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Beowulf
Ryan Howse has provided a excellent brief summary of Beowulf and his contribution not only to Western culture but to fantasy fiction. The piece ends thusly:
Beowulf is one of the most influential texts in history, and it has a particular relevance for fantasy. John Gardner, the famous writer, wrote a take on the novel from the monster’s point of view, called Grendel. In this, Grendel was a figure of existentialism and angst who dies at the hands of the hero. Gardner also used Beowulf as a key text in his writing guide, The Art of Fiction: Notes on the Craft For Young Authors.
Michael Crichton wrote Eaters of the Dead, later turned into the film the 13th Warrior. Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary wrote a script forBeowulf that streamlined the narrative so that it followed causality, rather than the third tale being separate from the other two.
But of course, the most important reason that Beowulf is important is J.R.R. Tolkien. His love of Beowulf influenced Middle-Earth. Smaug is a literary descendant of Beowulf’s dragon, right down to the single piece of stolen treasure awakening him.
Do read it all. It’s short, and you’ll be better for it.
Elves Breaking Bad
Now that we have seen where elves got their beginning, let’s cross the North Sea for the British Isles to hone in a bit more closely on the elves of English folklore. As we do so, we’ll switch from Old Norse to Old English, a related language where we can spot a family resemblance in some of the terms we have already encountered. In Old English, for example, the equivalent of the Norse aesir is ése (singular, ós). The Old English equivalent of Norse álfar is aelfe (singular, aelf).
Kindly Elves
Germanic mythology first came to England with the Angles and Saxons in the fifth century. Early on, English elves enjoyed the same positive reputation as their Scandinavian kin. Aelf is found among terms denoting “good” supernatural beings, and thus fit to be used as an element in personal names. Thus, an Old English speaker might name his or her son Aelfwine (“elf-friend”) as easily as Oswine or Godwine (both meaning “god-friend”).
Other terms denoting “monsters” that pose a threat to humans, are excluded from Old English naming practices. There are no names, for example, that include the elements eoten (“giant”), dweorg (“dwarf”), or thyrs (“ogre”). It goes without saying that nobody who loved their child would put the word “ogre” in his or her name. By the same token, it ought to tell us something that putting the word “elf” in a name was perfectly acceptable.
So, at least in the early centuries of English settlement in Britain, elves were largely the same as the Norse conceived of them: powerful supernatural beings on the side of good. They were also considered to be human-sized. Contrary to much popular opinion, these elves were not diminutive beings. After an involved linguistic analysis, Alaric Hall concludes:
[I]t is unlikely that aelfe in early Old English were considered particularly small, invisible or incorporeal. Although it is not conclusive, the early Old English evidence suggests [that elves were] corporeal anthropomorphic beings mirroring the human in-groups which believed in them. This prospect is eminently well paralleled in medieval north-west Europe by the evidence for álfar, the medieval Irish aes sídhe, the inhabitants of the medieval Welsh Annwn, medieval Latin fatae and Old French fées, Middle English elves, and the Older Scots elvis. (Elves in Anglo-Saxon England, 67–68)
Evil Elves
Within a pagan context, the elves of Norse and early Anglo-Saxon mythology were numbered with the “good guys.” Although they might work in ways unfathomable to mere mortals, they were generally on humanity’s side in the cosmic struggle against giants, dwarves, and ogres.
When Christianity replaced paganism, however, elves were re-interpreted as creatures of darkness.
By the time of Beowulf (8th or 9th century), aelfe were aligned with “monsters” in common understanding. The writer(s) of the Beowulf saga describe Grendel and his kin as descendants of the biblical Cain:
That fierce spirit/guest was called Grendel, the famed border-walker, he who occupied waste-lands, the fen and the fastness, the homeland of the giant-race—the ill-blessed man inhabited them for a time, after the Creator had condemned him; the eternal Lord avenged that killing on the kin of Cain, because he [Cain] slew Abel. He did not profit from that feud, but the Measurer banished him for that crime, from humankind. Thence all misbegotten beings sprang forth, eotenas and aelfe and orcneas, likewise gigantas, which struggled against God for a long while. He gave them repayment for that. (Lines 102–14, end of fitt I; transl. by Hall, 70)
Rather than being on the side of humans against the giants, now the elves and the giants are kin. In the popular imagination, they became associated with physical ailments in humans and livestock, which they inflicted via the magic of elf-shot. The gods or ése didn’t fare any better: an Anglo-Saxon spell against a sudden stabbing pain seeks to protect the victim from harm, be it from “gods’ shot” (esa gescot) or “elves’ shot.”
