Ah, my Watch brothers and sisters, take hold of your handkerchiefs, get a fresh box of tissues, for we are about to enter Coercri, the ancient city of the Unhomed. I have recently learned that Coercri may mean “Crying Heart”, an appropriate name considering what came to pass there. And, oh how it must cry, for a ceaseless abomination continues to play out within the ancient walls of The Grieve. It cries for the souls of the Unhomed, Foamfollower’s people.”These hills—“ He gestured eastward, moving his half-hand like a man plucking the only words he could find. “They’re the boundary of Seareach. Where the Giants I knew used to live. They had a city on the Sea. Coercri: The Grieve. I want to go there.”
We begin five days after the attack of skest. Covenant, Linden, the Stonedowners, the Haruchai, and the Giants emerge from the Sarangrave and bid farewell to the sur-jheherrin. But before we say goodbye to them, we are given their history…
They camp that night between the Sarangrave and Seareach. Covenant frets over whether or not the Giants will continue to help him in his quest for the One Tree. He knows they want to hear the tale of the Unhomed, but he is not ready, he can’t bring himself to utter the words of their slaughter. Brinn offers to do it for him, for the Haruchai also know the tale. But Covenant refuses to let Brinn take up that burden…For a time which must have been measured in centuries after the fall of Foul's Creche, the jheherrin had huddled fearfully in their homes, not daring to trust their redemption, trust that they had been found worthy. But at last they had received proof strong enough for their timorous hearts. Freed from the Despiser's power and from the corruptive might of the Illearth Stone, the jheherrin had regained the capacity to bring forth children. That was redemption, indeed. Their children they named the sur-jheherrin, to mark their new freedom. In the age which followed, the soft ones began the long migration which took them from the place of their former horror.
From cave to mud pit, quagmire to swamp, underground spring to riverbed, they moved northward across the years, seeking terrain in which they could flourish. And they found what they needed in the Sarangrave. For them, it was a place of safety: their clay flesh and mobility, their ability to live in the bottoms of quicksands and streams, suited them perfectly to the Flat. And in safety they healed their old terror, became creatures who could face pain and risk, if need arose.
Thus their gratitude toward the Pure One grew rather than diminished through the generations. When they saw Giants in peril, their decision of aid was made without hesitation for all the sur-jheherrin throughout the Sarangrave.
The First insists that the Search’s path lies to the West, toward the Sunbane. She trusts Seadreamer’s Earth Sight. She needs more than just the fact that Covenant knew Giants in the past to commit to his need."No," Covenant almost moaned. He faced Brinn, gave the only answer he had. You don't have to do that. It's past. It wasn't their fault.
"'Corruption wears many faces.'" He was quoting Bannor. "'Blame is a more enticing face than others, but it is none the less a mask for the Despiser.'" Do you know that Foul maimed those three Bloodguard? Made them into half-hands? "I'll tell it." It's on my head. "When I'm ready." A pang of augury told him that the Haruchai were going to die because of him.
To this, Covenant responds with the only answer compelling enough to move the First to follow him. He gestures with his half hand and tells the Giants that beyond the hills in front of them lies The Grieve, the ancient city of the Unhomed, where the people of his friend, Saltheart Foamfollower, were murdered."Giantfriend," the First said slowly, "such tales must be shared to be borne. An untold tale withers the heart. But I do not ask that you ease your heart. I ask for myself. Your tale concerns my kindred. And I am the First of the Search. You have spoken of the Sunbane which so appalls the Earth. My duty lies there. In the west. Seadreamer's Earth-Sight is clear. We must seek out this evil and oppose it. Yet you desire our aid. You ask for our proud dromond Starfare's Gem. You assert that your path is the true path of the Search. And you refuse to speak to us concerning our people.
"Thomas Covenant, I ask for your tale because I must choose. Only in stories may the truth to guide me be found. Lacking the knowledge which moves your heart, I lack means to judge your path and your desires. You must speak."
