Warning: Contains Spoilers!
Gamaliel Tumpin—the savior of Hagwood and the world beyond.
Aufwader’s Thoughts: This ending was a lot the first time around, and it’s still a lot on reread. It’s definitely one of the most elegantly crafted, yet deeply surreal series finales in all Robin Jarvis canon. Who would have guessed that the High Lady’s provost was nursing this secret obsession with its monarch in its fluffy little owl breast? Who would have thought that Gabbity’s curse upon it would come true, and that it would indeed fall from the sky, drenched in its own blood, slain at the talons of the Queen it so adored?
Stranger still, who would have even thought for a moment that the solution to the locked casket would be that Gamaliel would wergle his finger into the key? Robin, I have to know, did you plan that one from the start, or did it come upon you in a flash of inspiration, mere mintues before a deadline? Either way, it’s a gloriously, marvellously peculiar way to end this most weird and wergly of trilogies, and now that I’ve read it, I can’t imagine it working out differently.
And so, we come at last to the end of the Hagwood trilogy, and the final book in Robin Jarvis canon, barring the Witching Legacy, to date. May all who perished in the terrible Hag Wars be at rest, reviled or honoured as their deeds in life so dictate. May the trees of old Dunwrach stand tall, may bogles be brave and wergle pouches ever untidy. And may we rereaders remember one small shapeshifter’s courage in our own choices, be they myth, or sacrifice.
Matt’s Thoughts: Well, despite all the foreshadowing, I never saw this ending coming when I read this the first time. What a brilliantly clever tragic device – from Book 1, Gamaliel has been set up with the power to wergle into strange shapes and it’s all been leading to this chapter.
As always with the end of Jarvis trilogies, evil will be defeated but it won’t be a happy ending. The cost is always extraordinarily high. I really love the idea of Gamaliel now being a figure at the top of a fountain for all time. And doesn’t that second-last sentence just sum up every Jarvis book ever written: ‘His selfless act not only brought lasting joy and peace to the realm, it was also an inspiration, for all who lived through those perilous times and the generations that followed.’
One other interesting thing which I picked up this time – for one brief paragraph, the owl becomes male: ‘He had never seen her assume that shape before and the sight of it beguiled him. Had she done it especially to please him?’
It’s the only time it occurs as far as I can tell, so I’m fascinated as to whether the owl was male in the original draft of the trilogy then carefully re-written to become an ‘it’. (The owl is an ‘it’ even back in the first published version of Thorn Ogres, as far as I can tell). So are these two rogue sentences then something that slipped past the eye of the editor?
Regardless, it is a spectacular (and bravely adult) way of dispatching the owl from the story. The owl is almost literally torn apart because of his love for Rhiannon.
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