to the great western wood (3/4)
I know it's just Suzanne Collins revealing what she actually imagined the Anthem of Panem to be in BOSAS, but I am 100% embracing the idea that Coriolanus Snow had the anthem rewritten to Horn of Plenty after becoming president because he hated remembering his grandmother shriek the old lyrics every week
As a female athlete myself, I just want to quickly appreciate how George R.R Martin writes his women who fight. It’s never, “she wanted to be a warrior so she worked harder than everyone and eventually she could beat all the boys.” He actually gives his characters strengths and weaknesses—as well as cultural ties to fighting— and he makes these traits enhance the already existing plot lines these characters follow. The mental game is also always just as important, if not more, than the physical game, which I’ve found is true in sports and probably much more true in actual life-threatening situations.
Arya is a small child. She’s nine, she’s skinny; she would probably never excel at being a knight, so instead she learns a different type of fighting. She’ll never overpower anyone, but she can be quick and sneaky and use her left hand which most people don’t know how to fight against. Also, I would argue that Syrio’s teachings about “looking with your eyes” were far more important to her than the physical part of water dancing. Most of the time she isn’t using her skills to directly fight people, but to run away, to spy on people, to catch food and survive. Syrio is her friend, Needle is Jon Snow’s smile, etc. Arya learning how to use her stature to her advantage is part of a greater connection to her identity and the people who helped her.
Brienne is stronger than most men, but she faces constant misogyny because of that (which is all too realistic). She constantly faces internal battles with her own self-image and harassment wherever she goes. She gets taught to use men’s pride and anger to her advantage:
“Old Ser Goodwin was long in his grave, yet she could hear him whispering in her ear. Men will always underestimate you, he said, and their pride will make them want to vanquish you quickly, lest it be said that a woman tried them sorely. Let them spend their strength in furious attacks, whilst you conserve your own. Wait and watch, girl, wait and watch (AFFC Brienne 7)”
Finally, “no chance, and no choice” is her most memorable line for a reason. It’s not her martial prowess that makes her a great character; it’s her bravery and honor.
Cultural ties are also so important to the reasons many women in the series fight. Asha is Balon’s last remaining child when all her brothers are dead and gone. Of course she knows how to fight and sail. Her tension with Theon is less about her showing off and more about her proving how much she actually knows her people while he doesn’t (of course that isn’t Theon’s fault but that’s a whole other post). The Mormont women learned to fight because they historically had to fight off invaders; the Sand snakes’ skills show their connection to Oberyn, etc.
Anyway I just love how George uses fighting to enhance his characters’ personalities and not define them. None of them are physically or mentally infallible, and none are exempt from misogyny. They just learned to do something that empowers and protects them despite society’s expectations. George’s writing of women is definitely not perfect, but this is something I really appreciate.
when you follow the strange trails, they will take you who knows where
way out there - lord huron
(I’m not 100% sure what the etiquette is for formatting, so my apologies if this looks awful.)
Warnings: Angst? Yeah, angst. The usual Order 66 feels. Rex being soft.
This is a character I came up with during the Bad Batch weeks, and I might be posting little ficlets about Miah and her clones, because her heart is full. Enjoy :)
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Miah’s reunion with Captain Rex came mere weeks after Order 66, a time fraught with peril for any who held ties to the Jedi, let alone a Jedi themself. She didn’t know what planet she landed on, only that it had enough people for her to hide amongst. The terror and uncertainty caused by the Great Purge fractured the remaining Jedi, so Miah travelled alone, unsure whether there were other survivors out there, somewhere in the Galaxy. Even the fate of her Master, Obi-Wan, was a mystery to her.
Walking the busy streets in the evening, Miah reflected on what led her there, as she often did; what else existed for her to dwell on, except the past? The present seemed so dark, so bleak and shattered - so far from what it was supposed to look like.
Underneath the folds of her cloak, Miah’s hand found the amulet Echo gave to her; she screwed her eyes shut, coming to a stand-still in the rain as another wave of grief and pain threatened to topple the young Jedi. These feelings, powerful, and dangerous, acted as constant companions that swarmed to fill the void left in the Force where her friends should be. They made her feel less alone.
She slowly opened her eyes again, tearing them away from the star-dotted sky above, her mind desperately wondering where did we go wrong?
The wind blew through the street at a howling pace, many bypassers losing their hoods. Miah’s stayed up, and she hoped it wasn’t too conspicuous. Across from her, a man hurriedly tried to cover his head again, but not quickly enough; she watched him turn, saw the flash of blond hair and all-too-familiar features, immediately recognising the man she’d been honoured to call Vod.
Elation caught her tongue, swelling inside her chest until it was bursting. Finally, Miah thought with a smile, a friend who isn’t dead.
