Trollheart

No, you're not seeing things. This journal does exist here, but when I created it originally (nearly six years ago!) I had no idea of any structure or format it should take, so I basically winged it. It didn't work, and since I've returned I've tried to re-edit and organise it, and that didn't work either. Way too confusing, for readers as well as for the author. So I'm starting again, from scratch.

"Heroes never die" - Bryan Josh, Mostly Autumn, 1998.

Even from a very young age, mythology and tales of folklore has been my first love. Once I learned to read (about age seven I think) I devoured all the books I could on Greek, Roman, Celtic, Native American and most especially Norse legends that I could, ranging further and further afield as I explored the vivid and colourful tales of lands long vanished and peoples long passed away. These stories spoke to me as no others did; sure, there were fairy tales and fantasy, and they were great. But these were things that people believed happened. Fanciful, yes. Interpreting natural phenomena as the will or actions of supreme deities, certainly. But they always entertained.

And that's what I've loved about mythology. I'm not one of those who wants to explain or dig into WHY this race believed that, or why the other people worshipped a particular god or pantheon of gods, nor what these gods were meant to represent. I preferred, and prefer, to view them as wonderful tales passed down to us by our forefathers, speaking to us across the ages and reminding us of a time when everything could not be explained, and some things were just seen as being in the hands of all-powerful and inscrutable gods.

Odysseus. Hercules. Thor. Beowulf. Sigurd. Zeus. These are the names that still have meaning for us now, thousands of years since their stories were first written. The battles they fought (real or imagined, or even embellished), the struggles they contended with, the things they saw and the things they did, all have gone to make up part of ourselves, the world we live in today, and even now, in our enlightened twenty-first century, digital online world, there is still room for them, if only in Hollywood blockbuster movies, comics and books. These are names that will never fade from human memory, and deeds that will be spoken of again and again.

So, if you have any interest at all in mythology, or would like to learn about the legends of the past, then this could very well be the place for you.




Let’s begin then with a discussion on what mythology is. Well, put simply I guess, without reference to dictionaries and whatnot, mythology is a system of tales or stories, sometimes sagas of the exploits of people and even creatures who were once thought to exist by the people of the time. They are usually an attempt by those people to understand, without the benefit of science, the natural world. So thunder bangs and lightning flashes, therefore a god is angry. Crops grow plentiful, so a god is happy. Earthquakes, volcanoes, cyclones are all symbols of a god’s wrath and so on. They are also, of course, used by the prevalent religion to explain, reinforce and disseminate the powers, mercy or other qualities of the gods the priests, monks or whoever serve.

At heart though, without going too deeply into the guts of things, they’re interesting and entertaining stories we can read now and laugh at, but quite often they have some sort of a moral, showing the people that by doing this they achieved that, or by resisting this they avoided that; how kindness and forbearance is smiled upon by the gods, and how resistance to them is punished, how if we live the lives the gods ask or demand of us, we will be rewarded, and of course, if we don’t, we had better watch out, because there is usually (though not always, as we will see) a downside; a dark, evil, hopeless place where we can all end up if we don’t follow the paths of righteousness.

Most mythologies borrow from each other, and there are common strands to just about every belief. Unless we’re talking about a monotheistic society, there’s a pantheon, or collection or family of gods and goddesses, and they invariably all represent or have charge of something - weather, fertility, war, love, travel, beggars - you name it, there’s usually a god for it. The gods almost always live apart from the people they worship, keeping aloof and lordly, like kings watching over their subjects, and most often high up in the sky, up a mountain, on a cloud, making the rather heavy-handed point that they are, figuratively and literally, above us. Most gods and goddesses are brave, and perform extraordinary feats; some visit the mortals and mix with them, even reproduce with them, giving rise to a small race of demigods.

Most gods are seen as capricious and quick to anger, jealous (either of each other or of some mortal who takes the attention off them) and vengeful. They are, not to put too fine a point on it, not to be ****ed with. They mostly don’t care too much about mortals, seeing them as playthings to amuse themselves with, though if one pays them an insult they’re quick to respond, usually with deadly force, occasionally with a sort of evil malice, an appropriate punishment. Look at Narcissus, or Echo, or… well, we’ll come to all of those in due course. Gods usually demand sacrifices, the best way to be sure that their mortals still worship and acknowledge them, and in return will grant good harvests, plentiful women and a top-rate fibre optic broadband signal. Well, maybe not the last. But they’re seen to respond to prayers, possibly in a way the Christian God usually does not. Maybe he hasn’t got the best broadband line like they do.

