411: Celtic folklore: The Wake

This week, on Myths and Legends, it's a story from Ireland about forgiveness and vengeance and giant ants and angry talking horses with large talons that definitely aren't trying to eat you.

On the creature this week, it's a lion-headed friend who wants to help you adjust to your travels by having you over for dinner.

And yes, that's exactly what it sounds like.

This is Myths and Legends, episode 411: The Wake.

This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore.

Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins.

Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen.

Today's story is a big, watery adventure from Celtic folklore.

It's a quest for vengeance that turns into something...

stranger.

Put down to paper after the turn of the millennium, the other one, Y1K, but set far sooner, it's a tale of a young man traveling to figure out what he should do and what type of life he actually wants, if he needs to uphold the grievances and feuds of the past or live a life of peace.

We'll jump in with his father getting murdered.

A burning church and a sword through the chest.

It was an ignoble end for the chief.

Aalil Edgebattle had enemies.

His wife was one of them, and while, riding hard as the smoke of her former life rose in the background, she didn't lament the demise of her husband.

She feared for the baby in her arms.

She had been a nun once, before she caught the eye of the clan's chief as it took control of her village.

He demanded everything of her, and he took it.

Her one joy had been him, Maldun,

her son and the heir to the chief.

She thanked God that the marauders only came for the chief and his people to settle some old feud.

Still, his people were, by the virtue of Maldun,

her people.

and she wouldn't let her child come to harm.

So, she rode.

She rode for the king of Aran.

It was a day's ride to port and then a week in the crossing, as she made her way across the Irish Sea and then among the islands of Scotland.

There, she found a friend.

The queen had been a peer of her sisters.

They took Mildoon in without question to raise alongside their three other sons.

And the mother

left.

All this would be for nothing.

if her husband's enemies were more diligent than she thought.

The best she could do for the one person she loved most in the world was disappear and never see him again.

She kissed Maldoon goodbye and was gone by sunrise.

Who are my mother and father?

The teenage Maldoon asked the king of Aaron, whose goblet clanged on the ground and wine darkened stones.

Uh

we are

the king chuckled.

The queen stepped forward.

Heed not the jealous mutterings of the losers in your sport.

Haven't I always been a mother to you?

A mother, not my mother.

And those losers are your three sons, your true sons.

Don't act like you don't know.

The queen had a bit of time to prepare, but only moments.

Word came from her servants who had been serving the princes that the talk had gotten out of hand, that a secret was uttered that the princes didn't even know but had long suspected.

Their youngest brother was not their brother, not by blood, at least.

The irony was that it wasn't that he was insufficient or lacking in any way, but that he beat them at everything.

Sports, swimming, moving ivory men around a board, which is likely some medieval Celtic game analogous to chess, like Tavil, where the pieces were made from walrus ivory and not elephant ivory, but this is a digression.

No mother in any land loves their child more than I love you.

Blood or not, you are my son.

The queen's voice was equal parts strong and pleading, because she knew.

She knew what would happen if she told Maldoon the truth.

Tell me, he demanded.

It will not make you any happier.

It will not profit you.

He has been dead many long years.

Let him stay dead.

Please,

tell me.

Maldoon's voice cracked.

A single tear fell.

The queen's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Six months later, Maldoon stood by the burned foundations of the church.

After the queen told him, he left the following day.

Being able to take one of their ships, he made for his father's land directly.

Aleel Edge Battle.

The old men of the region saw his father's likeness in him, and a council convened to name him chieftain.

But after all that, he still had no idea, no clue what had happened to his father.

The Queen of Erin, his adoptive mother, told him only the name of his biological father and where he came from.

She refused more.

When he arrived, there was something everyone seemed to know, but no one would speak aloud.

It was an evil thing that raiders had collapsed the church on the dying chief, and no one wanted to speak of it.

His father, Alil, was buried in the center.

A brave man doesn't just look at graves.

He does something about them, Mildoon heard over his shoulder.

He doesn't cast glances over the shamed, burnt bones of those long gone, but but instead seeks vengeance.

Mildoon turned.

Smiling, a man approached, and, dipping his head in greeting, he said that he was Bracon.

The poisoned tongue.

Mildoon finished the man's sentence.

No, what?

Who told you that?

Bracon sneered.

Everyone?

Everyone all the time.

They said not to talk to you because you're like constantly trying to stir up trouble and get people killed, Mildoon pointed out.

Okay, whatever.

Just if you want to stand here and call people names and not know who killed your father, I'll leave you alone, Bradcone poisoned tongue said,

trying to stir up trouble and get people killed.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait, what?

Mildoon replied.

And with another grin, Bradcone turned.

So, I've never been on an all-consuming quest for vengeance.

But if I had to, and I also lived in a world where wizards existed and had real power, that would also be my first stop in order to get some special charms to crush my enemies and see them driven before me.

Now, one version very much details the locations, and then an older version of the story says, no, those locations don't match the actual geography at all, which I actually also had written.

