Northern Lights
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I heard a voice that cried, “Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!”
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Who knows what to call the lonely exhilaration of gazing out into a bright Northern sky? Who can name it?
Jill could.
It was the same feeling that came to her at the teetering edge of a cliff at the end of the world. The same feeling as when she said her goodbyes to Puddleglum and Scrubb before they freed the prince. It was the same feeling that engulfed her now, sitting in the professor’s library with a volume of poetry before her.
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The wild northern wastes were well named: utterly wild, perfectly desolate, and terribly Northern.
It was lonely there and often cold, but the sky was an endless whorl of gales and gray clouds. The stones were indigo under the pale winter sunlight, and at sunset they glowed a soft gold, as though lit from within. The gorges and moors lay before her, and Jill loved them for their vastness and their distance. Little grew in that country, but that which did was full of vigor. The grass was short and coarse. Every tree was victorious.
On a still, deep breathing winter night, Jill lay on her back beneath a covering sky. It seemed beautiful to her, rich and strong and glorious. Her eyes drank in the breadth of it until her tears began to blind her. Yet even then, she still couldn’t look away.
She felt bigger here in the wastes, like the landscape. Stronger, wider. The further she walked, the more she felt herself stretch out. One of these days, maybe, she would catch hold of herself at the edge and tug, and Jill Pole would open up clear as the Northern sky.
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And through the misty air passed the mournful cry of sunward sailing cranes.
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The thing that surprised Jill most about the battle with the serpent was this: there wasn’t any yelling. Always, it seemed, whenever she read stories about people fighting with swords, the combatants would let loose some guttural yell before their blows fell. They would scream and writhe in pain as they died. They would shout instructions to their fellows, “Look out!” or “Hit him there!” But the whole affair with the serpent passed with very little noise.
The poison-green coil constricted around the prince; he raised his arms and got clear, struck the serpent hard, and then Scrubb and Puddleglum dispatched the creature with heavy, hacking blows. The monster died writhing, but not screaming. And then it was over.
The thing that surprised Jill most about the moments before battle was, of course, the noise. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. She couldn’t stop listening to her own breathing. Every footstep rang out like a gong, and any words exchanged rang with a kind of finality that made them sound louder than anything.
“You are of high courage,” Rilian told her when it was over.
Yet the thing in Jill’s chest just then didn’t feel like courage. It was a deep breath, a plunge, and a release. It was loud and quiet all at once, till she was standing, blinking in the night air as snowballs whizzed round her, and maybe that was something like courage after all.
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And now, there was a stirring in her chest as she reread the words on the page. Sing no more / O ye bards of the North / Of Vikings and of Jarls! / Of the days of the Eld / preserve the freedom only / nor the deeds of blood!
She thought of grief. Of freedom.
The lonely ache in her belly grew stronger. She felt herself uplifted into the huge regions of sky that were just beyond those cliffs, weightless as the breath beneath her buoyed her up, further, further…
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When she saw Caspian up close, Jill thought that he looked like the sort of person who was meant to live in a castle. A silly thought, perhaps, since she knew he was a king– only she wasn’t thinking of Cair Paravel. No, Jill was picturing the ruins of an old British castle she’d visited once on holiday. She still remembered how the stonework had loomed over her, all towering arches and crumbling walls. That was where Caspian seemed to belong. He had an air of ancient tragedy about him.
When Rilian disappeared, all things had wept but one. The serpent coiled beneath the earth and flicked its forked tongue, spewing poison.
Now, the king half rose to bless his son. He whispered a few words as he caressed Rilian’s cheek, words meant only for those beloved ears. Jill saw Caspian’s lips move and wondered what a man like that could possibly say, when time ran so short.
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They laid him in his ship, with horse and harness, as on a funeral pyre. Odin placed a ring upon his finger, and whispered in his ear.
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Jill furtively took Myths of the Northmen and held it up to the professor with a question in her eyes. She was still shy around him and Miss Plummer, though she wished she wasn’t.
“Would you like to take that with you?”
“...Please.”
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It takes a certain kind of person to be exhilarated by the heights. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
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They walked to the train station with an autumn wind blowing hard, and though Jill couldn’t fathom why, she turned and saw Lucy grinning, fierce and joyful– grinning and reaching a hand out towards her friend.