Different religions, different mythologies treat their females in various ways. Some have them taking part in the adventures, being sometimes as powerful as the gods, or even more so, while some relegate them to just churning out babies and providing points of dispute that allow gods to go to war with each other. I think the Egyptians and the Babylonians have the most powerful goddesses, but again, we’ll get to that. Some gods are warlike, some are pastoral. Some like to instigate battles and glory in bloodshed, some like to sit among the flowers and read or write poetry. Some mythologies are completely self-contained, not touching the Earth at all, and told as a kind of history of another, far-off place, while some will intermingle with the mortals, though few if any ground their tales in the Earth. I think Native Americans would be a good example of a people who do.

Creation myths tend to follow very similar lines. Usually an ancient race of powerful gods, often the fathers of the gods the people worship, battle against themselves or their children, or their children revolt, the end result almost always being the defeat of the elder gods, who are more often than not used to fashion the world. Fathers tend to eat their children, but these children usually manage to escape this fate, and in mythology, as in cartoons, being dead does not really hamper your career, as you can come back from the dead in many, many way, often without any explanation because, you know, you’re a god.

Some mythologies leave everything to the gods. They fight the battles, they divine the secrets, they set the tone. Others need humans to do the heavy lifting, which is where heroes (sorry ladies; it’s almost always males) come in. These can be connected to gods - their mother having lain with a god, making them a demigod - or just devoted to one, or they can be ordinary mortals without any sort of divine lineage at all. They’re often princes or kings (or destined to be) but they can also be monks, simple farmers, anything at all. So you get the likes of Jason and Perseus in Greek myth, Sigurd and Siegfried in German, and Fionn MacCumhaill and Oisin in Irish, to name but a few. And then of course, these heroes need obstacles to overcome, usually guarded by a beast of some sort, bringing all kinds of monsters and creatures into the mythos.

Mythology can cross over and intermix with fairy tales and folklore: returning to Irish myth, the sidhe are the fairy folk of Irish mythology, and trolls feature in Norwegian myth, as do giants and huge serpents. It’s not much of a stretch to see that the one bleeds into the other, and that fairy tales mostly look back to the beliefs of the people of those times and now couch their figures in softer, less powerful terms, though of course fairies, witches and goblins can all still have a great effect on an unwary mortal. But they’re not worshipped, though they may be still respected, even revered, and nobody sacrifices to them. By the time fairy tales come along, the old gods are dead and have been perhaps somewhat emasculated into elves and fairies and other characters destined to populate children’s literature, and fantasy fiction; something nobody believes in now, if they ever did.

But similarities aside, every mythology has its own brand of interesting tales to tell, brave heroes and gods to introduce, and lessons to teach. Even if we take them (as I do) as nothing more than a collection of fantastic stories to delight and entertain, they’re worth reading and learning about.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Trollheart

After a few stalled efforts, I’ve decided to approach this in the way that hopefully will provide a decent update each post and also allow anyone reading to have the best chance of seeing something they may be interested in. So rather than focusing on one figure per post, this is my new plan.

Each post (I should say each update, as they may take more than one post) will contain one major and one minor figure from both Greek and Norse mythology, as I both believe them to be the most popular and important mythologies, and happen to like them both best. Then there will be a record of an event - from any mythology - like a battle, quest, discovery, wedding, whatever, or possibly focusing on an item - magic ring, sword, helmet, something lost, regained, manufactured, stolen etc. Then a story from a mythology of my choice other than Greek or Norse, and finally something from the “grab bag”: a totally random story from a totally random mythology.

Oh, and to ensure nobody thinks my own personal bias has gone anywhere, and to prove it’s alive and well and as active as ever, I’ll ensure each update contains a story from the mythology of my own heritage, Celtic. Not necessarily always Irish, but if not then Scottish or Welsh. That’s a fair bit to read, and will hopefully cover a lot of ground each update.

Of course, this isn't set in stone, and I intend to do special entries on certain aspects of mythology, but that's all in the future and germinating in my brain at the moment. Luckily there's lots of room in there!

First proper update coming soon.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Plankton

Make sure to add yourself in one of these updates, you legend of the Dvorak keyboard.

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See location...

Trollheart

We've got a lot to get through, so let’s get started.

