This story is part of the Beowulf unit. Story source: The Story of Beowulf by Strafford Riggs with illustrations by Henry Pitz (1933). (illustration by A. R. Skelton) Beowulf Lands in Daneland For many hours the sturdy ship fought the waves that crashed and thundered against her sides. For many hours Beowulf and his fourteen companions saw the marvels and terrors of the wide sea. All kinds of strange monsters, both large and small, were seen on that voyage-playful fishes with scales as blue as the sky overhead and bright small eyes, and long sea-serpents which followed the wake of the ship for hours, turning and rolling in the sea, and looking so evil that even the brave warriors shuddered at the thought of falling into their slimy coils. There were sea-lions of shaggy mane and bird-like fish with horny claws. But they came at length to the coast of Daneland, and the sea boiled white between them and the land, and the land itself was scarred and pitted with a thousand narrow inlets, which were treacherous to seafarers unfamiliar with them. The forests that clung to the shore line were half hidden in gray mists that moved and twisted like smoke about the trees. Then, as the adventurers thought they had at last found the entrance to a safe harbor, a mighty storm arose. The land was blotted out with menacing clouds, the waves beat upon the ship with fury, the wind howled through the rigging, and fear darkened the stoutest hearts. For a time Beowulf's earls tried to prevail upon him to turn away from that black coast, saying that they would be dashed to pieces on the rocks, but Beowulf turned a deaf ear and urged his captain forward. Then, as by a miracle, they found entrance to a narrow inlet, and the sudden protection of the land stilled the fear in the warriors' hearts. Their sails tattered by the wind, they plied their oars with a great good-will, and, as the storm lessened, they beached their boat on a tiny strip of sand at the edge of a deep forest hung with gray fog and silent as death. No sooner had they landed, however, than they were accosted by an old man, hoary with years but fearless of eye and with a mighty hand ready upon the long spear that stood by his side. Addressing himself at once to Beowulf, he asked: "Who are you, stranger in Daneland, that you beach your boat with so much confidence upon these shores?" And Beowulf answered, standing tall in front of his earls: "I am Beowulf, and I come from my uncle, Hygelac, the Geatish king, and I am a friend to the Danes." "That is good," replied the Guardian of the Beach. "I can see by your height and breadth and strength that you are a leader of these fine men who stand behind you. The name of your king is not unknown to me; his fame has long since come to these parts. You and your men are well armed, but I can see by your faces that you come to this unhappy land with no bad intentions. Tell me, Beowulf, what is your errand? For you must know that this is a dead country that has been dead these twelve years past, that our hearts have no joy in them, and that Hrothgar, our king, is bowed by sorrow in his age." "I know that well, Guardian of the Beach," Beowulf replied, "and it is to help your good king that I and my earls have come to Daneland." "Welcome, then, O Beowulf, to these sad shores," the Guardian cried. "Our king will better receive you than it is in my poor power to do. Leave your ship in my care. I will see that no harm comes to it. But I dread beholding such a fine company of young men coming on this fell business. For the fiend Grendel, who has robbed Hrothgar of his rightful estate and destroyed so many proud young warriors of our kingdom, is terrible beyond words to describe." But Beowulf cut his discourse short, and begged the Guardian of the Beach to direct them to the hall of Hrothgar that they might make themselves known to the king and rest themselves after their long, tiring day at sea. Then the old man took them a little way into the forest, and pointed out a path to follow, and bade them farewell. And Beowulf and his earls set out at last upon their great adventure in the land of the Danes. Next: Beowulf Comes to Heorot (700 words)
An introduction to some of the most interesting characters, creatures, and monsters from Welsh folklore and mythology.
Bäckahästen or bækhesten (translated as the brook horse) is a mythological horse in Scandinavian folklore. It has a close parallel in the Scottish kelpie.
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Baku are dream eating creatures from Japanese folklore and mythology, and baku is also the Japanese word for tapir since when Japanese naturalists first saw tapir they looked like traditional depictions of these dreamy and strange beasts! A dreamy purple palette for your boudoir or a child's room, or maybe a nap corner! 8x12 inch archival photo print om lustre paper. Ships in a bubble mailer, packed in a clear sleeve with sturdy acid free backing board. My web url will not appear on your print, have no fear!
