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Achilles, Beowulf, Cúchulainn etc – Your favourite mythical figures and exploits

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E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
Grimløck;136862323 said:
fantastic OP. have you read campbell's seminal "the hero with a thousand faces" by chance, in which he posits that the fabric of mythology is wound by a single thread? i think gaiman does a good job of incorporating this idea into his sandman series by interweaving various mythologies into a single strand of fiction.

---

my favorite myth is milton's version of the judeo-christian adam and eve because he raises important issues of feminine autonomy in an androcentric society. it is very much a social commentary as it is a religious work. his incorporation of the narcissus myth in book 4 (i think) is interesting insofar that it demonstrates how pagan mythology is fundamentally interwoven into christianity, which is obviously prevalent in the bible proper.

one of my other favorites is camus's the myth of sisyphus, where he confronts the absurdity of modern life and asks if suicide is the solution. spoiler: it is not.

as you can see i prefer a relatively contemporary angle on mythology, where the source material is reconstituted into something novel and relevant today. that isn't to say that i don't like and appreciate mythologies of yore; i love the classics, specifically ovid's metamorphoses--the anthology is a wonderful source for various myths, both famous and obscure.
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Yes indeed, Campbell's work is a great resource for mythologists.
Zombine said:
What is the word on Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf? Is it superior to the Heaney translation, or just supplemental to that?
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It's a good translation, but shouldn't be solely relied upon. Tolkien himself wasn't very fond of it and regarded it as unworthy of publication.
 
HORRORSHØW

HORRORSHØW

Member
Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes. by Rainer Maria Rilke [translated by Stephen Mitchell]

That was the deep uncanny mine of souls.
Like veins of silver ore, they silently
moved through its massive darkness. Blood welled up
among the roots, on its way to the world of men,
and in the dark it looked as hard as stone.
Nothing else was red.

There were cliffs there,
and forests made of mist. There were bridges
spanning the void, and that great gray blind lake
which hung above its distant bottom
like the sky on a rainy day above a landscape.
And through the gentle, unresisting meadows
one pale path unrolled like a strip of cotton.

Down this path they were coming.

In front, the slender man in the blue cloak —
mute, impatient, looking straight ahead.
In large, greedy, unchewed bites his walk
devoured the path; his hands hung at his sides,
tight and heavy, out of the failing folds,
no longer conscious of the delicate lyre
which had grown into his left arm, like a slip
of roses grafted onto an olive tree.
His senses felt as though they were split in two:
his sight would race ahead of him like a dog,
stop, come back, then rushing off again
would stand, impatient, at the path’s next turn, —
but his hearing, like an odor, stayed behind.
Sometimes it seemed to him as though it reached
back to the footsteps of those other two
who were to follow him, up the long path home.
But then, once more, it was just his own steps’ echo,
or the wind inside his cloak, that made the sound.
He said.to himself, they had to be behind him;
said it aloud and heard it fade away.
They had to be behind him, but their steps
were ominously soft. If only he could
turn around, just once (but looking back
would ruin this entire work, so near
completion), then he could not fail to see them,
those other two, who followed him so softly:

The god of speed and distant messages,
a traveler’s hood above his shining eyes,
his slender staff held out in front of him,
and little wings fluttering at his ankles;
and on his left arm, barely touching it: she.

A woman so loved that from one lyre there came
more lament than from all lamenting women;
that a whole world of lament arose, in which
all nature reappeared: forest and valley,
road and village, field and stream and animal;
and that around this lament-world, even as
around the other earth, a sun revolved
and a silent star-filled heaven, a lament-
heaven, with its own, disfigured stars —:
So greatly was she loved.

But now she walked beside the graceful god,
her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes,
uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
She was deep within herself, like a woman heavy
with child, and did not see the man in front
or the path ascending steeply into life.
Deep within herself. Being dead
filled her beyond fulfillment. Like a fruit
suffused with its own mystery and sweetness,
she was filled with her vast death, which was so new,
she could not understand that it had happened.

She had come into a new virginity
and was untouchable; her sex had closed
like a young flower at nightfall, and her hands
had grown so unused to marriage that the god’s
infinitely gentle touch of guidance
hurt her, like an undesired kiss.

She was no longer that woman with blue eyes
who once had echoed through the poet’s songs,
no longer the wide couch’s scent and island,
and that man’s property no longer.

She was already loosened like long hair,
poured out like fallen rain,
shared like a limitless supply.

She was already root.

And when, abruptly,
the god put out his hand to stop her, saying,
with sorrow in his voice: He has turned around —,
she could not understand, and softly answered
Who?

Far away,
dark before the shining exit-gates,
someone or other stood, whose features were
unrecognizable. He stood and saw
how, on the strip of road among the meadows,
with a mournful look, the god of messages
silently turned to follow the small figure
already walking back along the path,
her steps constricted by the trailing graveclothes,
uncertain, gentle, and without impatience.
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Vigilant Walrus

Vigilant Walrus

Member
There is this awesome, incredible psychedelic early 80s cartoon called Son of the White Mare; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kq1nOAFCvaE < It shows the birth of the world according to Norse Mythology.

It's so incredible trippy, but have you guys noticed how strangely similar it is to the Hindu world creation?

It's like these GIGANTIUM etheral beings create the world from body parts and limbs falling off them. How strange that these nature based religions are so close despite being developed on each opposite sides of the globe and in different climates?



Nature religions is my favorite because there is some really profound wisdom in that they saw the circle of all life. In Christianity, people go to hell or heaven and that shit is forever. But in the Nature religions, everything gets to end ("Ragnarok") followed by the rebirth. Its almost like they understood the universe better than they possible could have, simply by observing nature and how things died and then was reborn.
 
E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
Tolkien's dismissal of Max Müller's theory regarding myths as a disease of language is always worth quoting. Max Müller also put forward the theory that all myths can be traced back to the solar deity; the sun myth. Of course his theories have been discredited. Tolkien was one of Müller's critics:

"Max Müller’s view of mythology as a ‘disease of language’ can be abandoned without regret. Mythology is not a disease at all, though it may like all human things become diseased. You might as well say that thinking is a disease of the mind. It would be more near the truth to say that languages, especially modern European languages, are a disease of mythology."
 
H

hunnies28

Member
Excellent write up Dantes, and thank you for including Aztec mythology.

A brief text of Aztec mythology, shamelessly stolen from the internets.

The first sun, the watery sun, was carried off by the flood. All that lived in the world became fish.
The second sun was devoured by tigers.
The third was demolished by a fiery rain that set people ablaze.
The fourth sun, the wind sun, was wiped out by storm. People turned into monkeys and spread throughout the hills.

Memory of Fire: Genesis, Eduardo Galeano.

This is the age of the fifth sun. After the destruction of the fourth sun, the gods gathered together to decide who would become the next sun. Tecciztecatl, proud and rich, volunteered, but they needed someone else. So Nanauatl, a poor god, was chosen. A huge bonfire was built, and when the time came, Tecciztecatl attempted to throw himself into the flame, but his fear overwhelmed him. Nanauatl closed his eyes and jumped. Ashamed, Tecciztecatl follows him into the fire. Eventually, two bright suns rose in the sky. Angry that Tecciztecatl continues to follow Nanauatl, the other gods throw a rabbit at him, dimming the sun and leaving an imprint of a rabbit on his face. This is why the Aztecs say there is a rabbit in the moon.

But even though they now had a sun, it would not move. The gods knew that they had to sacrifice themselves in order for the sun to move and the people that they had created to live. So, the world of the fifth sun, the Aztec world, was created through sacrifice. Men had to repay the gods with sacrifice to keep the universe in balance. This is why the Aztecs sacrifice; to prevent the fifth sun from being destroyed like the other four before it.

This myth is only one of several creation myths in Aztec mythology. This one probably originated from one of the native civilizations that the Aztecs conquered. The Aztec pantheon is just as diverse as is the mythology, but there are three main gods to speak of:

Huitzilopochtli: a god of the original nomadic Aztecs. He is the god of war, the sun god– but not the one of the four suns myth above – and the patron of the Aztec capital, Tenochtitlan. According to myth, he is the one who guided the Aztecs to Mexico. His mother is Coatlicue, who gave birth to him after finding a ball of feathers and tucking in her bosom for safekeeping. Later, when looking for the ball, she couldn’t find it, but discovered herself pregnant. Her other children, the moon and stars, became jealous and embarrassed, because a goddess was only supposed to give birth to the original pantheon, and Coyolxauhqui, the moon, incited a rebellion among the children against their mother. Huitzilopochtli sprung from the womb fully dressed in battle gear and defeated his siblings. He beheaded his sister, Coyolxauhqui, and threw her head into the sky to remain there as the moon.


Tezcatlipoca: The main Aztec deity, almost an antithesis to Huitzilopochtli. He is the night sky to Huitsilpochtil’s day sky. Controls man’s destiny. Tezcatlipoca is considered to bring war and misfortune into the world, and is rarely credited with good fortune. He is associated with royalty. The Jaguar is his symbol.

Quetzalcoatl: the god of civilization and learning. Quetzalcoatl himself was the second sun, and created the fourth. After the creation of the fifth sun, it was Quetzalcoatl who brought agriculture and learning to humans. He is the feathered serpent featured in the mythology of many Mesoamerican civilizations, not just the Aztec.

More here.
 
H

Herne

Member
Great thread.

Edmond Dantès;136782070 said:
Berserkergang indeed. As Howard D Fabing said:

"This fury, which was called berserkergang, occurred not only in the heat of battle, but also during laborious work. Men who were thus seized performed things which otherwise seemed impossible for human power. This condition is said to have begun with shivering, chattering of the teeth, and chill in the body, and then the face swelled and changed its colour. With this was connected a great hot-headedness, which at last gave over into a great rage, under which they howled as wild animals, bit the edge of their shields, and cut down everything they met without discriminating between friend or foe. When this condition ceased, a great dulling of the mind and feebleness followed, which could last for one or several days."

A very primal human condition.

