Yeah that's what I was thinking too. I'm curious what such a meeting would like, natural shadow (wolf rock) vs unnatural shadow (man rock).
Well, given what we've seen of Kings Landing and its stink and the passages under the Red Keep--am thinking you might get your wish. Why did Aegon build on that hill? In a land with CotF hills? Is it a clash between "man rock" and natural rock?
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
Hey--can anyone cut and paste the next passages easily? Last one was Sansa making the snowballs and remembering the snowball fight.
If not, no worries. I can type it in.
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…
She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third, packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenellations around the top took a little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. I need some walls now, Sansa thought, and then a keep. She set to work.
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs , a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top …
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
Post by regular jon umber on Oct 8, 2015 5:41:43 GMT
Not much to analyse, it's a fairly straightforward but beautiful piece: Sansa is reconnecting with her home by rebuilding it. She doesn't see much value in her 'sad little arsenal' until she realises what it symbolises.
What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…
She's not completing holding onto her memories of pack, they're dropping to the ground. You can't be part of your pack if the pack is gone. Where can she draw her strength and protection from if not her pack? Maybe a knight can protect her? Well, as for her memories of that, no knight has ever protected or lent her strength before. If anything, these are bad memories.
She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third, packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenellations around the top took a little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. I need some walls now, Sansa thought, and then a keep. She set to work.
Walls will protect her.
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs , a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top …
Memories continue to fall over Sansa and Winterfell. Interesting that she feels the need to build not only the castle but the God's Wood and lichyard as well. She's drawing strength from the cold. She's focused solely on rebuilding Winterfell. Is this indicative of her future as well? It all comes back as if she had been there only yesterday. Or maybe it was just a moment ago? Where did she go before she awoke on her knees? With Lady at Winterfell? Is that why she remembers so much?
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
Not much to analyse, it's a fairly straightforward but beautiful piece: Sansa is reconnecting with her home by rebuilding it. She doesn't see much value in her 'sad little arsenal' until she realises what it symbolises.
I'm thinking that it just might symbolize her memories of pack. It's hard to remain part of the pack when you think that you're the only one left. Not much to draw strength from. Not much left to protect her. Just like there's been no knight able to protect her in her memories. Winterfell and it's walls are the only protection she has left. She was safe and happy there, even if she didn't realize it at the time.
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
Funny, this (bolded) could apply to Arya as we last see her. The HoBaW is a stoney place stalked by other hunters. The parallels again, I suppose.
Now that you mentioned it, I always thought of Arya with that quote as well. Maybe because Lady is dead. I can't remember the timeline well enough. Where are they each at that time?
What do I want with snowballs? She looked at her sad little arsenal. There’s no one to throw them at. She let the one she was making drop from her hand. I could build a snow knight instead, she thought. Or even…
She's not completing holding onto her memories of pack, they're dropping to the ground. You can't be part of your pack if the pack is gone. Where can she draw her strength and protection from if not her pack? Maybe a knight can protect her? Well, as for her memories of that, no knight has ever protected or lent her strength before. If anything, these are bad memories.
She pushed two of her snowballs together, added a third, packed more snow in around them, and patted the whole thing into the shape of a cylinder. When it was done, she stood it on end and used the tip of her little finger to poke holes in it for windows. The crenellations around the top took a little more care, but when they were done she had a tower. I need some walls now, Sansa thought, and then a keep. She set to work.
Walls will protect her.
On the bolded--yes, but then she instinctively joins the balls 9symbolizing Bran and Arya?) into a castle wall. A wall, not a knight. She unifies the "pack" on instinct.
Am thinking Sansa has been warring between her Lady-wolf instincts and her desire to be a courtly-lady since her very first POV. Her instinct is to stick with Lady in that POV. Just as her instinct here is to enter the snow--she doubts, but does it anyway. Same with the snowballs--doubts, then keeps going. Not to what she was thinking (knight) but to what she actually wants and is--Winterfell.
"I need some walls now. And a keep"--Lady is buried in the lichyard. In the shadow of the first keep.
