The Wheel of Time Reread

The Wheel of Time Re-read: The Great Hunt, Part 9

IN A WORLD WHERE BLOGS ARE POSTED… uh, so will this one be.

Hi! Welcome to the absolute last final ain’t no more seeya installment of the re-read of The Great Hunt, in which we cover Chapter 46 to the very endy end of the book. Of course, the overarching Wheel of Time Re-read goes ever on and on; our handy-dandy Index is proof— – Proof!—that I do not lie.

Or that I haven’t been so far, anyway. *stares at me suspiciously*

As ever, spoilers abound for the whole wide series; if you haven’t read, don’t read.

And now, action! Adventure! Really wild things!

Chapter 46: To Come Out of the Shadow

What Happens
Nynaeve and the others hear distant shouts as they approach the damane buildings; Nynaeve says it’s nothing to do with them, and reminds Seta that she wants to make it through this as much as they do. Seta agrees fervently. No one pays them any attention as they enter the building and follow Min to Egwene’s room. Egwene is first uncertain if she’s dreaming; then she sees Seta and hisses she’d like to put her in a pot of boiling water. Elayne is shocked, and Egwene tells her Seta did the same to her, and Elayne couldn’t understand. Nynaeve channels the collar off Egwene, and they dress her in farmer’s clothes. Nynaeve hangs the bracelet linked to Seta on a peg, and Seta, realizing she means to leave her there, begs her not to, to tie and gag her instead. Egwene laughs and says she’s figured out the sul’dam‘s dirty little secret: they can channel. Nynaeve asks how that can be, and Egwene explains that the ones they catch and make damane are like her and Nynaeve and Elayne, born with the spark, but sul’dam are those who can be taught. Seta moans “no” over and over. Then they are interrupted by Renna, who starts to demand what is going on; Egwene grabs the washstand pitcher and slugs Renna in the stomach with it, and then jumps on her, grabbing the collar and snapping it around Renna’s neck. She grabs the bracelet and puts it on with teeth bared, and Renna convulses wildly, her screams muffled by Egwene’s hands over her mouth. Nynaeve yells at Egwene to stop it and hauls her off Renna, and Egwene collapses sobbing on Nynaeve’s shoulder.

“She hurt me, Nynaeve. She hurt me. They all did. They hurt me, and hurt me, until I did what they wanted. I hate them. I hate them for hurting me, and I hate them because I couldn’t stop them from making me do what they wanted.”

“I know,” Nynaeve said gently. She smoothed Egwene’s hair. “It is all right to hate them, Egwene. It is. They deserve it. But it isn’t all right to let them make you like they are.”

Egwene wishes she could kill them, and Elayne and Min agree, but Nynaeve tells the two sul’dam that since she can’t free the women they hold prisoner here, she will leave them both here, collared, and they will have to hope they can figure out how to remove the collars before they are found, and if not, well, perhaps they will get a taste of what they visited upon others. That is justice. They leave the building without incident, and then they see that the streets are deserted except for Seanchan soldiers in formation on either side of them. Nynaeve says they will just walk past them, but Elayne asks what if they want her to join them? Egwene says she will die before going back, and she’ll show them what they taught her. The street under the first rank of soldiers erupts, throwing men everywhere, and she spins and repeats it on the soldiers in the opposite direction. Nynaeve yells at her to stop, and then they see a giant fireball come arcing over the rooftops straight for them. They run, and barely avoid being incinerated. Angry now, Nynaeve embraces saidar and sends lightning back at their attackers.

Domon jerks in shock as lightning and fire begin flying in the streets further inland. One of his men goes to cut one of the mooring lines, and Domon grabs him and yells that they will wait.

Bornhald sees the lightning below in the town and dismisses it as a storm. He orders Byar to leave; Byar obeys reluctantly, and Bornhald orders his legion ahead at a walk.

Rand and the others are trapped in an alley, Seanchan patrols approaching from either side. Perrin, Mat and Hurin are down at the other end. Ingtar seems preoccupied despite the danger they’re in.

“She’s in trouble,” Rand muttered. Egwene. There was an odd feeling in his head, as if pieces of his life were in danger. Egwene was one piece, one thread of the cord that made his life, but there were others, and he could feel them threatened. Down there, in Falme. And if any of those threads was destroyed, his life would never be complete, the way it was meant to be. He did not understand it, but the feeling was sure and certain.

