Rethinking the Knight of the Laughing Tree
Apr 24, 2017 10:58:48 GMT
Maester Flagons, freyfamilyreunion, and 1 more like this
Post by Melifeather on Apr 24, 2017 10:58:48 GMT
Be Careful What You Pray For - Who was the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and how the crannogman’s prayer may have caused the Year of the False Spring.
Introduction
As part of the Heresy Bicentennial celebration it was suggested that we revisit the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, debate who we think he/she was, and whether there was a higher purpose than simply telling a story to entertain Bran? Is there evidence to suggest a budding romance between Rhaegar and Lyanna, or was this a turning point in the history of Westeros, where our first clue is that this story happens during the Year of the False Spring? This essay will be reposted on Westeros.org in the Heresy section with revisions.
During the past year I have studied the parallels of ASoIaF and have developed an inversion theory where I believe that the characters are reliving the past, but with different outcomes. I had been trying to pinpoint where this pivotal and momentous reversal occurred and it’s become apparent to me that it happened sometime during the Tourney of Harrenhal, specifically after the crannogman knelt and prayed to the Green Men on the Isle of Faces.
The story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree is the longest and most detailed historical account in-universe, but even Meera condensed some of it to highlight the parts about knights and jousting that Bran wanted to hear about, and abbreviated the yucky romantic stuff. She and Jojen seemed surprised that Bran hadn’t heard this significant story from his father before, but Bran said it was “Old Nan that told the stories, not his father.” And because it is the subject of this essay and important to the whole series, I will post it in it’s entirety.
The Story - inside the spoiler tag -
“There was one knight,” said Meera, “in the year of the false spring. The Knight of the Laughing Tree, they called him. He might have been a crannogman, that one.”
“Or not.” Jojen’s face was dappled with green shadows. “Prince Bran has heard that tale a hundred times, I’m sure.”
“No,” said Bran. “I haven’t. And if I have it doesn’t matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she’d told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say. You have to visit them from time to time.”
“That’s true.” Meera walked with her shield on her back, pushing an occasional branch out of the way with her frog spear. Just when Bran began to think that she wasn’t going to tell the story after all, she began, “Once there was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees, and learned all the magics of my people.”
Bran was almost certain he had never heard this story. “Did he have green dreams like Jojen?”
“No,” said Meera, “but he could breathe mud and run on leaves, and change earth to water and water to earth with no more than a whispered word. He could talk to trees and weave words and make castles appear and disappear.”
“I wish I could,” Bran said plaintively. “When does he meet the tree knight?”
Meera made a face at him. “Sooner if a certain prince would be quiet.”
“I was just asking.”
“The lad knew the magics of the crannogs,” she continued, “but he wanted more. Our people seldom travel far from home, you know. We’re a small folk, and our ways seem queer to some, so the big people do not always treat us kindly. But this lad was bolder than most, and one day when he had grown to manhood he decided he would leave the crannogs and visit the Isle of Faces.”
“No one visits the Isle of Faces,” objected Bran. “That’s where the green men live.”
“It was the green men he meant to find. So he donned a shirt sewn with bronze scales, like mine, took up a leathern shield and a three-pronged spear, like mine, and paddled a little skin boat down the Green Fork.”
Bran closed his eyes to try and see the man in his little skin boat. In his head, the crannogman looked like Jojen, only older and stronger and dressed like Meera.
“He passed beneath the Twins by night so the Freys would not attack him, and when he reached the Trident he climbed from the river and put his boat on his head and began to walk. It took him many a day, but finally he reached the Gods Eye, threw his boat in the lake, and paddled out to the Isle of Faces.”
“Did he meet the green men?”
“Yes,” said Meera, “but that’s another story, and not for me to tell. My prince asked for knights.”
“Green men are good too.”
“They are,” she agreed, but said no more about them. “All that winter the crannogman stayed on the isle, but when the spring broke he heard the wide world calling and knew the time had come to leave. His skin boat was just where he’d left it, so he said his farewells and paddled off toward shore. He rowed and rowed, and finally saw the distant towers of a castle rising beside the lake. The towers reached ever higher as he neared shore, until he realized that this must be the greatest castle in all the world.”
“Harrenhal!” Bran knew at once. “It was Harrenhal!”
Meera smiled. “Was it? Beneath its walls he saw tents of many colors, bright banners cracking in the wind, and knights in mail and plate on barded horses. He smelled roasting meats, and heard the sound of laughter and the blare of heralds’ trumpets. A great tourney was about to commence, and champions from all over the land had come to contest it. The king himself was there, with his son the dragon prince. The White Swords had come, to welcome a new brother to their ranks. The storm lord was on hand, and the rose lord as well. The great lion of the rock had quarreled with the king and stayed away, but many of his bannermen and knights attended all the same. The crannogman had never seen such pageantry, and knew he might never see the like again. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to be part of it.”
