Long before modern horror stories filled screens, ancient civilizations lived in genuine terror of the dark. Unlike stern deities who judged human souls with cold balance, certain underworld gods existed purely to inflict agony, spread pestilence, and consume mortality itself. From the bloodthirsty demoness Lamashtu in ancient Mesopotamia to the cosmic chaos serpent Apophis lurking beneath Egyptian sands, these five terrifying mythic figures reveal the deepest existential fears of our ancestors.

1. Whiro: The Māori Ruler Of Eternal Darkness

According to mythology, the Māori demon-god Whiro was the brother of the light god Tāne and the son of Papa (Earth) and Rangi (Sky). However, the brothers and their other siblings were unhappy, as there was not enough space for them all. Therefore, Tāne wished to separate their parents by forcing Rangi upward. Everyone agreed except for Whiro, who wanted to remain in darkness.

Angered by Tāne’s actions, Whiro became the embodiment of darkness and evil. This dissension and the separation of Earth and Sky was perceived as the moment evil first entered the world.

Whiro went on to rule the underworld and was responsible for all the wicked things that humans did. His demonic guidance was ceaseless and did not end with the living. When a person died, it was believed that upon their descent into the underworld, they were eaten by Whiro. Each bit of flesh made him stronger so that, eventually, he would be powerful enough to break free of the netherworld, breach the surface, and devour everything.

The evil god Whiro is often confused with a hero of the same name: Whiro the voyager.

2. Lilith: The Night Demon Of Ancient Jewish Folklore

Many fables surround this next evil god and her fantastical vocations. Lilith was a she-demon-goddess, with dark origins in Sumerian culture and Babylonian demonology. Her epithet was “the beautiful maiden,” but she was believed to have been a harlot and a vampire who, once she chose a lover, would never let him go, without ever giving him real satisfaction.

Some texts claim that Lilith was the first wife of the Bible’s Adam and was created on par with him. However, Adam disliked her lack of subservience, so she abandoned him. Then, God made an obedient wife, Eve. Consumed by jealousy, Lilith turned into a snake and tempted Eve with the forbidden apple. After the couple was banished from the Garden of Eden, Lilith transformed into a demoness, vowing her revenge on all men.

Due to her bitterness and a subsequent inability to bear children, Lilith was also known to threaten women in childbirth. She could only be thwarted by an amulet inscribed with the names of three angels, Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangel, which was placed around a newborn baby’s neck. These angels were those, supposedly, sent by God after Lilith refused to submit to Adam.

In her rage, Lilith had flown to the Red Sea, a place of ill repute, full of lascivious demons. There, she bore a demonic brood of more than one hundred a day. The angels threatened to drown her in the sea, but she bargained with them, consenting to allow some of her demonic children to die day after day. This agreement is why the angels’ names were engraved on the amulets. When Lilith sees the names, she remembers her oath and leaves the child alone.

3. Loviatar: The Blind Finnish Goddess Of Pestilence And Agony

Loviatar belongs to Finnish mythology. This goddess of death and disease was the blind daughter of Tuoni, the god of death, and his underworld queen, Tuonetar. The Kalevala, a 19th-century work of poetry recognized as the national epic of Finland, references Loviatar:

“The blind daughter of Tuoni, Old and wicked witch, Lowyatar, Worst of all the Death-land women, Ugliest of Mana’s children, Source of all the host of evils, All the ills and plagues of Northland, Black in heart, and soul, and visage, Evil genius of Lappala, Made her couch along the wayside, On the fields of sin and sorrow; Turned her back upon the East-wind, To the source of stormy weather, To the chilling winds of morning.”

(Kalevala, Rune XLV, from the translation by John Martin Crawford)

According to legend, Loviatar was the evilest daughter of her parents and had the blackest of hearts. She was believed to have become pregnant by the East-wind and consequently birthed nine sons, all of whom carried the vilest diseases: Pistos (consumption), Ähky (colic), Luuvalo (gout), Riisi (rickets), Paise (ulcer), Rupi (scab), Syöjä (cancer), and Rutto (plague). The final son was considered the most dreadful, which is why his name does not appear in any reliable text. However, it is believed he was an enchanter and banished by Loviatar to become the scourge of humankind.

4. Apophis: The Eternal Cosmic Serpent Of Egyptian Chaos

The sky is cloudy, (but) the earth is dried,
[Everyone dies] through famine
on this sandbank of Apophis

(Moalla IV, 8-10)

Apophis was an impressive evil god of ancient Egypt. He was the god and demon of darkness, destruction, chaos, and evil. It is said that he caused unexplained darkness like solar eclipses, storms, and earthquakes, and was often depicted as a huge serpent with tightly compressed coils:

One without its eyes is this snake,
without its nose and without its ears:
It breathes its screaming (hmhm.t),
It lives on its own shouting

(The Book of the Gates)

 

Apophis was perhaps the only Egyptian god to be all-powerful, with an army of demons at his disposal. The evil god was not worshipped; he was feared. It is also believed that no matter how many times he was challenged, he could never be entirely vanquished.

In Egyptian mythology, Apophis was also the archenemy of the great sun god, Ra. Each night when Ra sailed on his barge into the underworld, Apophis would attack him to prevent sunrise. His attack method was a magical gaze that hypnotized Ra and his entourage, attempting to devour them as they choked on his serpent coils.

Apophis is also known as the “eater of souls” as he fed on both the living and the dead. This prompted the need for spells to be buried with the deceased, which would protect them against Apophis and his demons.

5. Lamashtu: The Terrifying Child Stealing Demoness Of Mesopotamia

The Mesopotamian goddess-demoness Lamashtu was the most terrible of all the female demons. She preyed on women during childbirth, kidnapped their newborns while they were breastfeeding, and then slew the babies to eat their flesh. Fittingly, her name is Akkadian for “she who erases.” However, as vile as eating children was, Lamashtu enacted various other evil deeds: she disturbed sleep and brought nightmares; she killed foliage and infested rivers and streams; she bound the muscles of men, caused pregnant women to miscarry, and brought disease and sickness.

Amulets like the one pictured above, depicting the lion-headed, bird-clawed Lamashtu, were worn by expectant mothers to defend against the demoness. As scholars also know from a cuneiform tablet in the Louvre, which preserves the ritual against Lamashtu, she was also bribed away with offerings of small feminine objects, such as combs and fibulae.

Despite her dark supremacy, Lamashtu had a weakness: the plague bringer, Pazuzu. Despite his malicious appearance in the film The Exorcist, Pazuzu was not the most malevolent demon in ancient Mesopotamia. Instead, he was summoned by women to protect them from true evil: Lamashtu. It is unknown whether Pazuzu did this because he felt sympathy for the expectant mothers or simply hated the demoness.

Despite her wicked reputation, some ancient Semitic cultures considered Lamashtu their guardian. Talismans incised with her name were hung on all doors of the household. However, whether this was to garner her protection or invoke her for sinister means remains a mystery.

Pegasus is a beautiful mythical winged horse that invokes peace, harmony, and freedom. It has inspired countless generations with their own versions of the winged equine. The true origins of the mythical creature are quite dark. Pegasus was not made by one of the Olympian gods or born through some great deed. Instead, he was born from the severed neck of Medusa the Gorgon after the legendary hero Perseus decapitated her. This shocking origin links the pure divine steed to monsters, blood, and the wrath of Poseidon.

