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mask131 · 1 month

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Greek monster myths (1)

Various mini-articles loosely translated from the French « Dictionary of Feminine Myths », under the direction of Pierre Brunel. (You could also translate the title as “Dictionary of Female Myths” – the idea being all the myths centered around women)

Article 1: Gorgô

[Note: this mini-article is distinct from the mini-article about “Gorgons”]

The appearance of Gorgô, at the end of the eleventh chant of the Odyssey, is meant to cause fright – not just to Odysseus himself who is just done with invoking the dead, but also to the audience hearing this rhapsody (the Phaeacians listening to Odysseus’ tale), and to the very listener of the Homeric poem. Gorgô forms the dominant peak of this “evocation of the dead” (nekuia), she is the “chlôron déos”, the “green fear”. Odysseus’ mother, Anticleia, just disappeared back again nto the Hades – the hero wishes to summon other shades, such as those of Theseus and of his former companion Pirithous, “but before them, here is that with hellish cries the uncountable tribes of the dead gathered”. And Odysseus adds: “I felt myself becoming green with fear at the thought that, from the depths of the Hades, the noble Persephone might sent us the head of Gorgô, this terrible monster…” (633-635). It is barely an apparition, it is the possibility of an appearance, but it is enough to terrorize the living.

Jean-Pierre Vernant, in his work “La Mort dans les yeux” (Death in the eyes), establishes the link which ties together Gorgô and Medusa. Because Gorgô is more than a singular unification of the three Gorgons: she is a superlative form of Medusa, she is what happens when her petrifying gaze survives beyond death. By studying the depictions of Gorgô in ancient statues, Vernant establishes two fundamental traits: the faciality, and the monstrosity. He explains that “interferences” take place “between the human and the bestial, associated and mixed in diverse ways”. Maybe Gorgô is, as Vernant suggests, “the dark face, the sinister reverse of the Great Goddess, of which Artemis will most notably be the heir”. But Gorgô is also placed in the function of watchful guardian of the world of the dead, a world forbidden to the living. The mask of Gorgô expresses the radical alterity of Death and the dead.

Article 2: The Graeae

Daughters of Keto and Phorkys (they are thus also called “The Phorcydes”), sisters of the Gorgons, these divinities of shadows, which were born as elderly women and doomed to share one eye and one tooth for all three, appear exclusively in the tale of Perseus and Medusa.

The most ancient mention of the Graeae comes from Hesiod’s Theogony, which only counts two of them and names them Pemphredo and Enyo (Enyo was also the name of a goddess of war within Homer’s Iliad). The third of the sisters appears within a fragment of the Athenian logographer Pherecyde: Deino (“The Dreadful”), later called Persis by Hyginus (in his “Preface to fables”). Other authors, like Ovid, prefer to stick with two Graeae. Hesiod makes a quite flattering portrait of them: he makes them elegant goddesses with a “beautiful face”, even though they were “white-haired (understand “having white hair due to old age”) since birth”. And while their very name means “old women”, the Antique iconography actually follows the Hesiodic model: the depictions of the sisters as disfigured by the effects of time are quite rare… At most the artists will just put a few wrinkles. These mysterious hybrids between youth and old age, virginal seduction and sinister ugliness, finds an echo within a few lines from Aeschylus “Prometheus bound”: “Three ancient maidens, with swan bodies, that share a single eye and a single tooth, and who never receive a look from the shinng sun or the crescent of the night.” Aeschylus had an entire tragedy written about them (Phorcydes) which was unfortunately lost – but Aristotle wrote about it in his “Poetics” and implies that the play insisted on their monstrous aspect, placing them within the legendary area known as “the gorgonian fields of Kisthene”, and closely associating them with their sisters, of which they form a reversed image. Indeed, the Gorgons have a very powerful eyesight which no mortal being can face, while the Graeae have an extreme form of blindness. This trinity of women, old by nature, can also be understood as the antithesis of the three Charites, the Graces which embodied eternal youth.

