The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant provides us with innumerable wonders. Among them, we must include the cosmography of the Land and the Earth which surrounds it. This cosmography, centered on an Arch of Time, is inseparable from the creation story which informs it, and the whole provides a central pillar to the framework of the story.
When, in The One Tree, we are confronted with the existence of the Worm of the World’s End, we are struck as if by an earthquake: we can no longer trust the ground on which we stand. After being long comfortable with one creation story, we are now presented with a second. Both of them appear to be true, but both of them exclude each other. The problem is far from academic: the narrative depends on both of them. We can become frustrated at the author, who seems to have pulled the rug out from under us. As one reader has succinctly stated his feelings, “I hate hate hate it”.
How can the story of the Arch of Time be true, and the story of the Worm of the World’s End be true, at the same time?
In order to answer that question, let’s first consider another creation story that appears in the Chronicles: The Wounded Rainbow Myth.
Surprisingly, it is this myth which first appears in the Chronicles, not the Arch of Time Myth. It is never referred to again, and so it can be easily forgotten. However, its presence is not without import.
Foamfollower gives us this tale, as he and Covenant journey to Revelstone in Lord Fouls Bane.
There are several remarkable aspects to this tale."Ah, Stone and Sea! Do you know the old lore legend of the Wounded Rainbow, Thomas Covenant? It is said that in the dimmest past of the Earth, there were no stars in our sky. The heavens were a blankness which separated us from the eternal universe of the Creator. There he lived with his people and his myriad bright children, and they moved to the music of play and joy.
"Now, as the ages spired from forever to forever, the Creator was moved to make a new thing for the happy hearts of his children. He descended to the great forges and cauldrons of his power, and brewed and hammered and cast rare theurgies. And when he was done, he turned to the heavens, and threw his mystic creation to the sky - and, behold! A rainbow spread its arms across the universe.
"For a moment, the Creator was glad. But then he looked closely at the rainbow - and there, high in the shimmering span, he saw a wound, a breach in the beauty he had made. He did not know that his Enemy, the demon spirit of murk and mire that crawled through the bowels of even his universe, had seen him at work, and had cast spite into the mortar of his creating. So now, as the rainbow stood across the heavens, it was marred.
"In vexation, the Creator returned to his works, to find a cure for his creation. But while he labored, his children, his myriad bright children, found the rainbow, and were filled with rejoicing at its beauty. Together, they climbed into the heavens and scampered happily up the bow, dancing gay dances across its colors. High on the span, they discovered the wound. But they did not understand it. Chorusing joy, they danced through the wound, and found themselves in our sky. This new unlighted world only gladdened them the more, and they spun through the sky until it sparkled with the glee of play.
"When they tired of this sport, they sought to return to their universe of light. But their door was shut. For the Creator had discovered his Enemy's handiwork -- the cause of the wound - and in his anger his mind had been clouded. Thoughtless, he had torn the rainbow from the heavens. Not until his anger was done did he realize that he had trapped his children in our sky. And there they remain, stars to guide the sojourners of our nights, until the Creator can rid his universe of his Enemy, and find a way to bring his children Home."
This story comes to us from the Giants. After this telling, Foamfollower goes on to compare the Giants of the Land to the Creator's children: "So it was with us, the Unhomed." This is presented not as the random musings of the individual telling the tale, but as a well-established preamble of the tale itself, a chapter fully installed in the oral tradition of the Unhomed, taught from Giant to Giant. The author has chosen to associate Giants with this myth, not as an element of the myth, but as the agents which bring the myth to the reader.
The story of the Unhomed could have been told without mentioning a creation myth; if it needed artistic embellishment or additional drama, another device could have been used. Instead, we are presented with the first of two alternate creation myths seen in the first Chronicles. It is evident that the author intended us to have alternate creation myths from the onset of the Chronicles. Perhaps this is to underscore that creation myths are indeed myths, and are not literally true within the world created by the story. If so, choosing the Giants, renowned tellers of tales, to bring us this myth would be apropos.
This myth is very similar to the more familiar Arch of Time Myth presented later in the first Chronicles; all of the common elements are present. There is creation, there is destruction, and there is imprisonment. We have a god-like creator, who is both potent and helpless, and we have an enemy who mars his works.