The Gruesome Decapitation of Medusa by Perseus

Perseus was fathered by Zeus in the form of a radiant shower of gold over the princess Danaë. The Oracle of Delphi foretold that Perseus would kill his grandfather, King Acrisius, so he locked the mother and son away in a wooden chest. They washed up on the shores of an island, where Perseus was raised to manhood by a fisherman who was brother to the king, Polydectes. King Polydectes lusted after Danaë, but Perseus protected his mother. As an act of revenge, Polydectes held a feast, and all guests were required to bring a gift. Polydectes tasked Perseus with bringing him the head of the Gorgon Medusa as a suitable gift. 

Perseus prayed to the gods for help, and Zeus answered by sending Athena and Hermes to help.  Hermes gave the hero winged sandals, a sword, and Hades’s helmet of invisibility, while Athena lent him her mirror-like bronze shield and a bag to carry the head. Once on the island home of the Gorgons, Perseus snuck up on sleeping monsters. One glare from Medusa would turn someone to stone, so he used the shield’s reflective surface to sever Medusa’s head without being petrified. The moment her head was chopped off, Pegasus and Chrysaor sprang from her bloody neck.

Poseidon and the Divine Paternity of Pegasus

Medusa wasn’t always a horrific Gorgon whose glare would turn people to stone. She was once a beautiful maiden who caught the attention of the sea god Poseidon. They made love in Athena’s temple, and as punishment, the warrior goddess transformed Medusa’s hair into snakes and made her stare lethal. From Medusa and Poseidon’s coupling came Pegasus and the giant Chrysaor. They weren’t born until she was decapitated. Poseidon was not only the god of the sea, but horses were sacred to him as well, and this influenced the birth of the winged stallion.

Chrysaor the Forgotten Golden Twin of Pegasus

Pegasus had a twin, the giant Chrysaor, who was known to wield a golden sword. Poseidon’s realms also inspired this creature’s birth, because he had other immense offspring. Chrysaor didn’t have the same beauty and mythical status as his brother Pegasus. Instead, he appears in a lesser-known myth: he married Callirrhoe, daughter of the Titan Oceanus, and they had a son named Geryon. Geryon had three heads, then was later killed by Hercules when he was herding his cattle.

The Symbolism of Beauty Emerging From Destruction

Pegasus springing from Medusa’s head is a classic example of beauty and divine purity coming from chaos, terror, and death. It’s a classic trope in stories that means that after terrible events occur, there is always beauty to be found again in the aftermath. Pegasus’s chaotic birth is gruesome and far from glorious, but the majesty of a winged horse gives way to further stories of heroes and grand events that far outpace the ancient myths. Pegasus has become an iconic mythical animal that inspires new and original stories.

Long ago, the world that would eventually become known as the Land of the Rising Sun was covered in chaotic darkness. From the chaos emerged five primordial spirits named the Kotoamatsukami. These invisible spirits decided to set the cosmos before hiding away. After they hid, a divine couple arose from the cosmos and made order of the Japanese archipelago.

How Japanese Mythology Was Recorded in the Kojiki

Japanese mythology is recorded in the Kojiki, translated as Records of Ancient Matters. It is divided into three sections: Kamitsumaki (upper volume), Nakatsumaki (middle volume), and Shimotsumaki (lower volume). It is believed to be the oldest surviving literary work in Japan. It contains a plethora of information, including a genealogy, early Shinto myths, legends, hymns, and semi-historical events. It was written for Empress Genmei by Ōno Yasumaro.

Emergence of the Kotoamatsukami from Primordial Cosmic Chaos

In the beginning of Shinto mythology, the universe was pure chaos and shaped like an egg. Light was at the top of the universe, while beneath it was the energy and matter that formed the clouds that became heaven, or Takamagahara (High Plain of Heaven). The rest of the matter sank below heaven and became the earth. Within Takamagahara, a plant grew, and from this arose five deities who were spontaneously born without any form or gender in a process called hitorigami. 

These deities were called the Kotoamatsukami (distinguished heavenly gods), who ruled a dark, cosmic void. These beings set in motion the entire Shinto cosmology. They lived in Takamagahara, where all the primordial forces existed, and gods were spontaneously born without any form or gender. These gods were led by Amenominakanushi, the first spirit to be named in the Kojiki. After they emerged, they disappeared and were not mentioned again.

Divine Mandate of Izanagi and Izanami

After the Kotoamatsukami came seven generations of divine deities, all of whom were male and female, partnered together. These gods are known as the Kamiyonanayo (Seven Divine Generations). Finally, a pair was born, named Izanagi and Izanami. The divine pair were ordered to make the earth, and to accomplish this, the older deities gave them a spear known as Ame-no-Nuboko (heavenly jeweled spear).

Churning the Primordial Ocean and Shaping the Islands

Using the Ame-no-Nuboko, Izanami and Izanagi churned the waters to make the land. When brine fell from the tip of the spear into the ocean, the island Onogoro was formed. The divine couple then descended from heaven and made their home on this island. Izanagi and Izanami then married and decided to birth other kami (gods). Izanami birthed many kami until the fire god Kagu-tsuchi was born.

Tragic Fate of the Divine Couple and the Birth of Shinto Gods

When Izanami gave birth to the fire god Kagu-tsuchi, she was burned to death. In a fit of rage, Izanagi killed the fire god with a saber, and more kami were born from the blood and Kagu-Tsuchi’s body.  

After his wife’s passing, Izanagi descended to the land of the dead, Yomi, to search for her.  When he found Izanami, he was overjoyed, but also crushed and repulsed because her body had become a rotting corpse. More kami were born of her rotting body, and Izanagi fled to the world of the living, where she performed a cleansing ritual called the misogi. From the misogi, the three primary deities of the Shinto religion were born: the sun goddess Amaterasu, the moon god Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo, the god of storms.

Long ago, the world that would eventually become known as the Land of the Rising Sun was covered in chaotic darkness. From the chaos emerged five primordial spirits named the Kotoamatsukami. These invisible spirits decided to set the cosmos before hiding away. After they hid, a divine couple arose from the cosmos and made order of the Japanese archipelago.

How Japanese Mythology Was Recorded in the Kojiki

Japanese mythology is recorded in the Kojiki, translated as Records of Ancient Matters. It is divided into three sections: Kamitsumaki (upper volume), Nakatsumaki (middle volume), and Shimotsumaki (lower volume). It is believed to be the oldest surviving literary work in Japan. It contains a plethora of information, including a genealogy, early Shinto myths, legends, hymns, and semi-historical events. It was written for Empress Genmei by Ōno Yasumaro.

Emergence of the Kotoamatsukami from Primordial Cosmic Chaos

In the beginning of Shinto mythology, the universe was pure chaos and shaped like an egg. Light was at the top of the universe, while beneath it was the energy and matter that formed the clouds that became heaven, or Takamagahara (High Plain of Heaven). The rest of the matter sank below heaven and became the earth. Within Takamagahara, a plant grew, and from this arose five deities who were spontaneously born without any form or gender in a process called hitorigami. 

These deities were called the Kotoamatsukami (distinguished heavenly gods), who ruled a dark, cosmic void. These beings set in motion the entire Shinto cosmology. They lived in Takamagahara, where all the primordial forces existed, and gods were spontaneously born without any form or gender. These gods were led by Amenominakanushi, the first spirit to be named in the Kojiki. After they emerged, they disappeared and were not mentioned again.