The Giants’ reactions are the answer to Covenant’s immediate need. The First sends Honninscrave back to Starfare’s Gem, tells him to steer the great dromond to the ancient quays of Coercri. They will meet there. And there, she insists that Covenant must tell his tale and after its hearing, she will decide whether or not to entrust the Search into Covenant’s hands.
After Honninscrave’s departure, Covenant has a chance to talk to Linden about everything that has transpired since they entered the Sarangrave. Linden tells him that she now understands how Lena felt…
And then here, we get a glimpse of the Linden’s future, that subtle foreshadow that SRD gives us so often…She acknowledged him with a nod, but did not speak. As he sat beside her, she went on staring into the embers.
He did not know how to approach her; he was ignorant of any names which might unlock her. Tentatively, he asked, "How's your leg?"
Her whisper came out of the dark, like a voice from another world. "Now I know how Lena must have felt"
Lena? Surprise and shame held him mute. He had told her about that crime when she had not wanted to hear. What did it mean to her now?
"You raped her. But she believed in you and she let you go. It's like that for me."
She fell silent. He waited for a long moment, then said in a stiff murmur, "Tell me."
"Almost everything I see is a rape." She spoke so softly that he had to strain to hear her. "The Sunbane. The Sarangrave. When that Raver touched me, I felt as if I had the Sunbane inside me. I don't know how you live with that venom. Sometimes I can't even stand to look at you. That touch denied everything about me. I've spent half my life fighting to be a doctor. But when I saw Joan, I was so horrified- I couldn't bear it. It made me into a lie. That's why I followed you.
"That Raver- It was like with Joan, but a thousand times worse. Before that, I could at least survive what I was seeing-the Sunbane, what it did to the Land-because I thought it was a disease. But when he touched me, he made everything evil. My whole life. Lena must have felt like that."
Ah, Linden…Are you not well chosen?"Covenant." Her tone pleaded for his understanding. "I need to heal things. I need it. That's why I became a doctor, and why I can't stand all this evil. It isn't something I can heal. I can't cure souls. I can't cure myself."
Covenant nods his understanding to this and tells her that is why he wishes to go to the One Tree, so he can make a new Staff of Law and heal the Land. She tells him that Seadreamer doesn’t want to go, and worries that the Giants won’t help them. But Covenant is sure he can persuade them. Linden then tells him that she can’t go back to the Sunbane.
And so, the next morning, the company begins its journey through the hills of Seareach. A glorious landscape free of the Sunbane. The company’s reactions to it are mixed, however. Covenant feels detached from its splendor, the burden of what he must do weighs heavily on him, his self-doubt pulls at him, his thoughts stray to Revelstone where people are dying daily to feed the Bane Fire. Sunder and Hollian gaze at its beauty as though it were some cruel lie, like Andelain, they fear madness.Hearing her, Covenant wanted to say, You won't have to. But that was a promise he feared to make. In Andelain, Mhoram had said, The thing you seek is not what it appears to be. In the end, you must return to the Land. Not what it appears -- ? Not the One Tree? The Staff of Law?
That thought took him from Linden's side; he could not face it. He went like a craven back to his blankets and lay there hugging his apprehension until his weariness pulled him back to sleep.
The grandeur of the Seareach hills so fills Pitchwife that he begins to sing. I love the songs of the Giants!!! So, let’s listen in…But the others were keenly gladdened by the view. Appreciation softened the First's stern countenance; Pitchwife chuckled gently under his breath, as if he could not contain his happiness; Sea-dreamer's misery melted somewhat, allowing him to smile. The Haruchai stiffened slightly, as if in their thoughts they stood to attention out of respect for the fealty and sorrow which had once inhabited Seareach. And Linden gazed into the sunrise as if the autumn offered her palliation for her personal distress. Only Vain showed no reaction. The Demondim-spawn seemed to care for nothing under any sun.
Ah, my heart!! To hear a Giant sing again!!”Let breakers crash against the shore-
let rocks be rimed with sea and weed,
cliffs carven by the storm-
let calm becalm the deeps,
or wind appall the waves, and sting--
and sting--
nothing overweighs the poise of Sea and Stone.