Then, as Rex’s gaze locked with hers, a light sparking in them, Miah’s memory caught up with her emotions. Cold fear dropped into her stomach like a ten-tonne weight, and the smile vanished in an instant. Before she could think about his expression, the way Rex had acted, the clearly out-of-place circumstances they’d reunited under, she turned and fled into the marketplace.
Concentrating in order to avoid panicking, Miah cursed when she heard his heavy-booted steps falling close behind. Years spent together on battlefields meant he knew her every trick, could predict her every move. The icy hand of dread once more clutched at her heart, but Miah refused it; she would not be responsible for the death of another Clone. Especially not him.
“Miah! Wait!”
She ducked under a passing merchant cart, continuing to run without any real idea as to where she was going. But this proved to be a fatal mistake when the alley became a dead-end, and Miah stood at the wrong side.
Hands shaking under her cloak, fingers grazing the cool metal of her lightsaber, she turned around - hoping beyond hope she somehow lost him in the crowd. But, no; at the other end of the alley stood Captain Rex, someone Miah used to gravitate toward, now she shrunk away from him.
“Please,” she whispered, holding her hands out as they quivered, silently asking Rex to stop, “don’t...I can’t...not again. Please. Don’t make me do this.”
If Miah had been able to look at the former trooper, she might have noticed the softness in his eyes, the way his steps faltered as Rex saw her fear, and his devastation at seeing his friend so distraught by his presence. But her eyes refused to settle on him, to see the face of a million men, the faces of the Clones she struck down on Coruscant. Her friends.
“Miah,” he said softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She made a sound that could have been a sob, but it got stifled and bitten down. “Don’t try and trick me, Rex. I don’t want this. Leave me alone, please, brother.”
In the darkened alley, rain fell heavily on them both: the Jedi who fought for so long, she no longer had the energy to raise her lightsaber in defence of her own life; and the Captain who had been turned into an enemy by circumstances beyond his control. Neither moved, and neither was willing to harm the other. But the tension, the shared knowledge of recent occurrences between the former comrades kept them on edge, reluctant to act in case something went wrong.
Finally, Rex slowly raised his hands in the air, his brow furrowed and a deep frown on his face as he took a cautious step forward. “Vod’ika, I swear to you, I’m not a threat. My Inhibitor chip was removed by Ahsoka.”
Miah blinked, almost looking at him. “...Ahsoka?”
A tiny flicker of hope appeared in her voice when she nearly let herself believe it, nearly allowing herself to believe there was one other Jedi alive, because even now, after everything, Miah struggled to think of Rex as anything but trustworthy and loyal. Which he was, but how did she know his chip wasn’t active?
“Yes,” he said, seeing an opportunity to calm her, “Ahsoka survived. I helped her get away. The chips caused it all, the Clones, we didn’t mean to do it, Fives-”
“I know,” she said, “I remember. A purpose bigger than any of us could comprehend.”
Rex nodded, hesitant and unsure of his next move. “I don’t know how to make you believe me.”
Miah finally looked him in the eye, resisting the stinging in her own. “Neither do I.”
Stuck on the path back to each other, they continued to stand in the rain, away from the bustling city crowds and the heaving market. They seemed to exist on the very edges of the throbbing veins of society, which stung when memories of when they were front and centre, back to back, in the very midst of it all crept into their thoughts. A curious thing, how two people so intimately tied to actions determining the fate of the Galaxy could pass unnoticed, two lonesome figures in the evening downpour, nameless faces to be forgotten.
And yet, to them, forgetting the other’s face was an inconceivable thought; how could they, when the clearest years of their life were spent building an iron trust, a bond forged in battle? Rex had been one of the men to give Miah her name, a gift she never took for-granted, not for a second; and so, placing her faith into that bond, she reached out into the Force, the first time since the shock of Order 66 caused Miah to cut herself off from it, searching for the truth.
“Rex...you’re not lying to me, are you? I really don’t want to hurt you, I can’t…”
The former Captain shook his head, a soft, reassuring smile making its home on his lips. A familiarity surrounded the expression, helping to convince her. “I swear, on the memory of Fives, my inhibitor chip is gone, and I am not going to try to kill you.”
Miah hesitated only a moment, the solemn vow carrying enough weight to lower her defensive stance. She stepped forward, holding out her arm for him to grasp. “I’m sorry, Rex. I know Clones whose chip have been activated don’t speak like this, I just had to be sure…”
He clasped her forearm tightly, reaching over with his free hand to grasp her shoulder. “You have nothing to apologise for, Miah’ika, I understand.” Tears gathered in his eyes, and Rex bowed their foreheads together. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you again.”
Miah laughed softly, cradling the back of his head. “I think I might have an idea, Vod.”