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A country's mythology and folklore provides a window into its culture, society and history. That's especially true in Norway, which has a rich Norse mythology along with plenty of folk tales. Let's dive in! Most
Artist Andrei Shishkin-Stribog . God of wind
For my first part in a series about the myths and folklore of the world (which I'd love to eventually include something on Basque myth, the Arabian Nights, Christian Europe, and Greece), I'd like to tackle the fascinating traditions of Finland. Often, I'm asked how Finn myth is different from their neighbors, the Scandinavians and Slavs. First, the main hero of Finnish mythology is Väinämöinen, a rascally, horny old man, one part culture hero, another part hobo, who challenges other musicians to musical fights not unlike modern-day rap battles. He's doomed to never find love: one of his most tragic stories is his pursuit of a younger woman, Aino (still a common female name in Finland today) who drowns himself rather than marry a man so much older than she is. Väinämöinen invented the Kantele, a type of magical harp not unlike the cwyth of Wales, from the jawbone of the giant monster Pike of the North Sea. Väinämöinen also rides a flying wooden sawhorse, reminiscent of the witch's broomstick. There's a type of picaresque humor about Finnish myth that makes it wonderful to read. Lemminkäinen, a hotshot young hero, lives with his Mother, and what's more, Mom has to rescue him on occasion and return him to life! (How many Scandinavian heroes lived with their Mother, I ask?) One of my favorite passages from the Kalevala was where Louhi, the evil crone that rules the Northland, turns a giant house-sized bear against her foes. Naturally Väinämöinen goes out to slay the monster. Instead, he has a change of heart: "Otso, thou my well beloved, Honey-eater of the woodlands, Let not anger swell thy bosom; I have not the force to slay thee, Willingly thy life thou givest As a sacrifice to Northland. Thou hast from the tree descended, Glided from the aspen branches, Slippery the trunks in autumn, In the fog-days, smooth the branches. Golden friend of fen and forest, In thy fur-robes rich and beauteous, Pride of woodlands, famous Light-foot, Leave thy cold and cheerless dwelling, Leave thy home within the alders, Leave thy couch among the willows, Hasten in thy purple stockings, Hasten from thy walks restricted, Come among the haunts of heroes, Join thy friends in Kalevala. We shall never treat thee evil, Thou shalt dwell in peace and plenty, Thou shalt feed on milk and honey, Honey is the food of strangers. Haste away from this thy covert, From the couch of the unworthy, To a couch beneath the rafters Of Vainola's ancient dwellings." - Kalevala, Rune XLVI In other words, as soon as Väinämöinen gets a look at the monster bear, he says, "nah, I can't kill him, he's too cool" and instead decides to take him with him back to the land of Kalevala for some drinking and picking up girls. Now, obviously this is not exactly how St. George or Siegfried would have solved the problem! The last time I saw this sort of sly humanity in a monster was in Beowulf, where the dragon, indecisive and nervous about his lost treasure cup, paced back to his hoard and looked for it to see if it was not misplaced. This sort of picaresque levity that almost parodies the epic myth is one point of difference between the myths of the Finns and their neighbors. It's hard to imagine an Icelandic Rune with a hero makes a monster his drinking buddy. And the Slavs? Forget about it. Slavic mythology, with gods named Graak and Kog, is so dark that it makes Norse Myth look like Rainbow Brite. There's only one occasion where the Kalevala gets extremely dark, and that's in the story of Kullervo. What's fascinating about Kullervo is, it's one of the few mythological stories that actually depicts the realistic effects of child abuse, and the very broken people it creates, trapped in cycles of self-destruction. In the end, Kullervo dies by his own hand when, after accidentally marrying his own sister, he mournfully wonders if he ever should have lived at all. Jean Sibelius, Finland's best composer, immortalized this moment in his opera, Kullervo: Another defining characteristic of Finn Myth, apart from the levity, is its emphasis on a very wild perspective similar to shamanism. Everything has a spirit, and everything can talk: there's a very famous part where iron itself speaks, which is vaguely reminiscent of certain Javanese myths where the metalworker's position has a mystical component. One of the more explicitly shamanistic images is when Väinämöinen descends into the open mouth of Antero Vipunen, a monstrous giant in the shape of a mountain. Another characteristic of Finn myth is the sense of magic and the supernatural. This can only really be driven home by its contrast against something like the