POEMS (or other sundry quotes) that remind you of ASOIAF

[hiemal]

Sticking with song lyrics this nugget from of my favorite bands in terms of lyrics as opposed to purely musical attraction- it always reminds me of Tyrion now and makes me feel very, very nerdy:

The Sunny Side of the Street

The Pogues

Seen the carnival at Rome
Had the women, I had the booze
All that I can remember now
Is little kids without no shoes

So, I saw that train and I got on it
With a heartful of hate and a lust for vomit
Now I'm walking on the sunnyside of the street

Stepped over bodies in Bombay
Tried to make it to the U.S.A.
Ended up in Nepal
Up on the roof with nothing at all
And I knew that day
I was going to stay right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail
I just don't want to be reborn a snail
Just want to spend eternity right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore
To take my life as I would a whore
I know I'm better than before
I will not be reconstructed

Just want to stay right here
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBaKWLoFYmQ

 

[LmL]

Also, re: the Night's Queen: Hugor of the Hill, whose crown was made from 7 stars pulled down by the father, and his lady... "supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools."  That's a tree woman with blue eyes and blue pool symbolism, marrying a star-puller-downer who also likes to kill swan maidens (akin to slaying sea dragons).  This lines up with the Faith. Their septs are like the nighttime skies, frequently, lit only by candles which are like stars - and from their starry darkness (think NK) emerges the Warrior's sons (whose mirror-like armor and crystal-swords-on-a-field-of-night sigil equates them with the Others) and the poor fellows, whose sigil is a red star. I suppose the poor fellows might be the NW, or perhaps weirwood leaf symbols. 

[LmL]

27 minutes ago, Cowboy Dan said:

So I recently had to perform a clean install of my computer due to a malware infection. Anyways, right before doing so I put all my notes onto an external and it seems they didn't stay on the hard drive for some reason. Literally hours and nights staying up over the last year of work and search terms lost. I think I need some time before I comment further. I just.. ugh. I don't have words to describe my feelings.

Oh Dan I am so extremely sorry to hear that my brother, thats terrible. My computer died on me 6 months ago and I lost a ton of art and stuff, I feel your pain man. Shitty. Computers are so unreliable. 

[LmL]

44 minutes ago, Cowboy Dan said:

Okay, apparently it was a false alarm, seems I put it on a USB I forgot about instead of the hard drive for some weird reason. Oh man, talk about emotional whiplash! I'll take a look over everything tonight and come back tomorrow with some insights.

ALRRIIIIGGGHHTTT!!! Yeah! Have yourself a good night's rest and come back tomorrow my man, lol.

[Bluetiger]

11 hours ago, Cowboy Dan said:

Is BT's comments earlier in this thread or elsewhere? I would love a link if it is elsewhere, sounds interesting. I've quite admired his contributions (along with excellent diction for a second-language speaker) from afar, so I'm game!

Nope, it's in 'Long Night's Watch' thread: here

[ravenous reader]

12 hours ago, Cowboy Dan said:

I actually want to point out the poem by Frost I mentioned, "Nothing Gold Can Stay"

 

On 1/19/2017 at 9:56 PM, Cowboy Dan said:

Nothing Gold Can Stay

 

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower; 
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

I enjoyed that poem!  The poem presents a series of paradoxes: 'green is gold,' 'leaf's a flower,' 'Eden sank to grief,' and 'dawn goes down to day.'  Particularly, the idea of 'dawn going down' is so interesting, precisely because it's so counterintuitive.  We expect dawn to go up, to rise -- not go down! --but in actual fact, dawn like the other ephemeral qualities mentioned in the poem (green, flower, Eden) is a transitory, 'threshold' phenomenon and indeed does go down or submit to day.  Figuratively, therefore, dawn does indeed break, not only in the sense of breaking the night, but breaking itself to yield to and usher in the day.  (I wonder if the sword 'Dawn' is analogously a broken sword, somehow?)  This paradox is also reflected in the mythic symbolism of Lucifer -- or Lightbringer, the one who brings the dawn (not the one who brings me grief...:) -- who is the notorious 'fallen angel', as well as being both the so-called morning and evening stars.  Additionally, the idea of 'dawn going down to day' irresistibly reminds me of the sword Dawn going down to Day(ne), and to Dorne (which itself is a pun on Dawn) -- when Ned reportedly took it back to Starfall!

[LmL]

3 hours ago, ravenous reader said:

 

I enjoyed that poem!  The poem presents a series of paradoxes: 'green is gold,' 'leaf's a flower,' 'Eden sank to grief,' and 'dawn goes down to day.'  Particularly, the idea of 'dawn going down' is so interesting, precisely because it's so counterintuitive.  We expect dawn to go up, to rise -- not go down! --but in actual fact, dawn like the other ephemeral qualities mentioned in the poem (green, flower, Eden) is a transitory, 'threshold' phenomenon and indeed does go down or submit to day.  Figuratively, therefore, dawn does indeed break, not only in the sense of breaking the night, but breaking itself to yield to and usher in the day.  (I wonder if the sword 'Dawn' is analogously a broken sword, somehow?)  This paradox is also reflected in the mythic symbolism of Lucifer -- or Lightbringer, the one who brings the dawn (not the one who brings me grief...:) -- who is the notorious 'fallen angel', as well as being both the so-called morning and evening stars.  Additionally, the idea of 'dawn going down to day' irresistibly reminds me of the sword Dawn going down to Day(ne), and to Dorne (which itself is a pun on Dawn) -- when Ned reportedly took it back to Starfall!

Lol, does this we are speaking again? Or am I still on silent treatment? 

[ravenous reader]

On 1/20/2017 at 10:25 PM, hiemal said:

Sticking with song lyrics this nugget from of my favorite bands in terms of lyrics as opposed to purely musical attraction- it always reminds me of Tyrion now and makes me feel very, very nerdy:

The Sunny Side of the Street

The Pogues

Seen the carnival at Rome
Had the women, I had the booze
All that I can remember now
Is little kids without no shoes

So, I saw that train and I got on it
With a heartful of hate and a lust for vomit
Now I'm walking on the sunnyside of the street

Stepped over bodies in Bombay
Tried to make it to the U.S.A.
Ended up in Nepal
Up on the roof with nothing at all
And I knew that day
I was going to stay right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail
I just don't want to be reborn a snail
Just want to spend eternity right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore
To take my life as I would a whore
I know I'm better than before
I will not be reconstructed

Just want to stay right here
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBaKWLoFYmQ

Thank you for this Hiemal!  Listening to it first thing in the morning really put me in a good mood -- and perky Pogues are the perfect antidote to the cloying self-indulgence (though brilliant and not without pathos) of Pink Floyd!  Indeed, the lyrics evoke Tyrion, as you remarked; and moreover, the upbeat, almost flippant tempo and chirpy tone of the music, which contrasts with its sad content, also reminds me of Tyrion's unflappable sense of humor, his steely optimism and will to survive, despite his cocky bitterness and the driving 'death-instinct' which oppresses him.

Quote

A Game of Thrones - Tyrion I

"Even if the boy does live, he will be a cripple. Worse than a cripple. A grotesque. Give me a good clean death."

Tyrion replied with a shrug that accentuated the twist of his shoulders. "Speaking for the grotesques," he said, "I beg to differ. Death is so terribly final, while life is full of possibilities."