Jill reached back and grabbed it. “What will you do, once we’re back in Narnia?” she asked.
The wind blew harder. The feeling of anticipation grew and grew, until it felt so big that she couldn’t dream of containing it. And there was Lucy, holding Jill’s hand and laughing like it was easy.
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Preserve the freedom only, not the deeds of blood!
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The second time Jill went to Narnia, she found herself not at its edge, but at its end.
The thing about the Norse apocalypse is: it feels believable. It doesn’t reach beyond earth’s horizon to pull down hope beyond hope. It’s only the kind of courage that hopeless humans have: you are going to die, so you might as well die bravely.
They found the last king of Narnia bound to a tree. His eyes were faintly red from crying, and his wrists and ankles red from the coarseness of his fetters.
In the Norse myths, Loki broke free of his fetters at the end of the world. He escaped to the helm of a ship made from the fingernails of the dead.
The last king of Narnia fell forward onto the ground when Eustace cut his bonds. Jill crouched down beside him and watched as he rubbed feeling back into his legs. He wasn’t so much older than her, she thought. Jill was sixteen years old; the last king of Narnia could not be older than twenty-two.
In the myths, the gods were ancient, hewn from the bodies of giants old as the earth.
Jill put out a hand and helped the last king of Narnia to his feet. Not for the last time, she shivered. Something deep inside her (deeper than her chest, than her heart, than the marrow of her bones, deep as her soul, deeper) was singing an elegy and she didn’t know why, or how, or where it had come from. The king clutching her hand, who could have been her older brother, would have no heir.
Yet when he asked, “Will you come with me?” Jill could only smile.
“Of course,” she said. “It’s you we’ve come to help.”
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And the voice forever cried, "Balder the Beautiful is dead, is dead!"
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“This really is Narnia at last,” murmured Jill. The springtime wood had little in common with the wintry lands she had traveled the last time she was here– but it awakened the same feelings of Northernness in her chest.
Their party may as well have been the only people in the world, for how isolated their little wooden path seemed. Yet it wasn’t lonely, really, cocooned in all that green with the wind in the leaves and the primroses nodding and blue of the sky peeking through above.
Jewel told stories about what ordinary life was like when there was peace here. As he spoke, Jill could almost hear the trees' voices speaking out of the living past, whispering, stay, stay. She was caught up to a great height, looking down across a rich, lovely plain full of woods and waters and cornfields, which spread away and away till it got thin and misty from distance.
“Oh Jewel–” Jill said with a dreamy sigh, “wouldn’t it be lovely if Narnia just went on and on– like what you say it has been?”
She needn’t be a queen, as Susan and Lucy had been, but Jill would’ve liked to stay. She would've liked it all to stay, if it could. She might have been a woodmaid in a place like this: with the turn of the seasons, the swaying trees, swords into plowshares. Oh, if only she could stay!
Ahead, the last king of Narnia was softly singing a marching song. Jill tilted her head back and let warm shafts of sun caress her face.
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I saw the pallid corpse of the dead sun borne through the Northern sky.
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“So,” said the last king of Narnia, “Narnia is no more.”
He tried to send them back. Jill shook her head. It was very loud and very quiet. “No, no, no, we won’t. I don’t care what you say. We’re going to stick by you whatever happens, aren’t we Eustace?”
They couldn’t go back anyway. Neither would they flee, not south across the mountains nor North into the great wide wastes. No, they would stay. They slept in a holly grove on the edge of ruin, waiting for the bonfires to light.
Jill slept fitfully, but in between she dreamed. She was high up in the air, buffeted by clouds and pierced by shafts of silver sunlight.
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They all died, in the myths. Jill knew that. It seemed beautiful and brave when she read it in her book, tucked away safe in the Professor’s library. It was terrifying now– and yet it was beautiful and brave still.
The dogs came bounding up, every one of them, running up to the king and his men with their tails wagging. One of them leapt at Jill and licked her face, tongue roughly lapping up the sweat and tears that had dried on her cheeks.
“Show us how to help, show us how, how, how!” the dogs were barking, almost ebullient in their enthusiasm. Jill bit back a sob. How lovely, she thought. How terribly beautiful. How dreadfully brave.