Furthermore, elves were said to be the cause of nightmares. The German word for nightmare is, in fact, Alpdrücken, literally “elf-pressure.”
These darker, more malevolent elves eventually become the predominant conception not only in England but throughout the Germanic world. In many locales, even the word “elf” came to be avoided because of its sinister connotations. Thus, for example, In Iceland, for example, one finds the term huldufólk, “hidden people” or even liuflingar, “darlings.” This tracks perfectly with the habit in many parts of the world of referring to potentially dangerous spiritual beings with euphemisms lest they overhear and take offense: “the good neighbors,” “the fair folk,” “the kindly ones,” etc.
Nine Christmas Monsters
I’ve already mentioned many of these in my posts on Krampus and the Yule Lads, but I’m grateful for the rundown. Hans Trapp is new to me, but I had at least heard of all the rest.
Yule Lads: Mischievous Icelandic Santas
In Iceland, there isn’t just one Santa Claus; there are thirteen of them. That’s the good news if you are an Icelandic child. The bad news is that these jólasveinar (or jólasveinarnir) or “Yule Lads” are a pretty rowdy and unpredictable bunch—at least in the earliest accounts.
Like Santa, the Yule Lads reward good boys and girls with treats, which they slip into shoes that have been left on the windowsill. But they also distribute not-so-nice presents to children who have misbehaved, usually in the form of a raw or even rotten potato.
The depiction of the Yule Lads has varied over time and according to location. Their original role was to frighten children into behaving—in short, they were bogeymen. In the earliest accounts, they were mischievous or even criminal pranksters who would steal from or otherwise harass the population. Sometimes, they were simple pranksters. At other times, however, they were frightening child-eating monsters. In 1746, there was even a public decree issued to prohibit parents from frightening their children with stories about creatures such as the Yule Lads.
The Yule Lads are trolls—although that word is actually a bit fluid in the Scandinavian languages and is practically a generic term for any sort of fantastical humanoid creature. They are the sons of mountain-dwelling cannibalistic trolls (or ogres or giants) named Grýla and Leppalúdi (literally, “Hag” and “Ragamuffin”). They came down from the mountains to scare Icelandic children who misbehave.
The Yule Lads have become friendlier in the past century or so due to contact with American Santa Claus traditions. They have stopped being a terror to children, although they are still thieving mischief-makers. At the same time, they started bringing gifts for children and taken a more kindly attitude toward them. They have also largely traded in their original attire of ragged farmer’s clothes for red suits with white beards and black boots. Modern-day Yule Lads are funny old men with childlike minds and behavior.
The modern depiction of the Yule Lads owes much to a 1932 poem, “Jólasveinarnir” by Jóhannes úr Kötlum. Just as Clement Moore’s “A Visit from St. Nicholas” established much of the contemporary American depiction of Santa Claus, “Jólasveinarnir” gives Icelanders their modern-day conception of the Yule Lads. The poem establishes their number at thirteen where before their number varied. It also gives them their traditional names, which all refer to the sort of mischief they are prone to making: Spoon-Licker, Door-Slammer, Sausage-Swiper, Window-Peeper, etc.
The Yule Lads come to town one by one in the days before Christmas, the first arriving on December 12 and the last on December 24. Then, on Christmas day, the first Yule Lad returns to the mountains, followed by the second on December 26, third on December 27, etc., until the last one leaves on January 6, bringing the Christmas season to a close.
The Yule Lads are often depicted with Grýla’s cat, also known as the Yule Cat (Jólakötturinn or Jólaköttur), a huge, vicious cat that lurks about the snowy countryside and eats children who don’t receive new clothes for Christmas. Some say farmers used the threat of the Yule Cat as an incentive for their workers to finish processing the autumn wool before Christmas. Others claim, however, that new clothes were a reward for having been obedient and hardworking throughout the year. Lazy children didn’t get any, which means the Yule Cat can take them.
