Reimagining the Ending of the Wheel of Time

I did it! I figured out the ending of the Wheel of Time, or at least an ending, one that’s more to my satisfaction than the published version. Most readers love the last three books written by a substitute author, but not me. I found them too inconsistent, too many bizarre changes to the characters, too much contradiction to what Jordan had written, too much discontinuity, and too much emphasis on insignificant characters and not enough on important characters. Besides, the whole thing was just so ho hum. The last battle is imminent, but everyone acts as if it will be tomorrow or next month or even next year. They also think it’s their choice when to begin fighting the Dark One, as if the Dark One is just sitting around waiting for them to decide to act.

What truly irritated me was how the substitute author further developed the main hero. This hero went on top of a mountain, ready to kill himself because he thought life and his mission were futile, just as the person he used to be did 3,000 years previously, but instead he had a bit of a revelation — that people were reborn and kept being reborn because it gave them a second chance at love. And because of this rather simplistic realization, the hero (Rand) was suddenly cured of the darkness that the Dark One had been coloring him with, was suddenly cured of his growing madness and became melded with that 3,000 year-old-version of himself that had presented as a voice in his head, and suddenly became what fans of the books call “Jesus Rand.”

Although some Christ-like features can be read into the hero’s character, he was never supposed to be based on the Christian savior, but rather more of a hero like King Arthur (as well as the Fisher King from the King Arthur legends and savior characters from dozens of other myths and legends). But the substitute author seemed to have missed that point completely and overrode the cosmology inherent in the books with his own religious beliefs. Appallingly, when the two personalities of the hero melded, he became a caricature of what a messiah might be. He was so over-the-top perfect that it was creepy, not inspiring. His ancient persona had never been that perfect — in fact, it was reported that he’d been sanctimonious and proud. And the hero in his present persona had become angry, determined, hard, ruthless. So how did those two personalities become so utterly pious when integrated?

Even worse, instead of doing what he was supposed to be doing, preparing himself for the last battle with the dark forces, he wandered the world feeding the hungry, helping the poor, healing the sick (though he himself didn’t heal the sick, he had someone else do it), and rescuing soldiers who had fought themselves into a corner. Under other circumstances it would have been admirable but none of what he did would matter if the world was soon annihilated by dark powers that only he could fight but wasn’t. Still it fit — sort of. Several of the characters feared the hard person he’d become, thinking he should be strong instead of hard, able to laugh and cry as he prepared for the last battle, and so they approved the change.

Worst of all, despite acting so pious, he was still consumed with hubris — not at all a messianic trait — believing he was better than the Creator since the Creator had merely sealed the Dark One away, not destroyed it as the hero intended to do. And oh, yeah. Shortly before going into the battle to save the entire universe, he demolished one of the most powerful magic tools ever made because it was “too powerful to use.” Whatever that means. (Actually, what it means is, as the substitute himself admitted, that he couldn’t figure out how to use it and so got rid of it.)

One part that was supposedly written by Jordan that makes no sense at all, especially coming from someone who’d been a soldier himself, was that even though the hero accepted his death and willingly made the sacrifice, he supposedly left instructions for one of his followers to leave gold and supplies in a tent for him to find when it was all over (though he could have done it himself). But no. Just no. If you’re fighting the last battle, a battle for the entirety of existence, you can’t leave that bit of distraction, that sense that you’re not giving it your all, that perhaps you’re not committed to fighting to the death. If he survives, fine — then get someone to help.

All that is to set the stage for what I suddenly realized today would make a great ending and what actually should have happened besides adding needed conflict.

Forget that whole scene of transformation. Have him go to the last battle as he was, darkness, anger, hardness, madness, and all. In which case, he’d have all sorts of people trying to stop him. His allies who thought that if he fought the Dark One when he was so dark himself, would definitely try to stop him because if he won in that state of mind, it would leave the world worse off than it was. The women power wielders would definitely be against him even more than they already were because they could not control him, and because they believed he’d unloose the Dark One on the world before he could seal him up again and so lose the world to darkness. The misplaced army, the one the dark minions sent after him, would be mobilized against him by the forces of the dark.

Despite that, the hero manages to assemble the forces of light to tell them his terms for fighting the last battle. (To everyone’s horror. So many of them lavished hate on him through eleven books, yet they expected him to willingly sacrifice himself for them!!) After they all sign the peace accords he wanted, the world suddenly grows darker, as if the eternal night is coming, and the forces of the dark descend on them. Although the hero wants to stay and help fight, he knows his confrontation with the dark lies elsewhere. And so he reluctantly heads to the Dark One’s lair. Although he knows it’s his duty, he isn’t sure that he wants to save humanity since they had been set on destroying him.

There is a power vs. power struggle between the hero and the Dark One’s avatar that seems pretty even, but mostly the battle is a philosophical one between Rand and the Dark One rather than actual combat. (As Jordan intended.) So, there he is, almost as dark as the Dark One himself, determined to do his duty, though he’s not sure why. And then comes the battle — dueling scenarios of what the world would be like if the Dark One won and what it would be like if the Dark One was not just sealed away again as the Creator had originally done but instead was utterly destroyed.