Jaime smiled. "You are a perverse little imp, aren't you?"

'The sunnyside of the street' -- none of us can remain on the 'sunny side' of the street, without ending up as a fried egg 'sunnyside up'!

'Been in a palace, been in a jail...' -- how apt.

'I don't want to be reborn a snail...' -- maybe a dragon will suffice!

'To take my life as I would a whore...' -- devastating.  Brings to mind how he killed Shae, throttling his hope along with her, and set forth on his self-destructive course.

'I will not be reconstructed...' -- Tyrion's fatal flaw.  He needs to open himself to love -- or he is doomed.  This means choosing Jaime -- the person he still loves deep-down -- and forgiving him:

'Forgiveness liberates the soul. It removes fear. That is why it is such a powerful weapon.'

Nelson Mandela

 

[Durran Durrandon]

On 1/20/2017 at 7:25 PM, hiemal said:

Sticking with song lyrics this nugget from of my favorite bands in terms of lyrics as opposed to purely musical attraction- it always reminds me of Tyrion now and makes me feel very, very nerdy:

The Sunny Side of the Street

The Pogues

Seen the carnival at Rome
Had the women, I had the booze
All that I can remember now
Is little kids without no shoes

So, I saw that train and I got on it
With a heartful of hate and a lust for vomit
Now I'm walking on the sunnyside of the street

Stepped over bodies in Bombay
Tried to make it to the U.S.A.
Ended up in Nepal
Up on the roof with nothing at all
And I knew that day
I was going to stay right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

Been in a palace, been in a jail
I just don't want to be reborn a snail
Just want to spend eternity right where I am
On the sunnyside of the street

As my mother wept it was then I swore
To take my life as I would a whore
I know I'm better than before
I will not be reconstructed

Just want to stay right here
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street
The sunnyside of the street

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBaKWLoFYmQ

 

I love me some Pogues.

[ravenous reader]

So, I was thinking about 'windlessness' and then 'windlasses' and came upon the poem to follow:

Quote

A Dance with Dragons - A Ghost in Winterfell

And in the heart of the wood the weirwood waited with its knowing red eyes. Theon stopped by the edge of the pool and bowed his head before its carved red face. Even here he could hear the drumming, boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM. Like distant thunder, the sound seemed to come from everywhere at once.

The night was windless, the snow drifting straight down out of a cold black sky, yet the leaves of the heart tree were rustling his name. "Theon," they seemed to whisper, "Theon."

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name.

 

A Clash of Kings - Bran II

Hodor knew Bran's favorite place, so he took him to the edge of the pool beneath the great spread of the heart tree, where Lord Eddard used to kneel to pray. Ripples were running across the surface of the water when they arrived, making the reflection of the weirwood shimmer and dance. There was no wind, though. For an instant Bran was baffled.

Although there have been threads discussing this puzzling phenomenon, we still have no satisfying explanation for why GRRM was so careful to specify that there was no wind on these occasions (there are also other occasions, especially in the prologue...windlessness, voicelessness, breathlessness are all related).  If you have an answer, please let me know!

So, to our Tolkien excerpts:

'The World was Young, the Mountains Green', more commonly known as the 'Song of Durin,' was a poem sung by Gimli when the Fellowship of the Ring traveled through Moria. Gimli stood up and sang this song when recalling the splendour of Dwarrowdelf. Sam Gamgee liked the song so much he wanted to learn it.

 

SONG OF DURIN

The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

 

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, "A Journey in the Dark"

 

The poem has been set to music, performed by Clamavi de Profundis -- very soothing:

 

 

There's also this -- the final passage of The Lord of the Rings --The Return of the King; 'The Grey Havens'.  It simply reminds me of Bran and his fate in the stars:

'It was evening, and the stars were glimmering in the eastern sky as they passed the ruined oak and turned and went on down the hill between the hazel-thickets. Sam was silent, deep in his memories. Presently he became aware that Frodo was singing softly to himself, singing the old walking-song, but the words were not quite the same.

Still round the corner there may wait

A new road or a secret gate;

And though I oft have passed them by,

A day will come at last when I

Shall take the hidden paths that run

West of the Moon, East of the Sun.

And as if in answer, from down below, coming up the road out of the valley, voices sang:

A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!

silivren penna míriel

o menel aglar elenath,

Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!

 

We still remember, we who dwell

In this far land beneath the trees

The starlight on the Western Seas.

Frodo and Sam halted and sat silent in the soft shadows, until they saw a shimmer as the travellers came towards them.

There was Gildor and many fair Elven folk; and there to Sam’s wonder rode Elrond and Galadriel. Elrond wore a mantle of grey and had a star upon his forehead, and a silver harp was in his hand, and upon his finger was a ring of gold with a great blue stone, Vilya, mightiest of the Three. But Galadriel sat upon a white palfrey and was robed all in glimmering white, like clouds about the Moon; for she herself seemed to shine with a soft light. On her finger was Nenya, the ring wrought of mithril, that bore a single white stone flickering like a frosty star. Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself.

Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously, and Galadriel smiled upon them. ‘Well, Master Samwise,’ she said. ‘I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved.’ Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was.

Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. ‘Hullo, Frodo!’ he said. ‘Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?’

‘Yes, I am coming,’ said Frodo. ‘The Ring-bearers should go together.’

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too. for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone. so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on.

‘Come now, ride with me!’

Then Elrond and Galadriel rode on; for the Third Age was over, and the Days of the Rings were passed, and an end was come of the story and song of those times. With them went many Elves of the High Kindred who would no longer stay in Middle-earth; and among them, filled with a sadness that was yet blessed and without bitterness, rode Sam, and Frodo, and Bilbo, and the Elves delighted to honour them.

Though they rode through the midst of the Shire all the evening and all the night, none saw them pass, save the wild creatures; or here and there some wanderer in the dark who saw a swift shimmer under the trees, or a light and shadow flowing through the grass as the Moon went westward. And when they had passed from the Shire, going about the south skirts of the White Downs, they came to the Far Downs, and to the Towers, and looked on the distant Sea; and so they rode down at last to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens in the long firth of Lune.

As they came to the gates Círdan the Shipwright came forth to greet them. Very tall he was, and his beard was long, and he was grey and old, save that his eyes were keen as stars; and he looked at them and bowed, and said: ‘All is now ready.’

Then Círdan led them to the Havens, and there was a white ship lying, and upon the quay beside a great grey horse stood a figure robed all in white awaiting them. As he turned and came towards them Frodo saw that Gandalf now wore openly upon his hand the Third Ring, Narya the Great, and the stone upon it was red as fire. Then those who were to go were glad, for they knew that Gandalf also would take ship with them.

But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home alone. But even as they stood there, and the Elves were going aboard, and all was being made ready to depart, up rode Merry and Pippin in great haste. And amid his tears Pippin laughed.

‘You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo.’ he said. ‘This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!’

‘Yes,’ said Gandalf; ‘for it will be better to ride back three together ‘than one alone. Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.’

Then Frodo kissed Merry and Pippin, and last of all Sam, and went aboard; and the sails were drawn up, and the wind blew, and slowly the ship slipped away down the long grey firth; and the light of the glass of Galadriel that Frodo bore glimmered and was lost. And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until at last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.

But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.

At last the three companions turned away, and never again looking back they rode slowly homewards; and they spoke no word to one another until they came back to the Shire. but each had great comfort in his friends on the long grey road.