Ingtar starts talking as if to himself. He says he never knew what the man was going to do; he was just told to let him inside Fal Dara. Ingtar still doesn’t know if the arrow was meant for the Amyrlin or for Rand. Rand stares at Ingtar, and asks what he’s talking about. Ingtar ignores him and continues, murmuring about how every year it gets worse, and the Blight advances, and no one south of the Borderlands cares or even believes.

“It seemed the only way. We would be destroyed for nothing, defending people who do not even know, or care. It seemed logical. Why should we be destroyed for them, when we could make our own peace? Better the Shadow, I thought, than useless oblivion, like Carallain, or Hardan, or . . . It seemed so logical, then.”

Rand grabs Ingtar by the coat, telling him he’s making no sense. Ingtar tells Rand he is the better man. It was salvation Ingtar was thinking of, to sound the Horn and ride against Shayol Ghul; surely that would enough to redeem him. Rand sags back, anguished, and tells Ingtar that he thinks all you need to do to come back to the Light is to want to do it. Ingtar flinches, and says that he lived other lives while they were trapped by the Portal Stone, and in every one, he never escaped, never did what he swore he would do, but Rand was ready to give it up to save a friend. There must be a price paid, Ingtar says; perhaps he can pay it here. Hurin comes over and tells them the patrol at the other end has turned aside, and Mat and Perrin have gone ahead; they’d better follow before the other soldiers reach them. Ingtar tells Rand to take the Horn where it belongs; all Ingtar ever wanted was to keep Shienar whole.

“I know, Ingtar.” Rand drew a deep breath. “The Light shine on you, Lord Ingtar of House Shinowa, and may you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand.” He touched Ingtar’s shoulder. “The last embrace of the mother welcome you home.” Hurin gasped.

“Thank you,” Ingtar said softly. A tension seemed to go out of him. For the first time since the night of the Trolloc raid on Fal Dara, he stood as he had when Rand first saw him, confident and relaxed. Content.

Rand tells Hurin to come on; Hurin protests, and Rand tells him Ingtar is doing what he has to do. They leave, and Rand does not look back.

Egwene: I suppose it says something that I didn’t find fault at all with her retaliation against Renna (there may have been, um, cheering involved, actually), but wanted to smack her into next week for blowing up the Seanchan soldiers. Skulking, Egwene. It’s a word, look it up.

That said, I am glad Nynaeve was there to keep all the little hotheads from going too far with the sul’dam and doing something they would regret later. To some degree Nynaeve loses this Elder Sister/Earth Mother aspect of her character later on, which on the one hand is kind of understandable (because believe it or not Egwene and Elayne do eventually mature, more or less, and stop needing a maternal figger; in fact this reversal of the power dynamic between Nynaeve and Egwene is a major plot point in, um, one of the middle books, I forget) and yet is also kind of a shame at the same time.

Ingtar: I’m pretty sure I was just as shocked by Ingtar’s revelation as Rand was. First time around, I thought Ingtar was something of an unreliable ass, maybe being tempted to do something bad with the Horn, but I never thought he was a full-blown Darkfriend. And yet it all makes sense in retrospect. No author has a perfect track record with effective plot-twists (that I know of; if you do, please do tell), and Jordan is no exception to that rule, but on this particular one, I really never saw it coming. Bravo.

Also, I suppose that if you are going to confess your sins and be absolved of Darkfriendery by anyone, the Savior of the World is a pretty darn good choice. And it came complete with benediction, you’ll notice. No subtext here, no sir!
Chapter 47: The Grave Is No Bar to My Call

What Happens
Rand and Hurin rejoin Mat and Perrin. Mat asks where Ingtar is, and Rand replies that he’s dying so the rest can get away; he adds that he will go with them to take the Horn to Verin, and then they can get it where it belongs, and kicks his horse into a run. He stops outside of the town and the others catch up with him; Perrin demands to know what he meant by that, and Mat wonders if maybe he’s going mad. Rand replies that he’s going back to Falme for Egwene. Mat grumbles a moment and then says they’ll all go, but Rand tells him he can’t waste any more time re: the dagger. Perrin interrupts that none of them are going back now; he points to Falme, which is filling with rank upon rank of Seanchan soldiers, with sul’dam and damane everywhere.

“All that for us?” Mat said incredulously. “Who do they think we are?”

An answer came to Rand, but he shoved it away before it had a chance to form completely.