The Graeae seems to have only a role within the myth of Perseus. And, outside of a few details, this legend does not change much from Pherecyde to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, passing by Lycophron, Apollodorus’ Bibliotheca, and Hyginus’ Astronomy. In all those versions the Graeae are the jealous keeper of the secret path that leads to the Gorgons, and Perseus must steal their eye in order to obtain the knowledge needed to reach Medusa. However, Pherecyde did change an element: according to him the Graeae do not protect the path leading to the Gorgons, but rather the path leading to the nymphs that hold the magical items Perseus needs to fight Medusa.

Due to their limited presence in Greek mythology, the Graeae have quite a poor cultural posterity. In the 19th century Goethe will remember them: in his “Second Faust”, Mephistopheles appears under the guise of “Phorkyas”, a monster with only one eye and one tooth. In the world of paintings, Edward Burne-Jones, who created a true “Perseus cycle”, had a strong interest for them: he worked for a very long time on a painting of the Graeae. Their face is barely visible, but the cloth that wraps itself around their body is menacing ; they are within an arid desert, under a dark sky heavy with clouds – they perform a sinister dance, in a mockery of the Graces. Perseus comes to steal their eyes, and the grey color that invades all the nuances of the picture symbolizes the unique presence of those strange crones, both disquieting and pitiable.

Article 3: Echidna

Echidna, “the viper”, is according to Hesiod the daughter of Phorkys and Keto, themselves born of Pontos, the Sea, and Gaia, the Earth. Echidna’s sisters are female monsters like her: the Graeae, and the Gorgons. Hesiod describes her as having half of the body of a “fair-cheeked nymph”, while the rest of her body is the one of an enormous, big, cruel, spotted and terrible snake which “lies within the secret depths of the divine earth”. Echidna as such belongs to this large mythological family of snake-women, of which the most famous case in France is the fairy Mélusine. But unlike Mélusine, Echidna can never leave the snake-half of her body, and thus a better French heir would be Marcel Aymé’s depiction of the vouivre with her cohort of vipers.

Theodore de Banville, when he imagines Hesiod scolding him for sanitizing Classical mythology, makes of Echidna the symbol of the archaic mythology: he tells him that he is “making a toy out of the history of the gods” by depicting Love as “a sweet child, free of carnivorous appetites, ignored by the Furies and by bloody Echidna”.

Echidna precisely appears as a being led by an amorous desire within Herodotus’ tales, that he claims to have collected among the Greeks of Pontus Euxinus: as Herakles was sleeping, Echidna steals his horses away. She only agrees to give them back if he sleeps with her. When Herakles leaves her, she tells him that she will bear three sons from their union. He advises them to only keep with her one that would be able to bend a bow just like him, and to force the others to leave. She does that, and this favorite son is supposed to be the one that created the Scythian people. This meeting between Herakles and Echidna might be derived from the famous encounters between Herakles and three of Echidna’s other children: the Nemean Lion, the Hydra of Lerna, and Cerberus.

In Aeschylus, Orestes compares his mother, Clytemnestra, to “a horrible viper”. Sophocles has Creon call Ismene, which he believes to have helped Antigone, “a viper that slid in my house against my will to drink my blood”. These examples show a link between the Ancient metaphorical speech, and the mythological allusions. Indeed, only the context can allow us to determine if these authors meant “viper” as a common name, or as a proper name: as “Viper”, “Echidna”. But it confirms the idea that, in Ancient Greece, Echidna is a monster born of an archaic fear of the women, and embodying their supposed perfidy.

#greek mythology #graeae #gorgon #gorgo #medusa #echidna #greek monsters #female monsters #ancient greek monsters #greek myths

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ijwrite · 1 year

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Female Orc x Female Reader - Part 1

You were woken by a large crash from outside your house, followed by a whinny and your chickens' distressed clucking. It only took you a moment to grab the large hunting knife you always kept at your bedside and peek out the door. The moon was full that night, bathing your fields in a pale light, yet it also illuminated what appeared to be a crashed cart. The whinnying continued, and you were quickly on your way to the crash site. As you got closer, you could see that the horse that had been pulling the cart, had stumbled into the ditch where you dug out your clay. The poor horse was obviously panicking, which was only made worse by the fact that it's legs were all in unnatural angles. You slowed down your pace, and approached the terrified animal. It got increasingly distressed as you got closer, trying and failing to stand on it's broken legs. You felt bad for the poor thing, and couldn't help but feel responsible that it crashed into a hole that you had dug.