At last they rode over the downs and took the East Road, and then Merry and Pippin rode on to Buckland; and already they were singing again as they went. But Sam turned to Bywater, and so came back up the Hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap.

He drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m back,’ he said.

 

'The most famous gardener in history...' -- the one writing the unfinished book (Frodo left the last couple of pages for Sam to complete) -- that must be GRRM!  

 

 

[Bluetiger]

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, Silmarillion

AKALLABÊTH

The Downfall of Númenor

(...)

 

In that time the fleets of the Númenóreans darkened the sea upon the west of the land, and they were like an archipelago of a thousand isles; their masts were as a forest upon the mountains, and their sails like a brooding cloud; and their banners were golden and black. And all things waited upon the word of Ar-Pharazôn; and Sauron withdrew into the inmost circle of the Temple, and men brought him victims to be burned.

Then the Eagles of the Lords of the West came up out of the dayfall, and they were arrayed as for battle, advancing in a line the end of which diminished beyond sight; and as they came their wings spread ever wider, grasping the sky. But the West burned red behind them, and they glowed beneath, as though they were lit with a flame of great anger, so that all Númenor was illumined as with a smouldering fire; and men looked upon the faces of their fellows, and it seemed to them that they were red with wrath.

Then Ar-Pharazôn hardened his heart, and he went aboard his mighty ship, Alcarondas, Castle of the Sea. Many-oared it was and many-masted, golden and sable; and upon it the throne of Ar-Pharazôn was set. Then he did on his panoply and his crown, and let raise his standard, and he gave the signal for the raising of the anchors; and in that hour the trumpets of Númenor outrang the thunder.

Thus the fleets of the Númenóreans moved against the menace of the West; and there was little wind, but they had many oars and many strong slaves to row beneath the lash. The sun went down, and there came a great silence. Darkness fell upon the land, and the sea was still, while the world waited for what should betide. Slowly the fleets passed out of the sight of the watchers in the havens, and their lights faded, and night took them; and in the morning they were gone. For a wind arose in the east and it wafted them away; and they broke the Ban of the Valar, and sailed into forbidden seas, going up with war against the Deathless, to wrest from them everlasting life within the Circles of the World.

But the fleets of Ar-Pharazôn came up out of the deeps of the sea and encompassed Avallónë and all the isle of Eressëa, and the Eldar mourned, for the light of the setting sun was cut off by the cloud of the Númenóreans. And at last Ar-Pharazôn came even to Aman, the Blessed Realm, and the coasts of Valinor; and still all was silent, and doom hung by a thread. For Ar-Pharazôn wavered at the end, and almost he turned back. His heart misgave him when he looked upon the soundless shores and saw Taniquetil shining, whiter than snow, colder than death, silent, immutable, terrible as the shadow of the light of Ilúvatar. But pride was now his master, and at last he left his ship and strode upon the shore, claiming the land for his own, if none should do battle for it. And a host of the Númenóreans encamped in might about Túna, whence all the Eldar had fled.

Then Manwë upon the Mountain called upon Ilúvatar, and for that time the Valar laid down their government of Arda. But Ilúvatar showed forth his power, and he changed the fashion of the world; and a great chasm opened in the sea between Númenor and the Deathless Lands, and the waters flowed down into it, and the noise and smoke of the cataracts went up to heaven, and the world was shaken. And all the fleets of the Númenóreans were drawn down into the abyss, and they were drowned and swallowed up for ever. But Ar-Pharazôn the King and the mortal warriors that had set foot upon the land of Aman were buried under falling hills: there it is said that they lie imprisoned in the Caves of the Forgotten, until the Last Battle and the Day of Doom.

But the land of Aman and Eressëa of the Eldar were taken away and removed beyond the reach of Men for ever. And Andor, the Land of Gift, Númenor of the Kings, Elenna of the Star of Eärendil, was utterly destroyed. For it was nigh to the east of the great rift, and its foundations were overturned, and it fell and went down into darkness, and is no more. And there is not now upon Earth any place abiding where the memory of a time without evil is preserved. For Ilúvatar cast back the Great Seas west of Middle-earth, and the Empty Lands east of it, and new lands and new seas were made; and the world was diminished, for Valinor and Eressëa were taken from it into the realm of hidden things.

In an hour unlocked for by Men this doom befell, on the nine and thirtieth day since the passing of the fleets. Then suddenly fire burst from the Meneltarma, and there came a mighty wind and a tumult of the earth, and the sky reeled, and the hills slid, and Númenor went down into the sea, with all its children and its wives and its maidens and its ladies proud; and all its gardens and its halls and its towers, its tombs and its riches, and its jewels and its webs and its things painted and carven, and its lore: they vanished for ever. And last of all the mounting wave, green and cold and plumed with foam, climbing over the land, took to its bosom Tar-Míriel the Queen, fairer than silver or ivory or pearls. Too late she strove to ascend the steep ways of the Meneltarma to the holy place; for the waters overtook her, and her cry was lost in the roaring of the wind.

But whether or no it were that Amandil came indeed to Valinor and Manwë hearkened to his prayer, by grace of the Valar Elendil and his sons and their people were spared from the ruin of that day. For Elendil had remained in Romenna, refusing the summons of the King when he set forth to war; and avoiding the soldiers of Sauron that came to seize him and drag him to the fires of the Temple, he went aboard his ship and stood off from the shore, waiting on the time. There he was protected by the land from the great draught of the sea that drew all towards the abyss, and afterwards he was sheltered from the first fury of the storm. But when the devouring wave rolled over the land and Númenor toppled to its fall, then he would have been overwhelmed and would have deemed it the lesser grief to perish, for no wrench of death could be more bitter than the loss and agony of that day; but the great wind took him, wilder than any wind that Men had known, roaring from the west, and it swept his ships far away; and it rent their sails and snapped their masts, hunting the unhappy men like straws upon the water.

Nine ships there were: four for Elendil, and for Isildur three, and for Anárion two; and they fled before the black gale out of the twilight of doom into the darkness of the world. And the deeps rose beneath them in towering anger, and waves like unto mountains moving with great caps of writhen snow bore them up amid the wreckage of the clouds, and after many days cast them away upon the shores of Middle-earth. And all the coasts and seaward regions of the western world suffered great change and ruin in that time; for the seas invaded the lands, and shores foundered, and ancient isles were drowned, and new isles were uplifted; and hills crumbled and rivers were turned into strange courses.

Elendil and his sons after founded kingdoms in Middle-earth; and though their lore and craft was but an echo of that which had been ere Sauron came to Númenor, yet very great it seemed to the wild men of the world. And much is said in other lore of the deeds of the heirs of Elendil in the age that came after, and of their strife with Sauron that not yet was ended.

For Sauron himself was filled with great fear at the wrath of the Valar, and the doom that Eru laid upon sea and land. It was greater far than aught he had looked for, hoping only for the death of the Númenóreans and the defeat of their proud king. And Sauron, sitting in his black seat in the midst of the Temple, had laughed when he heard the trumpets of Ar-Pharazôn sounding for battle; and again he had laughed when he heard the thunder of the storm; and a third time, even as he laughed at his own thought, thinking what he would do now in the world, being rid of the Edain for ever, he was taken in the midst of his mirth, and his seat and his temple fell into the abyss. But Sauron was not of mortal flesh, and though he was robbed now of that shape in which he had wrought so great an evil, so that he could never again appear fair to the eyes of Men, yet his spirit arose out of the deep and passed as a shadow and a black wind over the sea, and came back to Middle-earth and to Mordor that was his home. There he took up again his great Ring in Barad-dûr, and dwelt there, dark and silent, until he wrought himself a new guise, an image of malice and hatred made visible; and the Eye of Sauron the Terrible few could endure.

