In Chapter 1 of A Wizard of Earthsea, Ursula Le Guin uses the setting to contrast Ged’s repressive and mundane home, source of “blows and whippings” (2), with the place he seeks out, the “heights above the forest, from which he could see the sea, that broad northern ocean where, past Perregal, no islands were” (2). The fact that there are no islands makes one wonder what is there, or beyond there. Ged seeking to climb higher mirrors his potential to achieve greatness and escape his ordinary life in Ten Aldars. The landscape itself promises the ascent into legend that is teased at the start.
Unlike the Shire, Ten Aldars was never meant to be an image of warmth and safety and all that is worth fighting for. Bilbo and Frodo are loath to leave their birthplace, and carry it with them through their entire journey. While I’m not far enough into the book to know how Ged later reflects on his home, when he is given the opportunity to leave with a mage, there is not even a thought of him staying. Though his home is just as naturally beautiful, and full of “all the people he knew in all the world” (17), his departure is matter-of-fact, and hopeful even, as training with a mage is the next step to fulfilling his potential. Where Bilbo’s departure is tinged with doubt—about whether he will survive the journey, whether he has any business going on an adventure, and whether he will regret not remembering his pocket handkerchief, Ged leaving home exudes an air of certainty. Like the vast ocean viewed from cliff-top, Ged’s small attempts at magic, and much in the first chapter, it is a promise.