So safe to say, this is set in Ireland, but not in any Ireland that represents real life.

And in one of these places that isn't really a place, Mildoon met the wizard.

Nuka, the wizard, said, nope, sorry, can't help you.

Wizards don't exist.

Maldun dropped a fat bag of gold.

Nuka looked it over before scooping up the bag.

Wizards didn't exist.

He, however, was a druid and would be happy to help.

Good.

This should cover the charm.

Maldoon said, great.

Then he thought about it.

Hey, the way the man said that, it sounded like there was more.

Oh, there is.

But only if you're interested in Nuka Plus, the druid said.

Maldun sighed.

Okay, sure.

He hefted another bag on the table.

With this, he learned the conditions for success.

He needed to leave on a certain day, needed to take 17 people with him, no more no less, and have a wicker boat covered in ox hides.

So that's what Mildoon got up to.

He began building his boat and sent word home to recruit seventeen guys, no more, no less.

And after that, who was to come but his own three brothers, who came to help with the preparations.

His adopted brothers said that no matter who his father was, he would always be their brother.

Also mom said they had to come help help him leave.

Oh, who's that guy?

The brothers turned to see Nuka walking up, and Mildoon asked when he should leave.

Nuka smiled.

That's actually exactly what he wanted to talk to them about.

There have been some exciting new developments at Nuka Plus, and their rate would be going up, so Nuka could keep delivering the same great content of telling them the day to leave, so they're not killed when they raid an enemy city.

Mildoon sighed.

Fine.

He produced a third bag and handed it to the druid.

Didn't really see how those were exciting changes when it just meant more money for the same service.

Well, exciting for me, Nuka said.

I'm getting more money.

Oh, and leave tomorrow.

Where's your sale?

You were supposed to have a sale stitched of clothes of many colors?

Did you not get my raven?

No, I told him to stop coming.

It was just him trying to get me to give you more money.

I thought that raven was for critical notifications only.

You unsubscribed for my ravens?

There's your problem, Nuka said, but yeah.

He needed to have a sale of many colors.

Should be easy to make.

It's just a bunch of junk collected from wherever.

Cool.

Well, he'll be off.

He'll resubscribe Maldoon, so he keeps getting critical updates and marketing emails.

Don't resubscribe.

Maldoon started, but gave up when Nuka disappeared in a puff of smoke.

When the smoke cleared, a raven came into view.

Hey, what's up?

Were you the guy who wanted to hear more about Nuka Plus Premium?

So today's the day.

Mildoon stood on the beach.

Seventeen young men from his father's village stood aboard the ship, its many colored sails furled.

You sure gonna be okay, little brother?

One of his brothers asked.

You don't want us to come with you?

First, thank you.

We already have 18 total guys, though, and the wizard said that that was the max.

We have German, who is a person, presumably, and Durin the Rhymer.

They're both named, so they have to be good.

You guys can head home.

I'll send word when my quest is complete.

He boarded the ship and waved goodbye, as the men started rowing out and unfurling the sail.

No, one brother said and began wading out into the water.

What are you doing?

Maldoon cried from the edge of the boat.

I'm coming with you.

One brother kept wading.

The other two started to follow.

No

No, you're not The wizard was very clear about the number and I paid good money for that subscription.

Oof, I need to cancel that.

Anyway, you're not coming, Mildoon cried.

But the brothers just kept walking.

If thou wilt not come back for us, we will follow thee into the sea though we drown, the other brothers said.

Mildoon exhaled sharply.

Turn around, fine, pick them up.

They can't swim, so they'll absolutely drown.

The brothers were flailing in about five feet of water when Mildoon extended a hand, and they scrambled aboard before he could tell them to stop.

He paused there, looking around as his brothers coughed up sea water.

Why did they drink so much of that?

Their head was above water.

And he noticed that the day was carrying on as it was before.

The sun sun was shining, the wind was strong,

maybe

it was fine.

Maldun thought at that moment that it was possibly more likely that a wizard had scammed them than that they were horribly cursed.

Wanting to get on the road, well, the sea, which is kind of like a big, blue, watery road, instead of fighting with his brothers about how they couldn't come, Maldoon ordered the sails up.

They were leaving.

They were here.

Truly the victory is ours, said Durin the rhymer, and God has led us here, steering the bark Himself.

Alright, let's land and kill these guys.

as God would want.

Yeah, maybe God would want it, I don't know.

it is a fact that the guys on the beach were bragging about their plunder still mildune and company weren't the avengers they weren't going to go around righting the wrongs of people raiding in early medieval europe during the viking age they needed a little more to go on than that stand off from me the big shadow on the beach cried to someone rooting through his pile of treasure for i am a better man than thou I it was, slew Elil Edgebattle and burned the church over his head, and his kin have never dared avenge it on me.

Hast thou ever done the like of such deed?

Okay, that's actually direct confirmation.

Furl the sails and let's go, Mildoon whispered.

But it was too late.

Mildoon could see on the water a wind snaking towards them.