After a few of these scenarios (perhaps one that made the hero cry and another that made him laugh) the hero comes to an understanding and acceptance of himself and his fate as the savior of the world. He also realizes the truth — that the Dark One is not a person but a cosmic force. A force of dark to balance the force of light to create the pattern of life that is woven by the wheel of time. Darkness without light is annihilation. But light without darkness is also annihilation. (Think of a blank piece of white paper. It doesn’t signify much of anything, but print black on white, and look what we have!)

So instead of on the mountain, here is where he has his miraculous revelation, the one that brings light to the world the Dark One had all but destroyed. In the vast light that ensues, those physically fighting the dark minions and losing, find the courage and hope and resolve for a final push. So while the hero is winning his own battle, sealing off the Dark One rather than killing it, the humans and the forces of light are also winning their bloody world-wide battle.

I love the irony that the dark force that tried to destroy him would be the very thing that facilitates his transformation, gives him back to himself, and makes him strong enough to do what he needs to do to overcome the Dark One. Gives me shivers! Something the published ending never did, that’s for sure. And it makes sense to me, which is even more important.

Of course, other things happen before, during, and even directly after the last battle as loose ends get tied up and other major characters have their own climactic endings. I’d definitely get rid of the repeated character arc for one of the other two heroes, have them act as the responsible people they’d already become, and make sure all three of the heroes meet up again, something the substitute didn’t do but seems to be a necessary part of bringing things full circle. I’d especially not ignore those characters that were most supportive of the heroes during their travails as the substitute did. But bits such as this are easy enough for me to fit into my interpretation of the ending.

I’ve spent weeks — months! — thinking about this, putting the puzzle together, but now what do I do with all that mental time? I’ve been searching for another all-encompassing project, but so far, haven’t found a series that is even vaguely interesting. I suppose I’ll go back to reading whatever comes to hand, but that idea seems a bit flat.

Oh, I know! I’ll start rereading the Wheel of Time! I must admit, it is a fascinating literary experience to go back and read the first book again after experiencing the huge character arc of the eleven Robert Jordan novels and seeing how far those simple country boys had ended up from their humble beginnings. And then, I’d have to read the second book, and perhaps the third . . .

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Figuring Out the End of The Wheel of Time

Yesterday I wrote about parts of the Wheel of Time that should have been edited out or at least shortened considerably.

One of those story lines involved the hero rescuing a nation from an evil king who’d usurped the throne while the daughter heir was off doing other things. In addition, the hero twice conquered another nation. He intended both countries to be ruled by the daughter heir who would have been the rightful heir under normal circumstances. But because he said he was “giving” her those thrones, there was a huge furor since she claimed they were hers by right. Except they weren’t hers by right any longer. He’d conquered both nations. He could have put anyone in charge as he did with other nations where he defeated the evil rulers. But she was angry at him because of that word: give. Sure, she didn’t want people to think she was his puppet and so she needed to gain the crown on her own by having the ladies and lords vote for her. But there they were, on the brink of a cosmic catastrophe, and she worried about them thinking she was a puppet? It seems to me that if all existence were at stake, that would be a minor issue. Certainly not one worth tens of thousands of words.

What makes the whole thing even sillier is that the city, Caemlyn, was a Camelot equivalent. (In the King Arthur Legend, The Battle of Camlaan was the climax to his rule.) So it might have made sense, perhaps, to waste time on a plotline that went nowhere if only to establish the importance of that city, except that the very first casualty of the cosmic battle was Caemlyn. So at that point it mattered not who ruled.

It surprises me that I ever bothered to read these books in the first place, and I probably never would have if I hadn’t been laid up at the time and desperately needed something to read. Then, when I realized what the books were with all their real-world references, not just homages to previous series, like The Lord of the Rings, but a retelling of the King Arthur tale as well as dozens of other myths and legends from around the world, I got interested in finding all the subtext. Then, when I found out how terrible the ending was, I decided to try to figure out the real ending. Which is where I am now. But sheesh. All that verbiage! Luckily, I know how to skim, and I am not at all adverse to skipping huge sections. (The seventh book took me two or three days to read. The eighth took me two or three hours.)

I am finding bits, though, that would have made the ending more interesting. The most obvious would be to have accepted that most of the characters had already reached the end of their arc and were ready for the last battle. In one case, the substitute author repeated an entire character arc. In another case, he simply undid the arc, erased the character’s growth and his acceptance of responsibility, and returned him back to his immature ways with no further development.

Another thing that should have been addressed is that at one point, the kings and queens of the northern nations all decided to head south with their armies. They did not like what the hero was doing to the southern nations, not realizing he was rescuing those nations from the forces of the Dark One, and they didn’t want the same thing to happen to them. So they decided to do something about it. The subtext (and even Robert Jordan alluded to it) was that this displacement was part of the dark side’s plan, and was helping to further disrupt the forces of the light. This coalition was going after the hero, and the whole thing was so hush-hush, that they were ready to kill anyone who found out or who got in their way. Not exactly a peaceful mission. By this time in the books, it’s obvious that nothing happens by coincidence, and yet combined, this northern coalition ended up with thirteen Aes Sedai (the women power wielders, who some called witches). And thirteen Aes Sedai, when linked could destroy the hero, no matter how strong he was against them individually.