The rocks and water-battery of Home endure.
We are the Giants,
born to live,
and bold for going where the dreaming goes.
"Let world be wide beyond belief,
the ocean be as vast as time-
let journeys end or fail,
seaquests fall in ice or blast,
and wandering be forever. Roam-
and roam-
nothing tarnishes the poise of Sea and Stone.
The hearth and harborage of Home endure.
We are the Giants,
born to sail,
and bold to go wherever dreaming goes.”
Onward Pitchwife’s song carries them, over the lush hills and wild vineyards..
(I quoted that just for Fist..he loves that word!!)It carried the quest forward, lightened Seadreamer's gaze; it eased the discomfort of the Stonedownors like an affirmation against the unknown, gave a spring to the dispassionate strides of the Haruchai, Echoing in Covenant's mind like the thronged glory of the trees, it solaced his unambergrised heart for a time, so that he could walk the land which had been Foamfollower's home without faltering.
To pass the time, Pitchwife tells Covenant how the Search came to be formed. How the onslaught and horror of Seadreamer’s Earth Sight left him mute. How the Giantclave came to decide that the Wound that plagued the Earth should be found and fought. How the members of the Search were chosen, Honninscrave because of his great seamanship and being Seadreamer’s brother. The First because she trained to be a warrior and bested every other Swordmain to become the head of the Search. And Pitchwife, because every dromond is in need of good wiving, and because he was husband to Gossamer Glowlimn, the First.
On the third day from the Sarangrave, Linden cuts away her splint and tells them her ankle is healed. That night a storm hits and they spend the fourth day’s march under a heavy downpour. Then as the rain clears away, they begin to hear waves crashing. The clouds break over the proud Lighthouse, standing forlornly against the horizon.
it defied weather and desuetude as if it were the last gravestone of the Unhomed.
Oh, sigh, now my friends, come with me, we will now enter The Grieve. We will follow Thomas Covenant as he leads us down into the first levels of the great Giant city. Can you feel it? Even without any Land Sense at all we can feel the sorrow, the profound grief, we can hear the “crying heart” of Coercri weep. Yet, our feet descend into The Grieve, down the Giant wrought stairways of stone, down into the Unhomed’s dwellings, where they lived in song and laughter; told their giantish tales that went on for days. We follow Ur-Lord Thomas Covenant in silence as he leads us into the ancient halls and rooms, down long Giantish corridors, we follow him, our eyes searching the wondrous and glorious heartwork of the Unhomed: we follow him to a closed door. Our hearts begin to pound, our eyes tear, we watch as Seadreamer and Brinn wrench that door open and what we see sends spasms of horror and grief through us. We weep.He advanced until he could see the dead city.
Its back was toward him; Coercri faced the Sea. The Unhomed had honeycombed the sheer cliff above the breakers so that their city confronted the east and hope. Only three entrances marked the rear of The Grieve, three tunnels opening the rock like gullets, forever gaping in granite sorrow over the blow which had reft them of habitation and meaning.
"Thomas Covenant." The First was at his side, with Pitchwife and Seadreamer behind her. "Giantfriend." She held her voice like a broadsword at rest, unthreatening, but ready for combat. "You have spoken of Giants and jheherrin; and in our haste, we did not question that which we did not understand. And we have waited in patience for the other tale of which you gave promise. But now we must ask. This place is clearly Giant-wrought-clearly the handiwork of our people. Such craft is the blood and bone of Home to us. About it we could not be mistaken."
Her tone tightened. "But this place which you name The Grieve has been empty for many centuries. And the jheherrin of which you spoke are also a tale many centuries old. Yet you are human-more short-lived than any other people of the Earth. How is it possible that you have known Giants?"
Covenant grimaced; he had no room in his heart for that question. "Where I come from," he muttered, "time moves differently. I've never been here before. But I knew Saltheart Foamfollower. Maybe better than I knew myself. Three and a half thousand years ago." Then abruptly the wrench of pain in his chest made him gasp. Three and a half -- ! It was too much-a gulf so deep it might have no bottom. How could he hope to make restitution across so many years?