And "watcher on the Walls"--Sansa building walls. Like Bran the Builder--everything is going back to the beginning.
Plus "sad little arsenal"--only sad individually. Together--the arsenal is a wall. A lot of walls--"I am the watcher on the walls."
The snow fell and the castle rose. Two walls ankle-high, the inner taller than the outer. Towers and turrets, keeps and stairs , a round kitchen, a square armory, the stables along the inside of the west wall. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell.
The snow again is revealing the truth--Sansa has the castle deep in her memory. In her instincts. Makes it without knowing--the desire for a knight has fallen away. Same with a castle. No songs and stories--just right back to the beginning. The Lady Wolf and Winterfell.
She found twigs and fallen branches beneath the snow and broke off the ends to make the trees for the godswood. For the gravestones in the lichyard she used bits of bark.
Living wood wood beneath the snow to mark the lichyard (where Lady is) and the godswood. I know the twigs are convenient building tools. But still--the wood makes both the lichyard AND the godswood. She starts this moment out thinking the Eyrie godswood is empty without gods, as empty as her. Then--she fills herself and her castle--with a godswood and the dead (old gods).
Plus she builds the walls and first keep and godswood FIRST--am assuming they came first. And she wanted the godswood first of all. She's doing it in the right order.
Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered. Some things were hard to remember, but most came back to her easily, as if she had been there only yesterday. The Library Tower, with the steep stonework stair twisting about its exterior. The gatehouse, two huge bulwarks, the arched gate between them, crenellations all along the top …
Cold doesn't matter--she's a true Stark.
Interesting that some of the castle is hard to remember, but the WINDING STAIR around the Library Tower comes--plus other things.
"As is she had been there yesterday"--so is that where she went in the moment before dawn? Before the new day?
It's been a while since I've read it, but I have seen speculated that Sansa has lost time following the BotBW after Sandor leaves her.
I think you're right--and misremembers what happened. Hmm. . . connecting to a Hound, like a wolf? Or is that too cute?
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
Post by regular jon umber on Oct 9, 2015 6:31:44 GMT
Regarding Sansa's lost time: her siblings often disappear into the wolf they've bonded with. It seems to happen naturally, because Arya doesn't even know she's doing it for a long time, neither does Jon.
So, what happens if the wolf you've bonded with is dead? Do you naturally bond with it wherever it happens to be now? Is Sansa having wolf dreams in the underworld?
And all the while the snow kept falling, piling up in drifts around her buildings as fast as she raised them. She was patting down the pitched roof of the Great Hall when she heard a voice, and looked up to see her maid calling from her window. Was my lady well? Did she wish to break her fast? Sansa shook her head, and went back to shaping snow, adding a chimney to one end of the Great Hall, where the hearth would stand inside.
Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. A few servants came out and watched her for a time, but she paid them no mind and they soon went back inside where it was warmer. Sansa saw Lady Lysa gazing down from her balcony, wrapped up in a blue velvet robe trimmed with fox fur, but when she looked again her aunt was gone. Maester Colemon popped out of the rookery and peered down for a while, skinny and shivering but curious.
Her bridges kept falling down. There was a covered bridge between the armory and the main keep, and another that went from the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor of the rookery, but no matter how carefully she shaped them, they would not hold together. The third time one collapsed on her, she cursed aloud and sat back in helpless frustration.
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow
AAAHHHH!!
I have about five minutes, but I couldn't pass this up. Lady Dyanna--you were looking for comparisons between Sansa's epiphany and Jon's. Note the bolded.
QUOTE: All those [names of constellations] he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things. The King's Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time for a man to steal a woman, Ygritte insisted. "Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night." Storm, Jon III
QUOTE: The eastern sky was pink near the horizon and pale grey higher up. The Sword of the Morning still hung in the south, the bright white star in its hilt blazing like a diamond in the dawn, but the blacks and greys of the darkling forest were turning once again to greens and golds, reds and russets. Storm, Jon IV
Jon's the Thief, with Dawn. Sansa's a Moonmaid. "Dawn stole into her garden like a thief." And then the colors. . . it's right there. You've been right all along!!!