Hurin then tells them they aren’t going the other way, either, and they turn to see the legion of Whitecloaks advancing from the opposite side. Mat is relieved that the Seanchan must be gathering for the Whitecloaks and not them, until Perrin points out dryly that this doesn’t change the fact that they’re sitting in the middle of what is about to be a battlefield. Rand just keeps thinking he has to go back. He realizes that all of them are staring at the Horn of Valere. Mat observes nervously that the Horn has to be at the Last Battle, but nothing says it can’t be used before then. No one refutes this, and Mat shakily raises the Horn to his lips.

It was a clear note, golden as the Horn was golden. The trees around them seemed to resonate with it, and the ground under their feet, the sky overhead. That one long sound encompassed everything.

Out of nowhere, a fog began to rise. First thin wisps hanging in the air, then thicker billows, and thicker, until it blanketed the land like clouds.

Bornhald hears the Horn and sees the rising mist, and thinks the Seanchan are trying something. He orders the legion to charge. His last thought is regret that Byar will not be able to tell Dain how he died.

Rand and the others are surrounded by fog, but somehow he can still see Falme, the battle, and even Bayle Domon’s ship in the harbor, both above and below them. Then Hurin gasps.

Down the billowing fog, as if it were the side of a mountain, rode shapes on horses. At first the dense mists hid more than that, but slowly they came closer, and it was Rand’s turn to gasp. He knew them. Men, not all in armor, and women. Their clothes and their weapons came from every Age, but he knew them all.

Rogosh Eagle-eye, a fatherly looking man with white hair and eyes so sharp as to make his name merely a hint. Gaidal Cain, a swarthy man with the hilts of his two swords sticking above his broad shoulders. Golden-haired Birgitte, with her gleaming silver bow and quiver bristling with silver arrows. More. He knew their faces, knew their names. But he heard a hundred names when he looked at each face, some so different he did not recognize them as names at all, though he knew they were. Michael instead of Mikel. Patrick instead of Paedrig. Oscar instead of Otarin.

He knew the man who rode at their head, too. Tall and hook-nosed, with dark, deep-set eyes, his great sword Justice at his side. Artur Hawkwing.

Mat asks if this is all of them, and Hawkwing replies that few are called to follow the Horn. He says Lews Therin could tell him about it, if he could only “remember when you last wore flesh”. He’s looking at Rand. Rand shakes his head and tells them about the Seanchan, saying that they must be driven into the sea, and also that there is a White Tower novice named Egwene who must be rescued. To his surprise, some of the host chuckles, and Birgitte laughs and says fondly that “Lews Therin” always chooses women who trouble him. Rand snaps back that his name is Rand al’Thor, and there is no time to waste. Hawkwing says that he has fought countless times both with and against him, and he knows Rand even if Rand does not know himself. They will drive out the invaders for him. Then he frowns and looks around, saying something holds him. He looks at Rand, and asks if he has the banner.

“Yes.” Rand tore open the straps of his saddlebags and pulled out the Dragon’s banner. It filled his hands and hung almost to his stallion’s knees. The murmur among the heroes rose.

“The Pattern weaves itself around our necks like halters,” Artur Hawkwing said. “You are here. The banner is here. The weave of this moment is set. We have come to the Horn, but we must follow the banner. And the Dragon.” Hurin made a faint sound as if his throat had seized.

“Burn me,” Mat breathed. “It’s true. Burn me!”

Perrin dismounts and strides off into the mist, and returns with a sapling cut into a pole. Rand helps him tie it to the banner, and tells Hurin to stay behind. Hurin begs to differ, saying he will see this through to the end, and Hawkwing claps the sniffer on the shoulder, saying perhaps they will add to their numbers one day. Then he bows formally to Rand, and asks Mat to play them into battle. Mat sounds the Horn again, and Perrin advances with the banner. They charge into the mist, Rand not exactly sure where they are all going. One by one all the others disappear into the fog, and Rand finds himself alone. Suddenly Ba’alzamon appears before him, and Rand’s horse rears, throwing him. Rand gets up and faces him, aware that below or above him the others had met the Seanchan in battle. Ba’alzamon’s burns are almost completely healed by now, and he carries a blackened staff. Reluctantly Rand seizes saidin and attacks. Ba’alzamon calls him Lews Therin, and when Rand denies it, asks did not the fools he summoned tell him the same thing? Rand is shaken, but presses the attack.

“You pitiful wretch. You have sounded the Horn of Valere. You are linked to it, now. Do you think the worms of the White Tower will ever release you, now? They will put chains around your neck so heavy you will never cut them.”