But these things come not into the tale of the Drowning of Númenor, of which now all is told. And even the name of that land perished, and Men spoke thereafter not of Elenna, nor of Andor the Gift that was taken away, nor of Númenórë on the confines of the world; but the exiles on the shores of the sea, if they turned towards the West in the desire of their hearts, spoke of Mar-nu-Falmar that was whelmed in the waves, Akallabêth the Downfallen, Atalantë in the Eldarin tongue.

(...)

 

[Bluetiger]

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, Silmarillion

AKALLABÊTH

The Downfall of Númenor

(...)

Among the Exiles many believed that the summit of the Meneltarma, the Pillar of Heaven, was not drowned for ever, but rose again above the waves, a lonely island lost in the great waters; for it had been a hallowed place, and even in the days of Sauron none had defiled it And some there were of the seed of Eärendil that afterwards sought for it, because it was said among loremasters that the far-sighted men of old could see from the Meneltarma a glimmer of the Deathless Land. For even after the ruin the hearts of the Dúnedain were still set westwards; and though they knew indeed that the world was changed, they said: 'Avallónë is vanished from the Earth and the Land of Aman is taken away, and in the world of this present darkness they cannot be found. Yet once they were, and therefore they still are, in true being and in the whole shape of the world as at first it was devised.'

For the Dúnedain held that even mortal Men, if so blessed, might look upon other times than those of their bodies' life; and they longed ever to escape from the shadows of their exile and to see in some fashion fee light that dies not; for the sorrow of the thought of death had pursued them over the deeps of the sea. Thus it was that great mariners among them would still search the empty seas, hoping to come upon the Isle of Meneltarma, and there to see a vision of things that were. But they found it not. And those that sailed far came only to the new lands, and found them like to the old lands, and subject to death. And those that sailed furthest set but a girdle about the Earth and returned weary at last to the place of their beginning; and they said:

'All roads are now bent.'

Thus in after days, what by the voyages of ships, what by lore and star-craft, the kings of Men knew that the world was indeed made round, and yet the Eldar were permitted still to depart and to come to the Ancient West and to Avallónë, if they would. Therefore the loremasters of Men said that a Straight Road must still be, for those that were permitted to find it. And they taught that, while the new world fell away, the old road and the path of the memory of the West still went on, as it were a mighty bridge invisible that passed through the air of breath and of flight  (which were bent now as the world was bent), and traversed Ilmen which flesh unaided cannot endure, until it came to Tol Eressëa, the Lonely Isle, and maybe even beyond, to Valinor, where the Valar still dwell and watch the unfolding of the story of the world. And tales and rumours arose along the shores of the sea concerning mariners and men forlorn upon the water who, by some fate or grace or favour of the Valar, had entered in upon the Straight Way and seen the face of the world sink below them, and so had come to the lamplit quays of Avallónë, or verily to the last beaches on the margin of Aman, and there had looked upon the White Mountain, dreadful and beautiful, before they died.

 

 

Mayhaps Bran will embark on similar voyage.... through air of breath and of flight, through heavens where no flesh unaided can endure, seeing the face of the world sink below him...

 

[Bluetiger]

John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, Silmarillion

OF THE RINGS OF POWER AND THE THIRD AGE

in which these tales come to their end

 

But those who saw the things that were done in that time, deeds of valour and wonder, have elsewhere told the tale of the War of the Ring, and how it ended both in victory unlocked for and in sorrow long foreseen. Here let it be said that in those days the Heir of Isildur arose in the North, and he took the shards of the sword of Elendil, and in Imladris they were reforged; and he went then to war, a great captain of Men. He was Aragorn son of Arathorn, the nine and thirtieth heir in the right line from Isildur, and yet more like to Elendil than any before him. Battle there was in Rohan, and Curunír the traitor was thrown down and Isengard broken; and before the City of Gondor a great field was fought, and the Lord of Morgul, Captain of Sauron, there passed into darkness; and the Heir of Isildur led the host of the West to the Black Gates of Mordor.

In that last battle were Mithrandir, and the sons of Elrond, and the King of Rohan, and lords of Gondor, and the Heir of Isildur with the Dúnedain of the North. There at the last they looked upon death and defeat, and all their valour was in vain; for Sauron was too strong. Yet in that hour was put to the proof that which Mithrandir had spoken, and help came from the hands of the weak when the Wise faltered. For, as many songs have since sung, it was the Periannath, the Little People, dwellers in hillsides and meadows, that brought them deliverance.

For Frodo the Halfling, it is said, at the bidding of Mithrandir took on himself the burden, and alone with his servant he passed through peril and darkness and came at last in Sauron's despite even to Mount Doom; and there into the Fire where it was wrought he cast the Great Ring of Power, and so at last it was unmade and its evil consumed.

Then Sauron failed, and he was utterly vanquished and passed away like a shadow of malice; and the towers of Barad-dûr crumbled in ruin, and at the rumour of their fall many lands trembled. Thus peace came again, and a new Spring opened on earth; and the Heir of Isildur was crowned King of Gondor and Arnor, and the might of the Dúnedain was lifted up and their glory renewed. In the courts of Minas Anor the White Tree flowered again, for a seedling was found by Mithrandir in the snows of Mindolluin that rose tall and white above the City of Gondor; and while it still grew there the Elder Days were not wholly forgotten in the hearts of the Kings.

Now all these things were achieved for the most part by the counsel and vigilance of Mithrandir, and in the last few days he was revealed as a lord of great reverence, and clad in white he rode into battle; but not until the time came for him to depart was it known that he had long guarded the Red Ring of Fire. At the first that Ring had been entrusted to Círdan, Lord of the Havens; but he had surrendered it to Mithrandir, for he knew whence he came and whither at last he would return.

‘Take now this Ring,’ he said; 'for thy labours and thy cares will be heavy, but in all it will support thee and defend thee from weariness. For this is the Ring of Fire, and herewith, maybe, thou shalt rekindle hearts to the valour of old in a world that grows chill. But as for me, my heart is with the Sea, and I will dwell by the grey shores, guarding the Havens until the last ship sails. Then I shall await thee.’

White was that ship and long was it a-building, and long it awaited the end of which Círdan had spoken. But when all these things were done, and the Heir of Isildur had taken up the lordship of Men, and the dominion of the West had passed to him, then it was made plain that the power of the Three Rings also was ended, and to the Firstborn the world grew old and grey. In that time the last of the Noldor set sail from the Havens and left Middle-earth for ever. And latest of all the Keepers of the Three Rings rode to the Sea, and Master Elrond took there the ship that Círdan had made ready. In the twilight of autumn it sailed out of Mithlond, until the seas of the Bent World fell away beneath it, and the winds of the round sky troubled it no more, and borne upon the high airs above the mists of the world it passed into the Ancient West, and an end was come for the Eldar of story and of song.

 

[Bluetiger]

2 hours ago, ravenous reader said:

SONG OF DURIN

The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

 

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, "A Journey in the Dark"

Thanks Ravenous...

