"Festival" by H.P. Lovecraft

It's Christmas time again here at Of Epic Proportions and that means another month full of exciting and frightful holiday myths and legends. To kick things off this year I've decided to start with a poem by one of my all-time favorite authors; early 20th-Century writer
H.P. Lovecraft (1890-1937).

Though Lovecraft is best remembered today for his innovative work in the realms of science-fiction and horror, the man was also an accomplished poet and a true lover of Christmas. The following poem by Lovecraft was original published in the December 1926 issue of Weird Tales magazine under the title "Yule Horror."

There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats over the world;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of feastings unhallowed and old.

There is death in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the dead in their shrouds
Hail the sun’s turning flight,
And chant wild in the woods as they dance round a Yule-altar fungous and white.

To no gale of earth’s kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the sick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these powers are the powers of the dark, from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

And mayst thou to such deeds
Be an abbot and priest,
Singing cannibal greeds
At each devil-wrought feast,
And to all the incredulous world shewing dimly the sign of the beast.

"Hush And Shush For The Beldam Might Be Listening!"

Today (Feb. 6th) is the release of the film Coraline, directed by Henry Selick and based on the best selling young adult novella of the same name by author Neil Gaiman. The story revolves around 10-year-old-ish heroine Coraline Jones who lives in a flat with her parents who do not pay her the amount of attention she thinks she deserves. Bored with her parents, her eccentric neighbors, and the black cat that lives in their garden Coraline discovers a secret door in the spare of room of her house. Though the inside of the door is bricked up when Coraline discovers it that night she returns to the room and finds that the door now leads down a hallway to an apartment that looks just like her’s. There she discovers her “Other Mother” and “Other Father” who look just like her real mother and father except they have black buttons for eyes.

At first Coraline is delighted by this alternate world since everything and everyone in it seemingly caters to her every whim. The only one who doesn’t is the black cat who lives in the garden (he also is the only one without buttons for eyes because, in fact, he is the same black cat from Coraline’s world) who warns Coraline that things are not as good as they may seem. Sure enough things quickly begin to unravel for Coraline when her Other Mother attempts to remove Coraline’s eyes and replace them with buttons. Coraline tries to leave the Otherworld but is stopped as the Other Mother slowly begins to transform what was once a dream world into a living nightmare.

So will Coraline escape from the clutches of her sinister new family? I won’t divulge anymore of the plot since I think it would be well worth anyone’s time to go out and read the book and see the film. However, there is one issue that I do think is worth addressing: Just what is the Other Mother?

There is a point in both the book and the film when Coraline is imprisoned in a mirror by the Other Mother. There, inside the mirror, Coraline encounters the ghosts of the Other Mother’s past victims, all children. When Coraline attempts to talk to these children they warn her only to “Hush and shush for the Beldam might be listening!” That world, “Beldam,” turns up several more times in the book though it is never once explained. I do not believe this to be bad storytelling on Gaiman’s part but rather an attempt to get readers to do a little research.

The term “Beldam” steams from a ballad written in 1819 by English poet John Keats called La Belle Dame sans Merci. The title is actually French and means “The Beautiful Lady without Pity.” Inspired by the classic English folktale of Tam Lin, La Belle Dame sans Merci tells of an unnamed knight who encounters a beautiful fairy woman who whisks the knight away to her “elfin grotto.” There the night falls asleep and (like Coraline) encounters the ghosts of “pale kings and princes” who warm him to flee from the “Belle Dame” or “Beldam” as Gaiman has rendered it. The knight awakens to find him self alone on the “cold hill’s side” already condemned for all eternity.

Scholars have debated the meaning of Keats poem for years now, arguing over whether or not the knight and fairy maiden had sex, whether or not that sex was consensual (did one rape the other?), and if in the end the knight is dead or alive? Whatever the case may be it is beyond argument that the Beldam both seduces and traps the knight, in a very similar way to how she seduces and traps Coraline; promising her a wonderful life and her full attention. This ultimately makes the Beldam a type of predator, which is what she turns out to be in the end. The world she has created for Coraline is an illusion, a snare, and it worked. One of my personal favorite lines in the whole book is when Coraline discovers that the Otherworld of the Beldam is, in fact, no bigger than the flat in which she used to live and asks the cat why the world is so small. In response the cat replies; “A spider’s web only has to be big enough to catch a fly.”