In terms of the Norse Ragnarök; essentially a rebirth, a new beginning free of previous discord. A concept explored in many myths. Humankind's penchant for starting anew.
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One of my favourite stories about Cúchulainn was how the Queen of Ulster managed to calm him after he returned from a battle, still in the battle frenzy he was known for.

Returning to Emain Macha in his chariot, "graced with the bleeding heads of his enemies", and with the battle-frenzy still upon him, Cúchulainn was only stopped from circling the defences and screaming for a fight through a ploy of the Ulster queen Mughain. She led out of Emain Macha some hundred and fifty naked women carrying vats of cold water. An embarassed or amazed Cuchulainn was swiftly woman-handled into the vats. The first one burst its sides. The second boiled furiously, but the last vat became only very hot. Thus was the young hero tamed after his first taste of blood.

In this combat Cúchulainn displayed for the first time the dreadful shape of his battle-frenzy. His body trembled violently; his heels and calves appeared in front; one eye receded into his head, the other stood out huge and red on his cheek; a man's head could fit into his jaw; his hair bristled like hawthorn, with a drop of blood at the end of each single hair; and from the top of his head arose a thick column of dark blood like the mast of a ship.

My favourite mythological hero while growing up, though, was Fionn mac Cumhaill. So many stories about him and the Fianna, the band of warriors who maintained order in the name of the Ard Rí, or High King. Their motto says so much about them -

Glaine ár gcroí (Purity of our hearts)
Neart ár ngéag (Strength of our limbs)
Beart de réir ár mbriathar (Action to match our speech)

The trials one faced when applying to join the Fianna were severe, to say the least. An initiate had to jump over a stick as tall as he was - as well as stoop under one level with his knee without breaking his stride and, running at top speed, to be able to take a thorn from his foot. He was to be placed into a hole in the ground the depth of which reached his belt and carrying only a shield - he was then to defend from nine warriors who each threw nine spears at him. If any spear got through, or if he was in any way hurt, he would be rejected. He also had to learn and be able to recite by rote everything from the twelve books of bardic literature, which included over three hundred poems.

He had to have woven his hair into many braids and set at a run through the woods, while warriors seeking to wound him were sent after him having only the length of a tree between them at first. If he was overtaken and wounded he was not allowed entry, If his weapons had quivered in his hand he was not taken, If his hair was disturbed in any way out of its braiding he was not taken. If he cracked a dry stick under his foot as he ran he was not taken.
 
Collete

Collete

Member
Amazing OP, I feel embarrassed to admit, but I didn't know the legend behind Achilles till now.

For anyone that is interested in mythical figures and lore, I have had this book for over a year and it has been an interesting read so far: http://www.amazon.com/Dictionary-Ancient-Deities-Patricia-Turner/dp/0195145046

It states the lore of hundreds of deities and parts of ancient religion. It's a very good research material I believe if anyone is interested in it.

I'm actually researching into the Rusalka for one of my books.
The Rusalka were believed to spirits of young women that died by suicide, drowned at the hands of men or generally died by water and would torment the people on land. They have to live out the remainder of their days before they died as spirits. They have some similarities to sirens as they lure some men by their singing voice so they can drown.

Slavic lore is quite interesting and doesn't get a lot love unfortunately.
 
V

Verdre

Unconfirmed Member
Collete said:
Slavic lore is quite interesting and doesn't get a lot love unfortunately.
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Here's a bizarre little Russian fairytale from Robert Chandler's Russian Magic Tales from Pushkin to Platonov:

By the Pike's Command

1. There was Omelya Lelekoskoy. All he did was sleep on the stove. And he shat big turds – great piles of them, like sheaves of hay. He had to sleep in the middle of the stove – there was no room anywhere else.

His sisters-in-law told him to go to the Danube to fetch water. "But how can I? I've got no bast sandals, no foot cloths and no coat. I've got nothing at all – not even an axe." One sister-in-law began poking his forehead with a stick; another began poking and prodding him on the arse. He found some foot cloths and he found some worn-out sandals. He put on the sandals, he put on a coat, he tied the foot cloths, he put on a cap and he stuck a blunt axe under his belt. He took two pails from on top of the chicken coop. And he took a yoke.

He reached the Danube. He scooped one of his pails through the water, but he didn't scoop up anything at all. He put that pail down and drew his other pail through the water. He caught a pike. "Ah, my little pike! Now I shall eat you!" "No, dear Omelyanushko, don't eat me!" "Why not?" "Because if you don't, you'll be happy!" "How come?" "Because the buckets will go back on top of the hen coop all by themselves!'

The pails made their way back, and Omelya ran along behind them, batting turds along the ground with the yoke. On he ran, laughing away. The pails got back on top of the hencoop and he got back on top of the stove.

2. The day after this Omelya was sent to the forest to get firewood. But he had never done this before; never had he seen how people chop firewood. "How can I? There's no mare. There's no collar for the mare, no saddle girth, nothing at all!" "We've told you already. The mare's in the stables, her collar's hanging on the wheel spoke, under the bridge into the barn. And the sleigh's under the bridge into the barn too. Everything's ready and waiting for you!" He went into the stables – the mare wasn't there, her collar wasn't there, nothing was there. He opened the gates and stood under the bridge. "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, let everything be ready – bridle, shaft, saddle girth and all!'

Omelya got up onto the footboard and off he went: "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, let the sleigh drive off on its own!" Off he went, singing songs. But it was market day in the village. Everyone wanted to watch him drive by. He crushed whole crowds of people.

He drove into a sweet-scented forest. He found a dry tree that was still standing. It was very broad. He got to work with his axe, but the tree was too strong – he couldn't chop even a splinter from it. "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, let the wood chop itself! Let it pack itself onto the sleigh and tie itself tight!'

The pike chopped a load that stood so high you couldn't reach to the top of it. And it was tied so tight you couldn't even slip a finger between the logs.

The pike went on ahead, clearing the fallen branches. And Omelyanushko stood there on the footboard, singing so loud it made the crowns of the trees shake. Crowds of people ran out into the road again and he crushed everyone that was left.

3. The tsar heard news of all this. From the porch of his royal palace he dispatched a whole regiment of soldiers. Up they marched to the porch of Omelyanushko's hut. "Is Omelyanushko at home?" "Yes, where would I go? I'm lying at home, lying on the stove.'1 The soldiers began to rush about. Some fired cannons, others swung hatchets. But what did he care? All he did was play about with his bits of shit. And then: "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command!" Omelyanushko had only to lift his hand – and he felled the whole regiment.

The tsar sent a second regiment of soldiers. They hurried up to the hut. "Is Omelyanushko at home?" "Yes, I'm at home, lying on top of the stove. There's no one can scare me – I don't doff my cap to no-one." This second regiment didn't even go into the hut. They turned tail.

On the third day the tsar sent two million soldiers. "Are you coming?" "Yes, I'm ready now!" By then the soldiers were dismantling the hut, log by log. "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, get going, stove, and take me with you!'

The pike knocked down the wall, and the stove set off. It stopped by the tsar's porch. "Ignorant lout, do you know how many of my soldiers you've killed?" "But your most royal Highness, what have I done? Whom have I seen? Where have I been?" "Be off with you, you foulness and filth! Away with you and your stench!" The tsar was already feeling sick.

But Marya Chernyavka was in a room up above. Soldiers had been bringing her food and drink. And then Omelya had come. She had opened the carved windows. Omelya took just one look at her. "Be bound to me – be my betrothed!" Her heart fell ill. No longer did she eat or drink when the soldiers brought her food.

"She no longer eats or drinks," the soldiers said to the tsar. "All she does is weep. Her eyes are all red. She keeps rubbing them with her muslin sleeves." "Go and ask her," said the tsar, "if he said anything to her." The soldiers asked her, and she answered, "He said, “Be bound to me – be my betrothed!” And then my heart fell ill. Since then I haven't eaten or drunk." The tsar heard this, then said to two of his soldiers, "Go and find him. Bring him to me. Don't let him go.'

4. "Well, Omelyanushko, are you ready?" "Yes!" "Let's go then!" "Why?" "Because Marya Chernyavka is longing for you. She won't eat or drink. Her father has sent for you!" "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, go with me, stove! Come on lads, sit here on the stove with me – it'll be warmer for you!" And so some of them just sat there and smoked, while others took care of the fire and threw on more wood.

They drew near the palace gates. The pike took a besom broom and swept away all the turds; now the stove was as clean as a clean floor. They came to the porch. "Soldiers, bear food and drink to him! But first bear him in on your hands! I'm off to the forge – there I shall forge their wedding bands!'

The tsar went to the forge and forged six large hoops. He stuffed Omelya and Marya Chernyavka into a forty-bucket barrel, bound the barrel with these six hoops and cast the barrel into the Danube River.

5. Who knows how long they floated there? "What can we do, Omelyanushko? I feel lonely and full of grief. I want to set eyes again on the fair light of the world!" "Pray to God! Morning is wiser than evening." "Maybe we've been brought to land? Maybe we've been brought to yellow sand?" "No, my silly girl, we're stuck on a sand bank, the barrel will never float free now." "I feel lonely and full of grief." "Pray to God! Morning is wiser than evening.'

"By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command, may this barrel be cast onto dry land, onto yellow sand!" And the pike cast them onto dry land – them and their barrel.

"What can we do, Omelyanushko? I feel lonely and sick and full of grief. I want to set eyes again on the fair light of the world!" Somehow Omelya bored a hole in the bottom of the barrel. Along came a wolf and he began to crap. Omelya caught him by the tail and didn't let go. The wolf took fright and off he ran. He knocked the barrel against a pine tree, against a second pine, against a fifth and a tenth pine. The barrel fell apart. The wolf had set them free.

6. "Marya Chernyavka!" "What?" "You stay here! I'll go and have a look at that mountain. I'll see what it's like there." "Will you be long?" Off Omelya went. For a month and a half he tried to climb the mountain. He tried and tried, but he couldn't get up it. "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command!" The pike pulled him up. He stood on top of the mountain. "May a city stand here – a city finer than my father-in-law's! And with heaps of grain that reach to the barn roofs!" He got all this done, then went back for Marya.

