TLD Part II Chapter 12: You Are Mine
Posted: Wed May 20, 2015 2:56 am
The chapter starts, as the last chapter should, with a situation that looks even more grim and desparate and heartwrenching than anything before. One could perhaps consider this impossible after everything the characters of the Chrons have been through, but no. Coventant gets greeted by his son posessed by Lord Foul - and even willing at that – and gets informed that Jeremiah is posessed by moksha, which ruins whatever semblance of a plan Covenant had. Even the resolve to refrain from rage, as important as it is, starts to dissipate.
But the point is not only mythological. This again about how a tainted source or execution, be it by an actual wrongdoing or merely acceptance, results in a tainted outcome, not matter how clear or plain it appeared to be. This is not by any magic or karma, or at least that's not required, and for a rather simple reason. Practially whatever exists in the world - be it an item, an idea, merely an advice - is too complicated to lose any kind of slight individual feature, the traces of its source - or at times a plain mark all over it, no matter how the initial thing was meant to be awesome. And no matter how it may appear that something is really needed and cannot possibly go wrong, but in fact going wrong is easy and various and anything may have results not possible to predict, apart from the danger in general, the rule that holding sky blue chalk in a hand covered in brown paint will result in highly original brown-ish clouds on the painting.
Covenant and Roger fight, also Lord Foul certainly can't resist an extra precaution – his stone creatures have to be fought by the Haruchai, newly arriving, Stave joins the fight. Branl gets a horrible wound and Stave is fighting, while Roger lifts his arm with fire... but doesn't try to kill Stave.
As above, this is so similar to Narnia, but, similarly to how at times the Chrons take on some LOTR-inspired thoughts or how the Gap Cycle takes inspiration from the Ring Cycle, the inspiration is not as much simply taken in as also transformed by the author, transcended. This is not the final and dismissive heavenly Narnia, this is a bloody mess left by the Worm... one they need to fix themselves for bettr or worse, and with all the fun knowledge than may seep in from She and even Lord Foul himself, not even touching the topic of what the heroes themselves are like. A lot that new world may be, but it will hardly be boring.
It may seem one of the oddest or perhaps even disappointing (for some) decisions that Covenant decided to do so with Lord Foul. And more so considering he has such a task, where having Lord Foul inside is so likely to cause... repercussions. But is it so?
One more thing that possibly needs to be brought up in relation to this is the question about the grass stains. Or at least how I interpreted them The people often recalled in that regard are Covenant and Linden, but there was one more person, Lord Mhoram. Perhaps can something that ties them point out the reason they were special so much - to be marked like this? And maybe there is something. Lord Mhoram with his great acheivement, the revelation that allowed the victory over Lord Foul's army, Linden with her healing of the Land from the Sunbane, Covenant with his acceptance of Lord Foul – they all stood in the eye of the paradox, or perhaps transcendance of a sort – they all figured it - the place for battle within the person who loves peace, the place for Sunbane in nature, the place for Lord Foul in the heart and soul...
And this revelation is not a dark one evil lords like to proclaim, saying there's place for all the overblown evil they do, nor the grim one about the world being all in grey or black-and-white with darkness always there and the need to just grit the teeth and get over that, but the intricate tapestry that needs every paint and color and detail, like the tender thought and the sharp retort, the naive do-gooder and the badass with a dark undercurrent, the painful wait and the long-awaited meeting at last, the brigtness of the sun and the velvet darkness between the stars, all the vast beauty of life.
Roger even defends his choice (as much as getting manipulated by Lord Foul can be called so), but Covenant knows better.He may be freed only by one who is compelled by rage—Ire would mislead him when he absolutely had to be the master of himself. But he could not control what he felt. Well, hi, Dad. That was his son. His son, wracked like a plague victim by power and malice. You took your own sweet time getting here. His son with Lord Foul’s putrescent eyes.
This is a thought frequently met in the Chrons, but here is a good place to observe it. It is quite close to what is discussed at some point in the Chronicles of Narnia, which are going to show up soon more profoundly, and this time it's about the apples from the Silver Apple Tree, which did bring stuff like health, eternal life, etc. even if someoner stole them/took for own selfish reasons - but that wasn't going to bring any joy. Narnia could pretty surely be a reference, but to dig deeper, this is actually a point out of myths and legends, where tthere are some kinds of forces that cast their inherent qualities onto whatever is received from them. Perhaps not as closely, there's the thing about not eating food from the Underworld (Greek myths, if I'm not mistaken) or from the Faeries for it meant staying with them, and there's a plainer thought of not taking anything from the purely dark or very tricky forces, that's like in Christianity and many legends about variuous mischievous creatures – something that's going to end up badly no matter how well one “knows” what he wants, there's a catch and a trick and a way it will go wrong.“No,” Covenant snapped, wrestling for composure. “He won’t take you with him. Whatever he offered you won’t be what you think it is.”