It had purpose, which was noteworthy because winds generally didn't.

It caught the sail and didn't just push them, it flung them.

The twenty-one men could barely hang on to the boat, let alone take down the sail to stop them from moving.

And it wasn't gone before the desolate island on the horizon, with the two forts silhouetted against the dying light of the day and the fires glowing on the beach, were gone, and they could only see the sea.

Three days later, they stopped, when the ship awoke to the hull scraping on the gravel of an island.

man, am I glad we're not being pushed aimlessly along on the waves with no idea where we'll go or if we'll sink at any moment, killing us all?

German said as he stepped from the boat.

Mildoon grimaced.

Yeah, anyone would feel that way.

All right, everyone, go look for some food and then let's get back on the boat.

Tight 15.

Hey, does anyone know how perspective works?

One of Mildoon's brothers squinted.

I mean, like

generally?

You look at something far away and it's small and it gets bigger as you're closer.

German dropped some very basic knowledge on how seeing stuff works.

Okay, so how does...

what's going on here?

One of the brothers pointed to the ants.

The ants were far away, but they were bigger, so did that mean the group was closer or far away?

It's

giant ants.

Mildoom pointed out as the ants, filing from the mountain in the distance, approached the boats.

He didn't know if he should be scared, and frankly, neither did his companions.

But that didn't stop them from freaking out.

Screaming and boarding the boat, the men said that this was a cursed place.

Giant ants.

They're like the size of foals.

How do we know that the ants where we live aren't just really tiny ants?

Mildoon said as he turned and saw his compatriots pushing off without him.

He gave the ant a pet and splashed to join them in the boat.

Four days later, they were approaching another island.

Hey, fellas, want to dock here?

They heard.

All their eyes went to the beach where they saw a

beast, quote,

in shape it was like a horse, but it had the legs of a hound, and on its feet were talons long and rough and sharp.

Hey, gents, great spot right here on the beach.

Ignore all those red stains on the sand.

I just ate a a lot of berries.

But I have more to share if you're hungry.

It's not a trap.

I definitely won't murder you, the beast said, prancing back and forth.

Nice, berries.

Durin began throwing a leg over the side of the boat.

No, this is obviously a trap, Mildoon groaned, waving for the rowers to turn around.

He said he won't murder us.

He couldn't have been more clear about the murder thing, Durin cried.

And German nodded, but Mildoon was unmoved.

The thing on the beach said, you should listen to this guy.

He's smart and succulent looking.

During grew bashful, oh you.

I won't ping you to the beach and consume you while you're trying to eat pebbles that are painted purple like berries, the beast pleaded.

See?

Durin whined.

Totally legit.

We are not stopping.

Mildoon prodded the rowers on when he saw the beast rooting through sand with his large talons.

And Mildoon joined them in rowing when the beast began pelting them with rocks and demanding that they come back to be eaten.

And yeah, that was the whole interaction in the text.

We'll see the group continue with their journey, but that will be right after this.

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An island later, one of his brothers laughed.

To be fair, that was the best stop yet.

Giant demons fighting on giant horses?

Yes, please.

As behind them, horses with hooves the size of their ship's sail battled each other, with demons on top.

It was actually pretty entertaining now that they were at a safe distance.

We're starving, and we've been on the sea for a week, and there's no safe harbor because of this weirdness, and I can't help thinking it was your fault, Mildoon said.

He only wanted to avenge his father and have purpose in life, but they had to come along.

This could have been a quick two-hour adventure, but now they were hopelessly lost in the world, and he would never fulfill his duty to his father.

It was that that starvation, at the next stop, that led to them braving

a house, an ocean house.

Mildoon, his brothers, and the others, squinted as they rocked on the waves.

It was nearly nightfall, and there was an ocean house.

It was one with two doorways, a wooden one that opened to a grassy hillside, and a stone one that opened to the sea.

Mildoon might have wondered why this humidity and mold nightmare of a house existed, but understood when he saw free groceries.

Salmon flew into the house with each wave that crashed against the stone side.

They're not giants.

There are no monsters trying to eat us.

There are no ants.

We're going to go check this out, Mildoon said.

Inside it was weird, yes, but on the sliding scale of weirdness they had been on since they left, it was like a one, one and a half tops.

A house for a chieftain and his men.

There was a bed for the chief, a bed for every three of the men, and food.

They must have been out for a while, because the floor was full of salmon, from living to various states of decay.

Mildune stoked the fire, while the others, covering their noses, rooted through the chests, finding liquor.

They ate the most recently living fish, drank, and then got out of there, mainly because of the smell, but also mainly because they didn't want to burn through their good luck too quickly and get themselves into a Goldilocks situation.

They were somewhat lucky at the next stop to find the medieval Celtic equivalent of lembus bread in the form of very satisfying apples, which kept the crew satiated for 40 days.

At the stop after, there was a big stone fence all around the island, the most direct symbol of do not stop here, seriously I don't want guests.

But they were tired, and to be fair, fences could mean more than that.