They came to the mountain. She climbed up one stone, then up another, and then fell back down again – back to the foot of the mountain. She'd all but torn her dress to shreds. She struggled and struggled, but what could she do? "By my father's blessing, by my mother's blessing, by the pike's command!" And the pike pulled them both up to the top.

"Omelyanushko!" she said. "It's a fine city, but we can't live without food!" "Pray to God. He'll provide food and drink!" They came to the first barn. She crossed herself. "It's all right," she said. "I can see we won't be dying of hunger!" She came to a second barn – and she fell to her knees and prayed. Omelya took her into a third barn. Lord God! In that barn there was still more grain.

There they were. He took her into a hut. "Light the stove," he said, "and cook some breakfast!" She did as he said. All Omelya had to do himself was put the bread in his mouth. "Well then," he said. "You eat and drink. I shall go and call up an army.'

7. Three mornings he called up hosts of soldiers. Soon there was nowhere in the city to billet them all. He called up hosts and hosts. "Well, Marya Chernyavka, these next three evenings I shall call up provisions!" He sat down, he called up provisions. Lord God! Soon there was nowhere in the city to store them all.

"Now I'll go to the market and buy some fine bulls – after all, I have to feed everyone!" He bought twenty-five of the most expensive bulls. "Now cook them! I'll go and sort out tables and tablecloths." The beef was soon cooked, and he himself did everything else. "Sit down, soldiers! Sit down, my children! Eat and drink! As you served the fair tsar, so you must serve me! Do not betray me!'

He fed them well. "Now then, off you go! When my father-in-law's soldiers start shooting, keep all their bullets and shells! Keep them there on your knees! Don't shoot! Wait till I give the order – shoot then!" The enemy soldiers fired their guns. They did all their shooting and then they ran out of bullets. They had nothing left. "Well, my children, now you can pick them off. They'll fall over like sheaves of wheat in the drying barn!" His soldiers got to work. The whole city fired their guns and killed all the father-in-law's soldiers.

"Now you must come and visit! Now you must come and be my guest!" Omelya said to his father-in-law. "But you must be sure to close your eyes." The father-in-law closed his eyes. Soon he was sitting there on a bench, eating and drinking. "I've been here thousands of times, but I've never seen a mountain here before. Where did this mountain come from? Where did this city come from? Where have you come from yourself?" In came Marya Chernyavka. "It's me, father," she said. "And this is Omelyanushko.'

All proper hospitality was shown him. "Take him away – outside the city! Sit him on the gates, shoot him and scatter his ashes!" And so they did. They took the tsar away, shot him and scattered his ashes.
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N

Neffarias_Bredd

Member
My favorite Germanic story is about Thor's stolen hammer from the Poetic Edda...
LOKI told another tale about Thor--about Thor and Thrym, a stupid Giant who had cunning streaks in him. Loki and Thor had been in this Giant's house. He had made a feast for them and Thor had been unwatchful.

Then when they were far from Jötunheim Thor missed Miölnir, missed the hammer that was the defence of Asgard and the help of the Gods. He could not remember how or where he had mislaid it. Loki's thoughts went toward Thrym, that stupid Giant who yet had cunning streaks in him. Thor, who had lost the hammer that he had sworn never to let out of his sight, did not know what to do.

But Loki thought it would be worth while to see if Thrym knew anything about it. He went first to Asgard.

He hurried across the Rainbow Bridge and passed Heimdall without speaking to him. To none of the Dwellers in Asgard whom he met did he dare relate the tidings of Thor's loss. He spoke to none until he came to Frigga's palace.

To Frigga he said, "You must lend me your falcon dress until I fly to Thrym's dwelling and find out if he knows where Miölnir is."

"If every feather was silver I would give it to you to go on such an errand," Frigga said.

So Loki put on the falcon dress and flew to Jötunheim and came near Thrym's dwelling. He found the Giant upon a hillside putting golden and silver collars upon the necks of his hounds. Loki in the plumage of a falcon perched on the rock above him, watching the Giant with falcon eyes.

And while he was there he heard the Giant speak boastful words. "I put collars of silver and gold on you now, my hounds," said he, "but soon we Giants will have the gold of Asgard to deck our hounds and our steeds, yea, even the necklace of Freya to put upon you, the best of my hounds. For Miölnir, the defence of Asgard, is in Thrym's holding."

Then Loki spoke to him. "Yea, we know that Miölnir is in thy possession, O Thrym," said he, "but know thou that the eyes of the watchful Gods are upon thee."

"Ha, Loki, Shape-changer," said Thrym, "you are there! But all your watching will not help you to find Miölnir.

I have buried Thor's hammer eight miles deep in the earth. Find it if you can. It is below the caves of the Dwarfs."

"It is useless for us to search for Thor's hammer," said Loki; "eh, Thrym?"

"It is useless for you to search for it," said the Giant sulkily.

"But what a recompense you would gain if you restored Thor's hammer to the Dwellers in Asgard," Loki said.

"No, cunning Loki, I will never restore it, not for any recompense," said Thrym.

''Yet bethink thee, Thrym," said Loki. "Is there nought in Asgard you would like to own? No treasure, no possession? Odin's ring or Frey's ship, Skidbladnir?"

"No, no," said Thrym. "Only one thing could the Dwellers in Asgard offer me that I would take in exchange for Miölnir, Thor's hammer."

"And what would that be, Thrym?" said Loki, flying toward him.

"She whom many Giants have striven to gain--Freya, for my wife," said Thrym.

Loki watched Thrym for long with his falcon eyes. He saw that the Giant would not alter his demand. "I will tell the Dwellers in Asgard of your demand," he said at last, and he flew away.

Loki knew that the Dwellers in Asgard would never let Freya be taken from them to become the wife of Thrym, the stupidest of the Giants. He flew back.

By this time all the Dwellers in Asgard had heard of the loss of Miölnir, the help of the Gods. Heimdall shouted to him as he crossed the Rainbow Bridge to ask what tidings he brought back. But Loki did not stop to speak to the Warden of the Bridge but went straight to the hall where the Gods sat in Council.

To the Æsir and the Vanir he told Thrym's demand. None would agree to let the beautiful Freya go live in Jötunheim as a wife to the stupidest of the Giants. All in the Council were cast down. The Gods would never again be able to help mortal men, for now that Miölnir was in the Giants' hands all their strength would have to be used in the defence of Asgard.

So they sat in the Council with looks downcast. But cunning Loki said, "I have thought of a trick that may win back the hammer from stupid Thrym. Let us pretend to send Freya to Jötunheim as a bride for him. But let one of the Gods go in Freya's veil and dress."

"Which of the Gods would bring himself to do so shameful a thing?" said those in the Council.

"Oh, he who lost the hammer, Thor, should be prepared to do as much to win it back," said Loki.

"Thor, Thor! Let Thor win back the hammer from Thrym by Loki's trick," said the Æsir and the Vanir. They left it to Loki to arrange how Thor should go to Jötunheim as a bride for Thrym.

Loki left the Council of the Gods and came to where he had left Thor. "There is but one way to win the hammer back, Thor," he said, "and the Gods in Council have decreed that you shall take it."

"What is the way?" said Thor. "But no matter what it is, tell me of it and I shall do as thou dost say."

"Then," said laughing Loki, "I am to take you to Jötunheim as a bride for Thrym. Thou art to go in bridal dress and veil, in Freya's veil and bridal dress."

"What! I dress in woman's garb?" shouted Thor.

"Yea, Thor, and wear a veil over your head and a garland of flowers upon it."

"I--I wear a garland of flowers?"

"And rings upon thy fingers. And a bunch of housekeeper's keys in thy girdle."

"Cease thy mockery, Loki," said Thor roughly, "or I shall shake thee."

"It is no mockery. Thou wilt have to do this to win Miölnir back for the defence of Asgard. Thrym will take no other recompense than Freya. I would mock him by bringing thee to him in Freya's veil and dress. When thou art in his hall and he asks thee to join hands with him, say thou wilt not until he puts Miölnir into thy hands. Then when thy mighty hammer is in thy holding thou canst deal with him and with all in his hall. And I shall be with thee as thy bridesmaid! O sweet, sweet maiden Thor!"

"Loki," said Thor, "thou didst devise all this to mock me. I in a bridal dress! I with a bride's veil upon me! The Dwellers in Asgard will never cease to laugh at me."

"Yea," said Loki, "but there will never be laughter again in Asgard unless thou art able to bring back the hammer that thine unwatchfulness lost."

"True," said Thor unhappily, "and is this, thinkst thou, Loki, the only way to win back Miölnir from Thrym?"

"It is the only way, O Thor," said the cunning Loki.

So Thor and Loki set out for Jötunheim and the dwelling of Thrym. A messenger had gone before them to tell Thrym that Freya was coming with her bridesmaid; that the wedding-feast was to be prepared and the guests gathered and that Miölnir was to be at hand so that it might be given over to the Dwellers in Asgard. Thrym and his Giant mother hastened to have everything in readiness.

Thor and Loki came to the Giant's house in the dress of a bride and a bridesmaid. A veil was over Thor's head hiding his beard and his fierce eyes. A red-embroidered robe he wore and at his side hung a girdle of housekeeper's keys. Loki was veiled, too. The hall of Thrym's great house was swept and garnished and great tables were laid for the feast. And Thrym's mother was going from one guest to another, vaunting that her son was getting one of the beauteous Dwellers in Asgard for his bride, Freya, whom so many of the Giants had tried to win.

When Thor and Loki stepped across the threshold Thrym went to welcome them. He wanted to raise the veil of his bride and give her a kiss. Loki quickly laid his hand on the Giant's shoulder.

"Forbear," he whispered. "Do not raise her veil. We Dwellers in Asgard are reserved and bashful. Freya would be much offended to be kissed before this company."

"Aye, aye," said Thrym's old mother. "Do not raise thy bride's veil, son. These Dwellers in Asgard are more refined in their ways than we, the Giants." Then the old woman took Thor by the hand and led him to the table.