There was something strange though. There were no roads that led to your house, nor was there a driver in sight. That was when you noticed the arrows sticking out of both the horse and the side of the cart, along with the blood splattered on the wood. There was forming a clear picture in your mind; The person/people that had been driving the cart had been attacked, possibly killed and the frightened horse had set off in sheer panic, only stopped when it had tripped into your clay pit. You made a somber realisation. The horse had not only sustained painful injuries, but it had also broken all of it's legs in a way that would not be mendable with any of your knowledge. With a heavy sigh, you put the animal out of its misery, as quickly and painless as you could. That, you did know how to do. With a final stroke of it's mane and a tear falling from your cheek, you closed it's eyes. In the silence that followed, you heard a small grunting and shuffling from the back of the cart. You hurried to it, finding a small moving bundle of cloth at the bottom of the cart. You hesitantly peeled back layers of the fabric, only to be greeted with small eyes that shone in the moonlight, staring back at you. You barely had time to notice the sharp ears and the green colouring, before the small thing burst into a heartbreaking wail. You flinched slightly before picking up the little one. It was clearly a baby, and judging by its appearance, it was either a troll or an orc. The little thing was clearly unhappy with the situation, bawling it's little eyes out. You knew that small creatures required three basic things to be comfortable: food, safety and being clean. You could do that. You ran back into your house and lit some candles, still clutching and rocking the baby. You laid them on the ground, searching for one of your blankets and a washcloth. As soon as you had found some that you deemed soft enough, you immediately went to work cleaning the child. The small thing was filthy, clearly having been neglected. As you cleaned them, you found them to be a small boy. When you finally had cleaned the little one up and tied a washcloth around his behind, you bundled him back up in a new blanket. Your ears had begun ringing from the continuous cries, so you hurried with your next task. You had to find food for him.

You peered into his open mouth, seeing the dents of small teeth trying to break out. This was good, it meant that the child was approximately at the age where he could start eating something other than his mother's milk. If he wasn't, you wouldn't have known what to do. You know enough about babies to be aware of the fact that just any milk wouldn't do. If you fed a newborn milk from your sheep, they would become very sick, or even die. So you thanked your lucky stars that you had boiled potatoes the evening before, taking one and mashing it into a bowl with one hand as you held the crying boy with your other. You sat down on a chair with the little child in your arms, scooping a dollop of mash onto your finger. It was easy to get it into the mouth of the boy, with how open it was. As soon as the food touched his tongue, he clamped down. Your heart broke at the realisation that he must have been incredibly hungry. You fed him the rest of the food, and he kept silent the whole time, too invested in filling his stomach. As the bowl began to empty, he started to slowly look around, as if searching for something. Or rather someone. You imagined that he was looking for his mother. It was after all around this time too, that a child would realise that their mom was a different person than themselves, leading to much separation anxiety. As the boy began to realise that the only person around was you, his lip started wobbling. You held him close to you chest and started humming, hoping the vibrations would soothe him. He started sniffling, but was not crying yet. You walked around your small house for some time, humming and smoothing a finger down from between his brows, to the tip of his nose, just as your mother had done when you were little and couldn't sleep. It eventually worked, and the little boy fell asleep. As slowly and quietly as you could, you blew out the candles and laid back into your bed, keeping the boy close. You kept him on the inside of the bed, against the wall, so there was no chance he would fall down. You would be damned if something happened to this little guy. Your last thought before you drifted off again, was what clothes you would have to make him.

