Come away, O human child!

"Believe what?" asked Shadow. "What should I believe?" "Everything," roared the buffalo man. — American Gods

[canisalbus]

Kalevala illustrations by Nicolai Kochergin

[birdsofrhiannon]

Lleu Llaw Gyffes and Gwydion posing as shoemakers to trick Lleu’s mother Arianrhod into giving him a name.

[inkyami]

Rusalka (rus. русалка, the etymology is controversial), plur. “rusalki” (русалки) —   female spirits associated with the water areas in slavic demonology, perhaps, one of the most well-known and complex сharacters in slavic folklore. Theoretically, there is a huge group of slavic female mythological characters, which could be called “rusalka”, but in this description I have concentrated on the most famous “classic” version. Even though legends and theories on rusalki’s provenance and entity are numerous and controversial, most of the sources categorizes them as “unholy dead”, noting, however, their origin from much more ancient beliefs in kind water spirits. Being reborn as unholy dead (in this case, from the girls, who died before getting married, from drowned ones and suicidals), rusalki are known for their hostile attitude towards people, as much as for their playful and exuberant temper. It was believed, that walking nearby their territory all  alone could be really dangerous — rusalki loved tickling to the death and drowning unfortunate strangers, collecting in this manner young girls and kidnapping lads they liked. Moreover, unlike most of the characters in slavic mythology, rusalki are known to be very sociable and live in groups, which makes it even harder to escape their treachery. Those facts, however, did not prevent people from practicing numerous divinations involving rusalka. Besides, it was believed that certain herbs would scare of rusalki, along with other evil spirits. Despite the common misapprehension (created by western culture influence), rusalki did not have a fish tail. They could be only spotted by their fairness, partial incorporeality of a spirit and, most importantly, long unbraided hair, sometimes with a strong green color (in slavic culture wearing loose hair had sacral meaning and was unacceptable in everyday life).

P.S. I could go on forever on this theme, for the descriptions of rusalka (as it was mentioned) are very controversial and tend to wary depending in a region.

[of-loreandlegend]

Fair Folk

Or fairies. Or faeries. Or the fae. The Good Neighbours. Wee folk. People of peace. They have many names for what they are. But what are they?

It’s actually a lot harder to define “faery” than one would think. The word is very broad and, in recent years, has come to be shorthand for creatures across cultures, especially European folklore (folkloric creatures with similar attributes from outside Europe, such as the Japanese kitsune, tend to be stuffed under a different umbrella.) For the sake of simplicity, we’ll stick with Seelie and Unseelie faeries.

The most popular and enduring image of a fairy is one of sweetness and gentle mischief, of gossamer wings and lace dresses and wands that grant wishes. This image is particularly popular in children’s literature and that’s understandable; tales of blighted crops and wives made barren probably won’t hold your kid’s attention as well as something like Cinderella. These fairies were popularised during the Romantic period, so they’re relatively new.

Before these romantics came, however, came Seelie and Unseelie. The term “seelie” probably comes from old words, in both England and Scotland, meaning “happy, lucky, blessed.” Unseelie was literally the opposite of these things: unhappy, unlucky, unblessed. 

The Seelie faeries are, for lack of a better term, the good ones. They were mostly mischievous and rewarded humans who were kind to them, or who they just fancied. But if they were pissed off? Yeah, they’d probably blight your crops, make your wife barren, dry the milk in the cow’s udder and steal your left socks. Basically, if you were looking for a faery, these were the ones you wanted to find.

The Unseelie faeries were the bad apples. If a Seelie ruined your farm because you offended them, the Unseelie would do it just because it pleased them. Of course, they have their good points. They too rewarded humans who pleased them but pleasing them often meant something very different to pleasing a Seelie. 

Most faeries encountered in stories are solitary faeries. With no allegiance to any particular court, they just do what they want. They include your domestic faeries, such as brownies or hobs, as well as nature faeries and standalone folk like Black Annis.