For example, you can fence off an area to keep people and things out, but you can also keep things in.

Like a feet beast.

So imagine a rhinoceros without the horn.

That also had spinner rims?

Yeah, it's weird, and that's the point.

While the men peered around the gate for food, or a way home, or any semblance of normalcy, they found none of those things.

They only found the feet beast.

A giant beast that slept on a stone table.

The flesh and bones remained still, while the skin around its torso rotated like a gruesome tight hula hoop.

Maldoon and crew were filled with dread, not wanting to get involved with this ridiculousness, and ran back to the boat.

The creature ran to the fence's edge and flung rocks at them.

This,

for some reason, was the event that broke Maldoon, not quite literally, but almost literally, as one of the rocks went through a shield and lodged in the boat.

The men were sad, complaining, and feeble, for, quote, they knew not whither in the world they were going, or in what land they might find rest or aid.

And then they came to an island full of golden apples and red, hot swine, got something to eat, and they were good again.

I also get grumpy when I'm feeling peckish.

Mildune and his men leveled their spears at the small

cat.

A small kitty cat playing amongst limestone pillars that touched the sky.

Well, that normally wouldn't be a threat to 21 hardened Celtic warriors, but after the month they'd had, no chances.

The small cat looked on them with disinterested disdain and meowed.

After about 10 more minutes of prodding the surrounded cat with their spears, they relaxed and explored.

It's just a cat, one of Mildoon's foster brothers said.

Oh, food!

The little cat followed as they explored the three rooms that surrounded the central pillar on the island they had discovered.

The first one had golden and silver brooches, necklaces, and hilted swords.

One room had white garments, and the third had roasted ox and ale.

Having a meal that wasn't apples and a bed that wasn't wood on the ocean for the first time in weeks, the ale did its work, and the men were out in a matter of minutes.

Mildoon woke up the next morning to his brother rooting through some stuff.

Groggy and still feeling that ale a little bit, he sat up.

Oh, hey, they probably shouldn't mess with that stuff, he told his brother, who was inspecting the necklaces.

Not that there was a theme in any of this, but he felt like the food was okay because that was a necessity, but he didn't want them to have to learn a lesson about greed here.

No one's here, Mildoon's brother laughed, taking the golden necklace from its hook.

No one will even know, he said, turning at the meow.

Well, no one except this little kitty.

He sat down, and the kitty leapt on to his lap.

But you won't tell anyone, will you, little baby cat?

the brother said.

The cat mewed in return, touched a paw to the man's chest, and he burst into flames.

His screams were cut short, only when there was no more mouth, throat, or lungs to do the screaming, and thankfully, that happened pretty quickly, because, in mere moments, the cat was sitting on a pile of ashes.

Mildoon was awake now.

Nothing quite sobers you up like a cat immolating your brother.

On the verge of completely freaking out, Mildoon forced a smile.

Good kitty, great kitty.

I'm just gonna put this back and never touch it again.

The cat me out.

Perfect fun.

Everyone, wake up, we're leaving now, please.

Wake up, take as much ox as you can, and absolutely nothing else.

After Miles Dune replaced the necklace, he scooped up his brother's ashes into his cloak, not daring even to take a goblet from the house, and they ran for the boats.

So, the next island was pretty racist, to be honest.

There's literally no other way to read it, with the prospect of the sailors being magically and painlessly turned into a, presumably, different race than they started with, being enough of a reason for them to flee from the island with at least as much terror as when they were chased by a skin hula hoop rhino or fire cats.

That's actually why last month's King Arthur was so refreshingly progressive and accepting, because usually when there's an explicit mention of race in British, Celtic, and European folklore, it's not a good look for a medieval writer.

Anyway, I'm trying to strike a balance because I don't want to completely wash away all the bad stuff in the story, because there are aspects of the past we need to confront, but I also don't want to propagate racist nonsense.

So, there.

It exists.

I posted a source if you want to find it for yourself.

One more island, one more man riding an ox standing in front of an acid river later, and they were back on the boats.

On one island, there was a hideous man with an even more hideous mill.

I'm not sure how that works, to be honest.

Day and night, a steady stream of people came from the east and west, and the island extended over the horizon.

Mildoon finally asked the hideous man whipping the hideous donkeys, moving the hideous millstone hideously, what this mill ground?

Anything not given willingly in all of Ireland.

Half the corn in Ireland passes through my mill.

And what's the name of your mill, buddy?

Mildoon asked.

Hell, the man replied.

Mildoon sighed, turned, and left.

Wait, why are we going back to the boat?

One of his other brothers asked.

Couldn't they follow that line of people coming from either direction and go back to Ireland?

Mil Dune splashed in the surf.

Look, one of two things was going on here.

Either the man and everyone bringing him free corn thought they were in hell,

which could they really trust anyone so disconnected from reality to bring them back home?

Or less likely, but even more terrifying, this was hell.

Literally the one place in all of existence that he wanted to be less than the boat.