And yet, despite this, the rather weak reason given during the substitute ending was that they were there to test the hero to see if it was okay for him to fight the Last Battle. Um, yeah. If this were true, all they’d have to do was send an envoy, asking for an audience. Instead, they took a force of 200,000 as well as all those Aes Sedai to deal with him. And if they found him unworthy and killed him, they would have doomed the entire cosmos to the dark side. Definitely sounds like a plan made by the evil ones.

Even sillier, they were acting on a so-called prophesy that had been handed down by word of mouth for 3,000 years, negating one of Robert Jordan’s themes, which is based on the game of Whisper, or Telephone, or Gossip, whatever it was called in your part of the country. In the game, someone passes a secret to the next person, who passes on what they heard to the next person, and in the end, what results is generally nothing much like what was originally said. His point was that things change over the centuries, that stories change, that names change. So the chance that this prophesy, passed down orally through the millennium, would be the same at the end as at the beginning isn’t that great.

Even worse, though this army that had been manipulated by the dark side to leave their lands could have become a great disrupter at the last battle, instead the substitute author brought in a devil-ex-machina — an entire hitherto unknown army of dark friends.

I’m thinking I’ll eventually give up my idea of figuring out the real ending (for me just to decipher, not to write). Until then, it is rather an interesting puzzle. If I can get through all the scenes that should have been edited out, that is.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

The Lord of Chaos

In the Wheel of Time book I’m reading now, the story starts off with one of the bad guys being summoned before the head bad guy (not a guy, exactly, but a cosmic dark force that’s the opposite of the Light). The head guy gives his minion many directions, which we are not privy to, except for the last: “Let the Lord of Chaos Rule.” At the end of the book, this same bad guy again goes before dark force and asked if he did good. The Dark One lets out a loud laugh.

All through numerous rereads, I never could understand what the bad guy did because except for the beginning and very end, he’s practically invisible throughout the book.

But then, I never paid attention to the reason things happened in the book but the obvious since they seemed to be isolated actions taken by various characters. This time, I’m looking at the things that happen, thinking perhaps they are the result of the dark side’s behind-the-word machinations. And now it’s obvious.

The “lord of chaos” comes from the real Medieval and Renaissance New Year’s tradition of upsetting the class system, where the peasants become the rulers and rulers pretend to be peasants. The person chosen to be the “lord” of this celebration was called the Lord of Misrule or the Lord of Chaos, and was often the least competent person around, adding to the hilarity. (Perhaps that’s why the Dark One laughed at the end of the book? Finding the chaos his edict created hilarious?)

During the book, a shepherd (the hero who is meant to fight the dark force during the last battle) leads nations. (He doesn’t become king for another 500,000 words or so.) A blacksmith and a gambler command vast armies, a juggler becomes a wise mentor, queens become maids, an untried girl is chosen to lead the women wielders of power. (She was chosen as a puppet, and the only reason this particular chaotic bit doesn’t have the desired effect is that the dark minions completely underestimated her lust for power. Once she gets it, she grabs hold, and never lets go until it finally kills her.)

Often the bad guys play both sides. For example, it’s minions of the dark that have the hero kidnapped and tortured, but also, minions of the dark that save him. Chaos, indeed! (Create chaos, but in the end be sure to let the Lord of Chaos live so he can rule!) We don’t find out until later that some of the people that are supposed to be on the side of the light are actually on the other side, which adds to the chaos. These people might have their own orders, or they might be victims of compulsion, or they could simply be incompetent, all of which adds to the chaos.

Besides, no one knows the truth, though all characters, all factions, believe they do know what is true. The hero is the devil. The hero will destroy them. The hero needs to be killed. The hero needs to be controlled. The hero needs to be protected until he is delivered up to the Dark One at the Last Battle. The hero needs to be put in prison. Very few people ever stop to realize that the hero is doing what he must, that if he’s imprisoned, he will never grow into what he needs to become in order to win (which could be what the dark side wants, but the light also wants the imprisonment because they don’t believe he will voluntarily do his duty), and despite the very large disparities of belief, they all act with utter conviction.

Do you see where I am going with this post? (Minus the hero bit, that is.) Although the book was written thirty years ago, it seems (spookily) as if I am reading an allegory of our times. In a world of short-form content and edited video clips, it seem as if very few people take the time to delve deeper into the background (or foreground) of events to try to find out the truth. Everyone sees what they believe is true and they act on it because for them, it is the truth. It’s as if we’re living in two distinct worlds where there is no overlapping, so while both sides can be saying the same thing (“the opposition is ignorant,” for example) and both can be acting according to their honest beliefs, they both mean completely different things and have completely different results.

Let the lord of chaos rule, indeed.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.