Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2015 15:29:12 GMT
Not necessarily an in-depth chapter analysis, because I really want to talk about why Ghost hates the ringfort of the First Men.
So, Ghost has no issue with the Fist in general, but clearly doesn't like the ringfort built by the First Men.
Then after the men get settled inside the ringfort, we move to this:
And shortly after, Ghost braves the ringfort and leads Jon to cache of dragonglass weapons buried on the Fist.
A sound rose out of the darkness, faint and distant, but unmistakable: the howling of wolves. Their voices rose and fell, a chilly song, and lonely. It made the hairs rise along the back of his neck. Across the fire, a pair of red eyes regarded him from the shadows. The light of the flames made them glow.
"Ghost," Jon breathed, surprised. "So you came inside after all, eh?" The white wolf often hunted all night; he had not expected to see him again till daybreak. "Was the hunting so bad?" he asked. "Here. To me, Ghost."
The direwolf circled the fire, sniffing Jon, sniffing the wind, never still. It did not seem as if he were after meat right now. When the dead came walking, Ghost knew. He woke me, warned me. Alarmed, he got to his feet. "is something out there? Ghost, do you have a scent?" Dywen said he smelled cold.
The direwolf loped off, stopped, looked back. He wants me to follow.
So we have a direwolf with the coloring & the watchful silence of a weirwood giving a wide berth to a ringfort built by the First Men in the time before the Pact, we have a ranger "smelling the cold", and we have the same direwolf leading his charge to a stash of hidden weapons that happen to be of a material said to kill Others....and this stash is notably not inside the ringfort. And, of course, an army of wights do show up at the Fist later and decimate the NW that are still camped out in the ringfort.
I'm going to go back to a notion I put forth over at Sable Hall prior to closure....the Others, or whoever the Others report to, are the "older, crueler gods" original to the First Men - the gods that they brought with them to Westeros and then abandoned after taking the gods of the Children. The ringfort belongs to them - is it a worship site? A sacrificial altar of some sort?
If this is the case, that the ringfort is a place of these "older gods" and Ghost is some kind of agent of the Children/their gods, it totally makes sense that Ghost wouldn't enter.
However, this brings up the relationship between the Starks, the direwolves of the old Kings of Winter, and the gods that they served. The statues of the old kings in the crypts certainly have direwolves snarling at their feet, and the lichyard where Lady is buried is full of the bones of the wolfy companions.....but I wonder how far back the direwolves go? Like, if one were to go down to the lowest levels of the crypts, or the barrows around Winterfell, where perhaps some pre-Pact kings might be buried, would there be direwolves? My guess is that wolves didn't appear as a Stark familiar until AFTER the Pact - and that Dawn Age First Men had another type of thrall.
sorry, rambling
The hill jutted above the dense tangle of forest, rising solitary and sudden, its windswept heights visible from miles off. The wildlings called it the Fist of the First Men, rangers said. It did look like a fist, Jon Snow thought, punching up through earth and wood, its bare brown slopes knuckled with stone.
He rode to the top with Lord Mormont and the officers, leaving Ghost below under the trees. The direwolf had run off three times as they climbed, twice returning reluctantly to Jon's whistle. The third time, the Lord Commander lost patience and snapped, "Let him go, boy. I want to reach the crest before dusk. Find the wolf later."
...
The views atop the hill were bracing, yet it was the ringwall that drew Jon's eye, the weathered grey stones with their white patches of lichen, their beards of green moss. It was said that the Fist had been a ringfort of the First Men in the Dawn Age. "An old place, and strong," Thoren Smallwood said.
"Old," Mormont's raven screamed as it flapped in noisy circles about their heads. "Old, old, old."
...
Once he'd put up the Lord Commander's tent and seen to their horses, Jon Snow descended the hill in search of Ghost. The direwolf came at once, all in silence. One moment Jon was striding beneath the trees, whistling and shouting, alone in the green, pinecones and fallen leaves under his feet; the next, the great white direwolf was walking beside him, pale as morning mist.
But when they reached the ringfort, Ghost balked again. He padded forward warily to sniff at the gap in the stones, and then retreated, as if he did not like what he'd smelled. Jon tried to grab him by the scruff of his neck and haul him bodily inside the ring, no easy task; the wolf weighed as much as he did, and was stronger by far. "Ghost, what's wrong with you?" It was not like him to be so unsettled. In the end Jon had to give it up. "As you will," he told the wolf. "Go, hunt." The red eyes watched him as he made his way back through the mossy stones.
They ought to be safe here. The hill offered commanding views, and the slopes were precipitous to the north and west and only slightly more gentle to the east. Yet as the dusk deepened and darkness seeped into the hollows between the trees, Jon's sense of foreboding grew. This is the haunted forest, he told himself. Maybe there are ghosts here, the spirits of the First Men. This was their place, once.
He rode to the top with Lord Mormont and the officers, leaving Ghost below under the trees. The direwolf had run off three times as they climbed, twice returning reluctantly to Jon's whistle. The third time, the Lord Commander lost patience and snapped, "Let him go, boy. I want to reach the crest before dusk. Find the wolf later."