I've always enjoyed Silmarillion, Hobbit and LOTR, but it were the songs that made me trurly fall in love with that World...

 

Song of Durin, as translated by Tadeusz A. Olszański:

Pieśń o Durinie

Świat młodym był w te czasy, góry zaś zielone,
Księżyc nie był nawówczas plamami skażony,
Ani imion nie miały głazy ni strumienie,
Gdy Durin pierwszy na świat wejrzał.
On bezimiennym wzgórzom nadawał imiona,
Wody źródeł dziewiczych on smakował,
W Toń Zwierciadlaną wreszcie wejrzał i zobaczył
Jak gwiazd jasna korona w głębinie się jawi
Niby klejnotów osad na srebrzystej przędzy
I na dnie cień mu głowy otacza jak wieńcem.

Świat pięknym był w te czasy, góry zaś wysokie
W Dniach tych Dawnych, nim jeszcze potężni królowie
Przepadli Nargothrondu oraz Gondolinu,
By za Morza Zachodnie najdalsze odpłynąć
Bezpowrotnie, ustępując rosnącej ciemności.
Pięknym za Dni Durina był świat nieskażony.

Władał król Durin z tronu kutego ze skały,
Z hal wspaniałych o wielu potężnych filarach,
Gdzie złote były stropy, a srebrne podłogi,
I gdzie każdego przejścia strzegły runy mocy.
Tam światło księżycowe, słoneczne i gwiezdne
Z lamp biło lśniących, biegle z kryształu wyciętych,
Nie przyćmione przez chmury, nocy nie poddane,
Wieczyście lśniło światło to czyste i jasne.

Tam waliły w kowadła młoty niestrudzone,
Tam biegle ryło dłuto, rylec znaki drążył,
Tam kuto ostrza lśniące, formowano jelce,
Tam chodniki kuł górnik, mur stawiał kamieniarz.
Tam beryle i perły i blade opale,
I metal, na kształt łuski rybiej kształtowany,
Pancerze i pawęże, miecze i topory
I włócznie lśniące licznie w skarbcu gromadzono.

Niestrudzony był wówczas lud króla Durina:
Pod górami zbudziła się także muzyka -
Pięknie grali harfiści, minstrele śpiewali,
A u bram mocnych huczne dźwięczały fanfary.

Świat szarym stał się dzisiaj, góry postarzały,
Popioły zimne z ogni kuźniczych zostały.
Nie dzwoni harfy struna ani młot uderza -
Tylko ciemność w pałacach Durina dziś mieszka.
Cień się panoszy pośród mogił jego ludu
W głębinach Morii, w czarnych lochach Khazad-dumu.
Lecz wciąż lśnią gwiazdy w ciemnej toni zatopione
Wód Zwierciadlanych, których wiatr żaden nie mąci.
Tam spoczywa korona, w głębi czystych wód:
Czeka, aż znów się Durin przebudzi ze snu.

* * * 

[Pain killer Jane]

On 1/19/2017 at 7:44 PM, ravenous reader said:

Thanks PK; I really enjoyed that and your insights, as always!  That song also reminds me of the 'Brotherhood without Banners' who espouse many union and indeed socialist principles, and are an obvious reworking of Robin Hood and his merry band -- the idea of an outlaw 'band' additionally being a wordplay on musical 'band', which is particularly apt considering that in both cases they are frequently given to breaking out in song, particularly when they are on the march to do battle somewhere!

Band members who are musicians such as Tom Sevenstrings, the harpist, occupy important roles in the collective, often using their musical instruments as weapons -- a demonstration of the 'bread and roses' concept whereby pragmatism and aesthetics hold equal value (Tom infiltrates Riverrun as an entertainer, for example; ringing bells and blowing horns may all have strategic value, etc.).  In fact, quite a few of the members, besides singing, play one musical instrument or another, e.g. Jack-be-Lucky who blows his hunting horn in order to effectively co-ordinate the clandestine activities (importantly, a 'horn' is also a musical instrument in addition to the other connotations we've unearthed).

Yes I agree that KwB and KswB both are in line with the Song. 

The following song reminds me of that 'fearsome outlaw band':

This is beautiful. And yes it does remind me of those three. It also reminds me of Cat and Ned as the wolf mother and wolf father. 

[Pain killer Jane]

Quote

the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time for a man to steal a woman, 

- Jon III, aSoS

The name always reminds me of two different songs. 

The Wander sung by Dion and the Belmonts. 

Oh well I'm the type of guy who will never settle down
Where pretty girls are well, you know that I'm around
I kiss 'em and I love 'em 'cause to me they're all the same
I hug 'em and I squeeze 'em they don't even know my name
They call me the wanderer, yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around

Oh well there's Flo on my left and there's Mary on my right
And Janie is the girl with that I'll be with tonight
And when she asks me which one I love the best
I tear open my shirt I got Rosie on my chest
'Cause I'm the wanderer yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around

Oh well I roam from town to town
I go through life without a care
'Til I'm as happy as a clown
With my two fists of iron and I'm going nowhere

I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around
I'm never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl, yeah
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
Yeah I'm the wanderer, yeah the wanderer
I roam around around around, let's go

Oh yeah I'm the type of guy that likes to roam around
I'm never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself a-fallin' for some girl
I hop right into that car of mine and ride around the world
'Cause I'm a wanderer, yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around, around, around
'Cause I'm a wanderer, yeah a wanderer
I roam around around around, aroundm around

- Dion DiMucci

 

Papa was a Rolling Stone sung by the Temptations

It was the third of September; that day I'll always remember, 
'Cause that was the day that my daddy died.
I never got a chance to see him; never heard nothin' but bad things about him.
Mama I'm depending on you to tell me the truth.

Mama just looked at him and said, "Son, 
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Hey, Mama, is it true what the say, that Papa never worked a day in his life?
And Mama, they talk all around town say that 
Papa had three outside children and another wife 
And that ain't right.
Heard them talkin' about Papa doing some storefront preachin'
Talkin' about saving your souls and all the time weak, dealin' in death
And stealin' in the name of the Lord
Mama just hung her head and said,
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Hey, Mama, I heard Papa call himself a jack of all trades.
Tell me, is that what sent Papa to an early grave?
Folks say Papa would beg; borrow or steal to pay his bills.
Hey, Mama, folks say Papa was never much on thinkin';
Spend most of his time chasin' women and drinkin'!
Mama, I'm depending on you to tell me the truth.

Mama just hung her head and said, "Son,
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rollin' stone.
Wherever he laid his head was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."

ETA: And of course Rolling Stone leads me to the proverb "A Rolling Stone gathers no Moss" as a euphemism for progress and stagnation. And if we have some comets coming to Planetos and some at least did gather moss and turned green.

This leads me to the Rolling Stones even if the band itself was named for the Muddy Waters song "Rollin' Stone'

I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colours anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a newborn baby, it just happens everyday

I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and must have it painted black
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you

If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes

I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colours anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I wanna see it painted, painted black
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black
Yeah

Quote

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. "I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?"

"My city," said Dany. "I was looking for a house with a red door, but by night all the doors are black."

"A red door?" Missandei was puzzled. "What house is this?"

"No house. It does not matter." Dany took the younger girl by the hand. "Never lie to me, Missandei. Never betray me."