Faeries did have traits in common, Seelie, Unseelie or solitary. Most faeries are incapable of telling a lie but that doesn’t mean they always tell the truth; they’ll omit certain information, like the conditions of a bargain, or bend the truth or be incredibly vague on the details. A vulnerability to iron is also a common trait; to protect homes, iron knives were buried beneath doorsteps. Salt is also an effective deterrent. They also appreciated offerings, like dishes of milk set out for them overnight, especially our domestic pals, the brownie and the hob. 

They are very popular in pop culture, probably because they can be quite fun. Holly Black’s books often centre around humans encountering faeries. They appear in the Dresden Files, in Artemis Fowl and get mentions in the Harry Potter series. Disney films have also featured fairies, with Sleeping Beauty (1959) and Cinderella (1950) being some of the most prominent. Anything Peter Pan will have a Tinkerbell, a very famous fairy (You know they found Peter on their way to an orgy? Fun fact.) Faeries are just kind of great, even when they do things that are not great.

You know, like swap a human baby for one of their own.

But that’s for another time.

[of-loreandlegend]

Gwydion fab Dôn

And here we come to my...”favourite.” Or at least, the man who I believe I have mentioned in every single one of my Welsh mythology posts. He likes to have his fingers in pies. Pictured here, clonking Pryderi (who is wearing a Viking helmet for some reason) on the head, is Gwydion.

He appears very prominently in the Fourth Branch “Math, son of Mathonwy.” By all accounts, it should be Math’s story but Gwydion steals it. Man literally engineers an entire war so his brother can assault a lady (both brother and lady vanish p quickly from the tale by the way.)

So Gwydion and Gilfaethwy (read: brother) are turned into animals as punishment. And not just animals. They are a breeding pair. For three years.

...Yeah, have I said that Welsh mythology is weird? Because it’s weird.

Anyway, that happens. So after three years, Math turns them back because he’s pretty sure they are fucking sorry for that they did. Then he asks Gwydion, “Who should I hire to be next foot holder?” Gwydion, who cannot be trusted probably, suggests Arianrhod. That’s how we get Lleu.

Gwydion raises Lleu and he actually does an OK job. I mean, Lleu doesn’t end up like Efnysien or even Gwydion himself. I mean, sure Gwydion gets him cursed but he still does a good job. Lleu’s OK. You go, Gwydion. I won’t go into too much detail with regards to Lleu, his curses and the Thing that went down with his wife but I think it’s a testament to how much Gwydion loves his nephew that he composed a song do bring him out of a tree; most uncles I know would just shake him down. And then he turns Blodeuedd into an owl and everyone lives happily ever after.

After the Mabinogion he pops up a couple of times, notably in the Battle of Trees. He and Lleu raise a forest to fight Arawn’s army and then he defeats one of Arawn’s warriors by guessing his name. Names hold great power, it seems. 

He’s also named as one of the Three Golden Shoemakers of the Isles of Britain so he can put that on a business card as well.

Most notably, Gwydion’s name in other media has been in the Chronicles of Prydain. Here, he is a force for good, the wise and strong prince, who becomes High King once Math is killed. Couldn’t be further from the Gwydion of myth really but I like him a lot more. His name is also used in Mists of Avalon, given as King Arthur and Mordred’s birth names for some reason.

[of-loreandlegend]

Derwen a dyf rhwng dau lyn yn cysgodi'n dawel awyr a glyn oni ddywedaf i gelwydd o flodau Lleu y mae hyn. Derwen a dyf mewn maes uchel nis gwlych glaw, nis tawdd gwres cynhaliodd ugain dawn ar ei brig Lleu Llaw Gyffes. Derwen a dyf dan lechwedd noddfa tywysog hardd oni ddywedaf i gelwydd fe ddaw Lleu i'm harffed.