sheer realism of Homer's Illiad. Just about every hero in the Kalevala is a sorcerer of some kind. One of the most striking images in the entire epic is the Theft of the Sampo, where while escaping from the evil kingdom of Pohjola, Väinämöinen causes his ship to grow a face and sprout wings like a bird with his magical songs. Not to be outdone, Louhi transforms into a giant monster bird and attacks the flying ship with men on her back! This scene is understandably almost always in some form represented on the illustrations or painted covers. Finally, the myths of Finland, though dating back to the early iron age, were only written down and organized in the 19th Century as a part of the Romantic awakening of the smaller nations of Europe. Try to imagine if French was the official language of England for 700 years, and the first poet to write in English was Byron. So important to the spirit of Finn nationalism, that in Finland, a national holiday is "Kalevala Day." When Jean Sibelius composed his symphonies in the early 20th Century in Helsinki, they were based on Kalevala themes, and his Finlandia is to Finland what the music of John Phillips Sousa is to the United States. The canon of Finn myth was collected and compiled by the poet and nationalist Elias Lonrot, in a single work, the Kalevala. What's interesting about this is, because of the late date, Finn myth has the most explicitly Christian elements. The chief god of Finland, the sky-father Jumala, a cross between Odin and Thor who wields a hammer, is much more like the Christian god, remote and never active in His creation. Finally, in the last Rune, Maryätta (Mary) arrives in Finland and has a virgin birth. The overall story of the Kalevala is rather like a Finnish Illiad, based on the conflict between Kalevala, land of heroes, and Pohjola, land of evil and ice magic ruled by an evil old witch. It's often been argued that Kalevala represents the Finns, whereas Pohjola represents the Lapps...which is a theory that sounds pretty unlikely to me. When in history were the Lapps powerful enough to demand tribute? In any case, the conflict heats up when the Daedalus-like artificer-smith Ilmarinen forges an object of otherworldly wonder, the Sampo. Like the Holy Grail, the Sampo's exact nature is vague, but it generally is supposed to be a grain cover that changes anything worthless, mulch or dirt, to gold, gems and salt. Naturally the heroes of Kalevala mount an expedition to get it back. When Louhi sees the Sampo was stolen, she sends a three-headed monster that shoots plagues, a giant bear, and finally, even steals the sun. The heroes find a way to get around this, of course: the smith Ilmarinen builds in his workshop a new sun! Connections to Other World Mythologies The single most obvious connection is to the Estonians, who have a tradition that is very similar. The Kalevipoëig of Estonia was composed as a direct answer to the worldwide success of the Kalevala. In fact, one intriguing theory makes a linguistic connection between Talinn (the capital of Estonia) and Kalevala. Theories about Kalevala's "real" location are a dime a dozen, as common as grail myths in most of Europe. One town in Finland even renamed itself Kalevala for the purposes of tourist-grabbing! Estonia was only converted to Christianity in the great Baltic Crusade of the 13th Century, which fit the pattern of the European Crusades: convert the heathens, but preferably the heathens that are not too far away. The conversion was undertaken by the Teutonic Knights, best known in modern times as the villains of Sergei Eisenstein's cinema classic, ALEXANDER NEVSKY, and it was done with the usual lack of style that made the child-sacrificing moustache-twirling antics of ALEXANDER NEVSKY look almost realistic. Estonian myth even features the same protagonists as Finnish myth, just like the Romans shared the myths of the Greeks. Väinämöinen, for example, is worshipped in pre-Christian Estonia as a god of music. There are a few connections to the Scandinavians as well. The Vannatar, or Air Maidens, are females able to fly who have great similarities to Valkyries. I've even heard an intriguing argument that there may even be a connection to Väinämöinen in Beowulf! Where can I read more? The absolute best translation of the Kalevala was in 1996 by Keith Bosley. A version of the Kalevala translated in the 19th Century into English is available here, at sacred-texts.com.
This is so cool.
“So the goblins came. They pushed their way in and pulled baby out, leaving another all made of ice” Maurice Sendak, Outside over there. Fairy tales are stories, often with an evolution of centuries, that form a mutable and difficult to define genre, with a close relationship to folk tales. The functions of fairy tales […]
The Nuno sa Punso is a spirit of the earth that lives in termite mounds and ant hills. Check out the next monster in our Book of Beasts series.