...
The views atop the hill were bracing, yet it was the ringwall that drew Jon's eye, the weathered grey stones with their white patches of lichen, their beards of green moss. It was said that the Fist had been a ringfort of the First Men in the Dawn Age. "An old place, and strong," Thoren Smallwood said.
"Old," Mormont's raven screamed as it flapped in noisy circles about their heads. "Old, old, old."
...
Once he'd put up the Lord Commander's tent and seen to their horses, Jon Snow descended the hill in search of Ghost. The direwolf came at once, all in silence. One moment Jon was striding beneath the trees, whistling and shouting, alone in the green, pinecones and fallen leaves under his feet; the next, the great white direwolf was walking beside him, pale as morning mist.
But when they reached the ringfort, Ghost balked again. He padded forward warily to sniff at the gap in the stones, and then retreated, as if he did not like what he'd smelled. Jon tried to grab him by the scruff of his neck and haul him bodily inside the ring, no easy task; the wolf weighed as much as he did, and was stronger by far. "Ghost, what's wrong with you?" It was not like him to be so unsettled. In the end Jon had to give it up. "As you will," he told the wolf. "Go, hunt." The red eyes watched him as he made his way back through the mossy stones.
They ought to be safe here. The hill offered commanding views, and the slopes were precipitous to the north and west and only slightly more gentle to the east. Yet as the dusk deepened and darkness seeped into the hollows between the trees, Jon's sense of foreboding grew. This is the haunted forest, he told himself. Maybe there are ghosts here, the spirits of the First Men. This was their place, once.
So, Ghost has no issue with the Fist in general, but clearly doesn't like the ringfort built by the First Men.
Then after the men get settled inside the ringfort, we move to this:
Dywen was holding forth, spoon in hand. "I know this wood as well as any man alive, and I tell you, I wouldn't care to ride through it alone tonight. Can't you smell it?"
...
"What is it you smell, Dywen?" asked Grenn.
The forester sucked on his spoon a moment. He had taken out his teeth. His face was leathery and wrinkled, his hands gnarled as old roots. "Seems to me like it smells . . . well . . . cold."
"Your head's as wooden as your teeth," Hake told him. "There's no smell to cold."
There is, thought Jon, remembering the night in the Lord Commander's chambers. It smells like death.
...
"What is it you smell, Dywen?" asked Grenn.
The forester sucked on his spoon a moment. He had taken out his teeth. His face was leathery and wrinkled, his hands gnarled as old roots. "Seems to me like it smells . . . well . . . cold."
"Your head's as wooden as your teeth," Hake told him. "There's no smell to cold."
There is, thought Jon, remembering the night in the Lord Commander's chambers. It smells like death.
And shortly after, Ghost braves the ringfort and leads Jon to cache of dragonglass weapons buried on the Fist.
A sound rose out of the darkness, faint and distant, but unmistakable: the howling of wolves. Their voices rose and fell, a chilly song, and lonely. It made the hairs rise along the back of his neck. Across the fire, a pair of red eyes regarded him from the shadows. The light of the flames made them glow.
"Ghost," Jon breathed, surprised. "So you came inside after all, eh?" The white wolf often hunted all night; he had not expected to see him again till daybreak. "Was the hunting so bad?" he asked. "Here. To me, Ghost."
The direwolf circled the fire, sniffing Jon, sniffing the wind, never still. It did not seem as if he were after meat right now. When the dead came walking, Ghost knew. He woke me, warned me. Alarmed, he got to his feet. "is something out there? Ghost, do you have a scent?" Dywen said he smelled cold.
The direwolf loped off, stopped, looked back. He wants me to follow.
So we have a direwolf with the coloring & the watchful silence of a weirwood giving a wide berth to a ringfort built by the First Men in the time before the Pact, we have a ranger "smelling the cold", and we have the same direwolf leading his charge to a stash of hidden weapons that happen to be of a material said to kill Others....and this stash is notably not inside the ringfort. And, of course, an army of wights do show up at the Fist later and decimate the NW that are still camped out in the ringfort.
I'm going to go back to a notion I put forth over at Sable Hall prior to closure....the Others, or whoever the Others report to, are the "older, crueler gods" original to the First Men - the gods that they brought with them to Westeros and then abandoned after taking the gods of the Children. The ringfort belongs to them - is it a worship site? A sacrificial altar of some sort?
If this is the case, that the ringfort is a place of these "older gods" and Ghost is some kind of agent of the Children/their gods, it totally makes sense that Ghost wouldn't enter.
However, this brings up the relationship between the Starks, the direwolves of the old Kings of Winter, and the gods that they served. The statues of the old kings in the crypts certainly have direwolves snarling at their feet, and the lichyard where Lady is buried is full of the bones of the wolfy companions.....but I wonder how far back the direwolves go? Like, if one were to go down to the lowest levels of the crypts, or the barrows around Winterfell, where perhaps some pre-Pact kings might be buried, would there be direwolves? My guess is that wolves didn't appear as a Stark familiar until AFTER the Pact - and that Dawn Age First Men had another type of thrall.
sorry, rambling