The size and the girth of the bride did not surprise the huge Giants who were in the wedding company. They stared at Thor and Loki, but they could see nothing of their faces and little of their forms because of their veils.

Thor sat at the table with Thrym on one side of him and Loki on the other. Then the feast began. Thor, not noticing that what he did was unbecoming to a refined maiden, ate eight salmon right away. Loki nudged him and pressed his foot, but he did not heed Loki. After the salmon he ate a whole ox.

"These maids of Asgard," said the Giants to each other, "they may be refined, as Thrym's mother says, but their appetites are lusty enough."

"No wonder she eats, poor thing," said Loki to Thrym. "It is eight days since we left Asgard. And Freya never ate upon the way, so anxious was she to see Thrym and to come to his house."

"Poor darling, poor darling," said the Giant. "What she has eaten is little after all."

Thor nodded his head toward the mead vat. Thrym ordered his servants to bring a measure to his bride. The servants were kept coming with measures to Thor. While the Giants watched, and while Loki nudged and nodded, he drank three barrels of mead.

"Oh," said the Giants to Thrym's mother, "we are not so sorry that we failed to win a bride from Asgard."

And now a piece of the veil slipped aside and Thor's eyes were seen for an instant. "Oh, how does it come that Freya has such glaring eyes?" said Thrym.

"Poor thing, poor thing," said Loki, "no wonder her eyes are glaring and staring. She has not slept for eight nights, so anxious was she to come to you and to your house, Thrym. But now the time has come for you to join hands with your bride. First, put into her hands the hammer Miölnir that she may know the great recompense that the Giants have given for her coming."

Then Thrym, the stupidest of the Giants, rose up and brought Miölnir, the defence of Asgard, into the feasting hall. Thor could hardly restrain himself from springing up and seizing it from the Giant. But Loki was able to keep him still. Thrym brought over the hammer and put the handle into the hands of her whom he thought was his bride. Thor's hands closed on his hammer. Instantly he stood up. The veil fell off him. His countenance and his blazing eyes were seen by all. He struck one blow on the wall of the house. Down it crashed. Then Thor went striding out of the ruin with Loki beside him, while within the Giants bellowed as the roof and walls fell down on them. And so was Miölnir, the defence of Asgard, lost and won back.
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B

braves01

Banned
I was on wikipedia looking up gods and discovered Epona is a Gallic/Roman god of horses and stuff. Legend of Zelda makes more sense to me now.
 
T

The Tofunator

Member
I’ve always found Fenrir to be rather interesting due to the circumstances by which he became an enemy of the Æsir. Maybe this is indicative of a major dissonance of values between me and the time when the myth originated, but I find it strange and intriguing that the Æsir continually speak of Fenrir in ill regard when Fenrir’s rampage at Ragnarok is a direct result of what they did to him. I don’t know about anybody else, but getting permanently trapped in a torturous position and isolated for years would probably make anybody rather angry at the ones who put them there. (Especially with how the one most responsible, Tyr, had previously been assumed to be trustworthy by Fenrir.) The justification for all this is essentially a self-fulfilling prophecy; as far as I can tell, had the Æsir not bound up Fenrir like that, or had at least killed him as soon as he was bound, they would have had one less enemy at the end. Tyr wouldn’t have had to lose his hand, and Odin would be able to focus on more important enemies to smite.

Of course, prophecy does seem to direct everything in Norse mythology, even the end times. Maybe I just hold “no fate but what we make” a little too close to my heart to accept it. I’ve never really liked the role of prophecy and fate in most myths, and especially how it seems to be coming back with a vengeance in today’s media.
 
L

LProtag

Member
Honestly, Odysseus is probably one of my favorite mythological figures. Not just because the Odyssey is such an important work of literature.

I love how clever he was. My favorite example is when the Achaean ships reached Troy during the Trojan War. There was a prophecy that the first Achaean to set foot on Trojan soil would die during the war. No one wanted to get off the ship, because they were afraid it meant certain death. Odysseus took his shield, threw it on the ground, then jumped on it. After seeing that he had gotten off the ship another Achaean named Protesilaus decided it was safe to get off, and jumped onto the shore... then Hector killed him.
 
B

BearFlexington

Member
android said:
I have Thor vs the Midgard serpent tattooed on my entire left leg... Trying to pick an "Eastern" tale for the right one currently.

M9YZOM4.jpg
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Whoah! That is a sick fucking tattoo.
 
S

SkyOdin

Member
Vigilant Walrus said:
There is this awesome, incredible psychedelic early 80s cartoon called Son of the White Mare; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kq1nOAFCvaE < It shows the birth of the world according to Norse Mythology.

It's so incredible trippy, but have you guys noticed how strangely similar it is to the Hindu world creation?

It's like these GIGANTIUM etheral beings create the world from body parts and limbs falling off them. How strange that these nature based religions are so close despite being developed on each opposite sides of the globe and in different climates?
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Because they are not so distant nor are they unrelated. Both the Hindu myths and the Norse myths share a common root, just as the people who passed down the myths share common origins. Both are descended from the Proto-Indo-European people, thus their languages and cultures are similarly descended. People in India and Iran are very close cousins to Europeans (at least more-so than other historical peoples). There are still some pretty clear linguistic links that can be seen in the names of gods between some of these various religions. For example, the similarities in name between Zeus Pater (Zeus the Father), Dyau&#7779; Pitr&#257; (lit. Sky Father, the father of Indra and other gods from Hindu mythology), and the Roman Dis Pater (as well as the later Jupiter).

For example, the Indo-European deity Dah-nu is still called Danu in both Hindu mythology and Irish mythology. A lot more can be found at this Wikipedia article.

Nature religions is my favorite because there is some really profound wisdom in that they saw the circle of all life. In Christianity, people go to hell or heaven and that shit is forever. But in the Nature religions, everything gets to end ("Ragnarok") followed by the rebirth. Its almost like they understood the universe better than they possible could have, simply by observing nature and how things died and then was reborn.
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I'm not sure I like the terminology "Nature Religions", particularly as something opposed to Christianity. There are practicing Hindus who will tell you that Hinduism is a monotheistic religion. These religions aren't something you can summarize so easily.
 
A

AngmarsKing701

Member
I've always loved the Arthurian legend. I'm surprised that Galahad isn't on the list in the OP. As was posted already, Lancelot pisses me off.

I liked the story of Gawain and the Green Knight. In college I wrote a poem, in Middle English, that was from Gawain the night before he was due to face the Green Knight.

Of the three titular heroes, I'm partial to Cúchulainn.
 
L

Letterbomb

Banned
I remember my AP Language and Comp class was assigned group projects. We were given a mythological figure at random and had to tell the story to the class.

My group got stuck with Atalanta.
ATALANTA.
The most boring piece of
 
ST2K

ST2K

Member
I have always had a tremendous soft spot in my heart for the story of Daedalus and Icarus. A lot of dimensions to that tale, and different ones have spoken deeply to me at different points in my life.
 
HORRORSHØW

HORRORSHØW

Member
Edmond Dantès;136930774 said:
Tolkien's dismissal of Max Müller's theory regarding myths as a disease of language is always worth quoting. Max Müller also put forward the theory that all myths can be traced back to the solar deity; the sun myth. Of course his theories have been discredited. Tolkien was one of Müller's critics:

"Max Müller’s view of mythology as a ‘disease of language’ can be abandoned without regret. Mythology is not a disease at all, though it may like all human things become diseased. You might as well say that thinking is a disease of the mind. It would be more near the truth to say that languages, especially modern European languages, are a disease of mythology."
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why did muller suggest that myths were "a disease of language"?
 
killatopak

killatopak

Gold Member
To be honest I only know a few of these people solely because of watching and reading Fate anime/VN.

Probably the one I'm most fond of is Cuchulainne or Lancer in Fate.
 
E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
Grimløck;136972192 said:
why did muller suggest that myths were "a disease of language"?
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He argued that myth was a kind of left over by-product of human development. Various myths and religion could be set out on a graduated scale of human culture with the ancient myths of some faiths as in his opinion decidedly more barbaric and child-like. The problem was that the barbaric, once treated as traditional or sacred, would survive against the ordinarily better judgment of later generations.

Essentially he believed that myth transforms concepts into beings and stories. In his view gods began as words constructed to express abstract ideas, but were transformed into imagined personalities.

For example; the Indo-European father-god appears under various names: Dyaus Pita, Zeus, Jupiter. Müller theorized that all these names can be traced to the word "Dyaus", which he understood to imply "shining" or "radiance". This leads to the terms "deva", "deus", "theos" as generic terms for a god, and to the names "Zeus" and "Jupiter". In this way a metaphor becomes personified and ossified.

The likes of Andrew Lang and George Webbe Dasent shared similar views on fairy tales and folklore. Tolkien in his lecture 'On Fairy Stories' attacked these views.

His lecture can be found here:

http://excellence-in-literature.com/childrens-literature/on-fairy-stories-by-tolkien
 
HORRORSHØW

HORRORSHØW

Member
Edmond Dantès;136985824 said:
He argued that myth was a kind of left over by-product of human development. Various myths and religion could be set out on a graduated scale of human culture with the ancient myths of some faiths as in his opinion decidedly more barbaric and child-like. The problem was that the barbaric, once treated as traditional or sacred, would survive against the ordinarily better judgment of later generations.

Essentially he believed that myth transforms concepts into beings and stories. In his view gods began as words constructed to express abstract ideas, but were transformed into imagined personalities.

For example; the Indo-European father-god appears under various names: Dyaus Pita, Zeus, Jupiter. Müller theorized that all these names can be traced to the word "Dyaus", which he understood to imply "shining" or "radiance". This leads to the terms "deva", "deus", "theos" as generic terms for a god, and to the names "Zeus" and "Jupiter". In this way a metaphor becomes personified and ossified.

The likes of Andrew Lang and George Webbe Dasent shared similar views on fairy tales and folklore. Tolkien in his lecture 'On Fairy Stories' attacked these views.

