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Selkie
Way up north, sitting by the sea, looking at seals all day, who could honestly say they haven’t had at least one romantic thought about those little water-dwelling blubber-bags? The story of the Selkie is the story of that love that dare not speak its name (basically).
In the folk tales of Ireland, Scotland, Iceland, and the Faroe Islands the Selkie pops up from time to time; maintaining the form of a seal while in the water, the Selkies can come ashore, shed their skin, and take the form of a beautiful human. Nearly every story involving a Selkie is a romantic tragedy of some sort, whether it’s that of a beautiful lady Selkie tricking a sad farmer boy into the water to smash him up on rocks, or a guy with nothing better to do stealing the shed sealskin of a Selkie maiden and forcing her to marry him, the tales generally aren’t “feel-good.”
The males of the supernatural species spend most of time seeking out women who are angry or dissatisfied with their husbands and seducing them; their homewrecking abilities are unquestioned.
The leading theory on where the Selkies come from, regardless of what they do, is that they are the bizarre reincarnation of restless drowned souls.
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne
Diarmuid Ua Duibhne is a warrior from the Fenian cycle of Irish mythology, and described as one of the most renowned warriors in service of the high king of Ireland Cormac mac Airt. Diarmuid was raised by Aengus who was a lesser celtic god, who gave Diarmuid a heroic arsenal. A great sword, Moralltach (the Great Fury), and two spears the Gae Buide (Yellow shaft) and the Gae Derg (Red Javelin) rounded out Diarmuid’s armaments. The spears were said to inflict wounds impossible to recover from which strikes me as an odd gift from father to son, as my dad wouldn’t even let me have a swiss army knife until I was thirteen.
Diarmuid’s troubles started when he was out hunting one night and encountered a magical woman in the woods. The details of how it happened are varied, but the consensus is that sex happened. The woman was so taken with Diarmuid that she placed a magical “love spot” on his forehead that caused any woman that looked upon it to fall instantly in love with Diarmuid. Ladies love mystical skin conditions.
When the high king’s daughter Grainne spotted Diarmuid training with her father’s soldiers, she was smitten. The problem here was that Grainne was already promised to the ageing military leader Fionn mac Cumhaill (sometimes awesomely translated as “Finn MacCool”) so in order to be with her new crush, Grainne doused her father and his warriors with a sleeping potion, and placed a “geis” (an Irish mix of a binding-oath and a hex) on Diarmuid to compel him to run away with her.
The two escaped Fionn and his warriors for long enough to settle down together and have five children. It seemed to be a happy ending, for Cormac eventually pardoned his daughter and new husband allowing them to stay married in peace. Fionn however, was the type to hold a grudge. Fionn invited Diarmuid along with him on a hunting trip during which Diarmuid was severely gored by a giant boar. Fionn proves himself an even bigger dick when he denies Diarmuid a drink of water from his hands that had the power of healing.
In a weird twist to finish this Irish tragedy, Diarmuid’s mystical foster-father Aengus brings his body back home where he would breathe some life into Diarmuid whenever he felt like having a conversation with his dead son. Diarmuid is also said to be the founder of the Scottish clan Campbell, who carry a boar’s head on their crest in remembrance of his death.
Hey myth fans! For another take on the character Diarmuid, check out Guy Gavriel Kay’s “The Fionavar Tapestry” series! If you enjoy fantasy you should make time for this excellent trilogy.
Phooka
Original art by myself, influenced by the work of Brian Froud. :)
The Phooka is an Irish demon. It takes many forms and demi-forms. The most common are that of a horse, a goat, an eagle and a cow with long horns. The Phooka tricks weary travellers into accepting an invitation of a ride. Once upon the back of a Phooka, the rider is taken on a wild ride through the countryside until the Phooka dumps the rider into a marsh into a ditch. The sound of manic laughter afterwards is the laughter of the Phooka as it runs away.
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The Children of Lir
An Irish Legend
There once was a man called Lir, who was happily married with three children. The eldest a girl and the two youngest boys. He loved his family with all his heart until one day, his wife passed away. Horrified at the thought of his children living without a mother, Lir married a beautiful woman named Aoife.
Aoife was terribly jealous of her new husband’s love for his children as he adored them far more than he did her. Consumed by jealousy, she ordered one of the servants to kill the children. When he refused, she used her magic instead to turn them into swans.
The children were doomed to wander until the spell could be broken if they were blessed by a monk. To stay together, their father fashioned a gold chain to fit around all three of their necks so they would not be tossed apart on the raging waters. They spent 300 years on Lough Derravaragh, 300 years in the Sea of Moyle and 300 years in Irrus Domnann Erris.
Eventually, the swans were found by monks belonging to a monastery on an island. They blessed the swans and they changed back into humans, but being 900 years old, they were withered and ancient. They three were buried together, the gold chain still linking their necks.
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Dullahan
A creature from Celtic mythology, the Dullahan is terrible to behold. He appears as a headless horseman, charging around tirelessly on a frightful black steed that shoots sparks and fire from its nostrils. The Dullahan carries his severed head under his arm as he rides, grinning and laughing at your understandably soiled trousers. Often this spirit acts as a herald of death, calling out the names of those about to die. Wherever the Dullahan stops his relentless riding is said to be a spot that someone will soon meet their end.
If the thought of a decapitated ghost riding around, placing bets on how soon you will kick the bucket makes you want to bar the door and hide from this equestrian evil, I have bad news for you: all locks and gates open at his approach, and any who stop to watch his ride are rewarded with a Carrie-esque dousing from his bucket of blood––and that’s only if he’s feeling charitable! Otherwise, unfortunate onlookers may lose an eye to his vicious whip (which is a human spine, making your loss of vision even more gross).