-Dany VI, aSoS

ETA:

Exodus 12: 5-

5 Your lamb shall be an unblemished male a year old; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. 6 'You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the same month, then the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel is to kill it at twilight.7 'Moreover, they shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and on the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. 8 They shall eat the flesh that same night, roasted with fire, and they shall eat it with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. 9 Do not eat any of it raw or boiled at all with water, but rather roasted with fire, both its head and its legs along with its entrails.10 'And you shall not leave any of it over until morning, but whatever is left of it until morning, you shall burn with fire. 11 Now you shall eat it in thismanner: with your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it in haste-- it is the LORD'S Passover.12 'For I will go through the land of Egypt on that night, and will strike down all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and against all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments-- I am the LORD. 13 The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live; and when I see the blood I will pass over you, and no plague will be fall you to destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.

[LmL]

10 hours ago, ravenous reader said:

SONG OF DURIN

The world was young, the mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.

The world was fair, the mountains tall,
In Elder Days before the fall
Of mighty kings in Nargothrond
And Gondolin, who now beyond
The Western Seas have passed away:
The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,
There chisel clove, and graver wrote;
There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;
The delver mined, the mason built.
There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,
And metal wrought like fishes' mail,
Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,
And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;
Beneath the mountains music woke:
The harpers harped, the minstrels sang,
And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,
The forge's fire is ashen-cold;
No harp is wrung, no hammer falls:
The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;
The shadow lies upon his tomb
In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.
But still the sunken stars appear
In dark and windless Mirrormere;
There lies his crown in water deep,
Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

 

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring, "A Journey in the Dark"

This is a Mimir's well reference, is it not? Not exactly the same, but Mirrormere has to be a play on Mimir. You can see where Martin might have drawn upon this Tolkien myth when he fashioned Hugor of the Hill's crown of stars, and seeing it in the well there makes me think of the drowned moon / sea dragon idea, the idea of drowned moon stars. I believe Hugor's crown of myth is just another version of the meteor shower story, not just because it is a story about pulling stars down, but because the stars that fell became a sign of Kingship, just as the Grey King's possession of fire did and AA's possession of LB, etc. 

Really beautiful poem, thanks for sharing it, I do love Tolkien's writing.

[YOVMO]

So @ravenous reader there I was this morning having my coffee when I remembered my Hawthorne:

“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” from the Scarlet Letter.

I think this is a wonderful quote in general, but specifically for what the Faceless Men (and particularly Arya) encounter in the course of their training and tenure with the FM. Eventually the self is annihilated through the wearing of different faces. Of course, for us this is most tragic wrt Arya. I am wondering if her POV chapters will get increasingly less "aryaish"

Of course, it is not just the faceless men but also our wargs and indeed all of our skin changers who lose themselves over time. Jojen specifically warns Bran of staying inside Summer for too long. The temptation to stay inside a dragon forever must be all consuming once one can get in there. I wonder to what degree the Dragon Riding Targaryen's were made crazy simply through melding with their dragons. 

Bringing it back to the wonderful crypts/swords/KOW/KITN/Others convo we had with @Seams it could very well be the case that the "face" that the old kings of winter are forced to wear, the swords, for so long -- from their death onward -- have stripped them not just of any trace of their individuality as men but as their humanity in general.

Finally we have examples where the meaning is literally the same as Hawthorne's meaning. How long can someone like Varys or Littlefinger or Marwyn go on with these long term elaborate plots without somehow forgetting which way is up so to speak. How long has Varys been up to whatever he has been up to? Does he even remember the truth? Could this be one of george's morals here...that these long term plans of great men all wind up meaningless and the men who hatch the schemes wind up being slaves to them forgetting their original purpose?

[YOVMO]

6 minutes ago, Cowboy Dan said:

Well I imagine we're all nerds here so you're in good company! I've been looking for more irish/celtic folk/rock/punk so this is perfect. Got any other bands like them you might care to recommend?

Actually I am currently listening to Brian Jones' (from the Rolling Stones) band called The Brian Jonestown Massacre Album Take if from The Man is on spotify. Might be right in your wheelhouse here.

6 minutes ago, Cowboy Dan said:

 

Was super fascinated by the Pogues' album art so looking them up, their second album's titular track is based on a couple books written by the novelist Jean Genet while he was in prison (there seems to be a morbid fascination here regarding imprisonment). Anyways his second book brought me to Nietzsche's idea called 'the Transvaluation of Values' in which he posited that Christianity, despite being caused by Christ's noble idea to remove sin and embracing all life, actually caused Christian societies to revile and work against our very nature as human beings, to deny life in some sense.

Just to be a bit persnickety, Nietzsche fleshes out the idea that values can be transvalued in the Genealogy of Morals. It is his contention not that Christ had a noble idea ruined by christian society, but that Christ acted from a position of impotence and rage against a much mightier Roman empire. The idea of a psychological war being fought by the Jewish against the much mightier (militarily) Romans. The idea was that in latin you don't really have a word for "evil" you have good and bad. The transvaluation comes when what is considered bad (meekness, being docile, etc) is now considered good and what was considered good (military strength, wealth, etc) was made to be evil. The analogy he gives is if the Bird of Prey were to follow the morals of the lamb. Of course lambs think of Falcons as evil, they steal their babies. But Falcons don't think of lambs as evil, merely as food. But if the lambs could convince the birds of prey to act on the moral system of the lamb then they would introduce a concept of shame. Nietzsche says that this war was a slow one against rome, but if you want to see who won go to rome and see to whom the roman's kneel. 

 

This concept is very interesting for our present discussion because george, whether he is even aware of it or not, has a lot of characters operating on Nietzschean moral paradigms....the one that comes to mind the quickest, of course, is Littlefinger. In many ways littlefinger is the archetype of the Nietzschean Ubermensch. He has released himself from the burden of morality and uses his position as an outside observer to the beliefs of kings and whores alike to manipulate them in such a way that he is an active participant in the creation of his own world rather than passively excepting the "pellets" on the dismal finger island he is lord of. 

Nietzsche speaks of the transformation of man from camel to lion to child. The camel is the impotent. Think Arya when she was with the hound....so much hate, no outlet, no where to put it so she carries it, like a camel carries water. Arya then becomes the lion first in Harrenhall and later in Braavos when she takes the power of life and death into her own hand expressing her will onto the world. Cersei, ironically, is the perfect Nietzschean lion. However, the lion is surpassed but the child who has the power to forget and transcend realizing that the petty morals and opinions of mankind are merely just shackles which are used to keep the current power structure from being upended.

 

[ravenous reader]

3 hours ago, YOVMO said:

So @ravenous reader there I was this morning having my coffee when I remembered my Hawthorne:

“No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.” from the Scarlet Letter.

Hi YOVMO!    That's some heavy philosophy top-of-the-morning!  What happened to the more light-hearted hymenal ruminations and other etymological digging that used to occupy you on the weekends..?

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I think this is a wonderful quote in general, but specifically for what the Faceless Men (and particularly Arya) encounter in the course of their training and tenure with the FM. Eventually the self is annihilated through the wearing of different faces. Of course, for us this is most tragic wrt Arya. I am wondering if her POV chapters will get increasingly less "aryaish"

I think this is what Jon intuits about Arya when he warns her early in AGOT that she'll be condemned to sewing all Winter long until she's frosted up and interred in that icy mask (being 'no-one' paradoxically is just another way of wearing a mask), having forgotten who she is and that she ought to return home (subtext: return to Winterfell and remember your name).