Bran knew that feeling well enough. When he’d been little, all he had ever dreamed of was being a knight. But that had been before he fell and lost his legs.
“The daughter of the great castle reigned as queen of love and beauty when the tourney opened. Five champions had sworn to defend her crown; her four brothers of Harrenhal, and her famous uncle, a white knight of the Kingsguard.”
“Was she a fair maid?”
“She was,” said Meera, hopping over a stone, “but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who’d brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances.”
“This isn’t going to be one of those love stories, is it?” Bran asked suspiciously. “Hodor doesn’t like those so much.”
“Hodor,” said Hodor agreeably.
“He likes the stories where the knights fight monsters.”
“Sometimes the knights are the monsters, Bran. The little crannogman was walking across the field, enjoying the warm spring day and harming none, when he was set upon by three squires. They were none older than fifteen, yet even so they were bigger than him, all three. This was their world, as they saw it, and he had no right to be there. They snatched away his spear and knocked him to the ground, cursing him for a frogeater.”
“Were they Walders?” It sounded like something Little Walder Frey might have done.
“None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. ‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf.”
“A wolf on four legs, or two?”
“Two,” said Meera. “The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.
“That evening there was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much a right to a place on the bench as any other man. She was not easy to refuse, this wolf maid, so he let the young pup find him garb suitable to a king’s feast, and went up to the great castle.
“Under Harren’s roof he ate and drank with the wolves, and many of their sworn swords besides, barrowdown men and moose and bears and mermen. The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head. A black brother spoke, asking the knights to join the Night’s Watch. The storm lord drank down the knight of skulls and kisses in a wine-cup war. The crannogman saw a maid with laughing purple eyes dance with a white sword, a red snake, and the lord of griffins, and lastly with the quiet wolf . . . but only after the wild wolf spoke to her on behalf of a brother too shy to leave his bench.
“Amidst all this merriment, the little crannogman spied the three squires who’d attacked him. One served a pitchfork knight, one a porcupine, while the last attended a knight with two towers on his surcoat, a sigil all crannogmen know well.”
“The Freys,” said Bran. “The Freys of the Crossing.”
“Then, as now,” she agreed. “The wolf maid saw them too, and pointed them out to her brothers. ‘I could find you a horse, and some armor that might fit,’ the pup offered. The little crannogman thanked him, but gave no answer. His heart was torn. Crannogmen are smaller than most, but just as proud. The lad was no knight, no more than any of his people. We sit a boat more often than a horse, and our hands are made for oars, not lances. Much as he wished to have his vengeance, he feared he would only make a fool of himself and shame his people. The quiet wolf had offered the little crannogman a place in his tent that night, but before he slept he knelt on the lakeshore, looking across the water to where the Isle of Faces would be, and said a prayer to the old gods of north and Neck . . .”
“You never heard this tale from your father?” asked Jojen.
“It was Old Nan who told the stories. Meera, go on, you can’t stop there.”
Hodor must have felt the same. “Hodor,” he said, and then, “Hodor hodor hodor hodor.”
“Well,” said Meera, “if you would hear the rest . . .”
“Yes. Tell it.”
“Five days of jousting were planned,” she said. “There was a great seven-sided mêlée as well, and archery and axe-throwing, a horse race and tourney of singers . . .”
“Never mind about all that.” Bran squirmed impatiently in his basket on Hodor’s back. “Tell about the jousting.”
“As my prince commands. The daughter of the castle was the queen of love and beauty, with four brothers and an uncle to defend her, but all four sons of Harrenhal were defeated on the first day. Their conquerors reigned briefly as champions, until they were vanquished in turn. As it happened, the end of the first day saw the porcupine knight win a place among the champions, and on the morning of the second day the pitchfork knight and the knight of the two towers were victorious as well. But late on the afternoon of that second day, as the shadows grew long, a mystery knight appeared in the lists.”
Bran nodded sagely. Mystery knights would oft appear at tourneys, with helms concealing their faces, and shields that were either blank or bore some strange device. Sometimes they were famous champions in disguise. The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress. And Barristan the Bold twice donned a mystery knight’s armor, the first time when he was only ten. “It was the little crannogman, I bet.”
“No one knew,” said Meera, “but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face.”
“Maybe he came from the Isle of Faces,” said Bran. “Was he green?” In Old Nan’s stories, the guardians had dark green skin and leaves instead of hair. Sometimes they had antlers too, but Bran didn’t see how the mystery knight could have worn a helm if he had antlers. “I bet the old gods sent him.”
“Perhaps they did. The mystery knight dipped his lance before the king and rode to the end of the lists, where the five champions had their pavilions. You know the three he challenged.”
“The porcupine knight, the pitchfork knight, and the knight of the twin towers.” Bran had heard enough stories to know that. “He was the little crannogman, I told you.”
“Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. The porcupine knight fell first, then the pitchfork knight, and lastly the knight of the two towers. None were well loved, so the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called. When his fallen foes sought to ransom horse and armor, the Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying, ‘Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.’ Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armor were returned. And so the little crannogman’s prayer was answered . . . by the green men, or the old gods, or the children of the forest, who can say?”
It was a good story, Bran decided after thinking about it a moment or two. “Then what happened? Did the Knight of the Laughing Tree win the tourney and marry a princess?”
“No,” said Meera. “That night at the great castle, the storm lord and the knight of skulls and kisses each swore they would unmask him, and the king himself urged men to challenge him, declaring that the face behind that helm was no friend of his. But the next morning, when the heralds blew their trumpets and the king took his seat, only two champions appeared. The Knight of the Laughing Tree had vanished. The king was wroth, and even sent his son the dragon prince to seek the man, but all they ever found was his painted shield, hanging abandoned in a tree. It was the dragon prince who won that tourney in the end.”
“Oh.” Bran thought about the tale awhile. “That was a good story. But it should have been the three bad knights who hurt him, not their squires. Then the little crannogman could have killed them all. The part about the ransoms was stupid. And the mystery knight should win the tourney, defeating every challenger, and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.”
“She was,” said Meera, “but that’s a sadder story.”
“Are you certain you never heard this tale before, Bran?” asked Jojen. “Your lord father never told it to you?”
Bran shook his head. The day was growing old by then, and long shadows were creeping down the mountainsides to send black fingers through the pines. If the little crannogman could visit the Isle of Faces, maybe I could too. All the tales agreed that the green men had strange magic powers. Maybe they could help him walk again, even turn him into a knight. They turned the little crannogman into a knight, even if it was only for a day, he thought. A day would be enough.
Green Men and the Isle of Faces
A quick aside about Green Men. The wiki describes them as a sacred order entrusted with the guardianship of the Isle of Faces in the riverlands, which is a sacred island in the middle of the Gods Eye lake. It is one of the few locations of weirwoods in the south, with most others having been cut down and burned.
The Isle of Faces is said to be the place where the Pact was signed after the ancient war between the First Men and the Children of the Forest ended. With the signing, the order of the Green Men was formed to tend to the last remaining weirwoods. According to Old Nan, the green men ride elks and sometimes have antlers. Most maesters believe their clothes are green and that they wear headdresses adorned with horns.
The Pact would give the First Men all the land except for the deep forests, which would remain the dominion of the Children. The First Men agreed they would no longer cut down the weirwood trees. Afterward, faces were cut into the weirwoods on the island so that the old gods could bear witness to the historic agreement, and the order of Green Men would guard them.
The Parallels and Inversions at the Tourney of Harrenhall
Lyanna, a sister to three brothers, chased off three squires with a tourney sword in defense of Howland is a reversal to the daughter of Harrenhal, as the queen of love and beauty, being defended by her four brothers.
Rhaegar’s search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree is the reverse of Howland’s search for a way to become a knight.
Meera’s account says Rhaegar never found the Knight, just the shield hanging from a tree. The reverse of this is Howland’s success in finding a way to become a knight, and he painted his shield with a laughing weirwood tree.
The KotLT defeating the three squires’ knights parallel Rhaegar also winning his tilts on the third day as indicated by the words, “the day belonged to Rhaegar”.
Rhaegar made Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty is a reversal of not acknowledging his wife, Elia, which shocked the crowd.
Jaime’s investiture into the Kingsguard was also in recognition for his part in helping bring down the Kingswood Brotherhood, which was a group of bandits that gained notoriety for kidnapping nobles and holding them for ransom. The parallel inversion is that there was a group of people responsible for kidnapping Lyanna, but their identities remain hidden, and Rhaegar took the blame.
I don’t want to go too far down the path of reversals before and after the Tourney of Harrenhall, because we would wander off on a tangent, but I will add one more example of supporting evidence that history would continue to replay in reverse by pointing out that just prior to the capture of the Kingswood Brotherhood, was the attack on Princess Elia by the Kingswood Brotherhood. The attack was successfully thwarted and Elia remained safe, but Ser Gerold Hightower was seriously injured. The reversal of this would be Lyanna’s abduction by a group that would have mirrored the Kingswood Brotherhood, only this time they were successful in capturing Lyanna, and in my opinion, a Kingsguard helped the group get away.
Evidence: Ned skinchanged Howland
I think most readers accept and believe that the little crannogman was Howland, the wild wolf was Brandon Stark, the quiet wolf was Ned, the young pup was Benjen, the wolf-maid was Lyanna, and the laughing girl with purple eyes was Ashara Dayne. We could identify the rest, but I’m not sure that doing so adds to the stated purpose of identifying the Knight of the Laughing Tree. You may have a different theory to debate, but IMO Ned’s offer to Howland to “sleep in his tent” was permission to do what I call “consensual skinchanging”.