Rand was so surprised he felt it inside the void. He doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know!

He again presses the attack, and Ba’alzamon falls back; below/above, the Seanchan fall back, too. He and Ba’alzamon surge back and forth, defending then attacking in turn, and each time the Seanchan and the Heroes of the Horn mirror them, and Rand realizes that the battles are linked; if he loses, so do Hawkwing and the others. He also finally notices that Ba’alzamon is behaving as if Rand’s sword can hurt him, and recalls Lan’s lesson about Sheathing the Sword, when winning is more important than surviving. Rand takes the first position of Heron Wading in the Rushes. Staring, Ba’alzamon asks him what he’s grinning about.

Rand felt a calmness beyond that of the void. “I will never serve you, Father of Lies. In a thousand lives, I never have. I know that. I’m sure of it. Come. It is time to die.”

Ba’alzamon’s eyes widened; for an instant they were furnaces that put sweat on Rand’s face. The blackness behind Ba’alzamon boiled up around him, and his face hardened. “Then die, worm!” He struck with the staff, as with a spear.

Rand screamed as he felt it pierce his side, burning like a white-hot poker. The void trembled, but he held on with the last of his strength, and drove the heron-mark blade into Ba’alzamon’s heart. Ba’alzamon screamed, and the dark behind him screamed. The world exploded in fire.

Well, first let’s get the obvious out of the way: Aw yeah, sweet, sick, killer, dude, awesome, who’s your daddy, bitchin’, Yay.

Duh. Now for other things:

Aw, Hurin. How cool are you? The Little Red Shirt Who Could Become A Contendah. Except that we never see you again after this book, but, you know. Book 12, baby! It could happen!

This whole thing is really difficult to visualize spatially. On purpose, of course, but summarizing it had me kind of cross-eyed at certain points. Like, when Rand loses his horse, did the horse reappear on the ground, or did it plunge thousands of feet to its death like the proverbial whale and bowl of petunias? Probably the former, and it’s a silly question anyway, but these are the things I think of.

Definitely the coolest thing about the Heroes of the Horn was their old-college-buddy attitude toward Rand, like, hah man, you and your women troubles, haven’t changed a bit, have you? Have a beer! This does have the unfortunate side effect of leading me to picture Artur Hawkwing and Lews Therin fighting over who gets to be captain of the rugby team, but it’s still cool, nonetheless.

So here’s a question: in the Tarmon Gai’don scene we’re presumably going to get in Memory of Light, if Gaidal Cain’s been spun out (which he has been) and Birgitte’s been ripped out (which she has been), does that mean neither of them will show when/if Mat blows the Horn at the Last Battle? Or would the archetypal versions of them still be there? And if so, would Ripped-Out Warder Birgitte feel all awkward about meeting Original Recipe Birgitte? DISCUSS.
Chapter 48: First Claiming

What Happens
Min pushes her way through panicking townsfolk; she’s lost Nynaeve, Elayne, and Egwene, and something is drawing her on into Falme. She looks back once to see a small ship fleeing the harbor, and cannot blame Domon for cutting and running.

There was one Seanchan vessel in the harbor not burning, though its towers were black from fires already extinguished. As the tall ship crept toward the harbor mouth, a figure on horseback suddenly appeared around the cliffs skirting the harbor. Riding across the water. Min’s mouth fell open. Silver glittered as the figure raised a bow; a streak of silver lanced to the boxy ship, a gleaming line connecting bow and ship. With a roar she could hear even at that distance, fire engulfed the foretower anew, and sailors rushed about the deck.

Min blinked, and when she looked again, the mounted figure was gone.

She shakes herself and continues on, until she comes to one particular house. She goes in, and through to the garden in the back, where she finds Rand unconscious, with a broken sword clutched in his left hand. She pries his hand free, and winces to see the heron on the hilt has branded itself into his palm. Rand is icy cold, and she finds a wound in his left side, already cauterized. She drags him laboriously into the house and into a bedroom, where she wrestles him into the bed. She covers him with blankets, but he will not warm up; she sighs and gets under the covers with him to try to warm him up.

For a time she studied his face. It was only his face she saw; she could never read anyone who was not conscious. “I like older men,” she told him. “I like men with education, and wit. I have no interest in farms, or sheep, or shepherds. Especially boy shepherds.” With a sigh, she smoothed back the hair from his face; he had silky hair. “But then, you aren’t a shepherd, are you? Not anymore. Light, why did the Pattern have to catch me up with you? Why couldn’t I have something safe and simple, like being shipwrecked with no food and a dozen hungry Aielmen?”