Major League Norse:

LOKI

Although depicted as Thor’s half-brother by Marvel Comics, there seems to be no evidence, nor even any suggestion of this in the Prose Edda, the principal source of Norse mythology. Loki is an outsider, sometimes visiting, sometimes staying in Asgard, but more usually consorting with the likes of the fire giants or the ice giants, copulating to make monsters with his monstrous wife, and plotting the downfall of the gods. He veers from trickster to mortal enemy of the gods, but is fated to battle against them in the Twilight of the Gods, Ragnarok, the final showdown.

Loki personifies the entire spectrum of what is, or was, seen as, for want of a more accurate catchphrase, bad. He could be jokingly mischievous like a clown or jester, playing tricks on the gods and thereby confirming his status as a figure we see in many, though not all, mythologies, the eternal trickster. Small, practical jokes that often enrage the one upon whom the joke is perpetrated (usually Thor, god of Thunder) but generally amuse the rest of the gods, to larger, often unwelcome ones that put the citizens of Asgard ill at ease, and make them wonder just how far Loki will go. But Loki goes to the other extreme too, flying into rages, plotting revenge against and cursing the gods, forsaking their company to spend his time with frost giants and other beings, and planning the downfall of his brothers and sisters.

You can’t say Loki is not evil - he is, without doubt - but at least in the initial stages of the legends he is the acceptable face of evil, the one lightening the mood and kicking the often stiff gods up the arse, relieving the otherwise staid, aloof superiority of the gods. In many legends he is friendly to Thor, even accompanying him on quests and journeys, possibly where Stan Lee got the idea to make him Thor’s half-brother, though he is in fact no relation at all. There is some belief that he may have been a “blood brother” of Odin, though what that means in terms of actual family I’m unsure; it does seem to secure for him the protection of the All-Father though. Like many jesters, or men taken as such, Loki is wise and cunning, and somewhat in the mould of Professor Moriarty he generally uses his wit for evil, or at least mischief. He is somewhat shunned and jeered at by the gods because he was born of a giant.

This giant was called Farbauti, and his wife was either Nal or Laufey. Why Loki was not then a giant, given that both his parents came from that race, is unclear, but he is in fact a handsome, charming youth who can bedazzle the ladies with his wit and easy manner, and his disdain for and rejection of authority. He is the original “bad boy”, the James Dean of the Norse pantheon, and he does all the things we want to do but dare not to. He flouts authority, he laughs at the gods and he has no fears whatever of playing tricks on them. He does not consider them his friends, rather, people he can go to when he tires of the ice caves, but he knows he is always seen as an outsider, and part of him hates his fellow gods for that. He will eventually be driven to make a choice, and will choose to stand against the gods, endeavouring to bring about their ruin, and succeeding.

Loki has five children, three born of his wife Angrboda, an ogress (female ogre). Two of these are not human, in the terms that the gods are human. One is a huge serpent called Jormungand, also known as the World Serpent, whose coils encircle the world. Another is Fenrir, a giant wolf who is fated to fight against the gods at Ragnarok, the fall of the gods, while his third is the only human one, and perhaps the most dangerous. Hel is goddess of death, ruler of the Underworld, and she hates the other gods with a passion, perhaps because they revile and insult her father. Loki is also married to Sigyn, who lives in Asgard, the abode of the gods, and by her he has two children, Narfi and Vali.

It’s possibly true to say that Loki is the most powerful of the gods, in terms of what he can do, although power naturally rests in the hands of Odin the All-Father, whose rule is unchallenged. But each god is a little like today’s superheroes: they have one, two or three “special powers” and that's it really. Loki can change both his form and his sex, becoming a man or woman, or even an object, but his greatest power surely lies in his quick mind, which is able to devise schemes the gods could not even dream of, his intellect allowing him to evade capture and escape prisons others of the gods would have been hard-pressed to free themselves from, and his somewhat fluid relationship with the denizens of Asgard making him an outsider also allows others outside the city to trust him and work with him, such as dwarfs, giants and ogres, all of whom would have had good reason to stay out of the way of the Aesir.

The tale of Loki’s imprisonment and punishment is pretty graphic. Enraged after the trickster god had gone too far and caused the death of the beautiful Balder, gentlest of the gods (a tale we will relate in full another time) the gods chase him till they finally catch him. His son Vali tries to defend his father but the gods turn him into a wolf, who then turns on his brother, Marfi and kills him. The gods take Narfi’s intestines and fashion ropes to bind Loki and fasten him to a rock, soon after causing the innards to change into iron. The goddess Skade then places a venomous serpent above him, so that its poison will drip down onto Loki’s face. His faithful wife Sigyn remains with him in the cave in which he has been bound, holding a cup to catch the drops of venom. Every so often, though, she has to empty the full vessel and during those few moments Loki is scalded again by the snake’s venom.