Okay, yeah, fair enough, the brother said, and climbed aboard.

Black clothes.

Wailing.

The fields beyond the dock were a swaying mass of people wearing black veils and black robes, swaying back and forth, weeping.

As far as dangers go for this trip, some singers with questionable fashion sense is really low.

And that many people means they have to eat something, Mildoon pointed out.

Alright, we'll draw lots to see who's going in to see if they can help us.

No, I'll go, one of his older brothers said.

It was his brother's fault that they had to leave the island with the all-you-care-to-eat ox and the beds.

He would try to make up for it and restore his family's honor.

Our family's honor, but yeah, just be safe.

There is it seems like there's always a twist when it comes to these islands.

Mildoon clasped his brother on the shoulder, and the man leapt from the boat, splashing in the shallows.

Mildoon had no way of knowing, but this would be the last time he ever saw his brother.

I can't make out what's happening, Mildoon squinted as he looked on his brother, approaching the mass of swaying, crying people.

German craned his neck.

The other people on the island were approaching his brother.

His brother was talking to them.

His oh

his brother was breaking down now.

His face was in his hands.

Okay, they're handing him a black cloak and he's he's taking it.

He took it.

He's putting it on.

Okay, let's go.

We have to go get him.

German tapped Duran.

Now,

why are you guys freaking out?

What's the urgency here?

Mildune said, but soon understood when his brother robed himself in black and instantly was gone.

He was part of the crowd.

Keep your eyes on him, German cried.

Durin yelled that they were closing ranks.

The form burying his face in his hands was gone behind rows and rows of the weeping.

The weepers didn't fight back when, person after person, the sailors ripped their veils from their heads.

But Mildoon understood before even they did.

They could unveil as many of the weepers as they wanted, but they would not find his brother.

They stayed docked for another week.

The weepers seemed to cycle, or even if they didn't, the sailors were unveiling the same people over and over again, day after day.

As hunger began to bite at those on the ship, no one dared to go farther inland to find provisions, lest they lose themselves.

I have to assume that he wants to remain, or else he would have come to us.

Mile Dune was nearly weeping himself, looking off the side of the boat as they pushed off.

I mean, it's hard to say.

Can people really be considered in control of their actions during a heightened emotional state, especially one brought on by, presumably, some sort of magical intervention?

Durin asked, but then thought about it.

They were starving and had to leave anyway, so let's just go with the, he wanted this, so we can live with ourselves.

We'll see the guys stop at a place that they actually like, but that will, once again, be right after this.

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Is this heaven?

I think this might be heaven, Durin said.

It was day three in this land and it was going great.

They passed three fences on their way in.

The gold one in the land of kings, the silver the land of queens, the brass the land of warriors, and the crystal fence the land of maidens.

They fancied themselves warriors of a sort, enough to go avenge Mildoon's dad against seasoned raiders, but well, they have been on a ship full of sweaty guys for a month and a half now, and they took the designations to be less an identity thing and more about who they wanted to spend their time with.

And they wanted to spend their time in the land of maidens.

And they were welcome there.

Think of it as similar to Castle Anthrax, but instead of one particular aspect of Castleanthrax, Castle

they had cheeses.

And I am talking great cheeses, like whatever your favorite food is, this cheese tasted like that.

Now, for me, it would be a bit much to get past the consistency, even if it did taste like waku beef, but they were not particular.

Probably because they also had fantastic ale.

When they fell asleep the first night, they were expecting the women to turn into demons or something, but they woke up to more gourmet cheeses and more pleasant conversation with charming young women.

And also ale.

They fell asleep the second night and woke up to the same situation.

I want to stay here the rest of my life.

I don't even care if it's a trap.

Mildoon began to see a life outside of vengeance.

With his best friends and with this amazing food and with these people, he fell asleep that night, approaching some semblance of peace.

And they all woke up on the ship, drifting in the middle of the ocean.

No,

no,

they cried out in unison.

It was magical nonsense.

It was all just magical nonsense, they wept.

I bring thee greeting, Maldoon, said the woman from behind the brass door they had been trying to open for the last three days.

And then she named each of the crew by his own name.

It is long since your coming here hath been known and expected, she went on.

Okay,

Mildoon said.

It wasn't like he wanted to try and raid their castle.

They had been on the sea for two months and they were starving.

Come with me, the woman waved them in.

Duran and German looked at each other and then to Mildoon.

What about if it was cursed?

It most likely is, but we'll deal with that as it comes, Mildoon said, and followed the woman into the house.

As far as curses go, it was the best one yet, even better than the cheese woman.

The sailors were glancing furtively around as, feasting each night and exploring her wondrous land during the day, they started to speak of marriage between the lady and Mildoon.

A prospect Mildoon didn't seem to hate.

The woman, smiling an enchanted smile, poured them more liquor and said she would answer them on the morrow.

They were barely surprised when they woke up on their ship, drifting in the middle of the ocean.

Yep, that's about right.

Maldoon sat up and found an oar.

More days passed and more stops with them.