Divine Mandate of Izanagi and Izanami

After the Kotoamatsukami came seven generations of divine deities, all of whom were male and female, partnered together. These gods are known as the Kamiyonanayo (Seven Divine Generations). Finally, a pair was born, named Izanagi and Izanami. The divine pair were ordered to make the earth, and to accomplish this, the older deities gave them a spear known as Ame-no-Nuboko (heavenly jeweled spear).

Churning the Primordial Ocean and Shaping the Islands

Using the Ame-no-Nuboko, Izanami and Izanagi churned the waters to make the land. When brine fell from the tip of the spear into the ocean, the island Onogoro was formed. The divine couple then descended from heaven and made their home on this island. Izanagi and Izanami then married and decided to birth other kami (gods). Izanami birthed many kami until the fire god Kagu-tsuchi was born.

Tragic Fate of the Divine Couple and the Birth of Shinto Gods

When Izanami gave birth to the fire god Kagu-tsuchi, she was burned to death. In a fit of rage, Izanagi killed the fire god with a saber, and more kami were born from the blood and Kagu-Tsuchi’s body.  

After his wife’s passing, Izanagi descended to the land of the dead, Yomi, to search for her.  When he found Izanami, he was overjoyed, but also crushed and repulsed because her body had become a rotting corpse. More kami were born of her rotting body, and Izanagi fled to the world of the living, where she performed a cleansing ritual called the misogi. From the misogi, the three primary deities of the Shinto religion were born: the sun goddess Amaterasu, the moon god Tsukuyomi, and Susanoo, the god of storms.

Ships splintered as rocks rained down from the sheer cliffs. The Laestrygonians speared their victims, Odysseus’ men, like fish before becoming a “loathly” meal for the giant cannibals.

This episode wrought devastation on Odysseus’ fleet. It was, by far, the single deadliest event in the Odyssey, and of the twelve ships that entered the scene, only one made it out.

Odysseus survived, but it wasn’t due to pure luck; it was rather a single, quiet decision that was made before the attack began. And while his men died, his survival was far from the heroism one would assume from the eponymous character.

Meeting the Laestrygonians

In Book X of the Odyssey, the Laestrygonians are introduced, but not much time is spent on Odysseus’ contact with them. However, the few sentences dedicated to them do a good job at conveying the terrifying nature of these people.

Homer describes them not exactly as giants, but mighty and huge, ‘like’ giants. Odysseus’ three comrades scout out the land and first meet a maiden, the daughter of the Laestrygonian king Antiphates. She is described as “goodly” and leads the men back to the house of her father. At this point, there is no indication of the horror that lies ahead.

Here, Odysseus’ scouts meet Antiphates’ wife, and they are aghast at her size, being as “huge as the peak of a mountain.” Upon seeing Odysseus’ men, she wastes no time in calling for her husband. King Antiphates enters, and he, too, wastes no time deliberating. He immediately grabs one of the men for his meal, and the other two flee towards the ships, while hordes of Laestrygonians pour out of their dwellings in pursuit.

What follows is a lesson in tactical error for the Greeks.

The Deceptive Harbor: A Trap Disguised as Safety

When they arrived at the home of the Laestrygonians, Odysseus and his men, all contained within a fleet of 12 ships, had encountered a harbor off the coast of “Telepylus.” Where exactly this is is open to debate. Homer mentions that the nights here are extremely short, which would indicate that it would be a place close to the Arctic Circle! This, however, does not make sense given the locations in the rest of the Odyssey, as well as Greek geographical knowledge at the time Homer wrote his epic. Thucydides and Polybius placed the Laestrygonians in Sicily, while Pliny the Elder placed them in Sicily and Italy.

Wherever they were, the natural harbor on the coast of their realm was a sailor’s dream. On either side were sheer cliffs, and the mouth was narrow. Inside, there were no waves, and Homer describes it as a “bright calm.”

Odysseus alone moored his black ship outside the harbor. The text gives no reason for this. It can be assumed that it is an action informed by Odysseus’ cautious nature, perhaps learned from prior hostile encounters throughout the story. Meanwhile, the other ships sailed into the harbor and were moored close together. Here they were a perfect target for the Laestrygonians, who appeared in great numbers on the cliffside and hurled large rocks onto the vessels below. Ships were crushed, and men were slain.

Odysseus made no effort to save his stricken comrades. Instead, he drew his sword and cut the rope mooring his ship, and bade his crew to row.

Within a few sentences, a minute’s worth of reading time, Odysseus’ men meet the Laestrygonians, are chased to the shore, and 11 of the 12 ships in the fleet are destroyed. Hundreds of men become victims of the cannibal giants.

And the cold, calculating Odysseus leaves them to their fate, knowing that any rescue attempt would be completely suicidal. The curious Odysseus shows his pragmatic side.

What Made Odysseus Different: The Strategic Mind

Odysseus’ actions are in contrast to his actions in a previous chapter of the Odyssey, that of the encounter with Polyphemus, the Cyclops. Here, curiosity got the better of pragmatism. Spotting the giant’s cave, Odysseus took 12 men and investigated, finding sheep, goats, and cheese in abundance. The Cyclops, however, was not at home. The men urged Odysseus to take what they could and leave, but Odysseus overruled them, wanting to meet the giant, expecting that the cave’s owner would abide by the custom of xenia and treat his guests well.

When the Cyclops returned, he sealed the cave with a large boulder and found Odysseus and his men. Angered by the intrusion, he told Odysseus that he does not abide by customary rules of the gods, nor does he fear the gods. He then killed two of Odysseus’ men and promptly ate them.

Odysseus and the others do make their escape, blinding and then taunting the Cyclops in the process, but the episode clearly teaches Odysseus a lesson in dealing with unknown giants on strange islands. By the time he gets to the home of the Laestrygonians, he is well aware of the consequences of curiosity and takes caution.

He does not investigate the island himself. He sends three of his men. He does not warn the other captains not to moor their boats in the harbor, yet he moors his boat outside. And when the Laestrygonians are massacring their victims, Odysseus wastes no time in fleeing as fast as possible.

A Changed Man

Homer offers little in the way of any deeper explanation for Odysseus’ change of character. Suppositions must be left to the reader in this case. Perhaps Odysseus’ actions are the transformation of a hero relishing in adventure to a weary traveler just wanting to survive and return home.

By the time he reaches Circe’s island of Aeaea, this becomes clear. Odysseus and his men had come within sight of Ithaca before opening the Bag of Winds, blowing the fleet off course in a turn of events that would add many long years to the journey. Such a disheartening misfortune was then compounded by immense slaughter as the Laestrygonians butchered Odysseus’ fleet. By the time Odysseus reaches Circe’s island, he and his men are certainly weary, and likely quite traumatized.

On Aeaea, the enchantress turns his men into pigs, creating yet another trial to overcome. Circe does turn his men back (younger and more handsome than before), but instead of moving on, Odysseus shows no hurry to get back to his beloved Penelope on Ithaca. He spends an entire year with Circe, accepting her hospitality and her intimate company.

After a year, it is not Odysseus who spurs himself to return home, but rather his men, who convince him to resume his journey. Herein lies the proof of a changed man. There seems to be a lack of regret. Odysseus must be convinced by others. The loss of the vast majority of his men to the Laestrygonians was a very large and heavy proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

By this time, Odysseus had had so many hostile encounters that the prospect of more was overwhelming. Odysseus seemed quite content to while away the rest of his life on the island, with ample food and the company of a beautiful woman.

And when Odysseus does finally leave, his fears prove founded, as he must confront more terrifying scenes of carnage and despair.

