“Game of Thrones”: Moving Right Along

One of my fears about “Game of Thrones” is that it, along with Westeros, will be slowly overtaken by armies of the dead. Less screen time for Lannisters, eunuchs, and armored heroines, more screen time for neon-eyed C.G.I. snarlers, staggering toward us in a grim blue-gray snow. I’m a hypocrite, I suppose, to accept the dragons and direwolves into my heart—not to mention Melisandre’s one reasonable feat of hocus-pocus—and to reject the White Walkers, their tedious legions of wights, and anything having to do with dragonglass. But I suspect I’m not alone. I enjoy the warging and the greensight, but keep the Children of the Forest out of my hair—unless they can help us undo this mess they created, White Walker-wise. Last night’s episode, “Blood of My Blood,” reminded us about wildfire, Walder Frey, and a mysterious figure from the past. It’s green, it’s magical, it’s hot, and, as we were reminded last night, there’s a ton of it at King’s Landing. In the battle of ice v. fire, I’m rooting for fire.