She looks up to see a shocked Egwene in the doorway, and blushes, and explains that Rand is ice cold, and she’s trying to warm him. Egwene says she felt something pulling her here, and so did Elayne. She asks Min if she knows what he is, and that he cannot marry, that he is dangerous. Min replies that she knows, and as Elayne already said, Egwene tossed him aside for the Tower, so she cannot say anything if someone else picks him up. Egwene looks at her for a long moment, then says she will bring Nynaeve, and leaves. Min tries not to cry, and wonders aloud to the unconscious Rand what Egwene would have thought if Min had told her there was yet another woman to come, and Min doesn’t even know which one he’ll choose.

“Or will you try to dandle all three of us on your knee? It may not be your fault, Rand al’Thor, but it isn’t fair.”

“Not Rand al’Thor,” said a musical voice from the door. “Lews Therin Telamon. The Dragon Reborn.”

Min stares as the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen enters the room, dressed in silver and white. She asks who the woman is, but the woman bends over Rand and says he knows, but he does not yet believe. She has guided his steps; Ishamael may think he controls events, but he does not. Min again demands her name, and the woman says she is called Lanfear. Terrified, Min only shakes her head, and Lanfear smiles and tells her Lews Therin is hers, Lanfear’s, and to take care of him for her until she comes for him, and disappears.

Byar gallops grimly east, toward Amador. He must tell Pedron Niall about Bornhald’s death and the Darkfriends who betrayed him, but even more importantly, Byar must tell him what he had seen in the sky above Falme.

I totally forgot the bit with Birgitte riding across water to take out an entire Seanchan ship. That was sweet.

The main thing that Lanfear’s appearance did for me in this chapter was make me go, oh, yeah, that’s why the last 21 chapters were awesome, because you weren’t in them, Crazytown. Urgh.

That being said, I’m a little bemused that Lanfear walks in on Min in freakin’ bed with Rand, for all intents and purposes, and not only doesn’t rip her limb from limb, but actually charges Min to take care of Rand for her. This is the psycho hose beast who will eventually have a bloody meltdown—literally—over Aviendha in TFOH? I raise my eyebrow in your general direction!
Chapter 49: What Was Meant To Be

What Happens
Rand wakes outdoors to find Min sitting next to him. He asks what happened, and she tells him they left Falme five days ago, and he’s been asleep all that time. He asks urgently about Egwene, and Min tells him she and Nynaeve and Elayne freed Egwene, and they and Mat and Hurin and Verin are on their way back to the Tower with the Horn, Mat for Healing and the girls to return to their studies. Stunned by all this, Rand raises his hands to rub his face and stares; now he has two heron brands, one in each palm, and he remembers the prophecy Thom quoted him. He notices the pain in his side and doesn’t remember being injured; he goes to examine it and Min stops him, telling him there is something wrong with the wound; it’s not responding to Healing. She mentions Moiraine, and Rand laughs bitterly to hear she is here. Moiraine approaches then, and Rand tells her he wishes she would go back to wherever she’s been hiding. Moiraine replies that she has not been hiding, but doing what she could, though it was not enough.

“What you could. You sent Verin to shepherd me, but I’m no sheep, Moiraine. You said I could go where I wanted, and I mean to go where you are not.”

“I did not send Verin.” Moiraine frowned. “She did that on her own.”

She asks whether Fain found him, and Rand says no. A fine hero he makes, he adds; he swore to rescue Egwene, and Min and Nynaeve and Elayne beat him to it; he came to Falme to face Fain, and never laid eyes on him. Moiraine deems it a good thing he didn’t; Fain is far worse than a Darkfriend. She explains how she thinks Fain met with Mordeth in Shadar Logoth and is now merged with him in some way. Then she produces Rand’s ruined sword, and when he sees it he remembers what happened.

“I killed him,” he said softly. “This time I killed him.”

Moiraine put the ruined sword aside like the useless thing it now was, and wiped her hands together. “The Dark One is not slain so easily. The mere fact that he appeared in the sky above Falme is more than merely troubling. He should not be able to do that, if he is bound as we believe. And if he is not, why has he not destroyed us all?” Min stirred uneasily.

“In the sky?” Rand said in wonder.