Through Varamyr we learn that forcibly skinchanging another human is considered an “abomination”, but what if you asked permission first?
Bran thinks to himself that if he and Hodor joined together they would make a great knight. The knight would have the strength of Hodor and the knowledge and ability of Bran. I believe we are meant to draw a connection here to Ned and Howland.
Howland prayed for a way to win. He wanted vengeance, but he feared shaming his people. Having someone else take vengeance is no vengeance at all if he doesn’t participate, so having Ned slip into his skin would supply Howland with the knowledge and skill of a trained knight. I use the term “knight” loosely, because the north doesn’t have knights, but Ned was definitely trained and he had skill. He must have been very skilled to lead Robert’s van, and it is known that he and Robert were trained in how to have a “booming voice” since a military leader must be heard over a noisy battlefield.
Evidence: Howland skinchanged Lyanna
There are echoes of the Tourney of Harrenhal that reverberate in the current story. One such account was brought to my attention by Some Pig. She offers compelling evidence that the tourney held in Ned’s honor mirrors the one at Harrenhal.
A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII
When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa's fervent whisper, "Oh, he's so beautiful." Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy's shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.
His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. Ser Gregor's huge stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Sansa clutched at his arm. "Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she said. Ned saw she was wearing the rose that Ser Loras had given her yesterday. Jory had told him about that as well.
Some Pig said:
A reed, cloaked in vines and flowers, on a slim, fast grey mare, facing off against a powerful opponent. The wolf girl concerned for the rider's safety against a bigger, stronger, and more formidable foe. The wolf girl favoring the rider because of an earlier personal connection. The grey mare's scent distracts the opponent's horse and allows "her" champion to win.
KOTLT: Howland. How did Lyanna help him cheat?
To take this further and make it both an echo and an inversion to the ToHH KotLT incident, we look at what happens next - the Mountain by no means accepts his defeat graciously, as did those defeated at the ToHH. Instead, he flies into a rage, kills his own horse, and then tries to take out Loras next. Loras is saved from death only by the intervention of the Hound - the personal protector of the Crown Prince. (As many have noted, such as Melifeather, the Hound is the current day inversion of Arthur Dayne.)
Also of note, during CleganeBowl Lite at the Tourney of the Hand, King Bob gets fed up and yells to "Stop this madness!" before the Hound obeys and kneels, and the Mountain stomps away in a fury. At the ToHH, King Aerys is incensed by the KotLT and sends out men to capture the mystery knight.
(end of Pretty Pig’s quote)
I am going to double down on the passage and interpretation that Pretty Pig has provided in case you didn’t catch it the first time. The man slender as a reed is Howland, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. Howland is “dressed” and “cloaked” or rather inside Lyanna. The twining black vines and the blue forget-me-nots indicate a joined connection, or rather an instance of consensual skinchanging. Could it be any clearer that “the slender reed riding the grey mare” means that Howland rode Lyanna just like Bran rides Hodor? The grey represents House Stark and the the girl who loved blue flowers, who was so good on horseback that she was called a centaur, was the host.
Conclusion
I was struck by how close together the parallel inversions are during the Tourney of Harrenhal. It’s evident, at least to me, that this was ground zero and a turning point. What happened during Howland’s vist to the Isle of Faces, and what all did Howland pray about? There must have been something more other than the consensual skinchanging in order to flip time and send it unraveling. It’s called the Year of the False Spring, because of the quick return back to winter.
Whether you believe the KotLT was Howland, Lyanna, Ned, or some combo, it does seem as if the Knight was being actively inhabited. Howland’s prayer directed at the Isle of Faces was likely a request and permission for the connection, but it seems it did something more.
Introduction
As part of the Heresy Bicentennial celebration it was suggested that we revisit the story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, debate who we think he/she was, and whether there was a higher purpose than simply telling a story to entertain Bran? Is there evidence to suggest a budding romance between Rhaegar and Lyanna, or was this a turning point in the history of Westeros, where our first clue is that this story happens during the Year of the False Spring? This essay will be reposted on Westeros.org in the Heresy section with revisions.
During the past year I have studied the parallels of ASoIaF and have developed an inversion theory where I believe that the characters are reliving the past, but with different outcomes. I had been trying to pinpoint where this pivotal and momentous reversal occurred and it’s become apparent to me that it happened sometime during the Tourney of Harrenhal, specifically after the crannogman knelt and prayed to the Green Men on the Isle of Faces.
The story of the Knight of the Laughing Tree is the longest and most detailed historical account in-universe, but even Meera condensed some of it to highlight the parts about knights and jousting that Bran wanted to hear about, and abbreviated the yucky romantic stuff. She and Jojen seemed surprised that Bran hadn’t heard this significant story from his father before, but Bran said it was “Old Nan that told the stories, not his father.” And because it is the subject of this essay and important to the whole series, I will post it in it’s entirety.