MINOR LEAGUE: NORSE

FIMAFENG

Sucks to be a servant, eh? You can get in trouble by not doing your job, which is fair enough, but this poor guy got the short end of the stick for doing his too well! Just can't win, you know? The life of a servant is not exactly filled with adventure and quests, and things did not end well for poor Fimafeng! When the god of the sea, the giant Aegir held a great banquet in honour of the gods, the amount of praise Fimafeng and his compatriot Eldir received from the gods was too much for Loki, who, in a jealous fit, stabbed the servant to death, and was as a consequence expelled from the great hall.



MAJOR LEAGUE: GREEK

HADES*

Also known as Pluto, or Aides, he was the dark, grim god of death and the underworld, and ruled supreme there. He was a son of Rhea, and like his brothers Zeus and Poseidon, demanded a share of the Earth following the overthrow of Kronos. The three siblings cast lots, and to Hades fell the world below. He was probably less than pleased with the outcome - his domain was a bleak one: the five rivers running along its environs were named Styx, Acheron (the river of eternal woe), Pyriplegethon (the stream of fire), Kokytos (the river of weeping and wailing) and Lethe (the river of forgetfulness). Once someone had passed over into the realm of Hades, there was no return (except in the case of Orpheus). Nonetheless, he had a kingdom, of sorts, and in many ways it was perhaps more powerful, important and permanent than that inherited by his two brothers (Zeus, the sky and Poseidon the sea). Besides, he was probably unwilling to challenge his two brothers in what would be an uneven battle, and certainly he would have been weary (as would they all) having just defeated their father and the other Titans in a ten-year war.

Charon, the aged boatman of the dead, ferried the souls of the departed across the river Styx, which flowed into Hades, and once there they were received by Hades and his wife, Persephone. The lord of the dead had carried off Persephone from the world above, smitten with her beauty and deaf to the cries of her mother, Demeter. Indeed, when Demeter finally found her daughter, Persephone explained that she had eaten of a pomegranate that Hades had given her, and could never return to the upper world. Demeter would challenge this and change the bargain, but more on that later.

For Hades, any colour will do as long as it’s black. He dresses in black, lives in a black, or at least dark and gloomy kingdom, rides in a black chariot pulled by four black horses. He is, however, paradoxically it would seem at first, the god of riches. This is because all precious stones lie beneath the earth, and Hades is master of all things underground, so it’s actually a fairly logical premise. He sits on his black throne in the underworld with Persephone by his side and judges the souls of the dead. He was not an evil god, as such, but was possessive of his subjects and devoted to ensuring nobody ever escaped his realm. As a result of this he seldom left it, preferring to sit in brooding silence on his dark throne while events above him unfolded without his interest or participation.

It was not a good idea to cross him, as both Sisyphus and Pirithous found out to their cost. The idea of “cheating death” threw him into vengeful rages, and he could be quite inventive in the punishments he would dole out. Of which - you guessed it - we’ll be hearing more of later.



* This refers to the god; the realm he ruled will be discussed in a separate entry


MINOR LEAGUE: GREEK

PHAETON

Ah, kids. What can you do about their high-spiritedness, eh? When Phaeton, boasting to his friends that he was - as was true - the son of Helios, the sun god, and being challenged by those friends to provide proof, went to his mother, Clymene, she did what most mothers do in this situation, and passed the buck. “Sod off to Olympus and ask your father,” she snapped, probably. “I’m busy. You think oceans look after themselves? It’s not all roses being a sea nymph, you know!”

So off he went, heading up to the sacred mountain, where his father, Helios, relaxing after another hard day driving his chariot across the sky to provide sunlight and warmth, was surprised to see his sprog. Trying to reassure the kid, he asked him what proof he needed, and Phaeton asked for the keys of the family car, as it were. Helios, like any parent, was dubious about letting the youngster loose with his pride and joy and tried to convince him it was a non-starter. Here; this guy Ovid does it much better than I do.