The Most Expensive Lesson in the Odyssey

The episode with the Laestrygonians is devastating, both in terms of the loss of life and in terms of Odysseus’ mental state. The difference between those who died and those who didn’t was a simple decision, made before contact with the Laestrygonians was even made.

This scene with the giant cannibals proves the folly of assumptions. Just because something looks safe doesn’t mean it is safe. Most of Odysseus’ men never survived long enough to learn that vital lesson.

For Odysseus, that lesson had already been learned.

A light fog rests on the calm waters as a swan-shaped boat arrives to take the heroes to a mystical land where time is different and where mortals cannot tread. It is not a place separated by geography and related to the real world, but a veil between realities where the weary can find rest.

This is not a scene from the Irish or Welsh myths, but the ending of The Lord of the Rings, when Gandalf, Frodo, and Bilbo must say goodbye to their loyal friends in what is fondly remembered as a heart-wrenching scene.

Modern fantasy has been heavily influenced by the myths of the ancient Celtic people and places, creating a fertile ground for imagination. Adapting the old to the new, such re-envisioning of styles, tropes, and aesthetics has become readily recognizable worldwide as a staple of the fantasy genre.

Core Elements in Celtic Mythology

Finding its way to many modern fantasy stories is the idea of a magical pathway or portal to a parallel world of wonder. This is how the Otherworld realm of Tír na nÓg can be reached. In Irish legend, this is a realm of joy and abundance that exists alongside the real world. Its portals are located in fairy mounds and caves where the veil between this world and the Otherworld is thinnest.

Reference to this idea can be found in many modern stories. In the world of C.S. Lewis, Narnia is accessed through a liminal threshold. It is a place like Tír na nÓg, where time runs differently. Years can pass in Narnia while only a minute passes in the real world. This is directly influenced by stories of Tír na nÓg in Irish myth, although the time dilation is the other way round! A year in Tír na nÓg often results in 100 years having passed in Ireland.

The trope of crossing through thin veils into an otherworld of magic and wonder is certainly not confined to the writing of C.S. Lewis. It is a trope found in Bridge to Terabithia, the Harry Potter series, Pan’s Labyrinth, The NeverEnding Story, and Alice in Wonderland, to name just a few.

The magical realms on the other sides of these portals are filled with wondrous elements, from strange places and fantastical palaces, to wizards, dragons, trolls, and all manner of mythic beasts.

Of major significance are the Arthurian legends, which have provided inspiration for modern fantasy for many decades. The themes of success and power, weakness and loss, magical curses, strange beings, magical swords, and quests for glory are fresh in the memory of the modern public, having been the subjects of pervasive repetition.

But even these stories pale in comparison to the influence of modern fantasy’s most famous author…

The Influence of Tolkien

While Celtic mythology may very well have become a popular subject in modern fantasy, it is undeniable that much of what modern fantasy is today is owed to the grandfather of modern fantasy, J.R.R. Tolkien, who formed a foundation of elements on which so much fantasy is built today.

Tolkien invested significant effort into the background lore of his stories. With a deep knowledge of European myth and his command of linguistics, he created people, places, and languages that were believable, despite being set in fantastic realms of his imagination.

Of note is the Sindarin language of the Elves, which Tolkien constructed with Welsh phonology, while the Noldor Elves of Tolkien’s Silmarillion are deeply inspired by the Tuatha Dé Danann, the race of godlike beings in Irish myth.

The Noldor leave their home of Valinor from across the sea, arrive in Middle-earth, burn their ships, and fight the dark lord Melkor. In Irish myth, the Tuatha Dé Danann leave their mystical lands, arrive in Ireland, burn their ships, and fight the monstrous Fomorians for control over the mortal realm. It has also been suggested that the Eye of Sauron was influenced by Balor of the Evil Eye, the king of the Fomorians. The gaze from his eye could lay waste to entire armies.

Despite these influences, Tolkien was wary of his work being associated with anything “Celtic.” He wrote:

“I do know Celtic things (many in their original languages Irish and Welsh), and feel for them a certain distaste: largely for their fundamental unreason. They have a bright colour, but are like a broken stained glass window reassembled without design. They are in fact ‘mad’ as your reader says – but I don’t believe I am.”

From a visual perspective, Tolkien’s influence in designing the Elvish components of his works was not dissimilar to Art Nouveau, using flowing organic and sinuous forms rather than the neatly packed Celtic knots, which have also become synonymous with Elvish aesthetics in modern fantasy.

While Tolkien may have relied more on ideas of Norse and Germanic myth, the aesthetics of his work have evolved beyond his imagination. In Peter Jackson’s modern retellings of Tolkien’s epic, conceptual designer Alan Lee is quoted as having used elements of Celtic design and Art Nouveau, which Tolkien scholar Dimitra Fimi notes as having a ‘Celtic’ air and ambience, which is also supported by a musical score by Howard Shore that promotes the ethereal Celtic feel.

Reviving the Celts

Our ideas of what formed Celtic society and aesthetic are significantly shaped by the Celtic Revival, a series of movements that began in the late 19th century that invigorated Celtic culture. Much of it is based on assumptions and romantic envisionings that connect with viewers on an emotional level. Some of what we consider “Celtic” today did not exist in the form we imagine it. As such, our idea of what constitutes “Celtic” is malleable, and our perceptions of it are often not based on direct historical certainty. This makes it a very attractive resource for creating fantasy realms and populating them with all manner of cultures and creatures.

It is fair to say this movement never really died out. It is consistently revitalized by successive waves of interest. In the real world, it is a factor in societal identity within the “Celtic” nations. In imagination, it serves as a major influence in modern fantasy, where it has found a very comfortable home across multiple media.

While modern ideas of “Celtic” may not always be totally faithful to the source, the idea, its aesthetic, and ambience are real inasmuch as they form a creative foundation for expanding the imagination of what “Celtic” could represent.

Celtic Myth in Modern Fantasy

Presently, the fantasy genre is one of massive popularity and is certainly one of the most profitable. Over the past two decades, Game of Thrones and its spinoffs have kept viewers glued to their screens.

Given the trend of Celtic influence in modern fantasy, it is no surprise that it is present in this sweeping epic by George R. R. Martin. Much of the lore of Westeros is inspired by British history, of which a considerable quantity is Celtic. This much is apparent simply by looking at the map. A sizable portion of it is a facsimile of Ireland rotated 180 degrees.

Of course, that’s not the only Celtic reference in Game of Thrones. The series is filled with names and places that recall the ancient British Isles. The Wall is inspired by Hadrian’s Wall, which separated Roman Britain from the Picts in the north. One of the principal characters, “Bran,” (the Three-Eyed Raven), is a name common in Irish myths, and means “raven,” while “Tyrion” is similar to the Welsh word “tirion,” meaning “gentle” or “fair.” While the latter connection may be tenuous, it is undeniable that the phonology sounds very Welsh.

The history of Westeros also mirrors that of England. While the Anglo-Saxon migrations pushed the Celtic Britons north and west, so too did the Andals drive the First Men to the north, with a substantial number of them becoming the Wildlings beyond the Wall—mirroring the Picts in reality.

Beyond Westeros and the lands of Game of Thrones, many other fantasy worlds exist. Of note is the Witcher series of books created by Polish author Andrzej Sapkowski, which became an international hit as it expanded into the video game and television series markets. The stories center around Geralt of Rivia, a superhuman monster hunter, and his ward, Ciri, who is unique in that she can travel freely between worlds. This makes her extremely valuable to the Wild Hunt, a group of powerful elves who want to use her powers to escape their dying world. While the concept of traveling between worlds is well attested in Celtic mythology, with stories of journeys to the Otherworld, the Wild Hunt is a myth with pan-European roots that is also found in Celtic mythology.