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So perish the old Gods!
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The white rock gleamed like a moon in the darkness when Jill finally reached it. She ran back to it alone, her hands shaking, while her friends stayed forward with their gleaming swords and Jewel’s indigo horn.
The while rock gleamed like the moon. Jill’s first shot flew wide and landed in the soft grass. But she had another arrow on her string the next instant. It was speed that mattered, not aim. Speed, and turning aside when she cried, so as not to drip tears on her bowstring.
The white rock gleamed. In the myths, a wolf devoured the moon. Peter’s wolf, slain many thousand years ago in this world, opened his jaw wide and darkness fell over everything.
Her next arrow found its mark. After that, she lost track. She pulled, and she prayed that her hands kept still another minute.
The unique thing–maybe the appealing thing–about the Norse myths, was that they told men to serve gods who were admittedly fighting with their backs to the wall and would certainly be defeated in the end. Jill let loose another arrow, felt the white rock at her back, and she knew that the clawing fear–beauty–bravery deep in her gut was the same feeling that she felt on the heights. The same feeling, but a different face. You’ve got to love vastness more than you fear falling.
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“I feel in my bones,” said Poggin, “that we shall all, one by one, pass through that dark door before morning. I can think of a hundred deaths that I would rather have died.”
“It is indeed a grim door,” said Tirian. “It is more like a mouth.”
“Oh, can’t we do anything to stop it,” said Jill. Better to be dashed to the ground than it was to be devoured.
“Nay, fair friend,” said Jewel. “It may be for us the door to Aslan’s country and we sup at his table tonight.”
A hand tangled itself in her hair and started to pull. Jill braced herself hard, for a moment, until her strength gave out. She was standing on the edge of a high, Northern cliff. She took another step, and fell.
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Perhaps when the moment comes, our bite will prove better than our howls. If not, we shall have to confess that two millennia of Christianity have not yet brought us to the level of the Stoics and Vikings. For the worst (according to the flesh) that a Christian need face is to die in Christ and rise in Christ; some were content to die, and not to rise, with Father Odin.
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The world inside the stable was beautiful. It made Jill’s chest ache in all the loveliest ways.
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Build it again, O ye bards, fairer than before!
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PICK A CARD #1: WHAT DO PEOPLE THINK OF YOU
this is to tell you what common impression you give most people 💖
how to participate:
ask yourself, “what do people think of me?” and “how do people see me?”
choose the photo you feel most drawn to.
take as long as you need to choose, you can check more than one if you feel drawn to do so. however, if you are having trouble feeling called to any then this pick a card is not for you. these readings will be honest.
tip jar
1. people think you are shy and distant, that you have trouble standing up for yourself and that you hang back and stay invisible while other people shine. people will suspect that you act in underhanded ways to compensate for how you can’t stand up for yourself - manipulating others, acting smarter than you are, copying others to try and seem more appealing. they think you are giving and patient with others but work best behind the scenes and that you could be suited to teaching and guiding others in a quiet way. they think you hide your emotions, have deep thoughts and prefer to do solo activities.
2. people think you lack real direction in life, that you prefer to go wherever life takes you and that you are not stable. they think you are restless and that it causes you to act agitated, frustrated, strung out and even argumentative. they think you worry a lot and that you focus too much on missing out on things or focusing on what you don’t have and not appreciating what you do. despite the chaotic nature of your energy, people think you always land on your feet and have the energy and skill to keep yourself afloat. people think you keep many secrets and don’t trust your stories, believing that you lie a lot. they think you’re afraid to be alone.
3. people think you are magnetic, well put together and likely physically attractive. they think you rely on praise a bit too much for your own good and that you may not be as confident as you try to portray or wish to be. people think you are talented or pick up on things easier than others. they also think you have a good sense of timing and things seem to go your way even when you don’t deserve it. people think you indulge in gossip often and don’t trust you to be honest or be loyal. they think you don’t make good romantic choices or that you are too focused on waiting to be saved romantically.
4. people think you have a big head and that you can’t see yourself clearly, that you act more arrogant and entitled than you deserve. however, people do respect that you have good leadership qualities and don’t always mind that you put yourself in the position to be the boss, trusting that you will at least try to be fair when you feel you are being treated correctly. people fear your anger, thinking you are easy to get along with and then all of a sudden your mood switches and you are too angry - a volcano randomly erupting. they think you have good social skills and people may open up to you randomly and confide in you, but at the same time they think you are also cold and can become mean.