The sun had barely risen above the treeline when the little guy woke you up. He was once again crying, though less desperately than the night before. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you started your day with changing the boy and feeding him again. He was content after, just curiously looking around your home. You knew that you would have to tend to your animals, yet you didn't want to leave a baby alone for longer than absolutely necessary.

Turns out that he rather likes being strapped to your back as you work.

You had taken a long scarf and tied it so he was sat securely on your back, and you had both your hands free. You could feel his little head resting on your shoulder, observing as you fed the chickens. They seemed to still be shaken up from the commotion the night before, puttering around your feet as soon as you crossed the fence. They nipped at your boots to let you know that they were distressed, and you laughed slightly at how disgruntled they looked. You gave them a bit extra seeds to quiet them down, and it seemed to work. Next was checking on the sheep. You only had a few, but they seemed content in their hut, only coming out to eat and drink during the day. Milking them was over quickly, so you just patted them for a good bit after. You had almost forgotten the little guy on your back, before a small hand reached out to the sheep in front of you. You crouched into the mud so he could feel the wool of the sheep. He seemed to like this, though the sheep looked a bit pressed when he tugged at it. You quickly unfurled his fingers from the wool and patted the sheep apologetically. She didn't seem to be too mad, as if she knew it was just a little baby. He didn't like that he could not feel the wool, so he instead started tugging at your ears.

That was when you made the decision to get him some sort of toy. The first thing was just a tuft of clean wool you had not yet spun. It seemed to do the trick and keep him occupied as you went to take a closer look at the crashed cart. In the daylight, it was much clearer how damaged it actually was. With the way the wheels almost was falling off, you were surprised that it had gotten this far. You sighed before grabbing a shovel, starting to fill up your former clay pit, that now was to become the grave of the poor horse. As you worked, you mulled over what you could use the planks from the cart for. Most were still in fair condition, and it would be a waste to use them as firewood. That was when you heard a soft snoring in your ear, the baby having fallen asleep. Maybe you could build a crib for the little one?

That was indeed what you did. It took a few days and was not the prettiest, but a sound and safe crib had been constructed from most of the useable planks you could salvage. It had been layered with a thick blanket over a base of dried moss, to make it soft. A small carving on the side date the day you had found him. You had also taken to knitting new blankets and clothes for the boy, as well as work on whittling some small figures for him to play with. And since you had no name to call him, you started to refer to him as Qarak. It was the name of an orc you once had met, and felt that it would be respectful to at least give him that part of his culture. So long as it didn't turn out he was a troll.

The first time you genuinely heard him laugh, was when you had made a bird flute from clay, and blew in it to entertain him. His entire face lit up and he broke out into a full belly laugh. You could only laugh with him.

He had been around for about a month before he started to crawl, much to your surprise. You had sat him on the floor as you used the rest of the salvaged planks to make a chair he could sit comfortably in, when he suddenly was at your side, trying to put the hammer in his mouth. From then on, he was a little menace. You could only count on him staying in his crib, where he was to small to get up from, or when you strapped him to your back when you worked outside.

He had started to communicate with you too, and you slowly started to understand what each little sound meant. You often talked to him as you worked, hoping that it would help him speak one day.

You always referred to yourself as "mama" when you spoke to your chickens and sheep, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise when you suddenly heard a small

"mam" come from the child. He had wanted your attention, and was pulling at your pant leg. You stiffened before looking down at him. He said it again, with a large smile now, having gotten the attention he wanted. You quickly lifted him up to pepper him in kisses, making him giggle wildly.

You had by then contented yourself with the fact that you were going to take care of this kid, since there hasn't been anyone around to look for him. You had briefly considered dropping him off at the nearest village, but couldn't bring yourself to do it, seeing his gummy little smile, new tuft of blond hair and bright eyes look up at you. You figured that his relatives were dead, killed in the ambush.

Which was why you were so surprised to hear a yell from behind your back, while you were feeding your chickens one summer morning. You quickly turned around, not used to other people, and not at all anyone around your house.