Clenching himself to keep from panting, he started down the slope toward the central tunnel, the main entrance to Coercri.
We weep, gulping and gasping, our hearts rising up as we cry out our pain. We weep like the “crying heart” of the ancient stone as we watch Seadreamer move toward the dead Giant. We weep as the Giant’s hand turns to dust. We weep as Seadreamer loses all control and surges toward Covenant, seeking the tale of this atrocity. Weeping, we watch as the First restrains Seadreamer, we hear her tell Covenant that the wait for the tale is over, we must all hear it. And here it we shall. And so, we follow the Ur-Lord once more, weeping, our hearts aching as we descend into the depths of Coercri.Air, which had been tombed for so long that it no longer held any taint of must or corruption, spilled through the opening.
Within was a private living chamber. For a moment, dimness obscured it. But as Covenant's eyes adjusted, he made out a dark form sitting upright and rigid in a chair beside the hearth.
Mummified by dead air and time and subtle salt, a Giant.
His hands crushed the arms of the chair, perpetuating forever his final agony. Splinters of old stone still jutted between his fingers.
His forehead above his vacant eyesockets was gone. The top of his head was gone. His skull was empty, as if his brain had exploded, tearing away half his cranium.
Hellfire!
"It was as the old tellers have said." Brinn sounded like the dead air. "Thus they were slain by the Giant-Raver. Unresisting in their homes."
Hell and blood!
We come to a levee as the sun sets, the sea crashes against the empty quay. We hear Thomas Covenant tell his companions to build up a fire, a big fire, and we all know the reason of his request, for his tale will be full of grief. Once the fire is built we all gather around, our eyes leaking. The night becomes still as he begins. He tells us of how the Unhomed came to Seareach, lost. He tells us how they were befriended by Damelon, and how he had told them that the bereavement of their lost Home would come to an end with the birth of three sons. He tells us how the Giants had built Revelstone for the Council of Lords, tells us how Kevin warned them of the Ritual of Desecration and entrusted them with the First Ward of his lore. He tells us how the Giants returned that First Ward to the new Council. He tells us how he met Saltheart Foamfollower along the Soulease, traveling to Revelstone with glad news of the three sons birth. He tells us what a joyous time it was for the Giants, as their hope for Home seemed to be coming to fruition. He tells us how Foamfollower accompanied them on the Quest for the Staff of Law and returned to Seareach afterwards. He tells us of the silence after 40 years of communication back and forth between Revelstone and Seareach. He tells us of Korik’s mission, accompanied by Lords Shetra and Hyrim, sent to seek the aid of the Giants in the war against the Despiser, or to give aid if required. He tells us how the mission met doom.
We listen as the Ur-Lord speaks, his voice is thick with grief, our souls and hearts weeping silently as we learn the fate of the three brothers. We listen as Thomas Covenant tells us of three Giant Ravers. We listen as the words of Saltheart Foamfollower channel from him…
We listen…"Fidelity," the Giant had said. "Fidelity was our only reply to our extinction. We could not have borne our decline if we had not taken pride.
"So my people were filled with horror when they saw their pride riven-torn from them like rotten sails in the wind. They saw the portent of their hope of Home-the three brothers-changed from fidelity to the most potent ill by one small stroke of the Despiser's evil. Who in the Land could hope to stand against a Giant-Raver? Thus the Unhomed became the means to destroy that to which they had held themselves true. And in horror at the naught of their fidelity, their folly practiced through long centuries of pride, they were transfixed. Their revulsion left no room in them for thought or resistance or choice. Rather than behold the cost of their failure-rather than risk the chance that more of them would be made Soulcrusher's servants-they elected to be slain."
A change seems to be coming over the night…"They put away their tools."
Shadows are rousing, the air is growing taut, the sea waves are muffled. We listen on…"And banked their fires."
We see the shadows begin to take form, all along the ramparts and ways of Coecri there is movement. In the rooms we see tall figures glowing in pale light…"And made ready their homes."