5. people usually like you easily, finding you warm, charming and approachable. people think you are a good conversationalist, a good listener and think you have high emotional intelligence. people think you are generous, giving and patient. they think you are good at being considerate and people often want to confide in you and think they can trust you. however, people also see you as slightly arrogant and self-centred and that you kind of wait for others and the world to come to you, that you don’t make the effort to be proactive and go after people or things yourself (that you can be lazy and lack purpose). people will also think that you can be fake and that you change your personality to fit certain situations or that you tell people want they want to hear and not what you really feel or think.
6. people think you are romantic and desire this strongly. they think that you hold onto toxic things, can’t let go of what’s not working and that you don’t stand for anything real. but at the same time, people think that you are never satisfied and always searching for greener grass - that you complain and self-victimise. people respect that you try and be empowered but think that you go about it in a way that lacks humility and integrity - that your “boundaries and standards” are sometimes just created in an attempt to get people to cater to you. people think you are anxious to please people you admire and can be overly loyal to them. people think you have trouble seeing things clearly and also think you are indecisive.
7. people think you are highly resilient and clever. people see you as someone who cannot be taken down easily and that you’re very switched on and street smart. people see you as highly loyal, responsible and dependable and think you easily connect to others and inspire trust in other people. people also think you have a childlike, playful and innocent quality so they are not walking on eggshells around you, but at the same time they find you judgmental, serious and think you have the ability to be very cruel. people think you are observant and know many secrets about people. you’re seen as heavily burdened but that it could also be your fault to an extent, this makes you also seen as a bit closed off and people think you prefer keeping to yourself.
8. people see you as very dramatic and that you “always have something going on”. people think you complain a lot, that you are depressive and mentally weak. they think you daydream about a better life but don’t really put action into it. people think you’re insecure and that you prefer to be more of a wallflower and watch people rather than participate in life. people think you lack common sense and the stuff you say seems very ungrounded. people think you prefer focusing on creative activities in your spare time and assume you may be into art, writing or consuming a lot of media.
9. people think you are someone who is very anxious and overthinks. people think that you easily get yourself into a rut and have periods of very low self-esteem and drive but that you manage to pull yourself out of it and make sure you get done what needs to get done - people see you as very up and down and unbalanced. people also think you don’t know what you want and you seem lost. people think you’re very secretive and that you are shy, nerdy and studious. people think you are not stubborn or arrogant and that you remain open to listening and learning. they also think you’re messy, don’t do chores and that you’re also likely unkempt.
10. people think you are a go-getter and that you don’t let life pass you by, that you take it upon yourself to earn money or create solid foundations to expand upon and that you can be a rock in others’ lives too - that others depend on you. people think you are a good worker but sometimes ruthless and amoral. however, people often believe you have your heart in the right place and that you have a lot of people you care about. people think you have a naive and unpredictable side, that you are attracted to “bad” things and have a tendency to indulge in things or people that could result in harmful consequences later (without thinking it all through properly). people think that you try hard to be the bigger person but that you only do it to be praised for being the bigger person and not out of true care for others or the situation.
11. people think you are always running away from problems, when things get tough (especially romantically) you just leave and start over and don’t see things through - you can’t settle in one place. people see you as fake happy and that your joy and positivity is a mask for deeper sadness. people think you are lonely and that you enjoy searching for answers and deeper meaning in things and hate superficiality - people may think you’re into things such as tarot and astrology and take it seriously, hoping it will give you all the answers.
12. people assume you have been hardened a bit by life but they think that you are generous, giving and wise (that you truly try to learn from your experiences). people believe that you are giving in an honest and true way and that you do it because you are a good person, but people think you can be overly submissive and that people try to take advantage of you - especially romantically or in the sense that people will sleep with you and then leave you after having gotten what they wanted because you overestimated them. people think your boundaries and standards are unclear and you don’t know when to give more and when to give up. people think you’re pretty emotional. people think you’re a bit awkward and have trouble maintaining a stable sense of identity (that you don't really know yourself).
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