Englynion Gwydion

Appearing in the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogion, Englynion Gwydion is the name given to the three englyn composed by Gwydion fab Dôn to call down the wounded Lleu Llaw Gyffes after he is shot by Gronw Pebr

[tatteredbanners-deactivated2013]

“In Norse mythology, Iðunn is a goddess associated with apples and youth. Iðunn is attested in the Poetic Edda, compiled in the 13th century from earlier traditional sources, and the Prose Edda, written in the 13th century by Snorri Sturluson. In both sources, she is described as the wife of the skaldic god Bragi, and in the Prose Edda, also as a keeper of apples and granter of eternal youthfulness.” (wikipedia)

[of-loreandlegend]

Frigg

Norse goddess. Odin’s wife. Mother to Baldur, stepmother to Thor. Goddess of the sky. Friggin’ great.

Much like her husband Odin, Frigg is a deity associated with wisdom and foresight. She’s also sometimes associated with the earth, though it’s usually personified by a seperate entity, a giantess called  Jörð (who is Thor’s mother.)

In the Poetic Edda, she gets referenced in Völuspá, wherein her grief over her dead son Baldur is mentioned, as well as her grief over her husband’s inevitable death at Ragnarok. 

She has a bigger role in the poem  Grímnismál, which is about two boys who become lost at sea and are fostered over one winter by an old couple on an island. Upon their return home, their father the king is dead and the eldest brother ( Geirröðr) is made king. Odin and Frigg, watching the worlds because they can, make a wager; Frigga bets that, yes, this guy is a terrible creature who tortures his guests, Odin says no, he can’t be.

So Frigg sends her handmaiden Fulla to go and warn  Geirröðr about a wandering wizard who may wish to harm him. Lo, behold, a wizard comes to his kingdom and gives his name as Grimnir (guess who he really is.)  Geirröðr, because he is kind of a dick, has him tortured between two fires for 8 nights. Aaaand then Frigg is never mentioned again.

Another story she has a lot of involvement in is, of course, the death of Baldur. After confiding in her his fears over his death, Frigg travels around the world and extracts a promise from every living thing in existence to never bring harm to her son. It’s no small task, but she does it because she is a Mother with a capital M. Well, everything apart from mistletoe, which she thought too young and green to be of any harm. Loki uses this to his advantage because he’s kind of a dick.

But that’s not the end of it. Frigg asks of the Aesir who will go to Niflheim, the realm of the dead, and ask Hel to give her son back. Ultimately unsuccessful, it was worth a try.

Frigg’s name is connected with Friday, coming from the Old English word for “Frigg’s day” which replaces the Roman day of Venus. 

In terms of pop culture, of course the most prominent example would be Frigga in the Marvel comics about Thor. I haven’t read the comics but I have seen the movies. Do not try to bring mythology into. Please, for your own sanity, don’t do it. Just go with it.

[of-loreandlegend]

Ysbaddaden Bencawr: Twrch Trwyth will not be hunted until Gwyn son of Nudd is found - God has put the the spirit of the demons of Annwn in him, lest the world be destroyed.

Arawn: Excuse u, bitch

[the-concealed-ambry]

I have fled with vigour, I have fled as a frog, I have fled in the semblance of a crow, scarcely finding rest I have fled vehemently, I have fled as a chain, I have fled as a roe into an entangled thicket I have fled as a wolf cub, I have fled as a wolf in a wilderness, I have fled as a thrush of portending language I have fled as a fox, used to concurrent bounds of quirks I have fled as a martin, which did not avail I have fled as a squirrel, that vainly hides, I have fled as a stag’s antler, of ruddy course, I have fled as iron in a glowing fire, I have fled as a spear-head, of woe to such as has a wish for it I have fled as a fierce bull bitterly fighting, I have fled as a bristly boar seen in a ravine, I have fled as a white grain of pure wheat, On the skirt of a hempen sheet entangled, That seemed of the size of a mare’s foal, That is filling like a ship on the waters Into a dark leathern bag I was thrown, And on a boundless sea I was sent adrift; Which was to me an omen of being tenderly nursed, And the Lord God then set me at liberty.