His lecture can be found here:

http://excellence-in-literature.com/childrens-literature/on-fairy-stories-by-tolkien
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an interesting concept to be sure and one that i'm not sure is wholly wrong. after all, "in the beginning was the word, and the word was with god, and the word was god." logos in this instance becomes an idea personified (or deified, if you prefer). mythology, like language, is the transmission of ideas, and i think muller's wrong in regarding mythology as a degradation or perversion of language because it distorts language, but not wrong in suggesting that imagined ideas are given a more concrete form. i'll give tolkien's essay a read when i have time.
 
U

Ushiwaka

Member
AWESOME THREAD. SUBBED.

I love mythology. There is just something to them that makes me smile every time I read a mythological story. How most of them influenced literature and archetypes makes reading them...kinda charming :) For my favorite myth or mythology in general... I actually love them all, but Norse, Celtic/Gaelic and Egyptian mythologies are the ones I'm more into :D

Can we agree that Egyptian Gods are the most fearsome gods ever? I mean look at them:

Sobek:

cabezadecocodrilo3.jpg
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The god of crocodiles was both respected and feared. Crocodiles were strong creatures. In ancient Egypt, an entire city was named after them: Crocodilopolis, and Sobek had a temple with a lake full of crocodiles. However, crocodiles were fearsome predators, and many Egyptians were killed each year if they got too near the river. Sobek was pictured as a crocodile-headed man. His sweat was said to have created the rivers of the world.
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Badass.

Sekhmet:

sekhmet.jpg
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Having once unleashed her powers for the destruction of mankind, the Egyptians feared a repeat performance by Sekhmet. The Egyptian people developed an elaborate ritual in hopes she could be appeased. This ritual revolved around more than 700 statues of the goddess. The ancient Egyptian priests were required to perform a ritual before a different one of these statues each morning and each afternoon of every single day of every single year. Only by the strictest adherence to this never-ending ritual could the ancient Egyptians be assured of their ability to placate Sekhmet.

She is generally portrayed as a woman with the head of a lioness surmounted by the solar disk and the uraeus. The name "Sekhmet" comes from the root sekhem which means "to be strong, mighty, violent".
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BADASS.
 
S

StealthGoblin

Banned
I am currently reading through Beowulf in Old English with a commentary by Professor Tolkien to go alongside it. I've been meaning to do it for years but the recent release of this version made it compulsory.

I have a great love of the older forms of storytelling. I suspect a lot of it comes down to the old style of oral story-telling that all of these wonderful stories grew from. My grandfather loved telling stories and I would sit by him as a very young boy and listen to a mixture of traditional and his own stories he had invented. He was house-bound due to an unfortunate string of heart attacks.

Nothing lit his eyes up more than when he was telling a story. I still hear his voice when reading some of the stories he told me.

He was the person who gave me my first copy of The Hobbit when I was seven and he would always have a copy of Gormenghast or some other modern fantasy story lying around on the coffee/tea table.
 
S

StealthGoblin

Banned
Grimløck;136988755 said:
i can't imagine how difficult that must be. i've read the canterbury tales in middle english and i found that daunting.
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It isn't too bad. I have the Old English version (which I am gradually learning), Tolkien's English translation and then his commentary. I should pick it up fairly well given the Professor's excellent insights and passion for the language.
 
HORRORSHØW

HORRORSHØW

Member
i've always been intrigued by the faustian legend of trading your soul for worldly fame and knowledge. germanic in origin, the legend of faust recounts the titular scholar bargaining his soul to the devil for carnal pleasures and worldly knowledge. this immediately hearkens back to the scriptural story of adam and eve, the serpent, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. in the faustian legend there's a distinct dynamic between the scientific and the religious, one that cannot be reconciled. does it speak to human limitations if you cannot access all the world has to offer without divine intervention? the devil mephistopheles functions in a similar fashion to the occidental notion of the djinn insofar that it does the bidding of faust, which of course is a distortion of how they function in islamic myth.

the story of robert johnson gives the faustian legend a more palatable story for modern consumption. i appreciate how legends and myths cross cultural and temporal boundaries, especially one that we can ask ourselves: do we dare bargain our souls (one that may be damned anyway) for a brief taste of fame and knowledge?
 
B

bidguy

Banned
edit: i guess he doesnt really belong in this thread lol

i like spartacus

enslaved by romans and forced to fight as gladiator managed to escape from his master with kitchen utensils lol

he and his gang were no saints but they stood up for freedom and tried to destroy slavery. they came pretty close too but in the end made little impact on the roman empire.

granted slaves were still around after his death but they were treated way better than before since there werent many around after spartacus rallied up hundreds of thousands who all died later. i guess most of the slaveholders must have been afraid of another slave revolt after that.
 
E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
Ovid on the Phoenix
‘Yet these creatures receive their start in life from others: there is one, a bird, which renews itself, and reproduces from itself. The Assyrians call it the phoenix. It does not live on seeds and herbs, but on drops of incense, and the sap of the cardamom plant. When it has lived for five centuries, it then builds a nest for itself in the topmost branches of a swaying palm tree, using only its beak and talons. As soon as it has lined it with cassia bark, and smooth spikes of nard, cinnamon fragments and yellow myrrh, it settles on top, and ends its life among the perfumes.

They say that, from the father’s body, a young phoenix is reborn, destined to live the same number of years. When age has given it strength, and it can carry burdens, it lightens the branches of the tall palm of the heavy nest, and piously carries its own cradle, that was its father’s tomb, and, reaching the city of Hyperion, the sun-god, through the clear air, lays it down in front of the sacred doors of Hyperion’s temple.

If there is anything to marvel at, however, in these novelties, we might marvel at how the hyena changes function, and a moment ago a female, taken from behind by a male, is now a male. Also that animal, the chameleon, fed by wind and air, instantly adopts the colour of whatever it touches.

Vanquished India gave lynxes to Bacchus of the clustered vines, and, they say that, whatever their bladder emits, changes to stone, and solidifies on contact with air. So coral, also, hardens the first time air touches it: it was a soft plant under the waves.’
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Like the Phoenix this thread rises.


The slaying of Fafnir from the Volsunga Saga.
Now Sigurd and Regin ride up the heath along that same way wherein Fafnir was wont to creep when he fared to the water; and folk say that thirty fathoms was the height of that cliff along which he lay when he drank of the water below. Then Sigurd spake--

"How sayedst thou, Regin, that this drake was no greater than other lingworms; methinks the track of him is marvellous great?"

Then said Regin, "Make thee a hole, and sit down therein, and whenas the worm comes to the water, smite him into the heart, and so do him to death, and win thee great fame thereby."

But Sigurd said, "What will betide me if I be before the blood of the worm?"

Says Regin, "Of what avail to counsel thee if thou art still afeard of everything? Little art thou like thy kin in stoutness of heart."

Then Sigurd rides right over the heath; but Regin gets him gone, sore afeard.

But Sigurd fell to digging him a pit, and whiles he was at that work, there came to him an old man with a long beard, and asked what he wrought there, and he told him.

Then answered the old man and said, "Thou doest after sorry counsel: rather dig thee many pits, and let the blood run therein; but sit thee down in one thereof, and so thrust the worm's heart through."

And therewithal he vanished away; but Sigurd made the pits even as it was shown to him.

Now crept the worm down to his place of watering, and the earth shook all about him, and he snorted forth venom on all the way before him as he went; but Sigurd neither trembled nor was adrad at the roaring of him. So whenas the worm crept over the pits, Sigurd thrust his sword under his left shoulder, so that it sank in up to the hilts; then up leapt Sigurd from the pit and drew the sword back again unto him, and therewith was his arm all bloody, up to the very shoulder.

Now when that mighty worm was ware that he had his death-wound, then he lashed out head and tail, so that all things soever that were before him were broken to pieces.

So whenas Fafnir had his death-wound, he asked "Who art thou? And who is thy father? And what thy kin, that thou wert so hardy as to bear weapons against me?"

Sigurd answered, "Unknown to men is my kin. I am called a noble beast: neither father have I nor mother, and all alone have I fared hither."

Said Fafnir, "Whereas thou hast neither father nor mother, of what wonder weft thou born then? But now, though thou tellest me not thy name on this my death-day, yet thou knowest verily that thou liest unto me."

He answered, "Sigurd am I called, and my father was Sigmund."

Says Fafnir, "Who egged thee on to this deed, and why wouldst thou be driven to it? Hadst thou never heard how that all folk were adrad of me, and of the awe of my countenance? But an eager father thou hadst, O bright eyed swain!"

Sigurd answered, "A hardy heart urged me on hereto, and a strong hand and this sharp sword, which well thou knowest now, stood me in stead in the doing of the deed. 'Seldom hath hardy eld a faint-heart youth.'"

Fafnir said, "Well, I wot that hadst thou waxed amid thy kin, thou mightest have good skill to slay folk in thine anger; but more of a marvel is it, that thou, a bondsman taken in war, shouldst have the heart to set on me, 'for few among bondsmen have heart for the fight.'"

Said Sigurd, "Wilt thou then cast it in my teeth that I am far away from my kin? Albeit I was a bondsman, yet was I never shackled. God wot thou hast found me free enow."

Fafnir answered, "In angry wise dost thou take my speech; but hearken, for that same gold which I have owned shall be thy bane too."

Quoth Sigurd, "Fain would we keep all our wealth til that day of days; yet shall each man die once for all."

Said Fafnir, "Few things wilt thou do after my counsel, but take heed that thou shalt be drowned if thou farest unwarily over the sea; so bide thou rather on the dry land for the coming of the calm tide."

Then said Sigurd, "Speak, Fafnir, and say, if thou art so exceeding wise, who are the Norns who rule the lot of all mothers' sons."

Fafnir answers, "Many there be and wide apart; for some are of the kin of the Aesir, and some are of Elfin kin, and some there are who are daughters of Dvalin."

Said Sigurd, "How namest thou the holm whereon Surt and the Aesir mix and mingle the water of the sword?"

"Unshapen is that holm hight," said Fafnir.