"The first part of the track is steep, and one that my fresh horses at dawn can hardly climb. In mid-heaven it is highest, where to look down on earth and sea often alarms even me and makes my heart tremble with awesome fear. The last part of the track is downwards and needs sure control. Then even Tethys herself, who receives me in her submissive waves, is accustomed to fear that I might dive headlong. Moreover, the rushing sky is constantly turning, and drags along the remote stars, and whirls them in rapid orbits. I move the opposite way, and its momentum does not overcome me as it does all other things, and I ride contrary to its swift rotation. Suppose you are given the chariot. What will you do? Will you be able to counter the turning poles so that the swiftness of the skies does not carry you away? Perhaps you conceive in imagination that there are groves there and cities of the gods and temples with rich gifts. The way runs through the ambush, and apparitions of wild beasts! Even if you keep your course, and do not steer awry, you must still avoid the horns of Taurus the Bull, Sagittarius the Haemonian Archer, raging Leo and Lion's jaw, Scorpio's cruel pincers sweeping out to encircle you from one side, and Cancer's crab-claws reaching out from the other. You will not easily rule those proud horses, breathing out through mouth and nostrils the fires burning in their chests. They scarcely tolerate my control when their fierce spirits are hot, and their necks resist the reins. Beware, my boy, that I am not the source of a gift fatal to you, while something can still be done to set right your request!"

Yeah. That told him. Except, of course, it didn’t. Like any youth of that age, Phaeton thought he knew better. He was well able for his father’s chariot. Just let him at it! Imagine what those friends of his would say when they stared, open-mouthed, as he streaked across the sky, pulling the sun! But the horses, unused to the much smaller lad in the chariot, got spooked and took off at a hell of a lick, tearing across the sky and, according to one account, ascending so high into the firmament that the very Earth stopped spinning, time standing still. Then as Phaeton got a grip on the reins, which he had dropped when the horses went wild, they plunged downwards instead, scorching the earth, drying up the land and the rivers as they crossed Africa, and burning the skin of the people so that it turned black.

Eventually Zeus (though most accounts say Jupiter; same god really) had to intervene, sending a thunderbolt which knocked Phaeton out of the chariot and sent him falling to his death. The chariot, presumably, returned to Helios, who was so grief-stricken that he sued for compassionate leave, not wanting to drive the chariot right now. But the sun must rise, and make its journey across the sky, so back to work he had to go.

Phaeton’s epitaph read: Here Phaethon lies who in the sun-god's chariot fared. And though greatly he failed, more greatly he dared.

Perhaps a more fitting one would have been, don’t ask for the keys before you know how to drive the car, son.

TROLLHEART’S CHOICE: POLYNESIAN MYTHOLOGY

I’ve always enjoyed the exploits of what are generally termed “trickster gods”, sometimes even not seen necessarily as gods but as kind of cultural folk heroes; the kind of figures that mock all we hold sacred, to quote Victor Hugo, thumb their noses at ghosts, and just generally go through their lives doing whatever they want and having a good time, often while accidentally or not making the world, or parts of it, as they go. This guy has always intrigued me.

MAUI

With his name given to one of the islands of Hawaii, Maui is the trickster/creator god of Polynesia, revered and tales of him recounted from New Guinea to Hawaii. It is said that he was born when his mother put on a man’s loincloth and gave birth to a fetus, which she then wrapped in her topknot and sent out to sea. Once born, he fished up the entire islands of Polynesia with a magic hook from the sea. The story goes that his older brothers would never allow Maui to accompany them on their fishing trips, so one day he stole aboard their canoe and hid himself. He had brought with him a hook made from a jawbone his grandmother had given him, which he enchanted. When he judged the canoe to be too far out to sea for his brothers to try to return him to land, he emerged from his hiding place and began to fish. As his brothers, disgruntled at his stowing away (and probably also at their having been fooled) would not give him any bait he struck himself on the nose and baited the hook with his own blood. I suppose you could postulate then that Polynesia was born of blood?

In the Hawaiian myths, it is of course the islands of Hawaii that Maui fishes up, but there is an additional twist. Given that all the islands are seen to be fish being pulled up out of the water by Maui and his brothers, the story here goes that the brothers were not doing so well fishing and Maui told them that if they allowed him to go with them they would have a greater haul. They did so, and indeed got a huge catch, but as they strained to bring it in Maui warned them not to look back. One of them did, the fishing line snapped, and so there are less islands to Hawaii than there should have been.

Curious as to where fire came from, Maui went for the direct approach and extinguished all the fires of the people in his village. When his mother, fearing her people would freeze, sent him to the goddess of fire, Mahuika, who lived in a cave on a mountain of fire, she gave Maui one of her burning fingernails, but he dropped it and it went out. She gave him another, and it suffered the same fate. After several of her fingernails had been wasted in this way Mahuika lost her temper and threw fire at the trickster. Pursued by the flames, he called out to Tāwhirimātea, the god of weather, who extinguished the fire with rain. Frustrated and angry, Mahuika threw her last burning fingernail at Maui but it missed and instead lodged in a tree. With the power of creating fire now contained in these trees, Maui collected branches and twigs from them, and brought them back to show his people how to make fire by rubbing them together.

