He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.
Pale wispy Lady Frey seemed startled that she would be called upon to speak. " Y-yes, my lord. We all so wanted to pay homage to Queen Jeyne. She must be fair to look on" .
" Four is enough" . Ser Aenys Frey fingered the wispy brown beard that sprouted from his weak chin like a rat's tail. " Four on his right hand. He could still hold a sword. A dagger" .