And yet again he said, "Regin, my brother, has brought about my end, and it gladdens my heart that thine too he bringeth about; for thus will things be according to his will."

And once again he spake, "A countenance of terror I bore up before all folk, after that I brooded over the heritage of my brother, and on every side did I spout out poison, so that none durst come anigh me, and of no weapon was I adrad, nor ever had I so many men before me, as that I deemed myself not stronger than all; for all men were sore afeard of me."

Sigurd answered and said, "Few may have victory by means of that same countenance of terror, for whoso comes amongst many shall one day find that no one man is by so far the mightiest of all."

Then says Fafnir, "Such counsel I give thee, that thou take thy horse and ride away at thy speediest, for ofttimes it fails out so, that he who gets a death-wound avenges himself none the less."

Sigurd answered, "Such as thy redes are I will nowise do after them; nay, I will ride now to thy lair and take to me that great treasure of thy kin."

"Ride there then," said Fafnir, "and thou shalt find gold enow to suffice thee for all thy life-days; yet shall that gold be thy bane, and the bane of every one soever who owns it."

Then up stood Sigurd, and said, "Home would I ride and lose all that wealth, if I deemed that by the losing thereof I should never die; but every brave and true man will fain have his hand on wealth till that last day that thou, Fafnir, wallow in the death-pain til Death and Hell have thee."

And therewithal Fafnir died.
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The above segment of the saga was an inspiration for the likes of Tolkien. Characters such as Gollum and the dragons were directly inspired by Fafnir and the manner of his death (Turin slaying Glaurung in The Turin cycle for example).
 
E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
In terms of Persian myth, the Shahnameh is well worth reading. A little over a thousand years ago a Persian poet named Ferdowsi of Tous collected and put into heroic verse the millennium old mythological and epic traditions of Iran. It took him thirty years to write the sixty thousand verses that comprise the Shahnameh (The Book of Kings). This monumental tome is one of the most important literary works of Iran and like other great epics, such as Gilgamesh, The Odyssey, Nibelungenlied and Ramayana, it is a record of the human imaginative consciousness. It is well known and has been adapted through out the Near East, Central Asia and India but is mostly unknown in the West.

The stories of the Shahnameh tell the long history of the Iranian people. It begins with the creation of the world and the origin myths of the arts of civilization (fire, cooking, metallurgy, social structures, etc.) and ends with the Arab conquest of Persia in the seventh century, A.C.E. A mix of myth and history, the characters of Shahnameh take the readers on heroic adventures filled with superhuman champions, magical creatures, heart-wrenching love stories, and centuries-long battles.

Ferdowsi was grieved by the fall of the Persian Empire. Shahnameh was meant to harbor the Persian collective memory, language, and culture amidst a turbulent sea of many historical storms and to preserve the nostalgia of Persia’s golden days.

Heroes of Shahnameh are often torn between incompatible loyalties: moral duty against group obligations, filial piety against national honor, etc. Some Iranian kings and heroes appear in Shahnameh as shining examples of courage and nobility. Others are portrayed as flawed human beings who lose their divine “charisma,” their loved ones, and even their own lives to pettiness and hubris. Ferdowsi stresses his belief that since the world is transient, and since everyone is merely a passerby, one is wise to avoid cruelty, lying, avarice and other evils; instead one should strive for order, justice, honor. truth and other virtues.

Shahnameh has survived as the embodiment of the pre-Islamic Persian soul, but it is much more than a national treasure. As a document of human collective consciousness, it reflects the dilemmas of the human condition as it confronts us with the timeless questions of our existence.
 
T

TheOGB

Banned
I've gotten wayyyyyyyy into Egyptian deities lately for a thing I'm working on. Sekhmet
thanks, Skullgirls
, Bast, Seth and Horus, shit is rad.

And shoutouts to the Epic of Sundiata, one of the most memorable things I read in high school (i.e. one of the only things I remember reading in high school)
 
V

Verdre

Unconfirmed Member
This is a thread of long posts, so here's another Russian skazka. Women are the heroes and the baba yaga isn't necessarily a villain so long as you can honor your side of the bargain. (You can't)



Vasilisa the Fair

In a certain tsardom there once lived a merchant. Although he had been married for twelve years, he had only one child, a girl called Vasilisa the Fair. When Vasilisa was eight years old, her mother fell ill. She called Vasilisa to her side, took out a doll from under her pillow and said, "Listen, Vasilisa. Remember these last words of mine and do as I say. I'm dying now and together with my parental blessing I give you this doll. Keep the doll with you wherever you go, but never show her to anyone. When you meet trouble, just give her some food and ask her advice. First she'll have something to eat. Then she'll tell you how to help your unhappiness." And the mother kissed her daughter and died.

When the merchant had finished mourning his wife, he decided to marry again. He was a good, kind man, and there were plenty of young women who'd have been only too glad to marry him. Instead, however, he chose a widow. She was no longer young, and she had two daughters who were almost the same age as Vasilisa. He thought she'd make a good housekeeper and mother, but he was mistaken. Vasilisa was the most beautiful girl in the village, and her stepmother and stepsisters were jealous of her. They thought she'd grow ugly if she were outside all day in the sun and wind, so they gave her all the work they could find. The girl had a hard life.

But Vasilisa did as she was told and never complained. And with every day she grew plumper and more beautiful. Her stepmother and stepsisters could see this, and their envy made them grow thinner and uglier &#8211; even though they just sat around the whole time like ladies, with their arms folded.

So how did all this come about? But for the doll, things would have been very different indeed. Some days Vasilisa ate nothing at all. She'd wait until everyone was in bed in the evening and then go up to her attic with some special titbit for the doll. "Here, doll! I've brought you some food. Listen to me now. This stepmother of mine's going to be the death of me. Tell me how I can live and what I must do!" First the doll would eat. Then she would talk to Vasilisa and comfort her in her grief. And in the morning she would do all her work for her. Vasilisa would lie down in the shade, or perhaps pick flowers, while the doll weeded the beds, watered the cabbages, went to the well and lit the stove. The doll even gave Vasilisa herbs against sunburn. Life went well for her with the doll.

The years passed. Vasilisa grew up. All the young men in the village wanted to marry her, while no one would so much as look at her stepsisters. The stepmother grew to hate Vasilisa even more. "No," she would repeat, "I'm not giving the youngest away before her elder sisters." Then she would send the young men on their way and take it out on Vasilisa by beating her.

Then one day, Vasilisa's father had to go on a long journey. Her stepmother moved to a hut on the edge of the forest. In this forest was a glade, and in the glade was a hut where a baba yaga lived. This baba yaga lived on her own and she ate men and women as if they were chickens. Every now and then the stepmother would think of a reason to send Vasilisa into the forest, but Vasilisa always came back safe and sound. Her doll showed her the way and did not let her go anywhere near this baba yaga's hut.

Autumn set in. One evening the stepmother set each of the girls a task. She told Vasilisa to spin yarn, one of her daughters to make lace and the other to knit stockings. Then she snuffed out all the candles except where the girls were working. She went up to bed. For a while the girls kept on with their work. Then the candle began to gutter. One of the girls took the tweezers. And then, as if by mistake, instead of trimming the wick, she extinguished the candle &#8211; just as her mother had told her to. "What can we do now?" said the girls. "There isn't a light in the house and we haven't nearly finished our work. Someone will have to go round to the baba yaga's." "I'm not going," said the one who was making lace. "I can see by the light of my pins." "I'm not going," said the one who was knitting stockings. "I can see by the light of my knitting needles." "Then it will have to be you!" the two girls shouted at Vasilisa. "Go on. Go and see Baba Yaga!" And they pushed her out of the room.

Vasilisa went up to her attic, laid out the supper she'd prepared for her doll and said, "Here, doll! I've brought you some food. Listen to me now. They want me to go to the baba yaga to ask for a light. She'll eat me alive!" The doll ate her food. Her two eyes shone bright as candles. "Have no fear, O Vasilisa the Fair! Do as they say, but be sure to take me with you. Baba Yaga can do you no harm as long as I'm there.'

So Vasilisa put on her coat, put her doll in her pocket, crossed herself and set off into the deep forest.

Vasilisa walked on, trembling and trembling. Then a horseman swept by. His face was white, he was dressed in white and he was riding a white horse with white trappings. Day began to dawn.

She walked on further. Another horseman came by. His face was red, he was dressed in red and he was riding a red horse. Then the sun rose.

Vasilisa had walked all through the night, and now she walked all through the day. Late in the evening she came to the baba yaga's hut. Round the hut was a fence made of bones. Skulls with empty eyeholes looked down from the stakes. The gate was made from the bones of people's legs, the bolts were thumbs and fingers, and the lock was a mouth with sharp teeth. Vasilisa was too scared to move. Then another horseman galloped up. His face was black, he was dressed in black and he was riding a black horse. He rode through the gate and vanished, as if the earth had swallowed him up. Night fell. But the darkness did not last long. All the eyes in the skulls on the fence began to glow and the glade grew bright as day. Vasilisa trembled in terror but, not knowing which way to run, she stood there without moving.

Then the forest was filled with a terrible noise. The trees creaked and cracked, the dead leaves crackled and crunched &#8211; and there was the baba yaga. She was riding on her mortar, spurring it on with her pestle, sweeping away her tracks with a broom. She rode up to the gate, sniffed all around her and called out, "Foo, foo! I smell the blood of a Russian! Who is it?" Trembling with fear, Vasilisa went up to the old woman, gave a deep bow and said, "Grandmother, it's me. My stepsisters sent me to ask for a light." "Very well," said the baba yaga. "I know those sisters of yours. But first you must stay and work for me. If you do as I say, then I'll give you a light. But if you don't, then I'll eat you for dinner." Then she turned to the gate and shouted, "Slide back, strong bolts! Open up, broad gate!" The gate opened. The baba yaga whistled as she rode in. Vasilisa walked in after her. The gate swung to and bolted itself behind her.