There was a man clothed only in his own hair, which I don't think we're supposed to take that to mean that he meticulously wove a nice cloak or suit from his hair, but

that it's just a nice way to say hairy naked man.

He was as pleasant as his message was alarming.

All of them would make it home, save one.

They ate food that was delivered by angels.

Don't worry, they detailed the entire menu and I listed it on the site.

And the group continued on.

On the next stop, they retreated backwards from angry smiths and little boys wearing cockle shells.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one.

There was an island with a stream that arched like a rainbow into the sky, and you only needed to stand under it and poke at it with a spear to get some salmon.

The island smelled, though, so they picked up food and left.

As they approached the next island, they saw a beautiful woman sitting among 18 maidens, dining under a tent in a wide field that was visible from the sea.

Knowing, certainly, that they were just going to wake up on a ship again in a few days, they made their way inland.

Might as well get a meal out of it.

Stay here, and old age shall not fall on you, the queen said the next morning, explaining that she ruled this land after the death of her husband, and the land was, surprise, surprise, magic.

But you shall keep the age you now have.

Lasting life shall be yours always, and every joy and delight.

Why then go wandering longer from island to island over the wide and barren ocean?

Oh yeah, definitely.

Why continue on at all?

Totally not going to wake up on my ship in two days wondering if this place ever existed, Mildoon winked.

That's really specific, the queen noted, but oh okay, so he would stay forever?

Sure, why not?

Mildoon laughed.

Three months later, they were still there.

The story isn't specific, but the numbers, along with the talk of Mildoon and the queen being in love, love, mean that the 18 remaining sailors probably found a match with the 18 daughters of the Queen.

And, magical islands being magical, the daughters had grown to adulthood and then continued on in immortality.

Um, are we going home, though?

German said.

Why?

What's for us there?

Mildoon took another drink of wine.

I don't know.

Look, this has been fun, but life,

life is for us there, our families, our home?

German trailed off.

Mildoon had a chiefdom to rule, and he and his one remaining brother had to tell his parents about his other brothers.

You can leave, I'm staying.

Home won't be better than this, not for me, Mildoon said.

German narrowed his eyes.

We'll see about that.

What are you doing?

Mildoon shrieked as, waking up bound and carried, he demanded they put him down.

This is for your own good.

This isn't healthy.

This is avoidance coping, Durang cried.

You don't want to deal with your dad or the deaths slash disappearances of your brothers or your duties, so you're willing to stay here in a land of perpetual youth and plenty.

Yes, absolutely, Mildoon said.

Why would anyone choose those other things over this?

Well, we are, and we're going to help you get healthy even if it kills you, they tossed him aboard.

Magic queens are going do magic.

It's right there in the name.

The 19 men weren't out of sight of the coast before the queen stood on the rocks, beside her 18 daughters, a grappling hook in hand.

Look at her.

What is she doing?

She's gonna try to pull us in by one grappling hook?

The sailors laughed.

They weren't wrong.

It was a little silly to think that she was going to pull the boat in by herself, which is why she wasn't going to do that.

Because they were going to bring Mildoon back.

The hook attached not to the boat, but to Mildoon's hand, pulling him to the side.

Screaming, he begged for them to turn around.

And they did.

They rowed back, untied Mildoon, and disembarked.

But these were true friends.

They weren't gonna leave their friend with this medieval Irish Circe,

even though she was it was really closer to the lotus eaters, but anyway.

Another attempt three months later ended the same way, with them returning when Grappling Hook found Mildoon's hand.

He said, Really, please leave without him.

He was good never having to confront his problems at all.

He could live his whole life like this.

They made another escape attempt, though it really wasn't an escape.

They could leave whenever they wanted.

It's really more of a kidnapping attempt.

Anyway, three months after that, so nine months in total, they made for the ship.

Again, the queen appeared on the beach, and again, the hook found Mildoon's hand.

German and Durin looked at each other and pulled out the sword.

From the beach, the queen heard the scream and the boat kept moving.

Pulling the hook back in, she saw what she already knew was there: the severed hand of the man she loved.

The sailors had gotten away with Mildoon.

Two things, Mildoon said, nursing the bandaged stump that was his left hand.

First, thank you for keeping at it.

He couldn't stay there forever and avoid his troubles.

Well, he could, but life was more than pleasure.

Second, next time, cut the rope, not his arm.

The rope!

Oh, man.

Durin slapped his palm on his forehead.

Wow, was his face red?

Not as red as my gaping arm wound, no, Maldoon grumbled.

Bandaged, gaping arm wound, his friend corrected, and then looked out on the horizon.

Oh, what do you know?

An island.

The next island was one with berries, where the juice was such a powerful anesthetic and knocked you out so quickly and thoroughly, it was unclear whether you were sleeping or dead.

As you can probably guess, Maldoon, with his quest on top of his mind, and now missing a hand, thought that those berries were pretty great.

They took a handful and made some juice.

On the next island was a hermit, but only kind of by choice.