The central feature is a rainbow, a "shimmering span", within which can be found "our sky", and presumably the Earth as well. The similarity between the Rainbow and the Arch of Time cannot be ignored: both are curving lines; both are frameworks within which the Earth is found; both are creations which are subject to subsequent destruction. So links between the Rainbow Myth and the subsequent Arch Myth are neither weak nor subtle. The reader is compelled to make a comparison, for the author's purposes.
The other unique addition to this tale is the final action of the Creator: It is he - not the enemy - who ultimately destroys the Rainbow. The creator and the destroyer are one in this myth. This is a bold underscore of one the author’s central themes: that destruction is inseparable from creation.
Consideration of the Wounded Rainbow Myth leads us to two conclusions.After all, life necessitates death. Anything that lives carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. (And our own bodies demonstrate just how *many* seeds there can be.) The alternative is stasis. Indeed, anything that doesn't both grow and die (usually in that order) can't really be described as being alive.
(Gradual Interview, 04/29/2004
First, the creation myths are not different myths. Rather, each seems to be a transformation of the other. Superficially, they have a different narrative, and actions may be attributed to different roles. Underneath, they contain the same basic elements, even the same basic demiurges; they impart the same fundamental knowledge to the audience. They are like fables: children’s stories about talking animals which still enforce a useful truth; you can change the animals and the story, but the truth remains.
Second, all creation myths are not equal. At the end of White Gold Wielder, Lord Foul does not want the ring in order to destroy the Wounded Rainbow, nor does the Creator speak of a Wounded Rainbow as Covenant returns to his world. At no point in the Chronicles do the characters ponder their problems by considering how the Wounded Rainbow fits into the picture. Obviously, the details of the Arch of Time Myth are essential to the plot, while those of the Wounded Rainbow are not. The Wounded Rainbow is, after all, only a story told by renown storytellers.
With these two ideas firmly in mind, we can look at the Worm of the World’s End Myth.
In the Second Chronicles, we discover this new creation myth. The myth is related to us by Pitchwife in The One Tree.
Again, the Giants are involved in this myth, as the ones who bring it to us. The Giant’s are story-tellers, and this is one of their tales. However, the ultimate source of the tale is made known to us – the Elohim. Pitchwife, speaking for the Giants, cautions us about this: knowledge gained from the Elohim is “difficult of contradiction”, which is to say, it requires careful examination in order to make sense of it. A point well worth remembering – things that the Elohim say are not to be taken plainly, but to be scrutinized for hidden truths."It is said among the Elohim, whose knowledge is wondrous, and difficult of contradiction" - Pitchwife conveyed a chortle of personal amusement - "that in the ancient and eternal youth of the cosmos, long ere the Earth came to occupy its place, the stars were as thick as sand throughout all the heavens. Where now we see multitudes of bright beings were formerly multitudes of multitudes, so that the cosmos was an ocean of stars from shore to shore, and the great depth of their present solitude was unknown to them - a sorrow which they could not have comprehended. They were the living peoples of the heavens, as unlike to us as gods. Grand and warm in their bright loveliness, they danced to music of their own making and were content.
"But far away across the heavens lived a being of another kind. The Worm. For ages it slumbered in peace - but when it awakened, as it awakens at the dawn of each new eon, it was afflicted with a ravenous hunger. Every creation contains destruction, as life contains death, and the Worm was destruction. Driven by its immense lust, it began to devour stars.
"Perhaps this Worm was not large among the stars, but its emptiness was large beyond measure, and it roamed the heavens, consuming whole seas of brightness, cutting great swaths of loneliness across the firmament. Writhing along the ages, avid and insatiable, it fed on all that lay within its reach, until the heavens became as sparsely peopled as a desert.
"Yet the devoured stars were beings as unlike to us as gods, and no Worm or doom could consume their power without cost. Having fed hugely, the Worm became listless and gravid. Though it could not sleep, for the eon's end of its slumber had not come, it felt a whelming desire for rest. Therefore it curled its tail about itself and sank into quiescence.
