Weave Me a Tale, Sing me a Song

Game of Thrones Season 3

THE HBO SERIES, A GAME OF THRONES, BASED ON GEORGE RR MARTIN’S EPIC SONG OF ICE AND FIRE, RENDERS A BRUTAL, PASSIONATE, FEROCIOUS TALE.

Now a third season is launching on March 31st, I’m reviewing the past two seasons.

In the ancient heroic tradition, this is a juicy yarn woven into fire-lit air. The crowded room listens enthralled as the story is revealed through the long night. The air is misty with cold, a veiled tent, or a campfire circle.  Or…We could stare rapt from cozy couch, electric blue illuminating our faces.   These tellers paint with bold colors that captivate.

  Tell us a Story O Great Martin

We have:

  •  Remarkable characters,
  • Exciting heroes, Intriguing villains,
  • Prowess, Exotic lands,
  • Call to battle,
  • Strands and depths of conflict,
  • Oaths, A love story,
  • Vendetta, Old wounds, Forbidden love, Betrayal,
  • Family unity and unrest,
  • Inner turmoil,
  • High born and low born,
  • Sex,
  • Intrigue
You wonder: Is there nothing that this story does not encompass?
I’d say that all-encompassing is an excellent description of this tale.

Scenes from Seasons One and Two:

Long-seated power is vanquished and three powerful families are placed on the board: The Starks of the North, the Lannisters of the midlands, whose daughter is the Queen, and the Baratheon clan, whose middle son is enthroned at Kings Landing.  The throne is composed of fused swords.

When safety vanishes, the Royal youngest flee across the water to grow. The Old Gods breathe in the Northern air at Winterfell. Seven Stark children grow, five trueborn, one of another mother, and the last a hostage.  Beautiful Lannister twins shine like yellow stars. They stand above their dwarf brother whose birth killed their mother. One twin is a Queen, the other twin the most formidable knight in the land who guards the King.  Kingslayer, Kingmother.   Three dark Baratheon brothers sit beneath the Stag’s banner: stern, robust and blithe.

Summer is long but…Winter is coming. A long Summer heralds an even longer Winter. Most alive cannot remember and have never seen Winter.

Secret and proud, the love of two siblings grows into a red knot that spreads outward in a bloody stain.  The gods flip a coin when the deposed kings were born—one side for madness, the other for greatness. Often it seems that all is lost.

Aptly named “The Wall”

A young girl, her father and protector beheaded, poses as a poor boy to wend a precarious way home. The Crows guard the North beneath the shadow of a mammoth wall—against what, few know. The world spins and children are flung from their roots. No one is safe. Roads choke with the lawless and delinquent. It is difficult to know who protects what.

King’s bastards abound and are found. Yet one eludes. A small man can prove a tall shadow. Brothels reveal shells of pearls, which are shiny covered sand. The least likely people can prove the most powerful; Some are obliging, others ruthless. Maesters dispense their ancient wisdoms to wary, leery and devoted ears.

 Mama’s Little Darlings

In a fiery grave 3 Dragons are born into a world that believed them extinct. Their orphan mother wills herself to grasp an ancient claim to the throne.

A new flock of crows plod through the barren North of the Wall, a world without color or sun.

Now that the King is buried, his two brothers vie for their right to the throne. The rosy glow of the South radiates on new king, whose maliciousness reveals himself petal by poisonous petal.  A bold woman dares to become a great knight. While the city waits in a fearful hush, the Little Bird perches captive; She is a riddle no one can decode.

The honorable King of the North cannot lose.  To be Iron-born is to be truly bereft.

The Red Witch leads one brother and a wily would-be Queen comes out of the South for a place.  A night of alliance and sound-intent: One will be King of the South and One will be King of the North. But tragedy is inescapable. The bereft knight whispers that a mother is brave with not the bravery of knights—but a worthy bravery nonetheless.

Wildfire lights up the sea and decimates a hostile fleet. Thankful cries ring in the air, “Half-man, Half-man!” A pat of mud is hurled at the new king’s head, symbol of his subjects’ scorn. Tensely, we wait atop the wall for a Victor.

 Evil or just Utterly Frustrated?

Kept cornered below, The Queen is bitter, patting her captive bird between her paws.  A mother’s wisdom: Kings don’t marry for love.  Is a Wildling a friend or foe? Who is the captive, the woman or the Crow?  Some women are viewed by some as a collection of profitable holes.  There is an abundance of bared breasts. This is a lusty story—too bad it’s mostly for + from a man’s point of view.

..—..

Magic grows and is readying for return to Westeros.

But on this day…
The Goddess of Mercy has left this land.  The Seven are burned.   Children hang black-charred.   Prostituted women are slung up.

Dragons call for their mother, grow. A foreigner pays his debts with three names. Warlocks and Lords practice their tricks, blinded by a sweet heard and silver hair. The Kingslayer is loosened and the Northern dominoes fall.

We mark the players moving.

Reeling from loss, the red witch whispers to her champion that he’s wrong.  There is still much loss and blood to be borne. Almost everything will be lost.

It’s a small scene, but perhaps the most relevant. It is the prophesy for the future of our heroes. There will be far more than what we can guess now. What seems important now might prove illusion.

Because already, those who are great have been felled.

While…Babes who hide in unused rooms, tree tops, beneath skirts and behind innocent eyes move across the board as well. We’ve had the privilege of watching their hatching onto this game board.

 We’ll get to watch this one grow up

The epic group of books are bound to unfold like a scene where the focus changes as you move across the picture. First, you see what is in the foreground. But then there is a shift and the camera moves into the background. The characters in the front disappear while those who’d been hiding in the shadows resolve. Shift focus, time moving, that which was a seed becomes a giant. We will watch the innocent grow and blossom into their own menaces or protectors, or both.

For now, we will get a new chapter of song. The first half of Book Three will be played for our enjoyment. Pick out your seat early, bring a big glass, and prepare to be beguiled.

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