The story of the Cailleach can change drastically depending on what area of Scotland you are in, making her a hard figure to pin down as one thing or another.
In some stories, she transforms each year at Tobar na Cailleach(well of the Cailleach) from an old woman into youth, and the change of seasons depict her cycle from youth into elderly age.
In other stories, the Cailleach is more of a villainous figure, that either stubbornly fights back the forces of spring(and is ultimately overcome by the united forces of the sun, dew, and rain), or the Cailleach holds spring prisoner in the form of a beautiful young woman named Bride. Bride is eventually rescued by a young man named Aengus, and their union brings forth spring.
To again bring on winter, she washes her great plaid in the whirlpool of Corryvreckan, a spectacle that heralds the onset of winter storms.
The Corryvreckan Whirlpool
Thanks to her winter and storm association, it is perhaps no surprise mountains named after her, such as Beinn na Cailleach, often become engulfed in storm-clouds during the winter months.
However, there are also stories that reflect a side of the Cailleach that goes beyond her association with winter.
“-… it is undoubted that the Cailleach is the guardian spirit of a number of animals. ‘The deer have the first claim on her. They are her cattle; she herds and milks them and often gives them protection against the hunter. Swine, wild goats, wild cattle and wolves were also her creatures. In another aspect she was a fishing goddess. “ A Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katharine Briggs (1976)
Sometimes, she is a guardian of sacred wells, demonstrated in Alasdair Alpin MacGregor’s “The Peat-Fire Flame” which recounts a tale where the Cailleach’s failure to cover a spring with a stone results in a catastrophic flood and the forming of Loch Awe.
“But one day, weary with hunting the corries of Cruachan, she fell asleep on the sunny hillside. Not until the third morning did she awaken; and by that time her heritage lay beneath the waters of the loch that since then has been known as Loch Awe.” The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)
Othertimes, she is a source of healing, such as at the ancient shrine of Tigh nam Bodach(sometimes also called Tigh na Cailleach), which is associated with the Cailleach, the Bodach (Old Man), and their daughter Nighean(who is not always mentioned).
“The Tigh na Cailleach near Glen Lyon in Perthshire, Scotland”
At the shrine, there are stones known as healing stones, and they are carefully taken care of. Historically, someone had to put them inside on the first day of November, and take them out on the first day of May. As well as that, they were to be give a fresh bed of straw on winter festival days.
“In what is believed to be the oldest uninterrupted pre-Christian ritual in Britain, the water-worn figures from the River Lyon are taken out of their house every May and faced down the glen, and returned every November. The ritual marked the two great Celtic fire festivals of Beltane(Summer) and Samhain (Winter)and the annual migration of Highland cattle on and off the hills.” Highland Perthshire
So who is the Cailleach? She is the changing of seasons, sometimes a protector of sacred wells and animals, and can even be a source of healing. Basically, she is likely the most complicated subject to study from Scottish Folklore.
Further Reading:
The Folk-lore Journal, Volume 6; Volume 21: The Folk-Lore Of Sutherlandshire by Miss Dempster
The Celtic Review, Vol 5 (1905): Highland Mythology by E. C. Watson
The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)
A Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katharine Briggs (1976)
The Folk-Lore of the Isle of Man by A. W. Moore[1891]
Carmina Gadelica, Volume 2, by Alexander Carmicheal, [1900]
Highland Perthshire (website with a blog post)
Historic Audio Recordings
Healing stones at Taigh na Caillich (Track: ID SA1964.72.A24, Date: 1559) “There were healing stones in a house in Gleann na Caillich; the shepherds looked after them. Talk about shepherds in the glen.”
Anecdote regarding Beinn na Caillich and Gleann na Caillich. (Track ID: SA1964.017.B6, Date: 1964) “An old woman and an old man lived in a house in Gleann na Caillich. The shepherd had to put them inside on the first day of November, and take them out on the first day of May. He also had to thatch their house each year.”
Information about St Fillan’s healing stones at Killin. (Track ID: SA1964.71.A5, Date: 1964) There were stones, known as the bodach and cailleach, in a house in Gleann na Caillich in Glen Lyon. Discussion about St Fillan’s stones at Killin. Different stones healed different diseases. The miller was in charge of them. They had to be freshly bedded with straw thrown up by the river on Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve. This is still done [in 1964]. The person in charge of St Fillan’s relics was known as An Deòrach and he had a croft in a place called Croit an Deòir.
Tolkien is having his first ever egg. It’s. Not going well.
So one of my tweets kinda blew up. :v
"Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!" // "...seanchas anns a’ Ghàidhlig, s’ i a’ chainnt nas mìlse leinn; an cànan thug ar màthair dhuinn nuair a bha sinn òg nar cloinn’..."
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