Annoyed at how quickly the sun travelled across the sky, leaving his people no time to eat or work before it set, Maui decided to slow it down, and with his brothers travelled to the east, to the pit where Tama-nui-te-rā , the sun god, slept during the night. They tied a noose around the cave and forced the god, by repeated blows of Maui’s enchanted jawbone over his head, to slow down or they would not release him. Tama-nui-te-rā agreed, and the sun was set in its proper course.

Although he enjoyed listening to the beautiful song of the birds, Maui was upset that nobody else could see them, and so he used his power to make the birds appear so that all could enjoy their song and see their wonderful plumage. Maui also lifted up the heavens, when it became clear that it was too low down on the horizon and was causing difficulties for his people.

Maui’s trickster nature turned out to be his undoing though, as he tried to be too smart. Wishing to lie with the goddess of night, Hine-nui-te-pō, and hoping to make mankind immortal, Maui entered her vagina as a worm, intending to exit via her mouth while she slept, but was crushed by the obsidian teeth in her vagina. Urgh! Not a nice way to go!

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

Trollheart

WHAT’S THE STORY?

I said this section would cover an event, object or journey, and I’d like to begin with the latter. A rare recounting of a quest undertaken by a female protagonist, and her revenge on her husband.

From the myths of Babylon, then, here is
Ishtar’s Descent into the World Below

Ishtar was one of the most powerful goddesses in Babylonian myth, and given that the Mesopotemians, including Sumerians, Akkadians and Assyrians all worshipped her and her pantheon, names cross and get mixed up, but I’m going to stick with the ones I know. So Ishtar, for reasons I can’t quite figure out, though it may have to do with attending the funeral rites for her sister’s husband, decided to descend into the underworld. Knowing beforehand how dangerous it was to enter her sister's dark realm, from which none could return, Ishtar charged her servant, Ninshubur, to wait for three days, and if she did not return to petition the gods Enkil, Nanna, Anu and Enki to engineer her return. Clothing herself in her most magnificent regalia she presented herself at the first of the seven gates of the underworld, where a doorkeeper refused to let her in. She threatened him with dire consequences if she was not admitted: “If thou openest not the gate I shall smite upon it, I shall shatter the bolt and beat down the doors! Yea, i shall bring away the Dead that are under the rule of thy mistress! I shall raise up the Dead so that they shall devour the Living, and the Dead shall outnumber the Living!”

The Place of the Dead was surrounded by seven walls, with seven gates, and this one was only the first. Nedu, the gatekeeper, fearful of the mighty Queen of Heaven, rushed to his mistress Ereshkigal, ruler of the Dead, for instructions. She, angered at the temerity of her sister, told Nedu to go back and let her through the gate, but to do so according to “ancient usage”. The dead were not supposed to bring anything with them into the cold place, so as Nedu bowed to the wishes of both his mistress and those of Ishtar, he removed the crown from her head. She, surprised and not a little indignant at such treatment, suffered it in order to gain admittance. At the second gate, the next watchman would only allow her to pass once she had surrendered the great necklace of power, the eight-rayed star. At the third gate she was divested of her bracelets of gold and lapis lazuli and allowed to pass.

At the fourth gate her shoes, at the fifth her veil, and at the sixth her outer robe was taken from her, until she finally stood at the last wall, the last gate barring her entrance to the dread realm. In order to pass this she would have to be naked, and so she gave up her clothes to the final gatekeeper and entered the realm of Ereshkigal, without power, radiance, majesty or beauty, and without, it must be said, the courage that had brought her here with such arrogance and confidence when she retained all the symbols of her power.

Seeing the dead, who were in a terrible state, she began to fear she might never leave this dread place, and begged Ereshkigal to be allowed return. The Mistress of the Dead, however, gloated “Thou art now in the land whence none return, in the place of darkness. Thou art in the House of Darkness, the house from which none who enter come forth again. Thou hast taken the road whose course returns not; thou art in the house where they who enter are excluded from light, in the place where dust is their bread and mud their food, where they behold not the light, where they dwell in darkness, and are clothed like birds in garments of feathers. Over the door and across the bolt the dust is scattered.”