Many of the people and creatures that inhabit the world of the Witcher are also directly inspired by Celtic legends. There are pixies, banshees, barghests, spriggans, and a Leshen (A Slavic creature) named Kernun, a possible reference to the Celtic god Cernunnos.

In J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, there are also plenty of references to Celtic myth, and Rowling has stated that she drew from British folklore for inspiration. The Harry Potter series also includes banshees as well as leprechauns, kelpies, redcaps, and many other mythical creatures.

Meanwhile, recent decades have also seen renewed interest in the Narnia series by C. S. Lewis, which features unicorns, dragons, and other fantastical creatures inspired by Celtic myth. The Celtic idea central to the story is the ability to travel between worlds. The third book, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, is heavily inspired by an old Irish tale of a sea journey to the Otherworld.

Indeed, crossing the threshold into a different realm is a staple of fantasy fiction. In the NeverEnding Story, Bastian journeys to Fantastica (Fantasia in the film) through a book. In Bridge to Terabithia (novel and films), a world born purely of children’s imagination is accessible by swinging on a rope across a creek.

The themes of Celtic mythology are remarkably adaptable and are able to fit a wide range of fantasy settings, easily spilling over into other genres. Modern versions of Celtic myth may not closely resemble their ancient origins, but they preserve the wonder and mystery that made the ideas so compelling thousands of years ago. Reimagining the elements of Celtic mythology has kept audiences engaged for centuries and suggests a promising future for the continued preservation and evolution of these Celtic ideas.

The chilling sound of a banshee crying through the still air of the Irish night is one of the most terrifying sounds ever imagined. These supernatural specters have been omens of death for centuries, wailing and screeching their way into myth and legend.

Origins of the Banshee

The word “banshee” comes from the Old Irish “ben side,” meaning “woman of the fairy mound.” While the meaning may not conjure images of frightening spirits, the myths connected to the term certainly do. For the banshee heralds death.

The spirit of this woman shrieks and wails to announce impending doom. This traditional vocal lament is often referred to as “keening” and is part of the real-world tradition of mourning. Like the tradition of keening, the legend of the banshee has its origins in Celtic, pre-Christian Ireland and the beliefs of fairy-folk who inhabited the unseen Otherworld and the fairy mounds that link it to the realm of mortals.

The myth is also present in Scotland. The “bean-nighe” or “washerwoman” is an old woman who appears by streams and rivers and washes the clothes of the person who is about to die. Similarly, the “caoineag” or “weeper” is a Highland banshee who inhabits lakes, lochs, and waterfalls. Like the Irish banshee, her wailing is a portent for death.

Sight and Sound

Traditional stories vary in their description of banshees. Some tell of crouched old hags with ugly wrinkled faces, while others portray her as a beautiful young woman. She is also described as being the ghost of a woman who was murdered or died during childbirth. She is generally described as having long, silver hair, which she combs, sometimes so vigorously that it is as if she is ripping it out. Her eyes are bloodshot from weeping, and she wears a cloak, or the shroud from a buried corpse.

Like her appearance, there are more than a few descriptions of her wailing. Some accounts claim that her scream is so piercing that it can shatter glass. Modern interpretations suggest the banshee’s cries may have originated from barn owls or foxes, both of which are capable of creating very eerie sounds. Paired with the image of a wailing spirit, these screeches and howls can be quite frightening.

Encounters

Over the centuries, there have been many claims of people encountering banshees. In 1801, Lord Rossmore, an Irish representative peer in the House of Lords, died at the age of 75 while staying at the house of the Commander in Chief of the British forces in Ireland. Two other guests and their maid allegedly heard a wailing at 2:30 in the morning, crying the name “Rossmore.” Later, they discovered that a servant had entered Rossmore’s room at that time to find him dying.

The banshee as a washerwoman has appeared in several tales foreshadowing the doom of armies. In 1317, Prince Donchad O’Brien and his army encountered “the Hag of the Black Head” washing severed limbs and heads in a lake, claiming that they were those of his army, and Donchad’s head was among them. Donchad did not heed her warning and subsequently marched to his doom.

The following year, a Norman army under the command of Richard de Clare encountered an old washerwoman cleaning armor and blood-soaked clothes in a stream. She foretold of his army’s doom, and soon after, De Clare’s army was nothing more than corpses littering the battlefield.

Other, more tenuous stories exist, linking the banshee to the uncanny demise of people. In 1437, James I of Scotland was said to have been visited by a mysterious woman warning him of his death shortly before he was killed by an assassin.

And in 1893, the Irish Times published letters from those claiming to have been visited by the wailing horror. Patrick Farrell wrote one such letter in which he claimed to have heard sobbing in his yard. He went outside and saw a white deer, which he attempted to strike, but his stick only met air. The deer let out a wailful cry, and on the same night, in Australia, Farrell’s cousin died.

The Banshee in Modern Culture

As cultures have evolved, so have stories and representations of banshees. They have garnered attention from across the media spectrum, from literature and music to games and the silver screen.

As mythological creatures, banshees commonly appear in horror and fantasy fiction. During the 19th century, and spurred on by the Celtic Revival of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, banshees, as subjects of Celtic myth, became a popular focus for authors and poets. They were mentioned in anthologies of Celtic myths, as well as being the subjects of stories in their own right. Notably, Irish Fairy and Folk Tales, an anthology of stories collected by William Butler Yeats, published in 1892, included several tales of banshees.

In music, “The Banshee” is a 1925 piece for piano strings by Henry Cowell and is an absolutely chilling and imaginative composition. It comprises the disturbing sound of nails being scratched along the strings rather than the traditional methods of playing the piano.

Horror and folk tales aren’t the only places where banshees are found. They have served as a plot device in the TV series Charmed, and as a sympathetic protagonist in Teen Wolf, while characters from science fiction games such as Mass Effect and Warhammer 40,000 have also been named as “banshees,” usually wielding impressive sonic powers.

Banshees also get referenced in film and television titles, but have little to do with banshees of myth or supernatural imaginings, such as The Banshees of Inisherin, a 2022 movie starring Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, and Banshee, a TV series which takes place in the town of Banshee, Pennsylvania. Here, the word is used to provoke a sense of foreboding, hearkening back to the sense of doom linked to the idea of the mythical specter.

In the real world, banshees are still present in the Irish cultural imagination. They are one of the many symbols reflecting Irish identity and are subjects of tourism and folklore preservation in the country. Meanwhile, there are parts of the country where belief in the supernatural is still a prevalent dynamic. Banshees are considered very real by some Irish people, especially in rural areas.

However the idea is realized, the notion of a lonely, spectral woman wailing in the darkness is powerful, and is likely to continue existing in human imagination the same way in which vampires, ghosts, werewolves, zombies, and other supernatural beings exist.

So fearsome a warrior was Cú Chulainn that before he perished in battle, he bound himself to a rock so that he could die standing up. Indomitable and unyielding, he was one of the great embodiments of Celtic heroes. Larger than life, champions such as Cú Chulainn filled the heroic epics with deeds of powerful wonder, striking fear into their enemies and inspiring awe from those who listened to the tales.

The Irish cycles and the Welsh Mabinogion represent the enduring pillars of Celtic mythological tradition, and they are replete with grand stories of heroes, villains, spectacular places, and legendary deeds.