The Story - inside the spoiler tag -
“There was one knight,” said Meera, “in the year of the false spring. The Knight of the Laughing Tree, they called him. He might have been a crannogman, that one.”
“Or not.” Jojen’s face was dappled with green shadows. “Prince Bran has heard that tale a hundred times, I’m sure.”
“No,” said Bran. “I haven’t. And if I have it doesn’t matter. Sometimes Old Nan would tell the same story she’d told before, but we never minded, if it was a good story. Old stories are like old friends, she used to say. You have to visit them from time to time.”
“That’s true.” Meera walked with her shield on her back, pushing an occasional branch out of the way with her frog spear. Just when Bran began to think that she wasn’t going to tell the story after all, she began, “Once there was a curious lad who lived in the Neck. He was small like all crannogmen, but brave and smart and strong as well. He grew up hunting and fishing and climbing trees, and learned all the magics of my people.”
Bran was almost certain he had never heard this story. “Did he have green dreams like Jojen?”
“No,” said Meera, “but he could breathe mud and run on leaves, and change earth to water and water to earth with no more than a whispered word. He could talk to trees and weave words and make castles appear and disappear.”
“I wish I could,” Bran said plaintively. “When does he meet the tree knight?”
Meera made a face at him. “Sooner if a certain prince would be quiet.”
“I was just asking.”
“The lad knew the magics of the crannogs,” she continued, “but he wanted more. Our people seldom travel far from home, you know. We’re a small folk, and our ways seem queer to some, so the big people do not always treat us kindly. But this lad was bolder than most, and one day when he had grown to manhood he decided he would leave the crannogs and visit the Isle of Faces.”
“No one visits the Isle of Faces,” objected Bran. “That’s where the green men live.”
“It was the green men he meant to find. So he donned a shirt sewn with bronze scales, like mine, took up a leathern shield and a three-pronged spear, like mine, and paddled a little skin boat down the Green Fork.”
Bran closed his eyes to try and see the man in his little skin boat. In his head, the crannogman looked like Jojen, only older and stronger and dressed like Meera.
“He passed beneath the Twins by night so the Freys would not attack him, and when he reached the Trident he climbed from the river and put his boat on his head and began to walk. It took him many a day, but finally he reached the Gods Eye, threw his boat in the lake, and paddled out to the Isle of Faces.”
“Did he meet the green men?”
“Yes,” said Meera, “but that’s another story, and not for me to tell. My prince asked for knights.”
“Green men are good too.”
“They are,” she agreed, but said no more about them. “All that winter the crannogman stayed on the isle, but when the spring broke he heard the wide world calling and knew the time had come to leave. His skin boat was just where he’d left it, so he said his farewells and paddled off toward shore. He rowed and rowed, and finally saw the distant towers of a castle rising beside the lake. The towers reached ever higher as he neared shore, until he realized that this must be the greatest castle in all the world.”
“Harrenhal!” Bran knew at once. “It was Harrenhal!”
Meera smiled. “Was it? Beneath its walls he saw tents of many colors, bright banners cracking in the wind, and knights in mail and plate on barded horses. He smelled roasting meats, and heard the sound of laughter and the blare of heralds’ trumpets. A great tourney was about to commence, and champions from all over the land had come to contest it. The king himself was there, with his son the dragon prince. The White Swords had come, to welcome a new brother to their ranks. The storm lord was on hand, and the rose lord as well. The great lion of the rock had quarreled with the king and stayed away, but many of his bannermen and knights attended all the same. The crannogman had never seen such pageantry, and knew he might never see the like again. Part of him wanted nothing so much as to be part of it.”
Bran knew that feeling well enough. When he’d been little, all he had ever dreamed of was being a knight. But that had been before he fell and lost his legs.
“The daughter of the great castle reigned as queen of love and beauty when the tourney opened. Five champions had sworn to defend her crown; her four brothers of Harrenhal, and her famous uncle, a white knight of the Kingsguard.”
“Was she a fair maid?”
“She was,” said Meera, hopping over a stone, “but there were others fairer still. One was the wife of the dragon prince, who’d brought a dozen lady companions to attend her. The knights all begged them for favors to tie about their lances.”
“This isn’t going to be one of those love stories, is it?” Bran asked suspiciously. “Hodor doesn’t like those so much.”
“Hodor,” said Hodor agreeably.
“He likes the stories where the knights fight monsters.”
“Sometimes the knights are the monsters, Bran. The little crannogman was walking across the field, enjoying the warm spring day and harming none, when he was set upon by three squires. They were none older than fifteen, yet even so they were bigger than him, all three. This was their world, as they saw it, and he had no right to be there. They snatched away his spear and knocked him to the ground, cursing him for a frogeater.”