The baba yaga stretched herself out on a bench and said to Vasilisa. "I'm hungry. Bring me whatever you find in the stove." Vasilisa lit a taper from the skulls on the fence and began taking out the baba yaga's dinner. There was enough to feed ten strong men. Then she went down to the cellar to fetch kvas, mead, beer and wine. The old woman ate and drank everything Vasilisa put in front of her. All she left the girl was a half-bowl of cabbage soup, a crust of bread and a scrap of pork. The baba yaga lay down in her bed and said, "Tomorrow morning, after I go, you must clean the yard, sweep the hut, cook the supper and wash the linen. Then you must go to the corn bin and sort through a bushel of wheat. And if you're not finished by the time I get back, I'll eat you." After giving these orders, the baba yaga began to snore. Vasilisa took her doll out of her pocket, placed the baba yaga's leftovers before her, burst out crying and said, "There, doll, I've brought you some food. Listen to me now. The baba yaga's set me a hard task. And she says that, if I don't finish it in time, she'll eat me. What can I do?" "Have no fear, O Vasilisa the Fair. Eat your supper, pray and have a good sleep. Mornings are wiser than evenings.'

Vasilisa woke early, but the baba yaga had already risen. Vasilisa looked outside: the light in the skulls" eyes was already fading. The white horseman swept by and day began to dawn. The baba yaga went out into the yard. She whistled &#8211; and there were her pestle, mortar and broom. The red horseman flashed by &#8211; and the sun rose. The baba yaga sat in her mortar and rode off, spurring it on with her pestle and sweeping away her tracks with her broom. Vasilisa was left on her own. She went slowly round the baba yaga's hut. Never in her life had she seen such abundance. Then she stopped, wondering where to begin with her work. She looked around &#8211; and realized there was nothing left to do. The doll was standing by the corn bin, picking out the last grain of chaff from the wheat. "My saviour!" said Vasilisa. "You've delivered me from death." "All you have to do now is prepare the supper," said the doll as she climbed back into Vasilisa's pocket. "Cook it with God's help &#8211; and then you can have a good rest.'

Towards evening Vasilisa put everything ready on the table and sat down to wait for the baba yaga. It began to get darker. The black horseman flashed past the gate &#8211; and it was night. The only light was from the skulls on the fence. The trees creaked and cracked, the dead leaves crackled and crunched, and there was the baba yaga. Vasilisa went out to meet her. "Is everything ready?" asked the baba yaga. "See for yourself, grandmother," said Vasilisa. The baba yaga looked round the hut. She could see there was nothing for her to get cross about &#8211; and this made her crosser than ever. "Very good," she said, and then called out, "My friends, my faithful servants, grind my wheat." Three pairs of hands appeared. They took the wheat and carried it out of sight. The baba yaga ate her fill, lay down in her bed and said to Vasilisa, "Tomorrow you must do the same as today. But then you must go to the storeroom and sort through the poppy seeds. I want them perfectly clean. Someone threw dirt in the bin to spite me." The old woman turned towards the wall and began to snore. Vasilisa fed her doll. The doll ate her supper and said, "Pray to God and then go to sleep. Mornings are wiser than evenings. Everything will be done, my dear Vasilisa!'

In the morning the baba yaga rode off again in her mortar. Vasilisa and the doll finished the housework in no time at all. The old woman came back in the evening, had a good look round and called out, "My friends, my faithful servants, press the oil from these poppy seeds." Three pairs of hands appeared. They took the poppy seeds and carried them out of sight. The baba yaga sat down to eat. Vasilisa stood there without saying a word. "Why don't you say anything?" asked the baba yaga. "Anyone would think you were mute." "I didn't dare," answered Vasilisa. "But if you'll allow me, there are a few things I'd like to ask about." "Ask away!" said the baba yaga. "But take care. Not every question has a good answer. The more you know, the sooner you grow old." "Grandmother, I only want to ask about what I saw on the way here. First a man rode past on a white horse. He had a white face and he was dressed all in white. Who was he?" "That was my Bright Day," answered the baba yaga. "Then I was overtaken by a man on a red horse. He had a red face and he was dressed all in red. Who was he?" "That was my Red Sun," answered the baba yaga. "And then who was the black horseman who came past while I was standing outside your gate?" "That was my Black Night. The three of them are my faithful servants.'

Vasilisa remembered the three pairs of hands and kept her mouth shut. "Don't you want to ask about anything else?" asked the baba yaga. "No, grandmother, that's enough. You said yourself that the more one knows, the sooner one grows old." "Very good," said the baba yaga. "I'm glad you only asked about what you saw on the way. I don't like my dirty linen being washed in public and if people are too inquisitive, I eat them. And now I've got a question for you. How did you manage to get all the work done so quickly?" "It's my mother's blessing that helps me. I could never have done it all on my own." "Oh, so it's like that, is it?" said the baba yaga. "You'd better be off then, O blessed daughter. We don't want anyone blessed round here." She dragged Vasilisa out of the room and pushed her outside the gate. Then she took one of the skulls with blazing eyes, stuck it on the end of a stick and gave it to the girl, saying, "Here's a light for your stepsisters. That's what you came here for, isn't it?'

Vasilisa ran off as fast as her legs could carry her. The skull's eyes lit up the path, and they didn't go out until dawn. She walked all through the next day, and by evening she was nearly home. She was about to throw the skull into some bushes &#8211; after all, her sisters couldn't be needing a light any longer, could they? &#8211; when she heard a muffled voice from inside the skull. "No, don't throw me away. Take me to your stepmother.'

She looked up at the house. Not in a single window was there any light to be seen: maybe they did need the skull after all. For the very first time, her stepmother and stepsisters greeted Vasilisa kindly. They said they hadn't had a light or a fire in the house since Vasilisa had left. None of them had been able to strike a light herself and, whenever they had tried to bring one back from a neighbour, it had gone out as they crossed the threshold. Vasilisa carried the skull in. The skull began to stare at the stepmother and the two stepsisters. Its eyes burned and burned. The three of them tried to hide, but the eyes followed them wherever they went. By morning they were burned to cinders. Vasilisa was left on her own.

Vasilisa buried the skull in the garden, locked up the house, went to the town and began to live with an old woman who had no family. She was hoping her father would come back soon. One day she said to the old woman, "Grandmother, it's boring with nothing to do. Go and get me the best flax you can find. I want to do some spinning." The old woman bought some good flax. Vasilisa was quick-fingered, and the yarn she spun was fine and even. It was soon time to start weaving the yarn, but there were no spools fine enough for Vasilisa's yarn. She couldn't find anyone who could make one, so she asked her doll. The doll replied, "Just bring me any old reed, an old shuttle and a horse's mane. I'll make everything in no time at all.'

Vasilisa did as her doll said, went to sleep and found a splendid loom waiting for her the next morning.

By the end of the winter she had finished weaving her cloth, a cloth so fine you could draw it through the eye of a needle. When spring came, they bleached the cloth and Vasilisa said to the old woman, "Grandmother, take this cloth and sell it. Keep the money yourself." The old woman looked at the cloth and gasped. "No, my child. No one can wear cloth like this except the tsar. I'm going straight to his palace." The old woman went to the palace and began walking up and down outside the tsar's window. The tsar saw her and called out, "What is it, grandmother? What do you want?" "your Majesty, I've brought you some wonderful merchandise. But I don't want to show it to anyone except you." The tsar had the old woman let in. She showed him her cloth. He gazed at it in amazement. "How much do you want for it?" he asked. "I can't put a price on it, your Highness. I've brought it to you as a gift." The tsar thanked her, had her given some presents and sent her back home.

He wanted to have some shirts made from this cloth. He had them cut out, but nowhere could anyone find a seamstress who was able to sew them. In the end he called the old woman and said, "It was you who span the yarn and made the cloth. You must be able to sew it into shirts for me." "No, your Majesty, I didn't do the work myself. It's the work of an orphan girl who lives with me." "Well then, ask her to sew the shirts." The old woman went back home and told Vasilisa what the tsar had said. Vasilisa smiled. "I knew all along," she said, "that I'd end up having to do this myself." She shut herself up in her room and began sewing. She didn't stop till she'd made a dozen shirts.

The old woman took the shirts to the tsar. Vasilisa washed, did her hair, put on her best clothes and sat down by the window. Soon one of the tsar's servants came by. He knocked on the door, entered and said, "The tsar wishes to see the seamstress who sewed his wonderful shirts. She must go to the palace to receive her reward from his royal hands." Vasilisa went to the palace. As soon as the tsar saw Vasilisa the Fair, he fell head over heels in love with her. "No, my beauty, I shall never part with you. You must be my wife." The tsar took Vasilisa by her fair hands and sat her down beside him. They were married then and there. Soon Vasilisa's father came back and was overjoyed to hear of her good fortune. He and the old woman both came to live at the palace. As for the doll, Vasilisa carried her around in her pocket until the day she died.
Click to expand...

A Ivan Bilibin illustration of the tale:
380px-Vasilisa.jpg
 
M

massoluk

Banned
Without a doubt,

Karna from Mahabharata.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karna

Karna was the son of Surya (a solar deity) and Kunti. He was born to Kunti before her marriage with Pandu. Karna was the closest friend of Duryodhana and fought on his behalf against the Pandavas (his brothers) in the famous Kurukshetra war. Karna fought against misfortune throughout his life and kept his word under all circumstances. Many admire him for his courage and generosity
Click to expand...

The mightiest warrior in Mahabharata, although sided with the "bad guy", he's admired by everyone. All the good shits you loved about Archilles, Irwin Rommel, and Beowulves rolled into one. The perfect incarnation of loyalty and courage.
 
E

Eternal Gamer

Member
The game Destiny of Spirits from Vita has got me into reading a lot of mythology and folklore, the most recent surprise finding was that mayans had a godness for suicides called Ixtab, on the lighter side of things I found interesting the story of White Bufflo Maiden from north american natives, is very similar to stories of the Virgin Mary apparitions to natives in the colonial South America.
 
