold?”

It was cold. Shivering, Will clung more tightly to his perch. His face pressed hard against the trunk of the sentinel. He could feel the sweet, sticky sap on his cheek.

A shadow emerged from the dark of the wood. It stood in front of Royce. Tall, it was, and gaunt and hard as old bones, with flesh pale as milk. Its armor seemed to change color as it moved; here it was white as new-fallen snow, there black as shadow, everywhere dappled with the deep grey-green of the trees. The patterns ran like moonlight on water with every step it took.

Will heard the breath go out of Ser Waymar Royce in a long hiss. “Come no farther,” the lordling warned. His voice cracked like a boy’s. He threw the long sable cloak back over his shoulders, to free his arms for battle, and took his sword in both hands. The wind had stopped. It was very cold.

The Other slid forward on silent feet. In its hand was a longsword like none that Will had ever seen. No human metal had gone into the forging of that blade. It was alive with moonlight, translucent, a shard of crystal so thin that it seemed almost to vanish when seen edge-on. There was a faint blue shimmer to the thing, a ghost-light that played around its edges, and somehow Will knew it was sharper than any razor.

Then after prolonged interaction near the Other, his sword starts freezing

The pale sword came shivering through the air.

Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.

Behind him, to right, to left, all around him, the watchers stood patient, faceless, silent, the shifting patterns of their delicate armor making them all but invisible in the wood. Yet they made no move to interfere.

Again and again the swords met, until Will wanted to cover his ears against the strange anguished keening of their clash. Ser Waymar was panting from the effort now, his breath steaming in the moonlight. His blade was white with frost; the Other’s danced with pale blue light.

...

Ser Waymar Royce found his fury. “For Robert!” he shouted, and he came up snarling, lifting the frost-covered longsword with both hands and swinging it around in a flat sidearm slash with all his weight behind it.

Then with Sam

The lower branches of the great green sentinel shed their burden of snow with a soft wet plop. Grenn spun, thrusting out his torch. "Who goes there?" A horse's head emerged from the darkness. Sam felt a moment's relief, until he saw the horse. Hoarfrost covered it like a sheen of frozen sweat, and a nest of stiff black entrails dragged from its open belly. On its back was a rider pale as ice. Sam made a whimpery sound deep in his throat. He was so scared he might have pissed himself all over again, but the cold was in him, a cold so savage that his bladder felt frozen solid. The Other slid gracefully from the saddle to stand upon the snow. Sword-slim it was, and milky white. Its armor rippled and shifted as it moved, and its feet did not break the crust of the new-fallen snow.

...

The Other's sword gleamed with a faint blue glow. It moved toward Grenn, lightning quick, slashing. When the ice blue blade brushed the flames, a screech stabbed Sam's ears sharp as a needle. The head of the torch tumbled sideways to vanish beneath a deep drift of snow, the fire snuffed out at once. And all Grenn held was a short wooden stick. He flung it at the Other, cursing, as Small Paul charged in with his axe.

...

Do it now. Stop crying and fight, you baby. Fight, craven. It was his father he heard, it was Alliser Thorne, it was his brother Dickon and the boy Rast. Craven, craven, craven. He giggled hysterically, wondering if they would make a wight of him, a huge fat white wight always tripping over its own dead feet. Do it, Sam. Was that Jon, now? Jon was dead. You can do it, you can, just do it. And then he was stumbling forward, falling more than running, really, closing his eyes and shoving the dagger blindly out before him with both hands. He heard a crack, like the sound ice makes when it breaks beneath a man's foot, and then a screech so shrill and sharp that he went staggering backward with his hands over his muffled ears, and fell hard on his arse.

When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked.

Sam rolled onto his side, eyes wide as the Other shrank and puddled, dissolving away. In twenty heartbeats its flesh was gone, swirling away in a fine white mist. Beneath were bones like milkglass, pale and shiny, and they were melting too. Finally only the dragonglass dagger remained, wreathed in steam as if it were alive and sweating. Grenn bent to scoop it up and flung it down again at once. "Mother, that's cold."

The Other comes, and with it the cold.Then it's sword is introduced. Just like with Royce. Then when Sam stabs it with obsidian, the Other begins to melt. And when Grenn tries to pick up the dagger, the dagger is freezing cold from its contact with the Other.

It's the Others that are cold, and by extension, their swords when they wield them. The fact that the cold comes with the Other and not the blade, and that the dragonglass dagger was cold after contact with an Other shows this.

[markg171]

Dawn is a conventional sword. That is, it has the properties of a sword. It's a really good sword, to be sure, but it's still a sword. Against the Smiling Knight, Dawn managed to batter his sword, dent it, generally inflict wear and tear in it without receiving wear and tear in turn. The Others on the other hand, can outright freeze and shatter conventional steel with their blades.

It's undoubtedly a special sword, but I don't think it's of the Others' make.

Check out what I just posted. The Others come first, then the cold before their swords are ever introduced in every scenario. Not only that, but the obsidian dagger that Sam kills the Other with is too cold for Grenn to pick up after it's come into contact with the Other.

The Others are what are cold, not their swords. Their swords are cold because they are cold, not because they have properties themselves.

[Leonardo]

No.

Next question

[Blazfemur]

No.

Next question

Yeah, pretty much this.

[Erza Whitewalker]

I still think it is LB but what do I know? Just some country hick in Texas who thinks the internets is gonna take over...I'm scared of my toaster at times.

Battlestar Galactica gave us good reason to fear the toasters.

[yolkboy]

snip

So you're arguing Dawn is made of ice yet isn't cold?

If you can convince me of that you could sell non-cold ice to Eskimo's.

[markg171]

So you're arguing Dawn is made of ice yet isn't cold?

If you can convince me of that you could sell non-cold ice to Eskimo's.

What does GRRM say that the Others sword are made of?

Ice. But not like regular old ice. The Others can do things with ice that we can't imagine and make substances of it

He says they can do stuff with ice that we can't imagine and make substances of it, as well as that their swords aren't made of normal ice. If you can't imagine ice that is not cold, but the Others can do stuff with ice that you can't imagine, and their swords are made of ice, but not regular ice, then yes, Dawn can be made of ice, yet not be cold.

Bring on the Eskimos.