From a song by Taliesin in the Mabinogion, translated by Lady Charlotte Guest (via the-concealed-ambry)

[of-loreandlegend]

Arawn

Hir yw'r dydd a hir yw'r nos, a hir yw aros Arawn

(Long is the day and long is the night, and long is the waiting of Arawn.)

Arawn is a Welsh mythological figure who was the king of Annwn before Gwyn ap Nudd took the throne. I like to think he retired more than he died because, hey, even kings of the Underworld must get tired of their jobs sometime, right?

He features prominently in the First Branch of the Mabinogion. Pwyll, prince of Dyfed, is out hunting one day and he finds another pack of hounds feasting on a dead stag; he chases them off and allows his own dogs to feed from it. First thing to note is that, while perfectly nice, Pwyll does lack foresight and common sense. He can be kind of dumb. He looks at the other dogs and realises, “Well, shit, these are some weird fucking dogs.” Because really, what kind of normal dogs are shining white with blood red ears? He chases them off anyway. 

Enter Arawn.

He gets kind of passive aggressive with Pwyll, telling him, “I know who you are but I’m not talking to you because you have offended me!” He doesn’t actually tell Pwyll what he’s done wrong until Pwyll, nice bloke he is, asks. (It also has to do with the fact that Arawn is of higher rank but he doesn’t actually tell Pwyll this until after Pwyll’s promised to pay him back.) So he tells Pwyll that, in order to make up for this offence, Pwyll has to go to Annwn disguised as Arawn for a year and kill this guy called Hafgan for him. In return, to avoid suspicion, Arawn will pretend to be Pwyll. They do this and, at the end of the year, Arawn is astounded to hear that not only has Pwyll been a good fucking king, he also hasn’t had sex with Arawn’s wife so she’s still seen as faithful to him. He thinks, “I’ve got a good fucking friend here.” 

After Pwyll kills this guy for him, Arawn and Pwyll just keep getting closer and closer as chums. They send each other presents, like hawks and horses and hounds. They are so chummy by the end of this bit of the branch, that Pwyll drops the “prince of Dyfed” part and instead becomes known as “Pwyll Pen Annwn” instead (Pwyll, head of Annwn basically.)

Nice.

He kind of falls out of the Mabinogion from here on out. He’s referenced in the Fourth Branch, when Pryderi (Pwyll’s son, who really deserves his own post) basically tells Gwydion, “I’m not giving you these pigs for free; Arawn says I can’t.” But apart from that...eh, Arawn? Who’s Arawn? Some people think that a large part of the First Branch is actually missing, and that maybe Arawn is more closely linked to Pwyll’s marriage to Rhiannon and Pryderi’s conception than is actually indicated. Which, if that is the case, is fucking heartbreaking. The friendship between Arawn and Pwyll’s family is very long lived, and the gift of pigs to Pryderi probably indicates some incredible longevity (if not outright immortality) on Arawn’s part because by the time of the Fourth Branch, Pwyll is long dead and I’d imagine Pryderi at least pushing forty by this point because of the all the shit that went down between First and Fourth.

He pops up again in the Battle of Trees, because Gwydion’s brother Amaethon is nearly as much of a shit as Gwydion himself and steals a dog, a deer and lapwing from Arawn. Arawn and Amaethon do fight it out, but Gwydion fucks it up by animating an entire forest to act as his army and ultimately wins on behalf of his brother by guessing the name of one of Arawn’s men. This probably isn’t the end of Arawn but it may well have been the point where he threw up his hands and said, “That’s it! I’m done! Gwyn, you take over!”