“Were they Walders?” It sounded like something Little Walder Frey might have done.
“None offered a name, but he marked their faces well so he could revenge himself upon them later. They shoved him down every time he tried to rise, and kicked him when he curled up on the ground. But then they heard a roar. ‘That’s my father’s man you’re kicking,’ howled the she-wolf.”
“A wolf on four legs, or two?”
“Two,” said Meera. “The she-wolf laid into the squires with a tourney sword, scattering them all. The crannogman was bruised and bloodied, so she took him back to her lair to clean his cuts and bind them up with linen. There he met her pack brothers: the wild wolf who led them, the quiet wolf beside him, and the pup who was youngest of the four.
“That evening there was to be a feast in Harrenhal, to mark the opening of the tourney, and the she-wolf insisted that the lad attend. He was of high birth, with as much a right to a place on the bench as any other man. She was not easy to refuse, this wolf maid, so he let the young pup find him garb suitable to a king’s feast, and went up to the great castle.
“Under Harren’s roof he ate and drank with the wolves, and many of their sworn swords besides, barrowdown men and moose and bears and mermen. The dragon prince sang a song so sad it made the wolf maid sniffle, but when her pup brother teased her for crying she poured wine over his head. A black brother spoke, asking the knights to join the Night’s Watch. The storm lord drank down the knight of skulls and kisses in a wine-cup war. The crannogman saw a maid with laughing purple eyes dance with a white sword, a red snake, and the lord of griffins, and lastly with the quiet wolf . . . but only after the wild wolf spoke to her on behalf of a brother too shy to leave his bench.
“Amidst all this merriment, the little crannogman spied the three squires who’d attacked him. One served a pitchfork knight, one a porcupine, while the last attended a knight with two towers on his surcoat, a sigil all crannogmen know well.”
“The Freys,” said Bran. “The Freys of the Crossing.”
“Then, as now,” she agreed. “The wolf maid saw them too, and pointed them out to her brothers. ‘I could find you a horse, and some armor that might fit,’ the pup offered. The little crannogman thanked him, but gave no answer. His heart was torn. Crannogmen are smaller than most, but just as proud. The lad was no knight, no more than any of his people. We sit a boat more often than a horse, and our hands are made for oars, not lances. Much as he wished to have his vengeance, he feared he would only make a fool of himself and shame his people. The quiet wolf had offered the little crannogman a place in his tent that night, but before he slept he knelt on the lakeshore, looking across the water to where the Isle of Faces would be, and said a prayer to the old gods of north and Neck . . .”
“You never heard this tale from your father?” asked Jojen.
“It was Old Nan who told the stories. Meera, go on, you can’t stop there.”
Hodor must have felt the same. “Hodor,” he said, and then, “Hodor hodor hodor hodor.”
“Well,” said Meera, “if you would hear the rest . . .”
“Yes. Tell it.”
“Five days of jousting were planned,” she said. “There was a great seven-sided mêlée as well, and archery and axe-throwing, a horse race and tourney of singers . . .”
“Never mind about all that.” Bran squirmed impatiently in his basket on Hodor’s back. “Tell about the jousting.”
“As my prince commands. The daughter of the castle was the queen of love and beauty, with four brothers and an uncle to defend her, but all four sons of Harrenhal were defeated on the first day. Their conquerors reigned briefly as champions, until they were vanquished in turn. As it happened, the end of the first day saw the porcupine knight win a place among the champions, and on the morning of the second day the pitchfork knight and the knight of the two towers were victorious as well. But late on the afternoon of that second day, as the shadows grew long, a mystery knight appeared in the lists.”
Bran nodded sagely. Mystery knights would oft appear at tourneys, with helms concealing their faces, and shields that were either blank or bore some strange device. Sometimes they were famous champions in disguise. The Dragonknight once won a tourney as the Knight of Tears, so he could name his sister the queen of love and beauty in place of the king’s mistress. And Barristan the Bold twice donned a mystery knight’s armor, the first time when he was only ten. “It was the little crannogman, I bet.”
“No one knew,” said Meera, “but the mystery knight was short of stature, and clad in ill-fitting armor made up of bits and pieces. The device upon his shield was a heart tree of the old gods, a white weirwood with a laughing red face.”
“Maybe he came from the Isle of Faces,” said Bran. “Was he green?” In Old Nan’s stories, the guardians had dark green skin and leaves instead of hair. Sometimes they had antlers too, but Bran didn’t see how the mystery knight could have worn a helm if he had antlers. “I bet the old gods sent him.”
“Perhaps they did. The mystery knight dipped his lance before the king and rode to the end of the lists, where the five champions had their pavilions. You know the three he challenged.”
“The porcupine knight, the pitchfork knight, and the knight of the twin towers.” Bran had heard enough stories to know that. “He was the little crannogman, I told you.”