Which I guess means “You in MY house now, biatch! You ain’t nothin’ without your fancy bling, and you can forget going home, nomsayin?”

Or something.

Anyway, Ereshkigal took her revenge for the temerity with which Ishtar had travelled to her realm and her authoritative, even condescending and commanding way of addressing the gatekeepers, demanding entrance. Well now, she had gained admittance, and the ruler of the dark places would make her regret it. She called on Namtar the demon to afflict Ishtar with plagues, which he did, and the Queen of Heaven became nothing more than one of the innumerable Dead, another lost soul in Ereshkigal’s realm, another supplicant to her power, another anonymous subject. Here’s what the Babylonian text says about it.

"After she had crouched down and had her clothes removed, they were carried away. Then she made her sister Erec-ki-gala rise from her throne, and instead she sat on her throne. The Anna, the seven judges, rendered their decision against her. They looked at her – it was the look of death. They spoke to her – it was the speech of anger. They shouted at her – it was the shout of heavy guilt. The afflicted woman was turned into a corpse. And the corpse was hung on a hook.”

Trapped in the underworld, Ishtar’s absence had a terrible effect on the surface. Being among other things goddess of love and sex, there was no physical copulation any more on the earth. Animals did not mate, humans did not engage in sex. Everything was grim and loveless. Seeing this, and fearing for her mistress, Ninshubur carried out Ishar’s instructions and went to the gods. Three of them refused to help but Enki saw with alarm the earth was dying; if nobody made love, if no children came forth, both men and beasts would die out and the world would be left barren. So he agreed to help. Fashioning two sexless beings over whom Ereshkigal would have no power in her realm, he sent them to demand from the goddess of death the water of life, which could be sprinkled over Ishtar’s corpse and bring her back to life.

Ereshkigal, of course, tried everything to dissuade, threaten or cajole the two beings from their course but they were immovable, and she had to provide the water of life, which revived Ishtar. Unable to stop them taking her sister, Ereshkigal sent demons to pursue her, demanding a replacement. The demons first tried to take Ninshubur, but as she had correctly mourned her mistress and carried out her wishes, Ishtar would not allow it. The same with another servant, Shara, and a third, Lulal, until finally they came across Dumuzid, Ishtar’s husband, who, rather than mourning her had been living it up in her absence. Big mistake! Ishtar agreed to allow the demons to take her husband in her place, and Dumuzid was dragged down to Ereshkigal’s domain.


MYTHOLOGY MISCELLANY

And now we reach down into the grab-bag of assorted mythologies to come up with…
Native American myths.

All right then. This is from the legends and tales of the Sioux people, one of the most famous tribes in western history. Flourishing originally along the banks of Lake Superior they moved south into Minnesota before being forced off their lands by the US Government and ending their days on reservations. But before they were sidelined and their lands robbed, the Sioux left us such legendary figures as Sitting Bull, who defeated the great General Custer at the Battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876, Red Cloud and Crazy Horse. This is a tale from their beliefs.

The Three Tests

In the hopes of gaining for his wife a very beautiful but demanding woman who lived in a village far away, and who set many tests for her suitors, a young man travelling towards the village was astounded at the sight of a man atop a high hill, sitting down and standing up at intervals. As he drew closer, he could see the man was affixing stones to his ankles, and when he had come close enough to speak to the man the youth asked him why. The man replied that he wished to chase buffaloes, but he was too fast for them and kept overshooting, so he was tying stones to his feet to slow himself down. Asking him to accompany him on his quest to win the lady, the youth took the man with him, and they travelled on until they met another man.

This one sat by a lake, dipping his head in, and when the two of them asked him the meaning he explained that he was always thirsty, no matter how much he drank. “When I have finished this lake,” he declared, “I shall start on another.” Convincing him to join the two, the three now journeyed on until they met a fourth man, one who kept looking up at the sky. He told them he had shot an arrow up into the air, and was waiting for it to come back down. Having joined the party, he and the other three picked up a fifth when they came across a man listening to, he said, the sound of the plants breathing in the earth, with his head lowered flat to the ground.

The now party of five (sorry) arrived at the village where the youth declared his intention to woo the maiden. The villagers explained to him how the girl set her potential suitors difficult tasks, and when he had agreed to undertake what was asked of him, led him to where a huge boulder overshadowed the village. He was told to move it, but bewailed his task as impossible. His friend of swift foot though, the first man he had met, shook his head and told him nothing was simpler. Putting his shoulder to the rock he easily moved it, it went over the edge and shattered, sending small pieces everywhere, which became the rocks and stones that cover the earth.