Arawn’s most prominent reference in modern pop culture is in Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain, where he is the lord of death who is determined to fuck shit up in Prydain to the point no one can save it. His foe is, again, Gwydion. It’s actually quite interesting that Arawn’s name is given to an antagonist when, by all accounts, Arawn is a much much better person than Gwydion will ever be. Seriously, Gwydion’s a fucking dickhead. The reason is probably because death = evil, as well as the fact that the Christianisation of the myths often translated, or just plain referred to, Annwn as “Hell” when it was actually closer to the paradise of Heaven. Which might have something to do with the fact that Annwn was sometimes described as being underground.

But that, my friends, is a story for another time.

[of-loreandlegend]

Each uisge

A ghaoil leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi...

The each uisge (Scots Gaelic, meaning “water horse”) is the more brutal cousin of the familiar kelpie. It dwells in the Highland lochs, whilst the kelpie resides in running water such as streams. It’s considered the most dangerous of all the Celtic water horses, with the rarer Cabyll Ushtey of the Isle of Man coming a close second.

It’s a shape shifter, with its most common form being a beautiful sleek horse that tempts humans into mounting it before diving into the waters of its home loch, drowning them and devouring all but their liver. Why it doesn’t like livers, I can’t tell you. Kelpies don’t like them either, which is strange for the country that produced haggis.

Tales of the each uisge are almost cautionary tales, especially for small children about strange horses. One tale from Aberfeldy tells of seven little girls and one little boy who all see a pretty pony grazing near a loch; all the girls clamber onto its back, but the little boy notices how the pony’s back gets longer to accommodate each girl. He declines to mount and the each uisge, after a chase trying to tempt the boy onto his back, dives into the loch with the little girls stuck on his back. The next day, the locals find the livers of seven children washed ashore. Another story of the each uisge, this one about the successful capture and killing of it, is about a blacksmith from Raasay. His daughter doesn’t come home from herding the cows and he finds her heart and lungs (though no mention of liver) washed ashore on a loch known to be home to an each uisge. He and his son set up a forge by the loch and tempt the each uisge out with  roast sheep; the blacksmith and his son grapple the each uisge with red hot hooks and burn it to death. This time, in the morning, there is nothing but jelly left behind.

The biggest difference between the two each uisge is actually their appearance. While in the Aberfeldy tale, the each uisge is described as a pretty pony, the Raasay story states it looked like an ugly, shaggy yearling. A pretty horse may well be a glamour, but the default form of the each uisge may well be a horse. They, much like the kelpie, can also take the form of a handsome man.

A similar creature, known as nøkk, appears in Norway. Why four variations on a water horse? Well, while it may stem from a bizarre European fear of horses, they could also be warnings about the dangers of deep waters such as lochs, fjords and the sea, they could also be seen as cautionary tales about lonely strangers. This would especially apply to young women, who could be ruined by even a rumour of loss of virginity, consensual or no. Children as well would learn from the grisly fates of those who trusted strange men or strange horses.

The each uisge isn’t in popular culture much; authors prefer the more familiar (and easier to pronounce) kelpie for their water monsters. The lyric quoted above comes from the song A Ghaoil, Leig Dhachaigh Gum Mhàthair Mi ( lyrics here) One example of an each uisge in modern culture is Augus Each Uisge from the Fae Tales series by not_poignant. You can find that and read it for free on AO3 right here

[chthonicgodling]

but seriously though i’m sick and tired of those masterposts that are like “here! A reference site on Greek mythology for all your needs! Look it has all fifteen Greek gods on it!” And I’m like. tHERE WERE LIKE HUNDREDS OF FIGURES IN MYTHOLOGY YOUR CRAPPY HIGH SCHOOL LEVEL BIBLIOGRAPHY SITE MEANS NOTHING TO ME 

if you want a basic outline of Greek mythology okay sure fine??? but like. if you want an extensive fucking reference site you are looking in the wrong goddamn places

as a self-declared greek mythology snob my reference site is fucking always this fucker right here. almost every single figure ever mentioned in a Greek text is on it, it has the most obscure gods, spirits, nymphs— it’s GREAT. You really wanna extend your mythological knowledge past the basic 12 and like four others? USE THEOI.  plus plus PLUS everything is cited so you can actually read the source material written about whoever it is you’re looking at.

fucking signal boost this. i’m so sick and tired of writer’s helpers blogs referring people to sites with as much information you would get from opening a third grade mythology book jesus chriiiiiist

[bibliotecha-secreta-deactivated]

Cyhyraeth

The Cyhyraeth, also known as the Hag of the Mist, or the Gwrach-y-Rhibyn, is a ghostly spirit (comparable to the Irish Banshee) in Welsh folklore.