"And while the Worm rested, the power of the stars wrought within it. From its skin grew excrescences of stone and soil, water and air, and these growths multiplied upon themselves and multiplied until the very Earth beneath our feet took form. Still the power of the stars wrought, but now it gave shape to the surface of the Earth, forging the seas and the land. And then was brought forth life upon the Earth. Thus were born all the peoples of the Earth, the beasts of the land, the creatures of the deep - all the forests and greenswards from pole to pole. And thus from destruction came forth creation, as death gives rise to life.
"Therefore, Chosen," said Pitchwife firmly, "we live, and strive, and seek to define the sense of our being. And it is good, for though we compose a scant blink across the eyes of eternity, yet while the blink lasts we choose what we will, create what we may, and share ourselves with each other as the stars did ere they were bereaved. But it must pass. The Worm does not slumber. It merely rests. And the time must come when it is roused, or rouses itself. Then it will slough off this skin of rock and water to pursue its hunger across the cosmos until eon's end and slumber. For that reason, it is named the Worm of the World's End."
Here in this myth are the themes of creation, destruction, and imprisonment again. All the components are present, but the relationships between them are changed, so that, while the sense of this myth remains the same as the Arch of Time myth, a point-for-point correspondence cannot be made.
Here we encounter the Worm. Again, we have a long, narrow object bent into a curve, upon which the Earth depends for its existence. A parallel between the Worm and the Arch of Time (and the Rainbow) suggests itself rather clearly.
The Worm is also the creator here, albeit an inadvertent one, and it is also the enemy in a similarly skewed fashion.
There are two aspects of the imprisonment theme here. The Worm is imprisoned in a sense, in that it is caught completely inside of its excrescence. Also, the stars are here again, and, although they are consumed by the Worm, there is enough circumstantial evidence later in the story that they are not destroyed thereby, and therefore might be said to be imprisoned in the Worm (or the Earth) as well.
Everything that is required for this Myth to be a twisted retelling of the Arch of Time Myth (and the Wounded Rainbow Myth) are here.
If it wasn’t for the subsequent narrative in The One Tree, we could easily classify this Myth in the same class as the Wounded Rainbow Myth – a lesser creation story. If being a Giantish story is a clue, well, we have found it here. And the subsequent revelation that the Worm may also be one and the same as the Würd makes a stronger case that perhaps the Worm is a metaphor for something else entirely.
But the fact remains that the The One Tree leads us to believe that the Worm is as real as the Arch of Time.
Perhaps we are more “lead” than we realize.
We never actually see the Worm. We never directly experience anything that is the Worm or is tied to the Worm myth. We are only told that the Worm is about.
Linden, even with her health sense, never “sees” the Worm. She feels something, that’s for sure."He has encountered the Worm of the World's End!”
(White Gold Wielder)
Donaldson might have said that Linden sensed the Worm, or something else that would have proved that the Worm of the World’s end was somehow real. Instead, he leaves the reader with vague words, words which seem to reinforce a preconception planted by Findail (Findail! Do we trust Findail?!?!) without ever validating it. Almost as if he is misleading us. Well, we’ve seen him do that before!"Wait. [...] There's something else. [...] Something else here. [...] They're connected - but they aren't the same. I don't know what it is. It's too much. Nobody can look at it. [...] The Tree isn't why nothing lives here. It doesn't make the air smell like the end of the world. It doesn't have that kind of power. There's something else here. [...] Resting."
[...] The boiling of the stone around the Tree was not caused by Covenant's heat. It came from the same source as the stars. A source buried among the deepest bones of the Earth - a source which had been at rest.
(White Gold Wielder)
If we consider a hypothesis that there really is no Worm at the Isle of the One Tree, it satisfies all of our creation myth issues. For the Worm of the World’s End Myth could be demoted to an interesting but second-class creation myth, alongside the Wounded Rainbow Myth.
Unfortunately, we would then need to develop a plausible explanation for the occurrences at Bare Isle. First, we must explain why Findail would tell everyone that the Worm was threatening the Quest. Second, we must explain what power defended the One Tree.
If the correspondences between creation myths can be trusted, then the Worm is really the Arch of Time. Could it be the Arch of Time which really protects the One Tree? I believe that it is so.
