The Great Hunt

“The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again.”

Jordan’s opening sentence creates a sense of both wonder and time. The cyclical nature of history, spanning ages and legends and then repeating itself, is key to understanding the World of the Wheel. Heroes of old, recalled only in gleeman’s tales, are reincarnated, and dark times long past must be endured once again. Time is not linear but circular, giving the narrative a sense of timelessness and perpetuity.

“Ta’veren pull history along behind them and shape the Pattern just by being, but the Wheel weaves ta’veren on a tighter line than other men.”

Rand, Mat, and Perrin are all ta’veren, and, like it or not, they are deeply integrated into the Pattern of the Wheel. Loial explains in his dispassionate and scholarly way that the three young men from Emond’s Field are powerless over their fate and surrendering to the whims of the Pattern is inevitable. Concepts like ta’veren and the Pattern imbue Jordan’s tale with a sense of unwavering momentum. The theme of destiny is common in the genre, and Rand in particular would do well to embrace that destiny rather than stubbornly oppose it.

“There has never been a shortage of followers for any man claiming to be the Dragon Reborn. How great will the wars be this time?”

As Moiraine and Liandrin debate the threat of the False Dragons—Moiraine claims they cannot be dismissed lightly—she comments on the ease with which they rally unsuspecting people to their cause. The World of the Wheel is in turmoil, and fear gives false prophets the added power of persuasion. Many people in the real world have been duped into following charismatic leaders with self-centered ambitions. The leap from rhetoric to physical conflict, Moiraine implies, is very short.

“It constantly amazed Moiraine that Anaiya dealt as well as she did in the White Tower, but those who were devious always seemed to take her openness and honesty, her acceptance of everyone, as cunning devices.”

Moiraine sees her Aes Sedai sister, Anaiya, as utterly guileless and amenable to all differences. Ironically, those sisters with agendas project their own deceit on to her, suspecting her openness as part of a larger game. Just as the lords and nobles of Falme play the game of daes dae’mar sometimes to the death, a Machiavellian personality cannot conceive of a pure gesture without suspecting some ulterior motive behind it.

“Stilled. No longer able to channel the flow of the One Power. Able to sense saidar, the female half of the True Source, but no longer having the ability to touch it.”

The Amyrlin warns Moiraine that if their plans to guide and nurture Rand rather than gentle him are discovered, they will both be “stilled” (similar to being gentled but for Aes Sedai). Both Moiraine and the Amyrlin have been trained to channel—they were not born to it—but the ability is so deeply rooted in them that to surrender it would be like severing a limb. It would be even worse for the fact that the presence of the Power would linger in their awareness but always out of reach, like the mythic figure Tantalus, tortured by hunger and thirst with food and water always receding from his grasp.

“You fool! You pure, blind, idiotic fool! Naming the Dark One, bringing his attention down on you! Don’t you have enough trouble?”

There is power in a name, as Nynaeve reminds Rand when he casually and thoughtlessly tosses off the name of the Dark One (Shai’tan). This superstition of not giving voice to evil is a well-worn trope in literature, film, and life. The children’s game Bloody Mary, while innocent enough, is tinged with the same superstition. The wizards and witches of Harry Potter refuse to name the dark lord Voldemort for fear the name will reincarnate his malevolent spirit. A name is only a word, but to voice it aloud evokes the evil. It is much more comfortable to bury the name and ignore the evil.

“The Wheel weaves us all into the Pattern as it wills. You have less freedom about it than most, but by the Light, you can still face it on your feet.”

Lan’s admonition to Rand both acknowledges the shepherd’s fears and offers a path forward. He argues that while Rand’s life is woven into the Pattern regardless of his wishes, he can still make a choice to embrace that fate rather than run from it. Lan’s words recall the wisdom of Gandalf to the hobbit Frodo who despairs at the daunting task before him: “So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us” (Tolkien, J.R.R. The Fellowship of the Ring).

“The Prophecies must be fulfilled, or the Dark One will break free and remake the world in his image.”