One of the fifteen monks traveling with Brendan the navigator, he had become shipwrecked there, but now prayed and sang and stuff, so it worked out.

He let them eat some of his sheep so they didn't starve, and he didn't try to keep them forever or magically transport them to the middle of the sea, so that was a nice change of pace.

He also only clothed himself with his own hair, which which was neither nice nor a change of pace.

On the next island, a massive bird flew overhead with a branch of berries.

The bird was obviously old and withered, but when he bathed in a lake at the center of the island, he emerged rejuvenated and young.

Only Durin followed him into the lake, and even though it worked on him with no apparent strings attached, no one else risked it.

They continued on.

The next island had a wall, surrounded by fire, and it had a moving door, so I guess you had to risk the fire in order to get inside.

But inside, it seemed pretty great.

A joy-filled civilization of beautifully dressed people singing beautifully.

The randomly timed door appeared every so often, and you had to pass through fire to get through, and you didn't know how long the door would last, so they just enjoyed their view of the city for a few passes of the door, and they got on their way.

Next up was the cook.

clothed in your own hair, I see.

Mildoon hiked up to the old man's cave on the next island.

That sort of thing wasn't as rare as it should be.

I was a cook once.

The man looked off into the sky.

Mildoon looked to German and his one remaining brother.

That didn't clarify things.

I was a bad cook.

I sold food for money, the man said.

Before Mildoon could point out that that was what cooks did, the man pointed out that he was a cook for monks, and he sold their food for money.

He was a bad man.

German was about to say that was bad, but everyone had it kind of rough.

It was the Middle Ages.

But the stranger continued.

He also used to tunnel under the church in order to rob it.

When his house was full of gold and he was owning a boat rich, he thought he could probably retire and should probably leave town, seeing as he was a simple monastery cook and had a house full of stolen gold and was, once again, owning a boat rich.

So he left.

He set out on the sea for a place where he and his ill-gotten riches could live in peace.

The men looked to one another.

Sounded less like a desire to live in peace and more like he was looking for a hideout.

The sea stopped.

I might as well have been looking out on an ocean of glass, the man said.

And he was threatened with starvation.

So he prayed.

And demons answered, which was really not who he was trying to reach, but they were helpful in their own menacing way, saying that as soon as he died from starvation, because he wouldn't throw his treasure overboard, they could have his soul.

Wait, was he not supposed to know that?

In another your money or your life situation, or rather, your money or your soul, he tossed everything overboard, and the demons left.

Still, the sea didn't move.

So he prayed.

He prayed for three days straight for forgiveness, and also food, and then a wind picked up.

Not an hour later, he scraped on a desolate rock.

Okay.

All right.

He was saved from starvation in a boat, for starvation on an island.

But at that moment, he heard a helpful young otter leap out of the water with a salmon in its teeth.

The repentant cook took one look at the fish and tossed it back.

Ew, gross, it was raw.

Sure he was starving, but he had standards, God.

God did meet him halfway, sending him two otters next time, one with a salmon and one with a flaming piece of wood.

This was how he lived for seven years.

After that time, he got wheat cakes and liquor, which might mean something that was lost in translation, but I'm going to operate under the assumption that it was hard alcohol.

Otters came and dropped off wheat cakes and liquor for everyone, and, after the hairy naked man gave thanks, they ate.

As they did, he dropped that he had seen them in his prayers.

They would reach home, well, all save one.

He turned to Mildoon directly.

He would find the man who killed his father.

Slay him not, the hermit said, but forgive him.

Forgive him, but he deserves death.

Mildun stood.

The hermit barely registered his outrage.

So do I, the hermit said.

So do you.

How many times has God saved you on this trip?

How many times did he save you from a raging monster or eternal captivity or an island of wailing people?

More times than you deserve, I should imagine.

So don't talk about what people deserve.

He killed my father.

He's a raider.

This is the life he chose the day he picked up the sword, and his actions have consequences, Maldoon stated.

The hermit shrugged.

Really, whatever.

If that was the world Maldoon wanted to live in, then sure, he should kill the man.

The hermit didn't care.

He was going to die here on this island someday.

He was just telling the young man that there was another way.

Mildune lost his last brother on an island of happiness.

No joke, of all the places, this seemed the best to want to stay forever.

As soon as the brother drew lots to explore the island, of people playing and laughing without ceasing, he, too, began laughing and, for the lack of a better word, frolicking.

There were worse ways to live out your life.

Forbidding anyone from leaving the boat, Mildoon sailed away, saying a somber goodbye to his brother, who was laughing and smiling and dancing, and didn't even notice him go.

With that, they were back to their original commanded 18 passengers, just like Nuka the Druid had told them to have.

The next island was one they recognized.

the one with the two keeps, the island of raiders that had killed Mildoon's dad.

Mildoon heard outside the door, him and his 18 men clutching their weapons.

The raider inside said,

even before he knew the young man had lived, he was haunted by the memory.