But the point is not only mythological. This again about how a tainted source or execution, be it by an actual wrongdoing or merely acceptance, results in a tainted outcome, not matter how clear or plain it appeared to be. This is not by any magic or karma, or at least that's not required, and for a rather simple reason. Practially whatever exists in the world - be it an item, an idea, merely an advice - is too complicated to lose any kind of slight individual feature, the traces of its source - or at times a plain mark all over it, no matter how the initial thing was meant to be awesome. And no matter how it may appear that something is really needed and cannot possibly go wrong, but in fact going wrong is easy and various and anything may have results not possible to predict, apart from the danger in general, the rule that holding sky blue chalk in a hand covered in brown paint will result in highly original brown-ish clouds on the painting.
Covenant and Roger fight, also Lord Foul certainly can't resist an extra precaution – his stone creatures have to be fought by the Haruchai, newly arriving, Stave joins the fight. Branl gets a horrible wound and Stave is fighting, while Roger lifts his arm with fire... but doesn't try to kill Stave.
And, after Roger has an argument with Lord Foul and Covenant decides to wait for Jeremiah, turns out this wasn't the most to be seen of him that day.“No!” Lord Foul roared again. “I will not permit it!” Scourged by his possessor, Roger shifted his aim. Fierce as a scream, he turned his power away from Covenant. A mistake— In the space between instants, Covenant thought that the Despiser had misjudged his foes— or had simply been overcome by his own fury. The Haruchai could not oppose him. Covenant was the real danger. Then, however, Covenant saw the frenzy in Roger’s eyes— saw the Despiser’s bitterness dulled by a more human anguish— saw Roger hurl coerced scoria, not at Stave, who shielded Covenant, but at Branl, who could not. The Humbled lay gasping against the wall. One shoulder had been shattered. Other bones were broken. His legs refused to hold him. Still he managed to wrench himself aside. Roger’s blast did not destroy him. Instead it made a smoking ruin of his wrecked arm, stripped the flesh from his ribs. Even that lesser damage might have killed him; but Roger’s attack cauterized as it burned. Branl was stricken unconscious: he did not bleed. His chest still heaved for air. Roger had done that: Roger. It was as close to an act of mercy as he could manage. In spite of Lord Foul’s mastery, Roger had left Stave alive to protect Covenant. And Covenant— Covenant recognized his chance. In a stumbling rush, he ran at Roger, gained the dais. Faster than he could think, he slashed with the krill.
The hand exploded; or Lord Foul’s presence in Roger did.
Covenant fights with all his force, but still they're practically at a stalemate by the time Jeremiah enters and tries to trap Lord Foul.Roger was moving. Broken as a derelict, as the wreckage of his dreams, Roger stumbled toward the dais. He crouched. When he rose again, he clutched High Lord Loric’s dagger. As he raised his arm, fresh blood pumped from his severed stump. Red splashed across the stone like an accusation. His screaming seemed soundless as he hammered the blade into Lord Foul’s impalpable shape. A puny attack, too low and frail to accomplish anything. And the Despiser was mighty: he was scarcely physical. Nevertheless wild magic coruscated in the dagger’s gem. Loric had forged his blade to mediate between irreconcilable possibilities. It was the highest achievement of his vast lore. Somehow it hurt— In spite of Lord Foul’s vast power, the krill appeared to nail him where he stood; fix him in one place. He gathered his fury into a fist. With a single punch, he crushed Roger to wet pulp. But he did not leave the dais. Did not slip past the restrictions of time. Roger —
Now Covenant heard Stave yelling, “The Chosen-son has freed himself!” At last. Now or never.
Now he fights Jeremiah, who at first feels exalted, but starts to falter. Yet...Lord Foul appeared to realize what was happening. He appeared to recognize that he had to flee. If he wanted freedom, he had to abandon his deeper purpose against the Creator. He would be trapped otherwise. He would cease to exist. Shrieking like the deaths of stars, he turned away. But he was already too late. Because Jeremiah— Oh, God, Jeremiah! —had learned how to forbid. With Earthpower and extravagance— the whetted extremity of a boy who had been hurt too much and was finally done with helplessness— Jeremiah forbade Lord Foul’s escape. In horror, the Despiser wheeled to face his foes again.
Without warning, an overwhelming thunder swept through Kiril Threndor. It staggered the whole mountain. For an instant, Covenant thought that the Worm had drunk its fill; that the World’s End had come. Then he saw more clearly. A hand like the fist of a god struck down the Despiser. Strength that threatened to crack Covenant’s mind left Lord Foul crumpled on the dais, almost corporeal, almost whimpering. A transcendent touch secured Jeremiah’s forbidding. As if as an afterthought, something supernal deposited Linden at Jeremiah’s side.
While one could say this feels like some hand-of-god (well, actually what it is) trick, this is the necessary continuation of the story with Sho, who is so different now... and anyway still not THE answer. No, what is really needed, what does solve the story, is what Covenant does then.“She Who Must Not Be Named is gone. I gave Her what She needed. This must be what She calls gratitude. “I love you, Thomas.” It’s enough, Covenant thought. Thank you. It’s enough.
