Potential
Spoilers Below
I keep telling everyone that
similarities between The Wheel of Time (TWOT) and A Song of Ice and Fire
(ASOIAF) are vast even if there are those out there that say otherwise.
I have said for some time now
that ASOIAF is following the path of the Wheel of Time. In this case Winterfell and their bannermen are
Emond’s Field and the Two Rivers. The White Walkers and Wights are the Myrddraal and Trollocs respectively. I had almost forgot about the fight where
thousands of Shadowspawn flooded Emond’s Field in an attempt led by Padan Fain to bring Rand al’Thor to him. The following played out and after that I
will tell you how I think it could go down in ASOIAF.
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| Myrddraal leading Trollocs |
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| White Walkers leading Wights |
“Fall
back!” Perrin bellowed. A boar-snouted Trolloc,
already bleeding, forced its way through the ranks of men, shrieking and
striking with its thick, curved sword. Perrin’s axe split its head to the
snout. Stepper was trying to rear, screaming silently in the din. “Fall back!”
Darl Coplin
went down, clutching a thigh transfixed by a wrist-thick spear; old Bili
Congar tried to drag him backward while awkwardly
wielding a boar spear; Hari Coplin swung his halberd in
defense of his brother, mouth wide in a seemingly soundless shout. “Fall back between
the houses!”
He was not sure whether others heard and passed the order, or the
mountainous weight of Trollocs simply pressed in, but slowly, one grudging step
at a time, the humans moved back. Loial swung
his bloodied axes like mallets, wide mouth snarling. Beside the Ogier, Bran thrust his
spear grimly; he had lost his steel cap, and blood ran in his fringe of gray
hair. From his stallion Tomas carved
a space around Verin;
hair in wild disarray, she had lost her horse; balls of fire streaked from her
hands, and every Trolloc struck exploded in flames as if soaked in oil. Not enough to hold. The Two Rivers men edged back, jostling around
Stepper. Gaul and Chiad fought
back-to-back; she had only one spear left, and he slashed and stabbed with his
heavy knife. Back. To west and east men had curved out from the defenses there
to keep the Trollocs from flanking them, pouring arrows in. Not enough. Back.
Suddenly a huge ram-horned shape was trying to pull Perrin out of the
saddle, trying to climb up after him. Thrashing, Stepper went down under the
combined weight. Leg pinned and pained near to breaking, Perrin struggled to
bring his axe around, to fight hands bigger than an Ogier’s away
from his throat. The Trolloc screamed as Aram’s sword
sliced into its neck. Even as it collapsed atop Perrin, spraying blood, the Tinker spun smoothly to run another Trolloc through the
middle.
Grunting with pain, Perrin kicked his way clear, aided by Stepper scrambling
to his feet, but there was no time to think of remounting. He barely rolled
aside as a black horse’s hooves stamped where his head had been. Pale, eyeless
face snarling, the Fade leaned
from its saddle as he tried to rise, dead-black sword slashing, brushing his
hair as he dropped. Ruthlessly he swung his axe, chopping one of the horse’s
legs out from under it. Horse and rider toppled together; as they fell, he
buried his axe where the Halfman’s eyes should have been.
He wrenched the blade free in time to see Daise
Congar’s pitchfork tines take a goat-snouted Trolloc in
the throat. It seized the long shaft with one hand, stabbing a barbed spear at
her with the other, but Marin al’Vere calmly hamstrung it with
one blow of her cleaver; the leg gave way, and she just as coolly severed the
Trolloc’s spine at the base of its neck. Another Trolloc lifted Bode
Cauthon into the air by her braid; mouth wide in a
terrified scream, she sank her wood-axe into its mailed shoulder just as her
sister, Eldrin,
thrust her boar spear through its chest and gray-braided Neysa
Ayellin drove a thick butchering knife in as well.
All up
and down the line, as far as Perrin could see, the women were there. Their numbers were the only reason the line
still held, almost driven back against the houses. Women among the men,
shoulder to shoulder; some no more than girls, but then, some of those “men”
had never shaved yet. Some never would. Where were the Whitecloaks? The children! If the women were here, there was no one to get the
children out. Where are the bloody
White cloaks? If they came now, at least they might buy another few
minutes. A few minutes to get the children away.
A boy, the same dark-haired runner who had come for him the night
before, seized his arm as he turned to search for the Companions. The
Companions had to try to cut a way out for the children. He would send them,
and do what he could here. “Lord Perrin!” the boy shouted at him through the
deafening din. “Lord Perrin!”