The Amyrlin, in her private meeting with Rand, chastises him for his casual disregard of prophecy and fate. As any reader of fantasy knows, prophecies are not to be ignored lightly. Also, Jordan’s use of the phrase “in his image” is a clever nod to the connection between fantasy and religion. The Biblical book of Genesis describes God’s creation of man and woman as being “in his own image.” If a benevolent God can create an equally benevolent human species, the converse is also true: A malevolent being can remake a world in his own dark image.

“’I’m not a lord.’” At least I’ll get away from that, now. “’Just Rand.’”

As Ingtar’s company prepares to depart in search of the Horn, Hurin, thinking Rand is “an outland prince from the south” (153), addresses him as Lord Rand. Uncomfortable with the honorific and what it implies, Rand insists on being called simply Rand. He fears alienating his friends by pretending to be something he is not, but more importantly he fears the obligation that goes with the title. If he is more than a mere shepherd, perhaps there is some truth to the prophecy that he is the Dragon Reborn.

“The War of the Hundred Years cut Artur Hawkwing’s empire into many nations, large and small. The small were gobbled up by the large, or else united, like Altara and Muranday. Forced together would be a better word than united, I suppose.”

As Ingtar’s company passes the ruins of an old manor house, Ingtar and Loial recall Artur Hawkwing’s former empire, which was carved up after his death into smaller parcels. Jordan, a student of history, no doubt recalls a similar process in the aftermath of World War I. Four pre-war empires—Russian, German, Austro-Hungarian, and Ottoman—collapsed in the years following the war. Borders were redrawn, and new countries were formed. (Mintz, S., & McNeil, S. Digital History. Retrieved 7/21/2022 from www.digitalhistory.uh.edu.) This is a good example of real history informing a fictitious narrative.

“If a woman go left, or right, does Time’s flow divide? Does the Wheel then weave two Patterns? A thousand, for each of her turnings?”

As Rand, Loial, and Hurin find themselves in an alternate world, they try to understand the cause. Loial posits that these other worlds are “reflections” created by the infinite possible actions of people in the “real” world. In this discussion, Jordan touches on both quantum mechanics and the multiverse theory, which posits that infinite possible universes are created by the divergent actions of actors within each pre-existing universe. It is a heady concept for both laypeople and Jordan’s bewildered characters.

“This thing he did was older than humans using the One Power, though, something from the birth of Time.”

As Perrin contemplates his wolfish half, he empathizes with Rand and his fear of being different. Perrin’s “Wolfbrother” identity is primal, predating even the Aes Sedai and the War of Shadow. It suggests a time when humans and animals shared a deep connection, coexisting as brothers rather than as enemies. It also gives the narrative a sense that this world has existed long before recorded history.

“’Some men,’ she said, not raising her eyes from his hand, ‘choose to seek greatness, while others are forced to it. It is always better to choose than to be forced.’”

Selene continues her relentless campaign to persuade Rand to seek the Horn for himself. She frames his ownership of the Horn as inevitable; he can either choose it himself or circumstances can force it upon him. At this point, Selene’s motivations are unclear, but her constant appeals are suspect. She is akin to Lady Macbeth, urging her husband to murder Duncan and assume the throne, just as much for her own purposes as for Macbeth’s. 

“Every woman’s fears are her own property.”

As Nynaeve prepares to run the gauntlet of the Ter’angreal, she will confront her greatest fears. Sheriam acknowledges that fears are a deeply personal matter, and that facing them requires a deeply personal and unique kind of courage. This process, she tells Nynaeve, is private, and she need not discuss any of it once it is over. Her words are a nod to female autonomy and the right to keep one’s personal business personal.

“I wonder if meeting him will shift our lives in the Pattern.”

Gawyn, Prince of Andor, recalls meeting Rand once and wonders if the rumors are true: that he is ta’varen and if contact with him will alter the Pattern of their own lives. It is an interesting notion that every life path is fluid, like a river, and over its course it weaves and bends as it encounters obstacles in its path. It implies a dependency on each other rather than the autonomous individualism many people subscribe to.

“I fear Galldrian keeps his people quiet by entertaining them.”

As Rand, Loial, and Hurin walk through Foregate, they see all manner of street entertainment—including music, dancing, and puppets—all subsidized by King Galldrian of Cairhien. However, it is all a distraction from their substandard living conditions, according to Loial. Karl Marx famously said, “Religion is the opiate of the masses,” placating them and keeping them docile in the face of elitist oppression. The same can be said of Galldrian’s elaborate street festivals. They keeping the Foregaters entertained and credulous that the King has their best interests at heart, when in reality they are little more than an afterthought to him. 