“Both of you,” Moiraine said. “Your battle took place across the sky, in full view of every soul in Falme. Perhaps in other towns on Toman Head, too, if half what I hear is to be believed.”

She shows him a drawing of two men fighting among the clouds, one of them with a face of solid flame. The other is recognizably Rand, and the Dragon banner flies behind them. Rand tells her to burn it, and Moiraine replies it is far too late for that. There are hundreds of these already, and the tale is spreading far and wide of how the Dragon fought the Dark One in the sky over Falme. Rand says the Dragon is supposed to break the world again; he won’t be the Dragon. Moiraine tells him he is what he is; already he shakes the world. The Black Ajah have revealed themselves for the first time in two thousand years, Cairhien is in civil war, and Arad Doman and Tarabon are not far behind. Rand protests that he did nothing in Cairhien, and Moiraine replies, exactly. Then she shows him what she found in Turak’s manor: two more seals, both broken. That makes three broken seals that they know of; when all are broken the Dark One will break free, and the world’s only hope is that the Dragon is there to meet him when it happens. Rand gets up, ignoring Min’s protest, and goes down to the camp. Loial and Perrin and the rest of the Shienarans are there, as well as Lan, who nods to him. The Dragon banner flies on a staff in the middle of the camp. Rand demands to know what that’s doing out in plain sight, and Moiraine tells him it is too late to hide; Rand retorts she doesn’t have to paint a big target on him, either. He turns to Perrin and Loial and tells them he’s glad they stayed; Perrin says the Wheel weaves them how they want, and Loial merely says that Rand is still his friend. The Shienarans have been gathering, and to Rand’s surprise they all fall to their knees. Uno says they would pledge themselves to him, and Rand tells him his oaths are to Ingtar and Agelmar. Ingtar is dead now, so they must go back to Agelmar and tell him Ingtar died well.

“It is said,” the one-eyed man said carefully, “that when the Dragon is Reborn, he will break all oaths, shatter all ties. Nothing holds us, now. We would give our oaths to you.” He drew his sword and laid it before him, hilt toward Rand, and the rest of the Shienarans did the same.

“You battled the Dark One,” Masema said. Masema, who hated him. Masema, who looked at him as if seeing a vision of the Light. “I saw you, Lord Dragon. I saw. I am your man, to the death.” His dark eyes shone with fervor.

Moiraine tells him he must choose; the Last Battle will come whether he faces what he is or not. Rand thinks Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain, and makes his decision.
Chapter 50: After

What Happens
The story of the Battle of Falme spreads far and wide, changing every time it’s told, but one aspect of it remains the same: that the defenders were led by a man whose face was seen in the sky, under the banner of the Dragon Reborn.

(I put the last two chapters together, since “Chapter” 50 is not even two pages long. SUE ME.)

Again, it is all brought home just how much Rand’s choices essentially suck. If you can call them “choices”. So far, it’s Prophecy: 2, Rand: 0. That Prophecy is a bitch, y’all.

And hey, do we ever find out for sure what Basil Exposition Moiraine was doing for 95% of this book? Well, thank God she’s back so she can tell us things. That woman can infodump like nobody’s business, man. Ooh, I now suddenly have a new theory for why Jordan “killed” Moiraine (read: moved her off camera) in TFOH. See if you can guess what it is!

Fain’s total failure to appear for Showdown at Falme Corral, after being the catalyst for the whole entire plot that led up to it: lame, or interesting subversion? YOU be the judge!

Last thought: it occurs to me that I spent a lot of these books being very impatient with Rand and Mat and Perrin for being so twitchy and resistant to the whole “lord” thing, but on reflection, if you’re just this guy (or at least think of yourself as just this guy), and then all of a sudden people are all kneeling at you and being all creepy-worshipful and SAVE US WITH YOUR AWESOMENESS, when you’re pretty well aware that you are not, in fact, all that awesome, and may in fact completely screw everything up… yeah, I can see how that would be kind of incredibly unnerving and stressful.

Aw. I feel I am Growing As A Person. Thanks, WOT! (Because Knowing is Half the Battle!)

And here endeth The Great Hunt. Two down! Whee-oo-wee-oo-wee-oo! *does the Cabbage Patch*

Yes, I have no shame. Thanks for playing.

Come back Monday for a brand spanking-new and shiny sector of the Re-read, The Dragon Reborn! Part 1 will cover The Prologue through Chapter 6. Ciao!


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