Perrin tried to shake him off, then snatched him up kicking under one
arm; he belonged with the other children. Split up, in tight ranks stretching
from house to house, Ban and
Tell and the other Companions were shooting from their
saddles, over the heads of the men and women. Wil had driven the banner’s staff
into the ground so he could work his bow, too. Somehow, Tell had managed to
catch up Stepper; the dun’s reins were tied to Tell’s saddle. The boy could go
on Stepper’s back.
“Lord Perrin! Please listen! Master al’Thor says somebody’s attacking
the Trollocs! Lord Perrin!”
Perrin was halfway to Tell, hobbling on his bruised leg, when it
penetrated. He stuffed the axe haft through his belt to hoist the boy up in
front of his face by the shoulders. “Attacking them? Who?”
“I don’t know, Lord Perrin. Master al’Thor said to tell you he thought
he heard somebody shouting ‘Deven Ride.’ ”
Aram grabbed Perrin’s arm, wordlessly pointing with his bloody sword.
Perrin turned in time to see a hail of arrows plunge into the Trollocs. From the north.
Another flight was already rising toward the top of its arc.
“Go back to the other children,” he said, setting the boy down. He had
to be up where he could see. “Go! You did well, boy!” he added as he ran
awkwardly for Stepper. The little fellow scampered back into the village
grinning. Every step sent a jolt of pain up Perrin’s leg; maybe the thing was broken. He had no time to worry
about that.
Seizing the reins Tell tossed him, he hauled himself up into his
saddle. And wondered if he was seeing what he wanted to see instead of what was
really there.
Beneath a red-eagle banner at the edge of where
the fields had been stood long rows of men in farmer’s clothes, shooting their
bows methodically. And beside the banner, Faile sat
Swallow’s saddle, Bain at
her stirrup. It had to be Bain behind that black veil, and he could see Faile’s
face clearly. She looked excited, fearful, terrified and exuberant. She looked
beautiful.
Myrddraal were trying to turn some of the Trollocs around, trying to
lead a charge against the Watch Hill men, but it was useless.
Even Trollocs who did turn went down before they covered fifty strides. A Fade
and its horse fell, not to arrows, but to panicked Trolloc hands and spears. It
was the Trollocs moving back now, then running in a frenzy, fleeing shots from
both sides once the Emond’s Field men had room to lift bows, too, Trollocs
falling, Myrddraal going down. It was a slaughter, but Perrin hardly saw.
Faile.
The same boy appeared at his stirrup. “Lord Perrin!” he shouted. To be
heard above cheering now, men and women shouting for joy and relief as the last
Trollocs who had not made it out of bow range fell. Not many had, Perrin
believed, but he was barely able to think. Faile. The boy tugged at his
breeches’ leg. “Lord Perrin! Master al’Thor said to tell you the Trollocs are
breaking! And they are shouting
‘Deven Ride’! The men, I mean. I heard them!”
I thought about this because
there was someone missing from the trailer that I thought should be there. To me she takes the place of Faile in the
story of ASOIAF. Faile was Perrin’s
recently married wife who he had sent away so that she would be safe under the
guise of sending her off to have the Queen of Andor send her guards to
help. Faile, knowing why Perrin had sent
her away, ended up instead recruiting the Deven Ride people to assist with the
fight.
I can see the fight going in a
similar way. Everyone has gathered themselves
together to hold the line against the White Walker and their army of wights at
Winterfell. They fight valiantly but, in
the end, they are slowly overrun. Maybe
the dragons are left out of the fight when we find White Walkers
strategically placed on the field of battle with javelin ice spears similar to
the one that took down Viserion. Dany not
willing to lose any more of her “children” use them sparingly. They have dragon glass, in the form of arrow
heads, spears and daggers, but still they are being pushed back. Will there come a time when they also get
help coming from
the north; the same as in TWOT?
If so, who will lead that charge the same as Faile did? I think it can be none other than LyannaMormont. Could we see her outflanking
the White Walkers leading the forces of the men who turned down Jon and Sansa’s
initial ask for help to defend the North?
Could the banner we see leading the charge be the black bear over a
green wood? It would be fitting as their
motto is “Here We
Stand” as it will be here that they
truly make their stand! Dany will have
sent more dragon glass weapons by sea and those weapons will be used by Lyanna
and her troops.
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| Lady "Badass" |
I can even see her say to Dany
what she said to everyone else “We know no king but the King in the North, whose name is
STARK!” I can also see Dany smiling at her as she sees herself in her.
Click here for Lyanna’s speech.
Comments encouraged. Love to hear the idea’s of
others. Most believe that since I present my idea’s as “fact like” I’m
not open to change my viewpoints which is far from the truth. I simply
look at the information presented and go from there. If you can shine a
light on another way of thinking that opens the door to debate.
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