She is portrayed as un ugly woman, whose scream is regarded as an omen of death or misfortune. 

A harpy-like appearance: unkempt hair and wizened, withered arms with leathery wings, long black teeth and pale corpse-like features.

If someone is doomed to die, [their name] will be heard in her “shrill terror”. It will sound three times (growing weaker and fainter each time) as a threefold warning. Although often regarded invisible, she can sometimes be seen at crossroads or streams when a mist arises. 

Most often the Gwrach y Rhibyn will wail and shriek “Fy ngŵr, fy ngŵr!” (My husband! My husband!) or “Fy mhlentyn, fy mhlentyn bach!” (My child! My little child!), though sometimes she will assume a male’s voice and cry “Fy ngwraig! Fy ngwraig!” (My wife! My wife!).

Legends associated with the Cyhyraeth are near the river Tywi in eastern Dyfed, as well as the coast of Glamorganshire. Along the Glamorganshire coast, the Cyhyraeth is said to be heard before a shipwreck, accompanied by a corpse-light (an atmospheric ghost light). 

[of-loreandlegend]

Art credit: x

Skadi

A jotunn and the Norse goddess of winter, hunting and skiing. Her father,  Þjazi (or Thiazi, Tjasse and other such variations), kidnapped the goddess Idunn, who guarded the golden apples that gave the Aesir their youth. Since Loki had a hand in this, the Aesir basically tell him to get his shit together and get her back. Rule of thumb in Norse mythology; if something goes wrong, get Loki to fix it. He will find a way. But we’re not talking about  Þjazi today.

Upon her father’s death, Skadi demands compensation from the Aesir. They say “Fair enough” and allow her to take her pick of the male gods to take as her husband. However, she can’t pick based on who he is; she can only choose by looking at his feet.

Strange matchmaking choice but hey, whatever works, right?

So Skadi picks her husband and she chooses the guy with the cleanest feet, thinking it’s Baldur (who might have already been married by this point; I don’t know. Nanna doesn’t come up much.) It’s not; turns out it’s  Njörðr (also known as Njord) the god of the sea. She also says the gods have to make her laugh, which Loki does by taking his testicles to a goat and making it run. Oh, Loki.

Her marriage to Njörðr isn’t really an unhappy one. They don’t loathe each other; they seem to get along OK. The problem comes form the fact that Skadi hates Noaton, and Njörðr hates her mountain home. They compromise by saying he’ll live with her for nine nights, and she’ll go to his home for three. Ultimately, though, they split up because their differences are too great. Some say she went on to get with Odin after, others think she married Ullr.

At the end of the Lokasenna, where Loki is facing punishment for his hand in Baldur’s murder, Skadi’s the one who places the venomous snake over his face, which proceeds to cause him such pain that his thrashing causes earthquakes. This is only mitigated by his wife Sigyn catching the venom in a bowl overhead.

Skadi’s name is thought to be associated with the naming of Scandinavia, and there are also many place names in Sweden in particular that share her name. Ullr’s name also shows up in Swedish place names and this, along with their shared love of skiing, is what makes folk think there’s a connection between them. There’s also an idea that once upon a time, maybe before the Vikings, Skadi may have been a male deity. But alas, without any of Skadi’s contemporaries around to question, we might never know.

[facinaoris]

trickster week |

↳ day one: the leshy

the leshy is a male woodland spirit in slavic mythology who protects wild animals and forests. he is humanoid in shape, has a manly appearance and, on some accounts, is described as having a wife and children. he is roughly analogous to the woodwose of western europe and the basajaun of the basque country.