He'd turned that boy into an orphan for trinkets, and now, for the past two years, he lived in fear that he would wake up with a knife to his throat, or worse, wouldn't wake up at all, and would have to answer for everything he had done in life.

What would you do if he came in now?

A man asked the leader.

I would welcome him gladly.

I would beg his forgiveness, the man said in the original.

Outside, despite his desires, the fires of Mildun's anger were dying.

Mildun had wanted to kill this man for

years,

but now,

learning that he sought Mildun's forgiveness,

not his head, Mildun swore and relaxed his sword, gesturing for everyone else to do the same.

He knocked on the door.

Maldun forgave the man who murdered his father, learning that, in the time since they spotted him on the beach that day, he had been plagued by guilt.

They had been trying to do right, trying to make amends for the raiding and terrible things they had done, And he was so glad that Mildune lived.

The former enemies embraced his friends.

Duran the Rhymer told the story of Mildoon for as long as he lived.

And since he had done that restorative eagle bath, he lived a long time.

Mildune became a legend.

Mildune, though, didn't care about legends.

He had seen enough magical things in the world.

What really mattered to him was living.

Living unburdened by the past, by revenge, by pain.

He led his people, and he was a good chief.

Quick note, there are a few different versions of the story.

The main version I went with was far more readable and complete, but was a a little iffy when it came to the details, so I tried to supplement from elsewhere.

It's also why I accidentally called the Druid a wizard a couple of times.

The major differences between this and the kind of older, more authoritative version are that maybe Malduin meets his birth mother, once again a nun, and learns of his home from her after the queen sends him away.

I didn't want to undercut the king-queen's one job, so I just stuck with the other version on that one.

Also, the number of sailors is the other big difference, with another version having 60 instead of 18 being the required number.

I, once again, went with the main version since only five of them seem to actually matter.

I like how this story is more than it appears.

Sure, it's a big island adventure with magical weirdness, but I also like how it looks at Maldoon, psychologically, and how he kind of comes to terms with who he is and what he feels like he has to do.

I mean, throughout the islands, he gets everything he wants and appears to live in paradise, but realizes that he can't shirk his responsibilities.

His brothers surrender to greed, sorrow, and joy, but none of those seem like the right path for him.

Then, finally, when he has control over his life, when it comes to killing his enemy or forgiving the man, he sees that after all the chaos he was just subjected to, he can define the world in which he lives by how he responds, and he chooses peace.

One source I read at least hinted at the fact that the raiders who killed Alil Edgebattle, Mildoon's father, did so because he raided a church, kidnapped a nun, and assaulted her, so maybe it was a sense of Mildoon weighing what he should do, according to customs and traditions, with the type of man his father actually was.

Next week, we're in the folklore of India, where we learn that if a god meets you on the road and asks you to put in a good word with the person he's trying to date, and that person is your significant other, you, well, you're in for a terrible time, I'm sorry.

Oh, and I know this episode was long enough, but real quickly, Fictional is back for a 10-episode season.

Fictional, if you didn't know, is our podcast where we tell public domain stories from classic literature, and also awesome 20th century century sci-fi where they didn't renew the copyright.

Two episodes launched last week with the island of Dr.

Moreau, and it'll be every other week on Myths and Legends off weeks.

Links in the show notes.

The creature this time is the Donestra from the legends surrounding Alexander the Great.

Now, international travel can be rough.

It's fun, and it's certainly exciting to see new cultures and new lands and try new foods, but it can wear on you.

That's why it is so nice to hear someone speaking your own language and invite you to their home so you can relax and connect.

All those things are great.

If, however, that person has the head of a lion with huge eyes, furry ears, and a long mane on his shoulders that can sometimes go down to the waist, and, oh yeah, a collection of severed human heads that make him sad,

Maybe just try to shake off the culture shock and go get something to eat.

A lot of times when I feel off when I'm traveling, it's because I forgot lunch or something.

Just a pro tip to avoid

cannibal lions.

Anyway, if you decide to go with that lion-headed stranger who, in my case, would sport a North Midland American accent, um, I'm sorry, but you've fallen for his trap.

Of friendliness.

Unfortunately, that's the last bit of friendliness he'll offer, because his next act will be to kill you and eat you as soon as you're both in the privacy of his own home.

And yeah, so I mean, we should all see this coming, but travel is tough sometimes, and I don't blame you.

And maybe you can take some solace in knowing that the Donestra does, in fact, blame himself.

He eats all but the head of his victims and, after he does so, sits down next to them and cries.

One academic reading of this creature that I found was that it was how people in the Middle Ages might consider other cultures, which, yes, is a little xenophobic, but more specifically, people who became lost in a culture that was not their own, how they might still be able to communicate with those of the past, but identify with the new culture to the point where they might fight against them.

One tip for not feeling bad, though, and crying over your friends, maybe don't eat them and store their heads in your house.

That's it for this time.

Myths and Legends is by Jason and Carissa Wiser.

Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the Creature of the Week music is by Steve Colms.

There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes.

Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.

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