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Oscar Wilde.
Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow
AAAHHHH!!
I have about five minutes, but I couldn't pass this up. Lady Dyanna--you were looking for comparisons between Sansa's epiphany and Jon's. Note the bolded.
QUOTE: All those [names of constellations] he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things. The King's Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time for a man to steal a woman, Ygritte insisted. "Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night." Storm, Jon III
QUOTE: The eastern sky was pink near the horizon and pale grey higher up. The Sword of the Morning still hung in the south, the bright white star in its hilt blazing like a diamond in the dawn, but the blacks and greys of the darkling forest were turning once again to greens and golds, reds and russets. Storm, Jon IV
Jon's the Thief, with Dawn. Sansa's a Moonmaid. "Dawn stole into her garden like a thief." And then the colors. . . it's right there. You've been right all along!!!
I love this! How could I have possibly missed it??? The question remains. Will the thief in actuality steal the moonmaid? Wouldn't be the first time, nor if we consider Val would it be the second.
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
I have about five minutes, but I couldn't pass this up. Lady Dyanna--you were looking for comparisons between Sansa's epiphany and Jon's. Note the bolded.
QUOTE: All those [names of constellations] he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things. The King's Crown was the Cradle, to hear her tell it; the Stallion was the Horned Lord; the red wanderer that septons preached was sacred to their Smith up here was called the Thief. And when the Thief was in the Moonmaid, that was a propitious time for a man to steal a woman, Ygritte insisted. "Like the night you stole me. The Thief was bright that night." Storm, Jon III
QUOTE: The eastern sky was pink near the horizon and pale grey higher up. The Sword of the Morning still hung in the south, the bright white star in its hilt blazing like a diamond in the dawn, but the blacks and greys of the darkling forest were turning once again to greens and golds, reds and russets. Storm, Jon IV
Jon's the Thief, with Dawn. Sansa's a Moonmaid. "Dawn stole into her garden like a thief." And then the colors. . . it's right there. You've been right all along!!!
When I read the bolded passage I thought, "is SlyWren going there?" And you did. Very nice.
With the previous discussion about Sansa stepping out during the last moments of night then returning with the dawn...
When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for.
Well, Jon would certainly be part of those old days.
Last Edit: Oct 11, 2015 3:43:59 GMT by Lady Dyanna
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?
And all the while the snow kept falling, piling up in drifts around her buildings as fast as she raised them. She was patting down the pitched roof of the Great Hall when she heard a voice, and looked up to see her maid calling from her window. Was my lady well? Did she wish to break her fast? Sansa shook her head, and went back to shaping snow, adding a chimney to one end of the Great Hall, where the hearth would stand inside.
Sansa is single-mindedly focused on rebuilding Winterfell from her memories and taking nourishment from it.
Dawn stole into her garden like a thief. The grey of the sky grew lighter still, and the trees and shrubs turned a dark green beneath their stoles of snow. A few servants came out and watched her for a time, but she paid them no mind and they soon went back inside where it was warmer. Sansa saw Lady Lysa gazing down from her balcony, wrapped up in a blue velvet robe trimmed with fox fur, but when she looked again her aunt was gone. Maester Colemon popped out of the rookery and peered down for a while, skinny and shivering but curious.
I love SlyWren's interpretation of this! Sansa continues to draw strength from the cold while the others do not. She is determined to rebuild Winterfell and is completely occupied by it as Dawn returns. She is turning the old days into the new? What's with the description of Lysa's robe?
Her bridges kept falling down. There was a covered bridge between the armory and the main keep, and another that went from the fourth floor of the bell tower to the second floor of the rookery, but no matter how carefully she shaped them, they would not hold together. The third time one collapsed on her, she cursed aloud and sat back in helpless frustration.
Her bridges are falling down. Is this symbolic of the fact that she is unable to build a bridge to return to these past memories independently? She needs LF to provide the extra strength she needs to get there? At least at the present? Her connections are not sturdy.
Why must I always be the isle of crazy alone in an ocean of sensibility? The should to everybody else’s shouldn’t? The I-will to their better-nots?