Cú Chulainn: Ireland’s Greatest Hero

The story of Cú Chulainn represents the height of Irish warrior legends, and the tales of his life are many. His legends come from the Ulster Cycle, which tells of the heroic age of the Ulaid in northeastern Ireland, traditionally placed in the 1st century AD.

Cú Chulainn was the son of the god Lugh and Dechtire, the sister of King Conor. He was said to have seven fingers on each hand, seven toes on each foot, and as many as seven pupils in each eye. Even as a child, he was strong and was given the name “Sétante.” His more well-known name comes from the legend of how he killed a dog that attacked him. The dog’s owner, Culann, was ultimately left without the protection of his faithful friend, and in the animal’s place, Sétante vowed to protect Culann. From that day on, Sétante was known as Cú Chulainn, “Culann’s hound.”

He grew to become a powerful and feared warrior of great prowess. In the story of the Cattle Raid of Cooley, the warrior Queen of Connaught, Medb (Maeve), has a disagreement with her husband, Ailill, over how much wealth they each possess. The white bull owned by Ailill is the prize of his fortune, and Medb determines she must have the most famous brown bull of Cooley from the Ulstermen. So she orders the Connaught army to march on Ulster.

At this time, the Ulstermen are struck by a strange affliction known as the Curse of Macha and become immobile with all their strength sapped, and in pain like that of childbirth. Cú Chulainn, the Ulster champion, is unaffected and remains as Ulster’s lone defender. Nevertheless, he holds off the Connaughtmen in a series of one-on-one combat.

Cú Chulainn fights for several days, culminating in an epic struggle between him and Fer Díad, his friend and foster brother, who is duty-bound to fight for Connaught. Eventually, the curse plaguing the Ulstermen lifts, and they join Cú Chulainn, routing the Connaught army. Despite the retreat, the Connaught army still manages to take the brown bull and deliver it to Medb. It defeats Ailill’s white-horned bull, and in the aftermath, peace is secured between Connaught and Ulster.

Like so many of the mythic tales, Cú Chulainn’s stories are also filled with immense tragedy. Far from being a perfect being, Cú Chulainn is flawed and very human in this regard. While in Scotland, he meets a woman named Aife and has relations with her, but Cú Chulainn returns to Ireland and marries a woman named Emer. Many years later, a young boy arrives on the coast of Ireland and disposes of the local warriors. When Cú Chulainn confronts him, the two fight, and surprisingly, the young boy is almost able to overcome Cú Chulainn, who resorts to using his magical spear to kill the boy. Upon inspecting the body, he finds the boy wearing a ring that Cú Chulainn had entrusted to Aife. It dawns on Cú Chulainn that he just killed his own unknown son.

The Death of Cú Chulainn

Perhaps the most heroic part of Cú Chulainn’s life was the manner of his death. He made many enemies during his life. Among them was Queen Medb, who sought revenge. She recruited the help of the three daughters of Calatin, a sorcerer who had been slain by Cú Chulainn, along with 27 of his sons.

Medb sent the three daughters far and wide so they could learn the arts of sorcery, and when they returned, they besieged the Ulstermen with illusions of entire armies in an attempt to draw out Cú Chulainn. Twice, Cú Chulainn had to be talked out of attacking, but on the third attempt, Medb conjured the image of Niamh, a close friend of Cú Chulainn, and the warrior could not hold back. He rode out upon his chariot to meet the foe, but many things stood in his path before he could find his enemies.

His mother tried to give him wine, but it turned to blood in his mouth. He happened upon Badb of the Sidhe, an old woman washing bloody clothes in a river, and keening, or wailing, to herself. When Cú Chulainn asked whose clothes they were, she replied that they were his. Badb thus fulfilled the myth of the banshee, foretelling death. Cú Chulainn then met three old crones who tricked him into eating dog meat, which was against his sacred vow. This magically sapped his strength. These hags were the embodiment of the Morrigan, a powerful goddess looking for revenge against Cú Chulainn for being spurned.

Contact with Medb’s soldiers resulted in a back-and-forth of spears being thrown. A warrior named Lugaid, whose father had been killed by Cú Chulainn, threw the spear that mortally wounded Cú Chulainn, spilling his intestines, and as the great warrior’s life evaporated, he tied himself to a pillar so that he could die standing up. So fearful were Lugaid and the other soldiers that it was only when a crow alighted on Cú Chulainn’s body that they knew that he was truly dead.

Many Great Irish Warriors

Of course, Cú Chulainn was not the only warrior of Irish myth and legend. Fionn mac Cumhaill, or “Finn McCool,” was another such warrior. He was the famed leader of a band of hunter-warriors known as the Fianna, and was said to have a magical thumb that granted him great wisdom. At the age of 10, he defeated Áillen, a fire-breathing man of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the race of godlike immortals that dwelt in the Celtic Otherworld. According to legend, Fionn never died, but sleeps in a cave surrounded by the Fianna. It is said that in the time of Ireland’s greatest need, he will wake and defend the Emerald Isle.

The contexts of heroes are not confined to the realm of mortals. Gods could also be considered heroes, and such was certainly the case for Lugh of the Long Arm. He was the grandson of Balor of the Evil Eye, the leader of the Fomorians, a race of monstrous beings at war with the Tuatha Dé Danann. At the Second Battle of Mag Tuireadh between the two races of godlike beings, Lugh faces Balor and, with a sling-stone, shoots Balor’s eye out the back of his head, causing destruction to the Fomorian army behind.

Tales of the Mabinogion

Like the heroic epics of the Irish, the Welsh have many tales of great warriors. These come from the Mabinogion, a collection of eleven stories compiled in the 12th–13th centuries from oral traditions.

One of the heroes is Pwyll, prince and later king of Dyfed, a mortal who exchanges places with Arawn, the ruler of the Otherworld realm of Annwn, and rules justly, resisting the advances of Arawn’s wife. While there, he defeats Arawn’s rival and unites Annwn under Arawn’s rule. Gaining praise and respect, he marries Rhiannon, a woman associated with being (although not explicitly stated in the Mabinogion) a goddess from the Otherworld. Their son Pryderi also becomes a heroic warrior, fighting many battles and succeeding his father as king of Dyfed.

His tale coincides with the tale of Brân the Blessed, a giant and the king of Britain. In the Mabinogion, Irish king Matholwch travels to Wales and asks for the hand of Branwen, the sister of Brân. Slighted at not being consulted, their half-brother, Efnysien, mutilates Matholwch’s horses. In response, Brân gives Matholwch a magic cauldron that can revive the dead. Matholwch and Branwen are wed and reign together in Ireland. Branwen, however, is treated badly and beaten daily. She sends a message across the Irish Sea, and Brân musters an army to rescue his sister. So large is Brân that he wades across the sea while his army has to sail.

The Irish offer peace and build a hall large enough to entertain Brân and his men, but inside, they hang bags containing Irish warriors, ready to murder their guests. Efnysien, however, discovers the plot and crushes the warriors’ skulls. Later, at the feast, he murders Gwern, the son of Matholwch and Branwen, by tossing him into the fire. A massive battle breaks out with many casualties on both sides.

The Irish, however, are able to revive their dead using the cauldron, so Efnysien hides in the pile of Irish bodies and is thrown into the cauldron. He destroys it from the inside and sacrifices himself in the process. Brân the Blessed is mortally wounded, and his head is cut off and taken back to Wales. Only seven men survive the battle, of which Pryderi is one. Branwen dies from a broken heart. The survivors spend seven years in Harlech, accompanied by Brân’s head, which frequently talks to them.