It was an orc woman, tall and broad. She had a long blonde braid going down one side of her head, the other shaven. Her tusks were filed down to a blunt point, and she had piercing green eyes. In her hand was a large woodsplitter axe and she had a sneer on her face as she stomped towards you. You stood very still as she approached, not wanting to give her a reason to pounce.

"Can I help you?" you tried softly asking, which only made her huff.

"Where did you get that child?" Her voice was deep and gravelly, as if she had used it to scream her whole life.

"I found him" This only made her scowl deepen.

"Bullshit. You bought him didn't you? Bought him so he could grow up to be a slave on your farm?" She raised both her voice and her axe, making you realise how much bigger and stronger she was than you. You held up your hands placatingly.

"It is true, i found him in a cart that had been ambushed. The horse had dragged it all the way to my homestead. I decided to take care of him" You tried to reason with her. She snarled, which made Qarak whimper on your back. You lifted your hand to his head and petted it softly, trying to soothe him. The woman's eyes followed your movements.

"I imagine that you are a relative?" You really tried to keep your voice steady, even if you were afraid. You tried to be strong for your boy. The woman scoffed again.

"I'm his mum. And if you hand him back right now, I won't kill ya" Your mouth went dry. This was his mother? They did have the same eyes and hair, but you wouldn't just hand him over.

"Hold on, how can I know you really are his mother? Why would he be alone in a cart, clearly neglected?" Once again, your words made her look even more angry, her grip on the axe tightening.

"Cause he was taken from me. I tracked down the sons of bitches that wanted to sell him as a slave, but they were already dead. Robbery gone wrong. I have been looking all over for him and my patience is starting to grow thin" She growled out. You sighed heavily.

"Okay. If you are his mother, then I suppose it would be very selfish of me to try and keep him" You slowly freed him from you back, holding him out to his mother. She sighed the moment she held him. He started fussing a bit, reaching back for you. "Let me just get his things" you choked out and motioned to your house. She looked to think for a second.

"Alright, but if you try to attack us, I will not hesitate to kill you" She nodded and followed you to your door. She had to duck when she entered, her eyes darting around to look for potential threats. Her gaze fell upon the crib and chair that you had built for him, before it landed on you again, as you took his favourite blanket to use to bundle his toys up with. You gathered the small things you had made him, the little bird flute, a carvings of a sheep and a chicken, a ball you had sewn and the clothes you lovingly knitted for him. As you turned back to the woman with the filled sack, she now looked more curious than angry.

"This is his things. Oh, and he prefer his potato mash without clumps. He also hates carrots. He sleeps best when you sing at least two lullabies. And please remember to massage his stomach every once in a while, or he gets a tummy ache" You told the baffled orc as you handed her the things.

"Bye little guy" You kissed him on his little head before quickly drying the tear that fell from your eye. He looked confused at seeing you distressed and reached back out for you.

"Mamma?" his mothers head whipped down to him as he uttered that little word. Then her confusion turned back into a snarl before she brought her axe to your throat in one quick move, not cutting, but keeping the threat of damage very real.

"You fucker! Why does he think you're his mum?!" She yelled, making Qaraks lip wobble.

"I- I took care of h- him. I didn't think he had any family aliv-" You breath hitched as she pressed the axe closer to your neck.

This made Qarak start full on sobbing. This distracted the woman enough for you to take a breath without fear of decapitation. She tried to bounce the baby, but she couldn't get him to calm down. Well aware that you were tempting fate, you reached out for him. The woman glared at you, but gave up when she saw how the boy was reaching for you. You gently rocked him, humming a familiar tune. The crying quickly subsided and he calmed down. The woman looked at you once again. You just ignored the glare.

"Where will you go?" You softly asked her, still rocking Qarak. She looked away for a moment.

"I don't know" She sighed. You bit your lip in contemplation.

"You could... stay here?" You looked at her surprised face. She was silent for a few more moments before she nodded.

"Alright. We'll stay. I'm Hakla"

"A pleasure to meet you Hakla"

#Female monster x Female reader #female monsters #fem reader #female reader #female orc #orc x reader #monster fic #female monster

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