[He smiles, just a little--still with a touch of sadness to it, and he has not yet unwound his fingers from their grip at Summer's fur.]

No one could be worse at conversation than Hodor. He can only say his own name. [Perhaps it's a little cruel, especially when Hodor has been so good a companion--but it's not meant cruelly. It's true.] I will come anyways, so you can know the gardens, too.