But all hope is not lost! The Dullahan fears gold above all else, even in small amounts. Those caught on the road at night would do well to carry a golden trinket to discourage the Dullahan’s wrath. This explains famed Celtic-scholar Flava Flav’s ridiculous teeth.
Badb
An Irish goddess of battle whose name meant “crow,” Badb was part of the fearsome triumvirate of the Morrigan. She could influence the outcome of a conflict by inspiring the combatants with fear or courage, and often took the form of a crow, and appear prior to a battle to foreshadow the extent of the coming carnage. Her presence would also signal the coming death of a powerful person.
While Badb’s role in battle was sowing confusion and discord in battle, her sisters played different parts. Nemain was a spirit of frenzied havoc in battle, and Macha had more to do with slain warriors. The three sisters are together known as the Morrigan (sometimes the Morrígna), a triple-goddess with three aspects. Some sources, however, refer to Nemain as Morrigan, with Badb and Macha being different forms she could take. Either way, you wanted to make sure that the Morrigan—whatever it was— was on your side if battle was joined.
Saint Patrick
Here he is, folks: the patron Saint of Ireland, whose big day is March 17, honoured the world over with copious amounts of green alcohol and annoying pinching prayer and appreciation. It’s the end of the holiday now as this article goes up, but who are we kidding— none of you will be in any shape to read this until late tomorrow morning, right?
We have two authentic letters written by the ol’ Saint, and from them we can garner a few pieces of information: Patrick, when he was about 16 years old, was captured from Britain by Irish raiders and taken to Ireland as a slave. He dwelt there, slave-style, for six years before escaping and returning to his family. After entering the Church and becoming a learned fellow and ordained bishop he returned to Ireland and did the whole Saint-thang.
His famous exploits include but are not limited to:
▪ Banishing all the snakes from Ireland (they attacked him during a fast — big mistake.
▪ Making the Shamrock important — he related the three-leafed clover to the three faces of the trinity. The metaphor stuck.
▪ His magic walking stick growing into a real tree.
▪ Communicating with ancient Irish ancestors. Being psychic is always a helpful Saintly tool.
To sum up, he was a devout bishop that served in Ireland, and lived through the late-4th to mid-5th centuries CE. He died on the 17th of March, and the day is celebrated as a day of solemnity and holy obligation in Ireland, and a day of general merriment and “kiss-me-I’m-Irish-ness” everywhere else.
Queen Medb
Also known as Maeve, Medb was the mighty warrior-queen of Connacht (the north-west of Ireland). Magnificent but malevolent, it was said she fought as fiercely as the Morrigan, the goddess of death on the battlefield. According to Irish mythology, no king could reign in Connacht unless he was married to Medb, who was believed to hold the kingdom’s sovereignty in her person. You hear that? She was the kingdom! Medb was the real deal.
Medb’s most famous action was the invasion of Ulster (the north of Ireland), when her forces captured the great brown bull of Cuailgne and killed the hero of Ulster, the super-powered Cuchulainn. Medb herself was slain by Forbai, the son of King Conchobhar Mac Nessa, while she was bathing in a pool. It’s always a pity when the truly great ones go out Elvis-style.
Forbai had learned that Medb always bathed in the same pool. He carefully measured the exact distance between the spot she bathed and the shore, and returned to Ulster to practise shooting a slingshot the same distance until he was satisfied with his accuracy. Back goes Forbai to the pool, and KOs Medb from a staggering distance with his slingshot, right between the eyes. Thus, Ulster was revenged. Those guys really loved Cuchulainn.
Banshee
“Banshee” is the modern name for the bean sidhe, or “woman of the fairies,” the traditional fairy of the Irish countryside. Perhaps you recall some of the Tuatha De Danann we’ve discussed in the past? Well, after the arrival of the Milesians (the ancestors of the present-day Irish) from what is now Spain, the gods and goddesses that comprised the Tuatha De Danann disappeared underground to dwell in mounds.
In the centuries that followed, the old gods were slowly transformed into fairies. As a Christian presence infringed and absorbed Ireland’s pagan past, the old gods of the Celts became folk legend and fairies in the woods and hidden nooks of the land. Banshees were the lady spirits that haunted the woods, and it was believed that the wail of a banshee foretold the approach of a human death. The land itself, riddled with the markers and ancient customs of Celtic mythology, still attributed great power and mystery to the spirits of the old religion.
Balor
The Irish Cyclops Balor was a one-eyed god of death, and the most formidable of the Fomorii––you remember them, right? The violent and monstrous sea gods who ruled Ireland before the arrival of the Tuatha De Danann, the “nicer” gods and goddesses.
So dreadful was the one eye of Balor that he destroyed whoever he looked upon, and his eyelid had to be levered up by four servants. It was prophesied that he would be slain by his own grandson, as is often the case with gods and their inconvenient yet inexorable prophecies. He stowed his daughter Ethlinn in a crystal tower on Tory Island, but a determined young god named Cian made it up to provide her with some bonafide lovin’.
Balor found out that his daughter had popped out three sons, and ordered them drowned. The servants wrapped the boys up in a sheet, but on the way to the whirlpool, one of the boys fell out, unnoticed. That boy was Lugh, the sun-god-to-be. He was taken to Manannan Mac Lir, the god of the sea, and fostered. Once he was grown, Mac Lir took him to a major battle against the Fomorii. Balor wreaked havoc on the Tuatha De Danann with his lethal gaze, but eventually Lugh crept near him with a magic slingshot, taking advantage of Balor’s weariness in a moment when his eye was closed. As soon as that ugly eyeball opened up again, Lugh fired a shot into it, and it hit so hard that Balor’s eye was blown backward through his head, and all the Fomorii behind him suffered the power of its stare. The Fomorii, in losing this battle, were driven from Ireland forever.
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