E

Edmond Dantès

Dantès the White
More from Norse mythology: The Ballad of Vafthruthnir
This poem is essentially encyclopedic in character, and was particularly useful to Snorri Sturluson in his preparation of the Prose Edda. The poem is wholly in dialogue form except for a single narrative stanza (stanza 5). After a brief introductory discussion between Othin and his wife, Frigg, concerning the reputed wisdom of the giant Vafthruthnir, Othin, always in quest of wisdom, seeks out the giant, calling himself Gagnrath. The giant immediately insists that they shall demonstrate which is the wiser of the two, and propounds four questions (stanzas 11, 13, 15, and 17), each of which Othin answers. It is then the god's turn to ask, and he begins with a series of twelve numbered questions regarding the origins and past history of life. These Vafthruthnir answers, and Othin asks five more questions, this time referring to what is to follow the destruction of the gods, the last one asking the name of his own slayer. Again Vafthruthnir answers, and Othin finally propounds the unanswerable question: "What spake Othin himself in the ears of his son, ere in the bale-fire he burned?" Vafthruthnir, recognizing his questioner as Othin himself, admits his inferiority in wisdom, and so the contest ends.
Othin spake:
1, "Counsel me, Frigg, for I long to fare,
And Vafthruthnir fain would find;
fit wisdom old with the giant wise
Myself would I seek to match."

Frigg spake:
2. "Heerfather here at home would I keep,
Where the gods together dwell;
Amid all the giants an equal in might
To Vafthruthnir know I none."

Othin spake:
3. "Much have I fared, much have I found.
Much have I got from the gods;
And fain would I know how Vafthruthnir now
Lives in his lofty hall."

Frigg spake:
4. "Safe mayst thou go, safe come again,
And safe be the way thou wendest!
Father of men, let thy mind be keen
When speech with the giant thou seekest."

5. The wisdom then of the giant wise
Forth did he fare to try;
He found the hall | of the father of Im,
And in forthwith went Ygg.

Othin spake:
6. "Vafthruthnir, hail! | to thy hall am I come,
For thyself I fain would see;
And first would I ask | if wise thou art,
Or, giant, all wisdom hast won."

Vafthruthnir spake:
7. "Who is the man | that speaks to me,
Here in my lofty hall?
Forth from our dwelling | thou never shalt fare,
Unless wiser than I thou art."

Othin spake:
8. "Gagnrath they call me, | and thirsty I come
From a journey hard to thy hall;
Welcome I look for, | for long have I fared,
And gentle greeting, giant."

Vafthruthnir spake:
9. "Why standest thou there | on the floor whilst thou speakest?
A seat shalt thou have in my hall;
Then soon shall we know | whose knowledge is more,
The guest's or the sage's gray."

Othin spake:
10. "If a poor man reaches | the home of the rich,
Let him wisely speak or be still;
For to him who speaks | with the hard of heart
Will chattering ever work ill."

Vafthruthnir spake:
11. "Speak forth now, Gagnrath, | if there from the floor
Thou wouldst thy wisdom make known:
What name has the steed | that each morn anew
The day for mankind doth draw?"

Othin spake:
12. "Skinfaxi is he, | the steed who for men
The glittering day doth draw;
The best of horses | to heroes he seems,
And brightly his mane doth burn."

Vafthruthnir spake:
13. "Speak forth now, Gagnrath, | if there from the floor
Thou wouldst thy wisdom make known:
What name has the steed | that from East anew
Brings night for the noble gods?"

Othin spake:
14. "Hrimfaxi name they | the steed that anew
Brings night for the noble gods;
Each morning foam | from his bit there falls,
And thence come the dews in the dales."

Vafthruthnir spake:
15. "Speak forth now, Gagnrath, | if there from the floor
Thou wouldst thy wisdom make known:
What name has the river | that 'twixt the realms
Of the gods and the giants goes?"

Othin spoke:
16. "Ifing is the river | that 'twixt the realms
Of the gods and the giants goes;
For all time ever | open it flows,
No ice on the river there is."

Vafthruthnir spake:
17. "Speak forth now, Gagnrath, | if there from the floor
Thou wouldst thy wisdom make known:
What name has the field | where in fight shall meet
Surt and the gracious gods?"

Othin spake:
18. "Vigrith is the field | where in fight shall meet
Surt and the gracious gods;
A hundred miles | each way does it measure.
And so are its boundaries set."

Vafthruthnir spake:
19. "Wise art thou, guest! | To my bench shalt thou go,
In our seats let us speak together;
Here in the hall | our heads, O guest,
Shall we wager our wisdom upon."

Othin spake:
20. "First answer me well, | if thy wisdom avails,
And thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
In earliest time | whence came the earth,
Or the sky, thou giant sage?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
21. "Out of Ymir's flesh | was fashioned the earth,
And the mountains were made of his bones;
The sky from the frost-cold | giant's skull,
And the ocean out of his blood."

Othin spake:
22. "Next answer me well, | if thy wisdom avails,
And thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
Whence came the moon, | o'er the world of men
That fares, and the flaming sun?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
23. "Mundilferi is he | who begat the moon,
And fathered the flaming sun;
The round of heaven | each day they run,
To tell the time for men."

Othin spake:
24. "Third answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
Whence came the day, | o'er mankind that fares,
Or night with the narrowing moon?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
25. "The father of day | is Delling called,
And the night was begotten by Nor;
Full moon and old | by the gods were fashioned,
To tell the time for men."

Othin spake:
26. "Fourth answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
Whence did winter come, | or the summer warm,
First with the gracious gods?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
27. "Vindsval he was | who was winter's father,
And Svosuth summer begat"
And both of these shall ever be, / Till the gods
to destruction go."

Othin spake:
28. "Fifth answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
What giant first | was fashioned of old,
And the eldest of Ymir's kin?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
29. "Winters unmeasured | ere earth was made
Was the birth of Bergelmir;
Thruthgelmir's son | was the giant strong,
And Aurgelmir's grandson of old."

Othin spake:
30. "Sixth answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
Whence did Aurgelmir come | with the giants' kin,
Long since, thou giant sage?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
31. "Down from Elivagar | did venom drop,
And waxed till a giant it was;
And thence arose | our giants' race,
And thus so fierce are we found."

Othin spake:
32. "Seventh answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
How begat he children, | the giant grim,
Who never a giantess knew?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
33. "They say 'neath the arms | of the giant of ice
Grew man-child and maid together;
And foot with foot | did the wise one fashion
A son that six heads bore."

Othin spake:
34. "Eighth answer me well, | if wise thou art called,
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
What farthest back | dost thou bear in mind?
For wide is thy wisdom, giant!"

Vafthruthnir spake:
35. "Winters unmeasured | ere earth was made
Was the birth of Bergelmir;
This first knew I well, | when the giant wise
In a boat of old was borne."

Othin spake:
36. "Ninth answer me well, | if wise thou art called
If thou knowest it, Vafthruthnir, now:
Whence comes the wind | that fares o'er the waves
Yet never itself is seen?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
37. "In an eagle's guise | at the end of heaven
Hræsvelg sits, they say;
And from his wings | does the wind come forth
To move o'er the world of men."

Othin spake:
38. "Tenth answer me now, | if thou knowest all
The fate that is fixed for the gods:
Whence came up Njorth | to the kin of the gods,--
(Rich in temples | and shrines he rules,--)
Though of gods he was never begot?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
39. "In the home of the Wanes | did the wise ones create him,
And gave him as pledge to the gods;
At the fall of the world | shall he fare once more
Home to the Wanes so wise."

Othin spake:
40. ""Eleventh answer me well,
if thou knowest all / The fate that is fixed for the gods: / What men
are they who in Othin's home / Each day to fight go forth?""

Vafthruthnir spake:
41. "The heroes all | in Othin's hall
Each day to fight go forth;
They fell each other, | and fare from the fight
All healed full soon to sit."

Othin spake:
42. "Twelfth answer me now | how all thou knowest
Of the fate that is fixed for the gods;
Of the runes of the gods | and the giants' race
The truth indeed dost thou tell,
(And wide is thy wisdom, giant!)"

Vafthruthnir spake:
43. "Of the runes of the gods | and the giants' race
The truth indeed can I tell,
(For to every world have I won;)
To nine worlds came I, | to Niflhel beneath,
The home where dead men dwell."

Othin spake:
44. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
What shall live of mankind | when at last there comes
The mighty winter to men?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
45. "In Hoddmimir's wood | shall hide themselves
Lif and Lifthrasir then;
The morning dews | for meat shall they have,
Such food shall men then find."

Othin spake:
46. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
Whence comes the sun | to the smooth sky back,
When Fenrir has snatched it forth?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
47. "A daughter bright | Alfrothul bears
Ere Fenrir snatches her forth;
Her mother's paths | shall the maiden tread
When the gods to death have gone."

Othin spake:
48. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
What maidens are they, | so wise of mind.
That forth o'er the sea shall fare?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
49. "O'er Mogthrasir's hill | shall the maidens pass,
And three are their throngs that come;
They all shall protect | the dwellers on earth,
Though they come of the giants' kin."

Othin spake:
50. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
Who then shall rule | the realm of the gods,
When the fires of Surt have sunk?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
51. "In the gods' home Vithar | and Vali shall dwell,
When the fires of Surt have sunk;
Mothi and Magni | shall Mjollnir have
When Vingnir falls in fight."

Othin spake:
52. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got of the gods:
What shall bring the doom | of death to Othin,
When the gods to destruction go?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
53. "The wolf shall fell | the father of men,
And this shall Vithar avenge;
The terrible jaws | shall he tear apart,
And so the wolf shall he slay."

Othin spake:
54. "Much have I fared, | much have I found,
Much have I got from the gods:
What spake Othin himself | in the ears of his son,
Ere in the bale-fire he burned?"

Vafthruthnir spake:
55. "No man can tell | what in olden time
Thou spak'st in the ears of thy son;
With fated mouth | the fall of the gods
And mine olden tales have I told;
With Othin in knowledge | now have I striven,
And ever the wiser thou art."
Click to expand...
 
K

Kill3r7

Member
Tagged for later. Mythology was one of my favorite topics growing up.

My favorites are either Odysseus or Hector.
 
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