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Of course, it is not just the faceless men but also our wargs and indeed all of our skin changers who lose themselves over time. Jojen specifically warns Bran of staying inside Summer for too long. The temptation to stay inside a dragon forever must be all consuming once one can get in there. I wonder to what degree the Dragon Riding Targaryen's were made crazy simply through melding with their dragons. 

Good points.  Becoming a greenseer is scary.  Being wedded to the trees, going into them entails losing ones individuality -- and ones mind to a certain extent -- in the collective.  Hence, why Bran is initially so reluctant to enter the 'weirnet.'

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Bringing it back to the wonderful crypts/swords/KOW/KITN/Others convo we had with @Seams it could very well be the case that the "face" that the old kings of winter are forced to wear, the swords, for so long -- from their death onward -- have stripped them not just of any trace of their individuality as men but as their humanity in general.

Perhaps this is why the prescription that the one who pronounces the sentence must wield the sword is so important -- to prevent the divorce of mind and word from hand and sword respectively.  Disembodied words are just as scary as disembodied swords, giving rise to 'unspeakable' atrocity.

Quote

Finally we have examples where the meaning is literally the same as Hawthorne's meaning. How long can someone like Varys or Littlefinger or Marwyn go on with these long term elaborate plots without somehow forgetting which way is up so to speak. How long has Varys been up to whatever he has been up to? Does he even remember the truth? Could this be one of george's morals here...that these long term plans of great men all wind up meaningless and the men who hatch the schemes wind up being slaves to them forgetting their original purpose?

Varys and Littlefinger are psychopaths (I don't know about Marwyn) -- so 'truth' and 'moral compass' ('which way is up') are not central preoccupations; I'd say power and domination is.  How long can they go on?  The answer is:  interminably, with unflagging single-mindedness and clarity of purpose, despite their many faces -- until something or someone stops them.

While the 'long-term' plans may eventually come to nought, such inglorious vanity is exacted at great cost to others, which is surely one of GRRM's 'morals' of the story.  It reminds me of the following poem (which has also recently been applied in a modern context to the anti-hero/villain Walter White of 'Breaking Bad', who similarly loses himself and implodes as you've noted, bringing down everyone around him along with him in a rubble of blue dust):

 

Ozymandias

Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1792 - 1822

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

 

 

2 hours ago, YOVMO said:

This concept is very interesting for our present discussion because george, whether he is even aware of it or not, has a lot of characters operating on Nietzschean moral paradigms....the one that comes to mind the quickest, of course, is Littlefinger. In many ways littlefinger is the archetype of the Nietzschean Ubermensch. He has released himself from the burden of morality and uses his position as an outside observer to the beliefs of kings and whores alike to manipulate them in such a way that he is an active participant in the creation of his own world rather than passively excepting the "pellets" on the dismal finger island he is lord of. 

Nietzsche speaks of the transformation of man from camel to lion to child. The camel is the impotent. Think Arya when she was with the hound....so much hate, no outlet, no where to put it so she carries it, like a camel carries water. Arya then becomes the lion first in Harrenhall and later in Braavos when she takes the power of life and death into her own hand expressing her will onto the world. Cersei, ironically, is the perfect Nietzschean lion. However, the lion is surpassed but the child who has the power to forget and transcend realizing that the petty morals and opinions of mankind are merely just shackles which are used to keep the current power structure from being upended.

Some Nietzsche quotes to illustrate these excellent points you've brought up:

 

Zarathustra, however, looked at the people and wondered. Then he spake thus:	Zarathustra aber sahe das Volk an und wunderte sich. Dann sprach er also:
Man is a rope stretched between the animal and the Superman--a rope over an abyss.	Der Mensch ist ein Seil, geknüpft zwischen Thier und Übermensch, - ein Seil über einem Abgrunde.
A dangerous crossing, a dangerous wayfaring, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous trembling and halting.	Ein gefährliches Hinüber, ein gefährliches Auf-dem-Wege, ein gefährliches Zurückblicken, ein gefährliches Schaudern und Stehenbleiben.
What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an OVER-GOING and a DOWN-GOING.	Was gross ist am Menschen, das ist, dass er eine Brücke und kein Zweck ist: was geliebt werden kann am Menschen, das ist, dass er ein Übergang und ein Untergang ist.
I love those that know not how to live except as down-goers, for they are the over-goers.	Ich liebe Die, welche nicht zu leben wissen, es sei denn als Untergehende, denn es sind die Hinübergehenden.

************************************************************************************************************

But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do, which even the lion could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child?	Aber sagt, meine Brüder, was vermag noch das Kind, das auch der Löwe nicht vermochte? Was muss der raubende Löwe auch noch zum Kinde werden?
Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a game, a self- rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy Yea.	Unschuld ist das Kind und Vergessen, ein Neubeginnen, ein Spiel, ein aus sich rollendes Rad, eine erste Bewegung, ein heiliges Ja-sagen.
Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren, there is needed a holy Yea unto life: ITS OWN will, willeth now the spirit; HIS OWN world winneth the world's outcast.	Ja, zum Spiele des Schaffens, meine Brüder, bedarf es eines heiligen Ja-sagens: seinen Willen will nun der Geist, seine Welt gewinnt sich der Weltverlorene.

 

From:  Friedrich Nietzsche, Also Sprach Zarathustra, Zarathustra's Vorrede u.Teil I (Thus Spake Zarathustra, Zarathustra's Prologue & Part I)

This reminds me primarily of Littlefinger as you've already underscored, and also Bran, particularly based on the idea of the Child-player archetype, playing with the universe, including other people, as if they were building blocks or chess pieces.  Reflecting this idea, both Littlefinger and Bran are associated with child's play and those 'blocks' and 'pieces' strewn across the landscape (a bit like the ruins of power in 'Ozymandias') which GRRM frequently compares to a child's discarded toys. 

Despite both figures symbolically 'playing with fire' and becoming involved in dubious ethical pursuits (e.g. LF is an obvious social deviant, but even Bran skinchanging Hodor), from anything approximating an ethical perspective, it strikes me that the difference between the two figures who have always been engaged in a primal contest -- not coincidentally, Petyr Baelish's classic duel vs. another nemesis also named Brandon Stark -- is that whereas Littlefinger only plays the game for himself, Bran as part of the 'weirnet' has the potential to be engaged in something larger than himself.  It seems that in his navel-gazing, this is the piece in the puzzle Nietzsche forgot in his hierarchy which only focuses on the consciousness of the individual, without taking into account the collective of which he's part -- except insofar as to see it as an oppressive rival across the board opposed to him and his overarching will.  That's like a cancer cell thinking it's larger than the body in which it grows -- ultimately counterproductive.

Some quotes surrounding this 'child's play':

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A Clash of Kings - Davos III

Men wreathed in green flame leapt into the water, shrieking like nothing human. On the walls of King's Landing, spitfires were belching death, and the great trebuchets behind the Mud Gate were throwing boulders. One the size of an ox crashed down between Black Betha and Wraith, rocking both ships and soaking every man on deck. Another, not much smaller, found Bold Laughter. The Velaryon galley exploded like a child's toy dropped from a tower, spraying splinters as long as a man's arm.