“You’ve likely just convinced everyone in the room you are in some deep part of the Game. It must be deep, as they’ll see it, if you deny playing it at all.”

 As Rand continues to ignore invitations from Cairhien’s noble Houses, Hurin explains that ignoring them does not disengage him from the Great Game. On the contrary, it will be perceived as playing it on a subtler and more devious level. It is a perverse bit of logic that Rand cannot wrap his head around, and yet it is another indication that Rand’s affairs are not his own but deeply entwined in the affairs of the world around him. His actions are vital to the Pattern and cannot happen in a vacuum.

“I make the listener see every banner, smell every battle, feel every emotion. I make them believe they are Gaidal Cain.”

Thom Merrilon explains his skills as a gleeman (storyteller), and in the process, he articulates the power of art to stimulate the human imagination. In the same way that readers of fiction can visualize the story in their minds, listening to a skilled storyteller can have the same effect. It is a testament to the evocative power of words and cadences, as well as the unique ability of the human brain to interpret those words and transform them into visual imagery.

“He will come from the west, beyond the Spine of the World, but be of our blood. He will go to Rhuidean, and lead us out of the Three- fold Land.”

When Ingtar’s company meets an Aielman—a fierce, tribal warrior from the Wastes—he tells them of a prophecy among his people. Prophecies of saviors are common in the genre. They are found in Dune’s Muad’dib, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe’s sons of Adam and daughters of Eve, and even the biblical story of Moses, foretold to release the Jews from the bondage of Egypt. Jordan wades into this territory with the foretelling of an Aiel savior of their own blood who will lead them to their promised land. Mat and Perrin speculate that Rand, whose parentage is uncertain, is of Aiel heritage, and the Aielman’s claims lend credence to that speculation.

“’There are Darkfriends among the high as well as the low,’ Verin said smoothly. ‘The mighty give their souls to the Shadow as often as the weak.’”

Shocked that Lord Barthane may be a Darkfriend, Verin explains that wealth and nobility are no insulation against the temptation of the Dark One. There are a couple of fallacies built into this assumption: first, that the masses are somehow weaker of character because of their lower social station and therefore more susceptible to corruption; and second, that wealth and station bestow stronger moral fiber. In fact, the wealthy might be more inclined to ally with the Dark One precisely because they have so much more to lose.

“It was killing me. Killing me, and it felt—wonderful.”

After their first encounter with the Black Wind, Rand holds it within the Waygate while Loial closes the gate, saving the lives of himself, Rand, and Hurin. The Power raging through Rand as he holds the shadow wind at bay nearly destroys him, but the great paradox of that power is its pleasure/pain duality. Rand would happily let the power burn him to a cinder if only to feel it coursing through him one more moment.

“Everything was moved, everything changed. Mountains, rivers, even the seas.”

Loial explains the scattering of the Ogier after the Breaking of the World, and how they became so bound to their stedding. After wandering aimlessly without sanctuary for so long, once the stedding were reclaimed, no Ogier wanted to be apart from their home. Loial acknowledges the inevitability of change as well as the difficulty of coping with it. The Ogier’s devotion to their home also speaks to the tension between putting down roots and the inevitable wanderlust some feel when constrained by those roots.

“She found it hard to think that there had been a time when she had been eager to have an adventure, to do something dangerous and exciting like the people in stories. Now she thought the exciting part was what you remembered when you looked back, and the stories left out a good deal of unpleasantness.”

Elayne, daughter-heir of the Queen of Andor, has led a pampered life. Her only experience with adventures are the tales she’s heard and read. Now, however, as she flees the White Tower with Liandrin, she experiences the fear and the adrenaline rush of disobeying the rules and risking punishment. She makes an astute observation about stories and memory, concluding that the adventure tales children hear are selective in their content. Rarely do these tales focus on the emotional trauma and pain of those adventures. Perhaps the hobbits of Tolkien’s Middle Earth have it right, looking askance at adventures, or at least looking at them realistically as heroic deeds side by side with fear, risk, and hard labor.