Having completed the first test, the youth was presented with a huge kettle of water to drink, and again despaired, for it would take an army to empty it. But his other friend, the lake drinker, disposed of it easily. The third test was one of speed, and for this he was to choose a champion to race against the fastest woman in the village. Naturally he chose again his first companion, he of the swift foot, and they set off. Evenly matched, they reached the halfway point when the woman declared she was hot and tired, and suggested they rest before making the return trip. The swift-footed man agreed, and soon fell asleep from his exertions. Seeing her chance, the woman got up and ran off while he slept, heading back for the finish line.

When the woman came in sight, alone, great was the anguish of the young man and his companions that there was no sign of their champion, but the earth-listener put his ear to the ground and said he could hear him sleeping. The archer then nocked an arrow to his bow, let fly and pinched the sleeping man on the nose with the arrow, waking him up. He jumped up, realised he had been tricked, and ran as fast as he could, overtaking the woman just as she reached the end point.

With all tests now completed, and thanks to his friends, the young man was wed to the maiden of the village.

Trollheart's note: I don't get what this story is supposed to teach the reader. The youth accomplished none of the tasks on his own; his friends had to do so. Why then did the woman accept him, when he couldn't carry out her tasks? Why did she not go with one of the others, Swift Foot or Earth Listener maybe? Was it enough for the youth to have proven he was wise or clever enough to choose friends that could help him? Maybe. Maybe the moral is that you need help with the toughest tasks, and that a man should always be able to call on friends?

And finally, as promised, or threatened, something from my own country.

CELTIC CORNER

Lugh and the death of Balor

Lugh was the sun king of Irish myth, leader of the Tuatha de Dannan, the gods of Ireland. Balor was leader of the Fomorians, a race of evil giant beings from beyond the sea, the eternal enemies of the Dannan. One day Balor heard a prophecy that he would be killed by his own grandson, so he imprisoned his daughter, Eithlinn, in a tall tower on Tory Island, to prevent her coming in contact with any man. Only a baby at this time, Eithlinn grew into a real beauty, but under the instructions of Balor her twelve ladies in waiting ensured she never met a man, nor even knew there was such a thing as a man.

On the mainland three brothers, Cian, Sawan and Goban lived, and Cian was known to possess a most wonderful and magical cow, whose milk was one of the most highly prized commodities in Ireland. Balor, hearing of the cow, plotted to steal her and so Cian sought the advice of the fairy woman Biróg, who told him who had stolen his cow and where to find him. Transported to Tory Island by the woman’s magic, Cian gained access to the tower wherein Eithlinn was imprisoned and in due course she gave birth to three sons. Balor, terrified that the prophecy was about to be fulfilled after all his precautions, commanded his henchman to gather up all three infants in a sheet and throw them into the sea. One, however, slipped from the sheet and instead fell into a bay, where, under the protection of Biróg it was transported back to Cian, who sent the child to foster with his friend, the blacksmith Goban.

Lugh grew to be a powerful warrior, skilled at every craft, and served the king Nuada of the Silver Hand, until he ended up fighting alongside him in a desperate battle against the Formorians. When all seemed lost, and even Nuada had been laid low by the evil power of the third eye in Balor’s forehead that struck men down, Lugh seized the chance as the eyelid lowered for a moment from weariness to cast a large stone into it, destroying Balor's eye and killing him outright. Thus was the prophecy fulfilled, and Balor was killed by a grandson he had believed had been slain at birth but who rose to put an end to his tyranny.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

The Batlord

I like Chinese mythology.

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Trollheart

I'll do something from Chinese mythology for you on the next update.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018

The Batlord

I don't actually know anything about Chinese mythology.

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Neapolitan

Are Goddesses and Women also going to be covered in this lecture series or just Gods and Men? (just cucurious)

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Trollheart

No need to be cucurious: obviously it will be both, as I just spoke about Ishtar and Ereshkigal, and there'll be others, though the ratio was always heavily on the side of the male, just how it was with most mythologies. The Babylonian/Sumerian one was one of the exceptions; Norse mythology barely acknowledged their goddesses, except as maybe baby-making machines or things for gods to fight over or possess.

Women won't get ignored here, though I think you'll agree that the title Of Gods, Goddesses, Men and Women would be too much of a mouthful.

Thanks for your comment.

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Trollheart: Signature-free since April 2018