Brân’s brother, Manawydan, is famous in his own right and also survived the battle. He marries Pryderi’s widowed mother, Rhiannon, and plays an important part in combating an enchantment that is placed over Pryderi’s realm. The land becomes desolate, and Pryderi and Rhiannon are imprisoned by a man seeking revenge. Manawydan figures out who imposed the curse and outwits him, convincing him to lift it.

Of course, there are many more tales of heroic deeds, but unlike the Irish legends, which often emphasize might and strength, the Welsh tales tend to focus more on guile and defeating enemies through clever thought.

Existing in the background of society for many centuries, Irish and Welsh tales were preserved by Christian monks long after the pre-Christian societies of Celtic myth had evolved into a new era. They became prominent once again during the Celtic Revival movement of the 19th and early 20th centuries, when interest in the old Celtic cultures and “race” exploded in the socio-political scenes of the British Isles.

Reinvigorated and transformed to fit modern interpretations, these traditions have found a strong foundation in current media. Not only are their tales repeated, but they have formed a staple of influence for the fantasy genre, with Celtic tropes featuring heavily in the works of J.R.R. Tolkien and beyond.

Often described as a world parallel to our own or as a place far beyond the bounds of the mortal realm, the Celtic Otherworld has many guises. It is a place of mists and mystery, and a home to gods and strange creatures from mythic fantasy.

Existing as a concept across Welsh, Irish, and Scottish traditions, the Otherworld is associated with the supernatural and encompasses both malevolent and benevolent forces. The duality of the Otherworld is as a realm of death as well as eternal life, youth, and beauty.

Herein lie the seductive and terrifying aspects of this fabled domain.

The Otherworlds and Their Names

The ancient Celts did not represent a unified group. They had different societies, languages, and cultures. Reflecting their diversity were the various beliefs surrounding the concept of the Otherworld.

In Irish, Scottish, and Manx mythology, Tìr na nÒg (Tìr nan Òg—Scottish, Cheer nyn Aeg—Manx) was an island paradise of eternal youth inhabited by the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient gods. The source of the gods’ eternal youth is the feast of Goibniu, a banquet held by Goibniu, the god of smithing, also associated with hospitality. The island is a joyful and wondrous place of abundance, full of poetry, music, and entertainment. Spoken of in various Irish tales, Tìr na nÒg can be reached through magical entrances found in burial mounds and caves.

Irish myth also speaks of a place known as Mag Mell, the Plain of Honey, which may be another name for Tìr na nÒg. It was believed to be located far to the west of Ireland, possibly under the ocean. Similar to Elysium in Greek mythology, it is inhabited by the souls of those who achieved glory in life.

In Welsh mythology, the Otherworld is known as Annwn, and like its other Celtic analogs, it is a place of youth and abundance that exists either as an island in the ocean or under the earth. The name may be derived from ande-dubnos, a Gallo-Brittonic name which literally means “underworld.” Later Welsh tradition also speaks of an Otherworld place called Avalon, an island to which the wounded King Arthur was taken after his injuries at the Battle of Camlann.

Meanwhile, the Celts in France had their own beliefs. Procopius of Byzantium stated that the Continental Celts believed that the souls of the dead gathered in northwestern Gaul before they were ferried to the afterlife, which lay to the west of the British Isles. Breton folklore still refers to this ghostly procession of boats as Bag an Noz.

Fairies, Fae, and Powerful Gods

In Irish mythology, the Otherworld is inhabited by a host of supernatural creatures, among which are the Tuatha Dé Danann, the ancient race of gods who were believed to be the first inhabitants of Ireland, and who were displaced by mortals. Their enemies are the Fomorians, a race of supernatural, monstrous beings who were also enemies of Ireland’s first human settlers, named in the texts as the Milesians. The Tuatha Dé Danann’s war with the Fomorians has analogies in other cultures, such as the war between the Aesir and the Vanir in Norse mythology, and the war between the Olympians and the Titans in Greek mythology. Thus, the concept of a war between groups of godlike rulers is a common theme found across cultures.

Nevertheless, after their displacement by the Milesians, the Tuatha Dé Danann retreated into the sídhe—fairy mounds, or hollow hills that served as entrances to the Otherworld. In the modern era of Celtic Revivalism to the present, “sídhe” has been conflated with the mounds and the fairies who live within. The latter definition is a modern invention, while in older texts, “sídhe” refers only to the places where the otherworldly beings reside. These could be anything from simple residences to grand palaces.

They are also the dwelling places of the aos sí or áes sídhe (folk of the sídhe), a race of supernatural beings similar to the elves of Germanic folklore. They were viewed as earthly gods, and according to the 8th-century Fiacc’s Hymn, they were adored by mortals.

The supernatural beings of the Otherworld were certainly not confined there, and there are many mythic tales of such beings interacting with people from the mortal realm. A major example in the Irish legends is that of the hero Cú Chulainn, who encounters many gods throughout his adventures, including Lugh, his divine father (although Cú Chulainn is still a mortal), and all three forms of the Morrígan.

The Lure of Paradise and the Divine

For the ordinary Celtic people of the ancient past, a belief in an Otherworld of eternal abundance, joy, and beauty was a reflection of hopes and dreams. It existed in stark contrast to the brutal and often very short lives of people who lived in a tumultuous and challenging time. The desire for freedom from suffering and death was (and still is) a primary driver in the creation of such mythical realms.

An exemplar of this is the tale of Oisín and his journey to Tír na nÓg with Niamh as recounted in the Fenian Cycle. In this story, Oisin, a member of the Fianna (and son of Finn MacCool), a band of legendary warriors, meets a beautiful woman named Niamh, who claims to be of the Tuatha Dé Danann in the land of Tír na nÓg. He goes with her and spends three years in the mystical realm, surrounded by paradise, but he longs to visit his home once again and tell his father of his experiences. Niamh warns him that if he goes, then he must not touch the ground or he will not be able to re-enter Tír na nÓg. Unfortunately, Oisin falls off his horse while in Ireland. Not only can he not return to Tír na nÓg, but 300 years have passed in his absence, and everyone he knew has died.

The dark end to this tale hints at what lies beneath the shimmering surface of the otherworld. Paradise came at a cost, and it was never something wholly benevolent. Celtic imagination provided light and darkness.

Hopes and dreams weren’t the only things reflected in the beliefs of the Otherworld. Fear also played a role, and it shaped darker aspects of the supernatural realm.

Darker Sides and Cautionary Tales

The tale of Oisín and Niamh is one that shows the dangers associated with the Otherworld. It is not the only such tale in Irish legend. In The Voyage of Bran, the eponymous character sets out with his crew to find the land of Emain, a land populated by women. They reach their destination and spend a year there, but one of the crewmen, Nechtán mac Collbrain, wishes to return home.

They sail back to Ireland, but when Nechtán mac Collbrain sets foot on shore, he is immediately turned to ash. The rest of the crew survives, only to realize 100 years have passed in Ireland, and it is no longer the home they knew. Unable to return to their former home, they set out to sea, never to be seen again. These two stories illustrate the danger of the Otherworld in that once it is reached, returning home is impossible.

Apart from the geographic and temporal dangers, the Otherworld inhabitants are not always benevolent. Fairies were believed to abduct people and replace them with changelings—facsimiles of the abductee. This belief had real-world consequences in 1895 when a woman was tortured to death by her family, who believed she was a changeling.