“Whoever he was, the old gods gave strength to his arm. The porcupine knight fell first, then the pitchfork knight, and lastly the knight of the two towers. None were well loved, so the common folk cheered lustily for the Knight of the Laughing Tree, as the new champion soon was called. When his fallen foes sought to ransom horse and armor, the Knight of the Laughing Tree spoke in a booming voice through his helm, saying, ‘Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.’ Once the defeated knights chastised their squires sharply, their horses and armor were returned. And so the little crannogman’s prayer was answered . . . by the green men, or the old gods, or the children of the forest, who can say?”
It was a good story, Bran decided after thinking about it a moment or two. “Then what happened? Did the Knight of the Laughing Tree win the tourney and marry a princess?”
“No,” said Meera. “That night at the great castle, the storm lord and the knight of skulls and kisses each swore they would unmask him, and the king himself urged men to challenge him, declaring that the face behind that helm was no friend of his. But the next morning, when the heralds blew their trumpets and the king took his seat, only two champions appeared. The Knight of the Laughing Tree had vanished. The king was wroth, and even sent his son the dragon prince to seek the man, but all they ever found was his painted shield, hanging abandoned in a tree. It was the dragon prince who won that tourney in the end.”
“Oh.” Bran thought about the tale awhile. “That was a good story. But it should have been the three bad knights who hurt him, not their squires. Then the little crannogman could have killed them all. The part about the ransoms was stupid. And the mystery knight should win the tourney, defeating every challenger, and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.”
“She was,” said Meera, “but that’s a sadder story.”
“Are you certain you never heard this tale before, Bran?” asked Jojen. “Your lord father never told it to you?”
Bran shook his head. The day was growing old by then, and long shadows were creeping down the mountainsides to send black fingers through the pines. If the little crannogman could visit the Isle of Faces, maybe I could too. All the tales agreed that the green men had strange magic powers. Maybe they could help him walk again, even turn him into a knight. They turned the little crannogman into a knight, even if it was only for a day, he thought. A day would be enough.
Green Men and the Isle of Faces
A quick aside about Green Men. The wiki describes them as a sacred order entrusted with the guardianship of the Isle of Faces in the riverlands, which is a sacred island in the middle of the Gods Eye lake. It is one of the few locations of weirwoods in the south, with most others having been cut down and burned.
The Isle of Faces is said to be the place where the Pact was signed after the ancient war between the First Men and the Children of the Forest ended. With the signing, the order of the Green Men was formed to tend to the last remaining weirwoods. According to Old Nan, the green men ride elks and sometimes have antlers. Most maesters believe their clothes are green and that they wear headdresses adorned with horns.
The Pact would give the First Men all the land except for the deep forests, which would remain the dominion of the Children. The First Men agreed they would no longer cut down the weirwood trees. Afterward, faces were cut into the weirwoods on the island so that the old gods could bear witness to the historic agreement, and the order of Green Men would guard them.
The Parallels and Inversions at the Tourney of Harrenhall
Lyanna, a sister to three brothers, chased off three squires with a tourney sword in defense of Howland is a reversal to the daughter of Harrenhal, as the queen of love and beauty, being defended by her four brothers.
Rhaegar’s search for the Knight of the Laughing Tree is the reverse of Howland’s search for a way to become a knight.
Meera’s account says Rhaegar never found the Knight, just the shield hanging from a tree. The reverse of this is Howland’s success in finding a way to become a knight, and he painted his shield with a laughing weirwood tree.
The KotLT defeating the three squires’ knights parallel Rhaegar also winning his tilts on the third day as indicated by the words, “the day belonged to Rhaegar”.
Rhaegar made Lyanna his Queen of Love and Beauty is a reversal of not acknowledging his wife, Elia, which shocked the crowd.
Jaime’s investiture into the Kingsguard was also in recognition for his part in helping bring down the Kingswood Brotherhood, which was a group of bandits that gained notoriety for kidnapping nobles and holding them for ransom. The parallel inversion is that there was a group of people responsible for kidnapping Lyanna, but their identities remain hidden, and Rhaegar took the blame.
I don’t want to go too far down the path of reversals before and after the Tourney of Harrenhall, because we would wander off on a tangent, but I will add one more example of supporting evidence that history would continue to replay in reverse by pointing out that just prior to the capture of the Kingswood Brotherhood, was the attack on Princess Elia by the Kingswood Brotherhood. The attack was successfully thwarted and Elia remained safe, but Ser Gerold Hightower was seriously injured. The reversal of this would be Lyanna’s abduction by a group that would have mirrored the Kingswood Brotherhood, only this time they were successful in capturing Lyanna, and in my opinion, a Kingsguard helped the group get away.