The International University of Santa Claus
Helmed by Tim Connaghan—who has suited up in the big guy’s red suit for the past 45 years and is an inductee in the International Santa Hall of Fame—more than 2500 Santa wannabes have earned their diplomas. But what prerequisites does Santa Claus need to graduate? Here’s a snapshot of 11 workshops covered in the IUSC’s official textbook,“Behind the Red Suit—The Business of Santa.”
Easter Island
Two anthropologists, Terry Hunt and Carl Lipo, from the University of Hawaii, are advancing a new theory about the collapse of society on Easter Island. It is in some ways complementary to what Jared Diamond previously suggested in his book Collapse.
Diagon Alley in Google Maps Street View
No giants on motorcycles to be found, but I think I spotted a Death Eater.
The Lost Colony of Roanoke
It’s still lost, apparently, but historian Eric Klingelhofer has proposed a new theory that suggests the colony split up to better survive whatever catastrophe befell it. Some of them, he says, may have relocated westward to the mouth of the Chowan River.
A clue uncovered in a long-forgotten, centuries-old map of the area called “La Virginea Pars”—drawn by the colony’s governor John White—kicked off a reexamination of the fate of the lost colonists. An artist and employee of explorer Sir Walter Raleigh, White was later appointed governor of the new lands; he was also the grandfather of Virginia Dare, the first English child born in the New World.
Two patches on the map made Brent Lane of the First Colony Foundation (the group behind the latest archaeological trip and a National Geographic grantee) in Durham, North Carolina, wonder if they might hide something beneath.
Scientists at the British Museum looked into the patches and discovered a tiny red-and-blue symbol. Could it have indicated a fort or a secret emergency location?
Christmas in the Reich
Matt Soniak has posted a fascinating article at Mental Floss about Christmas in Nazi Germany.
Wherever possible, in both public and private spheres, Christmas’ religious aspects were de-emphasized and replaced with nationalistic and pagan symbolism. “People’s Christmas trees,” were erected in many towns and cities with the traditional star topper replaced by swastikas, Germanic “sun wheels” or the Nordic “sig runes” used by the SS as their insignia.
These trees became the subject of numerous Christmas carols rewritten with no reference to Christ or religion, as well as the focal point of Christmas celebrations, events and activities organized by like the Hitler Youth, the League of German Women and the German Workers Front and the state. The Nazi Party organized massive celebrations across the country where the Hitler Youth reenacted solstice rituals and soldiers swore “oaths of fire” before huge bonfires. Joseph Goebbels often appeared at celebrations like this at the tree in Berlin, handing out presents to children like a jackbooted Santa Claus.
Santa, of course, still existed in Nazified form, as someone had to bring gifts to good National Socialist children. Instead of St. Nick in the red robe of a bishop, though, he came in the form of the Norse god Odin, riding around the planet on a white horse to announce the coming of the winter solstice. Presents were still exchanged among families, friends and co-worker, sometimes with a depraved twist: the special Yule lanterns that SS leader Heinrich Himmler handed out as gifts to his officers were made by the inmates at the Dachau concentration camp.
Bronze-Age Irish Kings Had a Very Responsible Position
If anything went wrong, they were held responsible:
Cashel Man suffered violent injuries to his back and a sword or axe wound on his arm, but this level of violence is not unusual for bog bodies. Keeper of Irish Antiquities, Eamonn Kelly, who has worked on all the major bog body finds, theorizes that the bog bodies died violent deaths as a form of sacrifice.
He explained to the BBC, “When an Irish king is inaugurated, he is inaugurated in a wedding to the goddess of the land. It is his role to ensure through his marriage to the goddess that the cattle will be protected from plague and the people will be protected from disease.”
He continues, “If these calamities should occur, the king will be held personally responsible. He will be replaced, he will pay the price, he will be sacrificed.”
(H/T: Celtic Myth Podshow)
Darrell J. Pursiful 