With pity and terror, Covenant lifted Lord Foul upright. This was his last crisis. There could be no more. “Do you understand?” he asked like a man bidding farewell. “If I’m yours, you’re mine. We’re part of each other. We’re too much alike. We want each other dead. But you’re finished. You can’t escape now. And I’m too weak to save myself. If we want to live, we have to do it together.” The Despiser met Covenant’s gaze. “You will not.” The voice of the world’s iniquity sounded hollow as a forsaken tomb. His eyes were not fangs. They were wounds, gnashed and raw. “You fear me. You will not suffer me to live.” “Yes,” Covenant answered, “I will.” He was blinded now, not by fires and fury, but by tears as he closed his arms around his foe. Opening his heart, he accepted Lord Foul the Despiser into himself. When it was done, Thomas Covenant turned to the people who had redeemed him.
As above, this is so similar to Narnia, but, similarly to how at times the Chrons take on some LOTR-inspired thoughts or how the Gap Cycle takes inspiration from the Ring Cycle, the inspiration is not as much simply taken in as also transformed by the author, transcended. This is not the final and dismissive heavenly Narnia, this is a bloody mess left by the Worm... one they need to fix themselves for bettr or worse, and with all the fun knowledge than may seep in from She and even Lord Foul himself, not even touching the topic of what the heroes themselves are like. A lot that new world may be, but it will hardly be boring.
And they'll have some company as well.“Too bad we won’t get to enjoy it.” Covenant tried to smile. “What are you talking about?” He spoke to Jeremiah, but he poured out his heart to Linden. “This is our chance. We can’t stop what’s happening, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to save the Earth. I know that sounds impossible, but maybe it isn’t. We don’t have to create an entire reality from scratch. We just have to put the pieces of this one back together. “If we follow the Worm— and if we pick up the pieces fast enough— and if we know where they belong—” Perhaps the Arch and the world could be rebuilt from the fragments of their destruction. “We have everything we need,” he assured Jeremiah. “Two white gold wielders. The Staff of Law. Linden’s health-sense. Your talent. Hell, we still have the krill. And I think—” His face twisted with pain and chagrin and hope. “I’m not sure, but I think I know everything Lord Foul knows.” The Despiser had striven for eons to escape his prison. His knowledge of the created world was both vast and intricate. Jeremiah stood straighter. His hands tightened eagerly on the Staff. “I’ve learned a few things myself.” “And I’ve seen She Who Must Not Be Named without all of that agony and bitterness,” offered Linden. “I know what She means.”
Now comes the time when they have to go... and recreate the world with all that fun stuff they have.“We can do it together.” There is no doom so black or deep— Linden looked at Jeremiah. “Then you had better get rid of that Raver. He’s holding you back.” Moksha had probably exacerbated Jeremiah’s faltering earlier. Jeremiah nodded. He closed his eyes. For a moment, he grimaced. He may have feared losing what he had gained from the Raver; feared losing a part of himself. But then he became a brief flare of Earthpower and forbidding. Darkness billowed out of him. Moksha writhed uselessly, seeking a body that could sustain him. But the Giants were too weary to be used, Branl was too severely injured, and Stave and Canrik were too obdurate. Howling, the Raver fled.
“Now.” With his halfhand, he clasped Linden’s left. Sharing his burdens, he raised both arms, held high his bright wedding band and hers. After an instant’s hesitation, Linden reached out to grip the cleansed Staff between Jeremiah’s hands, trusting the influence of the krill, or the accelerating collapse of Law and Time, or her own rightful use of wild magic to protect her from incompatible theurgies. She smiled at her son. He was concentrating too hard to smile back. A final convulsion tore through Kiril Threndor. Wracked beyond endurance, the whole chamber became rubble. Lifted by fire, Covenant, Linden, and Jeremiah stepped into the wake of the World’s End and rose like glory.
It may seem one of the oddest or perhaps even disappointing (for some) decisions that Covenant decided to do so with Lord Foul. And more so considering he has such a task, where having Lord Foul inside is so likely to cause... repercussions. But is it so?
One more thing that possibly needs to be brought up in relation to this is the question about the grass stains. Or at least how I interpreted them The people often recalled in that regard are Covenant and Linden, but there was one more person, Lord Mhoram. Perhaps can something that ties them point out the reason they were special so much - to be marked like this? And maybe there is something. Lord Mhoram with his great acheivement, the revelation that allowed the victory over Lord Foul's army, Linden with her healing of the Land from the Sunbane, Covenant with his acceptance of Lord Foul – they all stood in the eye of the paradox, or perhaps transcendance of a sort – they all figured it - the place for battle within the person who loves peace, the place for Sunbane in nature, the place for Lord Foul in the heart and soul...
And this revelation is not a dark one evil lords like to proclaim, saying there's place for all the overblown evil they do, nor the grim one about the world being all in grey or black-and-white with darkness always there and the need to just grit the teeth and get over that, but the intricate tapestry that needs every paint and color and detail, like the tender thought and the sharp retort, the naive do-gooder and the badass with a dark undercurrent, the painful wait and the long-awaited meeting at last, the brigtness of the sun and the velvet darkness between the stars, all the vast beauty of life.