[of-loreandlegend]

The Morrigan (Image source: X)

So, Morrigan. Celtic triple goddess of death and war and a shapeshifter. Also a ship in Assassin’s Creed but we’re not talking about that today. 

The Morrigan is one of the more popular figures from Irish mythology. Her name means “Phantom queen” and she’s associated with animals such as crows, wolves, cows and even eels. One could say she’s an equivalent to the valkyries found in Germanic mythology.

Her earliest appearance is in the Ulster Cycle story the Táin Bó Regamna, which translates to The Cattle Raid of Regamain. Here, the hero of the Ulster Cycle, Cú Chulainn, insults her without realising who she is. Before he attacks her, the Morrigan shifts into her bird shape and does what birds do; get the fuck out of the way. She then basically tells him that shit is gonna go down and when he tells her “You have no power over me,” she leaves him with this: “it is at the guarding of thy death that I am; and I shall be.”

She later shows up at the Táin Bó Cúailnge. This story starts off with Queen Medb chilling with Ailill, her consort, comparing their wealth; despite him being of lower status, it turns out he’s richer because he possesses a certain bull. This pisses her off; she wants a bull like that. So she gets together with her other boyfriend, one Fergus mac Róich, and he tells her there’s another bull in Ulster very similar. So Medb sends a message to this bull’s owner asking to borrow his bull, even offering to sleep with him to get her own way. He refuses and she thinks, “Well, time to raid Ulster!” So she and Ailill gather an army together because she knows to strike while the iron is hot; the men of Ulster are still afflicted by Macha’s curse, which means they’re struck down with labour pains for a bit because they forced a heavily pregnant woman to chariot race (long story.) The only person immune is Cú Chulainn so it’s up to him to defend Ulster. This is where Morrigan comes in.

She offers to be his lover in the shape of a young woman and he rejects her, which makes her pissy, so she tells him that she’ll interfere with his next battle. Which she does, readily. First as an eel, to trip him up; then as a wolf, to get cattle to stampede and then finally as a heifer, leading the charge. He manages to wound her in every form and he encounters her again after, in the shape of an old woman milking a cow. She offers him three drinks of milk and he blesses her for each one, which heals her wounds. She points out to him that he once said he’d never heal her and he says that if he’d known it was her, he’d never have said what he did.

Ouch.

While the Morrigan is mainly a goddess of death, she can also be linked to wealth and fertility through her association with the cow. Likewise, there are hills in Ireland that are named for her breasts, similar to hills named for anothe Irish goddess Anu (or Danu, who has links to Dôn, mother figure of Welsh mythology.) The goddesses most associated with the identity of the Morrigan are: Badb, a goddess of war associated with crows (crows and other birds were heavily associated with the afterlife in Celtic mythology, along with lakes): Macha, another war goddess but also a goddess of horses and Nemain, a personification of frenzied warfare. An English counterpart would be the Iceni goddess Andraste (yes, Dragon Age fans, both Morrigan and Andraste take their names from Celtic mythology) who was invoked by Boudicca in her fight against the Romans. Some also see her as a kind of proto-Morgan le Fay.

The Morrigan gets mentioned a fair bit in modern pop culture. There are a lot of songs named for her or referencing her. Video games seem to like her, since her name is used in the likes of Dragon Age, Mabinogi, Darkstalkers, the aforementioned ship in Assassin’s Creed. She’s referenced in Neil Gaiman’s American Gods, though only Macha is named, she’s mentioned in a couple of BBC radio shows. The list goes on. Why her and not, for example, Andraste who gets all the attention?

Well, the reason might lie in a resurgence of popularity for Irish myth or be associated with Irish national pride which saw a resurgence in the early 20th century, or something equally deep and profound and sociological.

Or it could be that the Morrigan is just kind of cool. I may never know.