In the story of Étaín and Midir, Étaín is a mortal woman and the target of the affection of Midir, who is of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Midir, however, is already married to Fúamnach, who is consumed with jealousy and turns Étaín into a pool of water, which dries up and turns into a worm (or a snake in some versions), which then transforms into a scarlet fly. Midir doesn’t know the fly is Étaín, yet falls in love with the creature anyway, prompting more jealousy from Fúamnach, who calls up a buffeting wind to blow Étaín away. Étaín is prevented from alighting for seven years by the wind. She falls into the hands of Óengus mac Óg, who keeps her safe. Midir rescues her, but once again, she is taken by the wind. Eventually, she lands in a cup of wine, gets swallowed by a woman, and is then reborn, many centuries after her first birth.

With no knowledge of her past life, she marries a mortal man, and Midir tries to win her back, returning her memories in the end.

These are just a fraction of the stories contained in the annals of Irish history. Many more exist, weaving tales of delight as well as suffering brought about by contact with the divine.

While there may always be the human desire for immortality, the Otherworld exists as lessons in finding the meaning in mortality, the safety of home, the dangers of the unknown, and the price of transcendence. Paradise isn’t always a paradise. It is a burden, and discovering it brings grave consequences.

Nevertheless, the Otherworld continues to exist in the imagination as a place of beauty and wonder. From the ancient myths to modern realizations in film and fantasy, it has found a precious place, entrenched in the consciousness of pop culture.

The encounter with the Lotus Eaters serves as a reminder of the dangers of narcotic effects and of forgetfulness. This warning, almost 3,000 years old, remains extremely relevant today, serving as a constant reminder of human desires that are unchanged.

Homer devoted only a few lines to it in the Odyssey, yet the episode carries immense weight and has been referenced throughout history.

The Lotus Eaters in the Odyssey

Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined

-From The Lotos Eaters by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

This episode of the Odyssey begins with Odysseus and his crew around Kythira, an island on the southern tip of the Peloponnese, and northwest of Crete. Foul winds blow Odysseus off course for nine days, and on the tenth, he and his crew make landfall on the coast of the land of the Lotus Eaters. Here, the people live on food that comes from a flower, with a narcotic effect.

Once ashore, Odysseus’ crew refresh themselves, and three men venture inland to make contact with the locals. The inhabitants show hospitality by giving Odysseus’ men food from the lotus. Such was the effect of this food that the men gave up caring about reaching home. They were content to dwell where they found themselves, and wept bitterly when Odysseus forced them back onto the boats to continue the journey.

And with that, the land of the Lotus Eaters was behind them, and Odysseus made his way to the next dangerous part of his adventure: the land of the Cyclopes.

What Was the Lotus?

During Homer’s time, the Greek word lotòs (λωτός) was malleable, being used to identify a variety of fruits and flowers. Thus, identifying the lotus mentioned in the Odyssey has generated much debate, and several candidates have been put forth.

What is helpful in identifying the species is finding out where the Lotus Eaters lived. The island of Djerba, off the coast of Tunisia, is a widely accepted location attested to by ancient writers. Herodotus identifies their home as being off the coast of Libya, while Polybius narrowed it down to Djerba, known as Meninx in the ancient era (an idea supported by Strabo).

1st-century Greek physician and botanist Pedanius Dioscorides refers to the plant as the cyrenaic, which has been identified as the Ziziphus lotus, closely related to the jujube. The former is a wild variant with fruits that are just as edible and nutritious.

Polybius details how tribes of North Africa used jujubes to make an alcoholic drink, a possible source of the assumed psychotropic effects. It has been speculated that the variant found on the island has toxins that produce such an effect, but scientific research has found that extracts from the plant are safe and free from toxins.

Another theory suggests that the opium poppy was the source of the narcotic effect, as this would tie in with the relaxed and forgetful state of the Lotus Eaters, who cared little for maintaining civilization, and instead chose to remain in a soporific and euphoric state. After trying the food of the Lotus Eaters, Odysseus’ men were “weeping” at the prospect of not being able to partake anymore, which suggests a very quick mental dependence. Furthermore, the ripe pod of the poppy resembles the pod of the true lotus, which explains why it would be classified under the “lotus” umbrella term.

The blue water-lily of the Nile, Nymphaea caerulea, is another strong candidate. Appearing frequently in Egyptian religious iconography, the plant was also known to the Greeks as the blue lotus. It has soporific properties, and when prepared in a certain way, also has psychotropic effects.

The Danger of Forgetting Home and Identity

It wasn’t just returning home that was in danger of being forgotten. Loyalty, duty, selfhood, and purpose were also under threat. The speed at which such things can be abandoned is quite apparent, as Odysseus wastes no time in dragging his men back into the boats and casting off, leaving the dangerous temptations behind.

Forgetting in this sense means a loss of identity and responsibility. It is a rejection of reality and a longing for oblivion and bliss where the hardships of duty don’t reach. The temptation is real, and exists just as much today as it did then.

For Odysseus, the concern for his men was not about the harmful physical effects of narcotics, but rather that of forgetting duty. It is this which spurs him to retrieve his men and have them row their way out of danger.

The danger of forgetting is a theme that occurs several times in the Odyssey. Odysseus succumbs to it on Aeaea, Circe’s island, and this time it is his men who have to remind him of his duty to return to Ithaca and his wife, Penelope. Here, an entire year passes by with Odysseus enjoying the abundance of food and sexual intimacy offered to him by the enchantress.

After leaving the island, Odysseus and his crew must then deal with the Sirens, who offer another form of forgetfulness. While his crew has their ears stopped up with wax to avoid hearing the Sirens’ calls, Odysseus wishes to hearing them but takes precautions by having himself tied to the mast of the ship so he cannot act. The Siren-song lures him with sweet desires of knowledge, while around the Sirens lie their victims, desiccated bodies of those enraptured by the deadly spell.

Duty and Comrades

These three instances of “forgetting” illustrate the theme of duty to one’s comrades, as duty is not always chosen willingly. It is often up to others to remind us of what we have to do, especially when the desire for other things intervenes and endangers the long-term goal.

In the land of the Lotus Eaters, Odysseus rescues his men. On Circe’s island, Odysseus’ men rescue him, and in the episode with the Sirens, they rescue each other. By the time they encounter the Sirens, Odysseus trusts his men to bind him tighter when he begs to be released.

The Lotus Eaters in Popular Culture

Despite Homer devoting so few words to the Lotus Eaters, the theme has become a popular trope in history, appearing in literature, art, and on the screen. One of the most famous examples is Tennyson, whose poem “The Lotos Eaters” describes a crew of seamen who eat the “lotos” and find themselves in an altered state, outside the bounds of reality.

The episode has also influenced fantasy and science fiction. Stanley G. Weinbaum published a sci-fi short story, “The Lotus Eaters” in 1935, which focuses on intelligent plants that care nothing for their own well-being, and whose spores cause a soporific effect on humans.

The theme of trying to forget is also explored in “The Lotus Eaters,” a BBC television series from 1972-1973, which focuses on a group of British expats who live on Crete, while a 2011 film, “Lotus Eaters,” is a story of a group of disaffected youth in London, who struggle to find meaning in their lives, with drugs and sex.

As an allegory for escapism, the episode with the Lotus Eaters is one that strikes a chord with people. Few, if any, have never felt the pull of the temptation to give up and forget the hardships of life. When presented with the opportunity, this is exactly what Odysseus’ men do, and something that many people have done in other circumstances throughout the thousands of years of human history. If they were lucky, they had an authority figure like Odysseus to yank them back to reality.