We must take it as gospel that creation and destruction are inseparable. The Arch of Time is expressly included. Wild magic is the keystone of the Arch. It gives the Arch the power “so that Time would be able to resist chaos and endure”. But “It is founded upon white gold, and white gold will rive it to rubble!”. The power that the Arch is built on is the very power that can destroy it. It contains the seeds of it’s own destruction – as it must, because “After all, life necessitates death”.
If the Arch contains the seeds of it's own destruction, it may be this destructive force which is prodded by the Quest's actions: it may have been the Arch of Time itself which was resting below Bare Isle. Somehow, the Arch is “close” to the Earth at this point, “resting”, and feeling “like the end of the world”. It is not a coincidence that the One Tree is here. The One Tree was the Creator’s sole means of helping the people of the Land, via the first Staff of Law. Perhaps the “closeness” of the One Tree to the Arch made this possible.And wild magic was the keystone of Time … it both sustained and threatened the processes which made existence possible
(The Runes of the Earth)
This goes a long way to explain the Worm's sensitivity to the raising of the wild magic in it's vicinity. The Arch of time is founded on wild magic and white gold; wild magic and white gold may be the only things that it responds to.
The Arch is alive. It can be roused. So we need more than one Myth. If you wish to speak about havens against chaos and barriers between the Earth and the Creator, then we speak of an Arch, with the Earth protected within. But if you want to talk about rousing the foundations of the Earth and triggering it’s internal urge for self-destruction, then it is not an Arch, it is a giant Worm, and the Earth trembles at its whim. A different fable to tell the same truth in a different way.
When Findail yells “He has encountered the Worm of the World's End!”, he’s not lying, he’s using the right myth for the right situation. He wants Covenant and Linden to be scared. So he invokes the fear of the Worm.
There are other clues which lead us in this direction.
In the Gradual Interview, when Donaldson is asked about resolving the Arch/Worm conundrum, what does he speak of? He speaks of the duality of creation and destruction!
The world must contain destruction. So we have the Worm. Donaldson just about comes out and says “The Worm is the dark side of the Arch”. Like Covenant and Foul, the Arch and the Worm are two sides of the same creation. Indeed, there is no “conflict”.Personally, I don't see any inherent conflict between the two main cosmologies presented in the "Chronicles." After all, life necessitates death. Anything that lives carries within it the seeds of its own destruction. (And our own bodies demonstrate just how *many* seeds there can be.) The alternative is stasis. Indeed, anything that doesn't both grow and die (usually in that order) can't really be described as being alive. So if the Creator wanted to make a living world, he pretty much had to supply the means for the eventual ending of that world. Hence, to my way of thinking, the tangible existence of the Worm of the World's End doesn't conflict at all with the general cosmology put forth by the Lords.
(Gradual Interview, 04/29/2004)
Also, there is a clue of omission.
Let’s consider where the Worm of the World’s end fits into the story. It appears in the fifth book, has it’s way with us, and then ... disappears! When Covenant confronts Gibbon, and wild magic blazes high, does Covenant fear rousing the Worm? No, he does not – he fears destroying the Arch of Time. When Covenant confronts Foul in Kiril Thendor, and Foul demands accession of the ring, does he gloat about his plan to rouse the Worm? No, he does not. The Worm of the World’s End myth is only of temporary importance to the story. It is a device that is brought in, and then discarded when it has done it’s job. It’s only a story.
So there is my theory: the Worm of the World’s End is merely the Arch of Time in another guise, one more suited for scaring us.
And, as seems likely, if the Worm is also the Würd of the Earth, and the Elohim are also the Würd of the Earth, then the Elohim are much more involved with the Arch of Time than we have seen to date. I cannot help thinking of the Elohimfest, and that the Elohim are the stars, caught in the Wounded Rainbow, devoured by the Worm, and trapped in the Arch; children of the Creator, living peoples of the heavens, and direct offspring of creation. By uniting the Worm and the Arch, we also unite the Elohim with the Creator.
But we shall Read those Runes another day…Stars, she had heard, were the bright children of the world's birth, the glad offspring of the Creator, trapped inadvertently in the heavens by the same binding that had imprisoned the Despiser. They could only be set free, restored to their infinite home, by the severing of Time. Hence their crystalline keening: they mourned for the lost grandeur of eternity.
(Runes of the Earth)