Evidence: Ned skinchanged Howland
I think most readers accept and believe that the little crannogman was Howland, the wild wolf was Brandon Stark, the quiet wolf was Ned, the young pup was Benjen, the wolf-maid was Lyanna, and the laughing girl with purple eyes was Ashara Dayne. We could identify the rest, but I’m not sure that doing so adds to the stated purpose of identifying the Knight of the Laughing Tree. You may have a different theory to debate, but IMO Ned’s offer to Howland to “sleep in his tent” was permission to do what I call “consensual skinchanging”.
Through Varamyr we learn that forcibly skinchanging another human is considered an “abomination”, but what if you asked permission first?
Bran thinks to himself that if he and Hodor joined together they would make a great knight. The knight would have the strength of Hodor and the knowledge and ability of Bran. I believe we are meant to draw a connection here to Ned and Howland.
Howland prayed for a way to win. He wanted vengeance, but he feared shaming his people. Having someone else take vengeance is no vengeance at all if he doesn’t participate, so having Ned slip into his skin would supply Howland with the knowledge and skill of a trained knight. I use the term “knight” loosely, because the north doesn’t have knights, but Ned was definitely trained and he had skill. He must have been very skilled to lead Robert’s van, and it is known that he and Robert were trained in how to have a “booming voice” since a military leader must be heard over a noisy battlefield.
Evidence: Howland skinchanged Lyanna
There are echoes of the Tourney of Harrenhal that reverberate in the current story. One such account was brought to my attention by Some Pig. She offers compelling evidence that the tourney held in Ned’s honor mirrors the one at Harrenhal.
A Game of Thrones - Eddard VII
When the Knight of Flowers made his entrance, a murmur ran through the crowd, and he heard Sansa's fervent whisper, "Oh, he's so beautiful." Ser Loras Tyrell was slender as a reed, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. The commons realized in the same instant as Ned that the blue of the flowers came from sapphires; a gasp went up from a thousand throats. Across the boy's shoulders his cloak hung heavy. It was woven of forget-me-nots, real ones, hundreds of fresh blooms sewn to a heavy woolen cape.
His courser was as slim as her rider, a beautiful grey mare, built for speed. Ser Gregor's huge stallion trumpeted as he caught her scent. The boy from Highgarden did something with his legs, and his horse pranced sideways, nimble as a dancer. Sansa clutched at his arm. "Father, don't let Ser Gregor hurt him," she said. Ned saw she was wearing the rose that Ser Loras had given her yesterday. Jory had told him about that as well.
Some Pig said:
A reed, cloaked in vines and flowers, on a slim, fast grey mare, facing off against a powerful opponent. The wolf girl concerned for the rider's safety against a bigger, stronger, and more formidable foe. The wolf girl favoring the rider because of an earlier personal connection. The grey mare's scent distracts the opponent's horse and allows "her" champion to win.
KOTLT: Howland. How did Lyanna help him cheat?
To take this further and make it both an echo and an inversion to the ToHH KotLT incident, we look at what happens next - the Mountain by no means accepts his defeat graciously, as did those defeated at the ToHH. Instead, he flies into a rage, kills his own horse, and then tries to take out Loras next. Loras is saved from death only by the intervention of the Hound - the personal protector of the Crown Prince. (As many have noted, such as Melifeather, the Hound is the current day inversion of Arthur Dayne.)
Also of note, during CleganeBowl Lite at the Tourney of the Hand, King Bob gets fed up and yells to "Stop this madness!" before the Hound obeys and kneels, and the Mountain stomps away in a fury. At the ToHH, King Aerys is incensed by the KotLT and sends out men to capture the mystery knight.
(end of Pretty Pig’s quote)
I am going to double down on the passage and interpretation that Pretty Pig has provided in case you didn’t catch it the first time. The man slender as a reed is Howland, dressed in a suit of fabulous silver armor polished to a blinding sheen and filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. Howland is “dressed” and “cloaked” or rather inside Lyanna. The twining black vines and the blue forget-me-nots indicate a joined connection, or rather an instance of consensual skinchanging. Could it be any clearer that “the slender reed riding the grey mare” means that Howland rode Lyanna just like Bran rides Hodor? The grey represents House Stark and the the girl who loved blue flowers, who was so good on horseback that she was called a centaur, was the host.
Conclusion
I was struck by how close together the parallel inversions are during the Tourney of Harrenhal. It’s evident, at least to me, that this was ground zero and a turning point. What happened during Howland’s vist to the Isle of Faces, and what all did Howland pray about? There must have been something more other than the consensual skinchanging in order to flip time and send it unraveling. It’s called the Year of the False Spring, because of the quick return back to winter.
Whether you believe the KotLT was Howland, Lyanna, Ned, or some combo, it does seem as if the Knight was being actively inhabited. Howland’s prayer directed at the Isle of Faces was likely a request and permission for the connection, but it seems it did something more.
