Thousand eyes and one!
Join Date: Jan 2007
Location: Serbia and Montenegro
Crackpot theory: I have found Littlefinger's grandfather [spoilers]
It's Will, Ser Uthor Underleaf's squire from The Mystery Knight.
Fellows, countrymen, lend me your ears, for here's my theory: Titan's fierce head on the shield was just a ruse, a way to trick the gullible into betting agains Ser Uthor.
Here are some quotes from Mystery Knight "confirming" it.
Ser Uthor sat at the table, a pile of gold and silver before him and a flagon of wine at his elbow, counting coins with his squire, a gawky fellow close in age to Dunk. From time to time the Snail would bite a coin, or set one aside. |
"I see I still have much to teach you, Will," Dunk heard him say. "This coin has been clipped, t'other shaved. And this one?" A gold piece danced across his fingers. "Look at the coins before taking them. Here, tell me what you see." The dragon spun through the air. Will tried to catch it, but it bounced off his fingers and fell to the ground. He had to get down on his knees to find it. When he did, he turned it over twice before saying, "This one's good, m'lord. There's a dragon on the one side and a king on t'other.... "
Underleaf glanced toward Dunk. "The Hanged Man. It is good to see you moving about, ser. I feared I'd killed you. Will you do me a kindness and instruct my squire as to the nature of dragons? Will, give Ser Duncan the coin."
Dunk had no choice but to take it. He unhorsed me, must he make me caper for him too? Frowning, he hefted the coin in his palm, examined both sides, tasted it. "Gold, not shaved or clipped. The weight feels right. I'd have taken it too, m'lord. What's wrong with it?"
- 48 -
Dunk took a closer look. The face on the coin was young, clean-shaved, handsome. King Aerys was bearded on his coins, the same as old King Aegon. King Daeron, who'd come between them, had been clean-shaved, but this wasn't him. The coin did not appear worn enough to be from before Aegon the Unworthy. Dunk scowled at the word beneath the head. Six letters. They looked the same as he had seen on other dragons. DAERON, the letters read, but Dunk knew the face of Daeron the Good, and this wasn't him. When he looked again, he saw that something odd about the shape of the fourth letter, it wasn't ... "Daemon," he blurted out. "It says Daemon. There never was any King Daemon, though, only--"
"--the Pretender. Daemon Blackfyre struck his own coinage during his rebellion."
"It's gold, though," Will argued. "If it's gold, it should be just as good as them other dragons, m'Iord."
The Snail clouted him along the side of the head. "Cretin. Aye, it's gold. Rebel's gold. Traitor's gold. It's treasonous to own such a coin, and twice as treasonous to pass it. I'll need to have this melted down." He hit the man again. "Get out of my sight. This good knight and I have matters to discuss."
"Have a seat," Ser Uthor said politely. "Will you take wine?" Here in his own tent, Underleaf seemed a different man than at the feast.
Here's the ruse explained:
The Snail steepled his fingers. "Perhaps there is another way. You are not entirely without your talents. You fall most splendidly." Ser Uthor's lips glistened when he smiled. "I will lend you back your steed and armor ... if you enter my service." |
"Service?" Dunk did not understand. "What sort of service? You have a squire. Do you need to garrison some castle?"
"I might, if I had a castle. If truth be told, I prefer a good inn. Castles cost too much to maintain. No, the service I would require of you is that you face me in a few more tourneys. Twenty should suffice. You can do that, surely? You shall have a tenth part of my winnings, and in future I promise to strike that broad chest of yours and not your head."
"You'd have me travel about with you to be unhorsed?"
Ser Uthor chuckled pleasantly. "You are such a strapping specimen, no one will ever believe that some round-shouldered old man with a snail on his shield could put you down." He rubbed his chin. "You need a new device yourself, by the way. That hanged man is grim enough, I grant you, but ... well, he's hanging, isn't he? Dead and defeated. Something fiercer is
- 52 -
required. A bear's head, mayhaps. A skull. Or three skulls, better still. A babe impaled upon a spear. And you should let your hair grow long and cultivate a beard, the wilder and more unkempt the better. There are more of these little tourneys than you know. With the odds I'd get, we'd win enough to buy a dragon's egg before—"
"--it got about that I was hopeless? I lost my armor, not my honor. You'll have Thunder and my arms, no more."
"Pride ill becomes a beggar, ser. You could do much worse than ride with me. At the least I could teach you a thing or two of jousting, about which you are pig ignorant at present."
"You'd make a fool of me."
"I did that earlier. And even fools must eat."
Dunk wanted to smash that smile off his face. "I see why you have a snail on your shield. You are no true knight."
Littlefinger once said the same thing: Harrenhall costs too much to mantain. You'll go bankrupt just trying to warm it. And here's something else, something that is so Baelysh you'll slap your head for not seeing it sooner.
""If you would ... would lend my horse and armor back to me, I could pay the ransom later. Once I found the coin." |
The Snail looked amused. "Where would you find it, pray?"
"I could take service with some lord, or ..." It was hard to get the words out. They made him feel a beggar. "It might take a few years, but I would pay you. I swear it."
"On your honor as a knight?"
- 50 -
Dunk flushed. "I could make my mark upon a parchment."
"A hedge knight's scratch upon a scrap of paper?" Ser Uthor rolled his eyes. "Good to wipe my arse. No more."
"You are a hedge knight too."
"Now you insult me. I ride where I will and serve no man but myself, true ... but it has been many a year since I last slept beneath a hedge. I find that inns are far more comfortable. I am a tourney knight, the best that you are ever like to meet."
"The best?" His arrogance made Dunk angry. "The Laughing Storm might not agree, ser. Nor Leo Longthorn, nor the Brute of Bracken. At Ashford Meadow, no one spoke of snails. Why is that, if you're such a famous tourney champion?"
"Have you heard me name myself a champion? That way lies renown. I would sooner have the pox. Thank you, but no. I shall win my next joust, aye, but in the final I shall fall. Butterwell has thirty dragons for the knight who comes second, that will suffice for me ... along with some goodly ransoms and the proceeds of my wagers." He gestured at the piles of silver stags and golden dragons on the table. "You seem a healthy fellow, and very large. Size will always impress the fools, though it means little and less in jousting. Will was able to get odds of three to one against me. Lord Shawney gave five to one, the fool." He picked up a silver stag and set it to spinning with a flick of his long fingers. "The Old Ox will be the next to tumble. Then the Knight of the Pussywillows, if he survives that long. Sentiment being what it is, I should get fine odds against them both. The commons love their village heroes."
When Nedd is thinking about Petyr, those are his thoughts exactly. Littlefinger is a guy of low birth, never a fighter, but rich and capable. And the first scene where Sansa meets him, Littlefinger is betting heavily during the Hand's tournament, although his money comes from brothels and shops.
What do you guys think?
I think this happened: Will grew up, took fearsome sigil for his shield and then he and Uthor conned their way across seven kingdoms. When Will became rich, he bought some land and became a landed knight. And he taught his grandson well, the same way Ser Uthor taught him. So, here's theory. Start cutting it into itty bitty pieces
Edit: Oh, yeah. And there's actually a guy whose name is Lothor in Littlefinger's employ. Think about it: Lothor, Uthor. It makes sense...
Last edited by Young stormlord; 30th May 2012 at 09:20 PM.