We see them clearly now. The Dead of The Grieve have come. They move along the passages and we resume our weeping. We watch them, but then something else catches our eyes and we look to the southern rampart. High up we see him, shining green in the light of the Illearth Stone, we see the Giant Raver. And, in horror, we watch as the Dead allow themselves to be butchered all over again at his hand. We watch and weep as one by one they die again their horrific deaths. We see the living Giants break, we see them surge forward and thrust their arms into the fire, we see Seadreamer leap into the flames full-bodied. And then we see the Ur-Lord himself, we see him move toward the fire as the Giant Raver continues his slaughter. We see the Haruchai step in front of him, then move aside. We hear Linden call out his name. But he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t stop. And we watch as Ur-Lord Thomas Covenant enters the blaze…"As if in preparation for departure."
We watch, we weep, we have no words...At once, he became wild magic and grief, burning with an intense white flame that no other blaze could touch. Shining like the gem of the krill, he strode among the logs and embers to Sea-dreamer's side. The Giant did not see him, was too far gone in agony to see him. Remembering Foamfollower's pain, Covenant thrust at Seadreamer. Wild magic blasted the Giant from the fire, sent him sprawling across the cold stone.
Slowly, Covenant looked around at his companions. They were distorted by the flames, gazing at him as if he were a ghoul. Linden's appalled stare hurt him. Because he could not reply to her in any other way, he turned to his purpose.
He took hold of the wild magic, shaped it according to his will, so that it became his own ritual, an articulation of compassion and rage for all torment, all loss.
Burning, he opened himself to the surrounding flames.
They rushed to incinerate him; but he was ready. He mastered the bonfire with argence, bent it to his command. Flame and power were projected outward together, so that the blaze lashed tremendously into the night.
He spread his arms to the city, stretched himself as if he yearned to embrace the whole of The Grieve.
In wild magic, white puissance without sound, he shouted:
Come! This is the caamora! Come and be healed!
And they came. His might and his will interrupted the masque, broke the geas which locked the Dead in their weird damnation. Hearing him, they turned as if they had been waiting through all the long ages of their anguish for his call. In throngs and eagerness, they began flowing down the passages of Coercri.
Like a river, they swept out onto the headrock of the piers.
Toward the fire.
The Giant-Raver tried to pursue them. But the breaking of their eternal round seemed to break also his hold over them, break the spell of his maleficent glee. His form frayed as he moved, blurred until he was only a tingling green smear of memory across The Grieve-until he faded into the night, and was lost.
And the Dead continued toward the fire.
The Haruchai drew back, taking Linden and the Stonedownors with them. Pitchwife and the First went with aching bones to tend Seadreamer.
Vain did not move. He stood in the path of the Dead and watched Covenant's immolation with gaiety in his eyes.
But the Dead passed around him, streamed forward. Need and hope shone through their pearl faces.
Reaching out to them as if they were all one, as if they were only Foamfollower in multiform guise, Covenant took them into his embrace, and wept white fire.
The wild magic struck pain into them, seared them the way a physical conflagration would have seared their bodies. Their forms went rigid, jaws stretched, eyes stared-specters screaming in soul-anguish. But the screaming was also laughter.
And the laughter prevailed.
Covenant could not hold them. They came into his arms, but they had no bodies that he could hug. Nothing filled his embrace; no contact or benison restored him to himself. He might have been alone in the fire.
Yet the laughter stayed with him. It was glad mirth, joy and restitution which Foamfollower would have known how to share. It ran in his ears like the Sea and sustained him until everything else was gone-until his power was spent against the heavens, and the night closed over him like all the waters of the world.
Peace has come to the Dead of The Grieve at last…
)
You're probably right. Only great relief when Pitchwife started his caamora
), the answer would have to be Yes. Good thing Bannor didn't tell Foamfollower that he could watch the whole thing, or FF might have gone, hoping to find a way to stop it. And Covenant might have been walking to Foul's Creche by himself.
I was hoping I did it justice. 