 

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

So lovely. The snow-clad summit of the Giant's Lance loomed above her, an immensity of stone and ice that dwarfed the castle perched upon its shoulder. Icicles twenty feet long draped the lip of the precipice where Alyssa's Tears fell in summer. A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.

She rested her hands on the carved stone balustrade and made herself peer over the edge. She could see Sky six hundred feet below, and the stone steps carved into the mountain, the winding way that led past Snow and Stone all the way down to the valley floor. She could see the towers and keeps of the Gates of the Moon, as small as a child's toys. Around the walls the hosts of Lords Declarant were stirring, emerging from their tents like ants from an anthill. If only they were truly ants, she thought, we could step on them and crush them.

 

A Game of Thrones - Tyrion III

Still, it was nothing that Tyrion could not manage. He looked off to the east and west, at the Wall stretching before him, a vast white road with no beginning and no end and a dark abyss on either side. West, he decided, for no special reason, and he began to walk that way, following the pathway nearest the north edge, where the gravel looked freshest.

His bare cheeks were ruddy with the cold, and his legs complained more loudly with every step, but Tyrion ignored them. The wind swirled around him, gravel crunched beneath his boots, while ahead the white ribbon followed the lines of the hills, rising higher and higher, until it was lost beyond the western horizon. He passed a massive catapult, as tall as a city wall, its base sunk deep into the Wall. The throwing arm had been taken off for repairs and then forgotten; it lay there like a broken toy, half-embedded in the ice.

 

A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

Always keep your foes confused. If they are never certain who you are or what you want, they cannot know what you are like to do next. Sometimes the best way to baffle them is to make moves that have no purpose, or even seem to work against you. Remember that, Sansa, when you come to play the game."

"What . . . what game?"

"The only game. The game of thrones." He brushed back a strand of her hair. "You are old enough to know that your mother and I were more than friends. There was a time when Cat was all I wanted in this world. I dared to dream of the life we might make and the children she would give me . . . but she was a daughter of Riverrun, and Hoster Tully. Family, Duty, Honor, Sansa. Family, Duty, Honor meant I could never have her hand. But she gave me something finer, a gift a woman can give but once. How could I turn my back upon her daughter? In a better world, you might have been mine, not Eddard Stark's. My loyal loving daughter . . . Put Joffrey from your mind, sweetling. Dontos, Tyrion, all of them. They will never trouble you again. You are safe now, that's all that matters. You are safe with me, and sailing home."

 

A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

The mention of the queen's name made her stiffen. "She's not kind. She scares me. If she should learn where I am—"

"—I might have to remove her from the game sooner than I'd planned. Provided she does not remove herself first." Petyr teased her with a little smile. "In the game of thrones, even the humblest pieces can have wills of their own. Sometimes they refuse to make the moves you've planned for them. Mark that well, Alayne. It's a lesson that Cersei Lannister still has yet to learn. Now, don't you have some duties to perform?"

 

A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IV

"Illyrio does not play cyvasse."

No, thought the dwarf, he plays the game of thrones, and you and Griff and Duck are only pieces, to be moved where he will and sacrificed at need, just as he sacrificed Viserys. "The blame must fall on you, then. If I play badly, it is your doing."

The Halfmaester chuckled. "Yollo, I shall miss you when the pirates cut your throat."

 

A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

"Yes, Father." She could feel herself blushing.

He did not hold her kiss against her. "You would not believe half of what is happening in King's Landing, sweetling. Cersei stumbles from one idiocy to the next, helped along by her council of the deaf, the dim, and the blind. I always anticipated that she would beggar the realm and destroy herself, but I never expected she would do it quite so fast. It is quite vexing. I had hoped to have four or five quiet years to plant some seeds and allow some fruits to ripen, but now . . . it is a good thing that I thrive on chaos. What little peace and order the five kings left us will not long survive the three queens, I fear."

"Three queens?" She did not understand.

 

A Game of Thrones - Bran II

Later, Maester Luwin built a little pottery boy and dressed him in Bran's clothes and flung him off the wall into the yard below, to demonstrate what would happen to Bran if he fell. That had been fun, but afterward Bran just looked at the maester and said, "I'm not made of clay. And anyhow, I never fall."

Then for a while the guards would chase him whenever they saw him on the roofs, and try to haul him down. That was the best time of all. It was like playing a game with his brothers, except that Bran always won. None of the guards could climb half so well as Bran, not even Jory. Most of the time they never saw him anyway. People never looked up. That was another thing he liked about climbing; it was almost like being invisible.

He liked how it felt too, pulling himself up a wall stone by stone, fingers and toes digging hard into the small crevices between. He always took off his boots and went barefoot when he climbed; it made him feel as if he had four hands instead of two.

Nietzsche's compelling idea of a human being as tightrope-walker or himself a bridge over the abyss perfectly encapsulates my impression of Bran's fate, since as I've previously maintained he's frequently associated with bridges and bridging, predominantly in the following quote by his father Ned, which I consider a kind of prophecy or foreshadowing.  In my boundless flight of fancy, I imagine Bran taking a spaceflight!  

Making the perilous crossing-- which as Nietzsche intimates is also a descent, in addition to ascent, as well as transcendance--  is akin to traversing the trembling rainbow bridge of fire, the Bifrost of Norse mythology, bridging the realms of man and god(s):

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A Game of Thrones - Catelyn II

Sansa would shine in the south, Catelyn thought to herself, and the gods knew that Arya needed refinement. Reluctantly, she let go of them in her heart. But not Bran. Never Bran. "Yes," she said, "but please, Ned, for the love you bear me, let Bran remain here at Winterfell. He is only seven."

"I was eight when my father sent me to foster at the Eyrie," Ned said. "Ser Rodrik tells me there is bad feeling between Robb and Prince Joffrey. That is not healthy. Bran can bridge that distance. He is a sweet boy, quick to laugh, easy to love. Let him grow up with the young princes, let him become their friend as Robert became mine. Our House will be the safer for it."

 

A Dance with Dragons - Bran II

The last part of their dark journey was the steepest. Hodor made the final descent on his arse, bumping and sliding downward in a clatter of broken bones, loose dirt, and pebbles. The girl child was waiting for them, standing on one end of a natural bridge above a yawning chasm. Down below in the darkness, Bran heard the sound of rushing water. An underground river.

"Do we have to cross?" Bran asked, as the Reeds came sliding down behind him. The prospect frightened him. If Hodor slipped on that narrow bridge, they would fall and fall.

 

A Dance with Dragons - Bran III

The moon was a crescent, thin and sharp as the blade of a knife. Summer dug up a severed arm, black and covered with hoarfrost, its fingers opening and closing as it pulled itself across the frozen snow. There was still enough meat on it to fill his empty belly, and after that was done he cracked the arm bones for the marrow. Only then did the arm remember it was dead.

Bran ate with Summer and his pack, as a wolf. As a raven he flew with the murder, circling the hill at sunset, watching for foes, feeling the icy touch of the air. As Hodor he explored the caves. He found chambers full of bones, shafts that plunged deep into the earth, a place where the skeletons of gigantic bats hung upside down from the ceiling. He even crossed the slender stone bridge that arched over the abyss and discovered more passages and chambers on the far side.

 

 

On a lighter note, a poem about being 'no-one':

I’m Nobody! Who are you? 

Emily Dickinson, 1830 - 1886

I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there’s a pair of us!
Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –  
To tell one’s name – the livelong June –  
To an admiring Bog!