At Top: Coraline (2002) by Neil Gaiman

Center: Coraline’s “Other Mother” begins to show her true form in Henry Selick’s Coraline (2009) film.

Sources: Coraline (2002) by Neil Gaiman, and La Belle Dame sans Merci (1819) by John Keats.

"Instructions" by Neil Gaiman

A poem by beloved fantasy author Neil Gaiman, on what one should do if one ever happens to find themselves in a Fairy-Tale...

Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never
saw before.
Say "please" before you open the latch,
go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted
front door,
as a knocker,
do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat
nothing.
However, if any creature tells you that it hungers,
feed it.
If it tells you that it is dirty,
clean it.
If it cries to you that it hurts,
if you can,
ease its pain.

From the back garden you will be able to see the
wild wood.
The deep well you walk past leads to Winter's
realm;
there is another land at the bottom of it.
If you turn around here,
you can walk back, safely;
you will lose no face. I will think no less of you.

Once through the garden you will be in the
wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-
growth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She
may ask for something;
give it to her. She
will point the way to the castle.
Inside it are three princesses.
Do not trust the youngest. Walk on.
In the clearing beyond the castle the twelve
months sit about a fire,
warming their feet, exchanging tales.
They may do favors for you, if you are polite.
You may pick strawberries in December's frost.

Trust the wolves, but do not tell them where
you are going.
The river can be crossed by the ferry. The ferry-
man will take you.
(The answer to his question is this:
If he hands the oar to his passenger, he will be free to
leave the boat.
Only tell him this from a safe distance.)

If an eagle gives you a feather, keep it safe.
Remember: that giants sleep too soundly; that
witches are often betrayed by their appetites;
dragons have one soft spot, somewhere, always;
hearts can be well-hidden,
and you betray them with your tongue.
Do not be jealous of your sister.
Know that diamonds and roses
are as uncomfortable when they tumble from
one's lips as toads and frogs:
colder, too, and sharper, and they cut.

Remember your name.
Do not lose hope — what you seek will be found.
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped
to help you in their turn.
Trust dreams.
Trust your heart, and trust your story.

When you come back, return the way you came.
Favors will be returned, debts will be repaid.
Do not forget your manners.
Do not look back.
Ride the wise eagle (you shall not fall).
Ride the silver fish (you will not drown).
Ride the grey wolf (hold tightly to his fur).

There is a worm at the heart of the tower; that is
why it will not stand.

When you reach the little house, the place your
journey started,
you will recognize it, although it will seem
much smaller than you remember.
Walk up the path, and through the garden gate
you never saw before but once.
And then go home. Or make a home.

And rest.

Above: Red Riding Hood by artist Jessie Wilcox-Smith (1863-1935).

Sources: Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders (2006), by Neil Gaiman. All Rights Reserved.

"The Stone Troll" by Tolkien

Trolls are supernatural creatures belonging to the race of faerie and can be found to play a predominate role in the folklore of Scandinavian, where they are still considered an important part of modern culture. Trolls are generally described as being large, hairy humanoid creatures with hooked noses and humps on their backs. They are sometimes described as wearing grey coats and red caps, though they are more often described as naked.

Trolls live under bridges (as in the Norwegian fairy-tale Three Billy Goats Gruff) or under ground. They are often malevolent towards humans and will raid villages and abduct women and children. Trolls' primary weaknesses included their lack of intelligence, a dislike of loud noises (they can be driven away by ringing church bells), and their vulnerability to sunlight. If a troll is caught in direct sunlight they will turn to stone.

The following comic poem by acclaimed fantasy author J.R.R. Tolkien tells of an encounter between Middle-Earth hero Tom Bombadil and a grave robbing troll...

"The Stone Troll" by J.R.R. Tolkien

Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,
And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;
For many a year he had gnawed it near,
For meat was hard to come by.
Done by! Gum by!
In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,
And meat was hard to come by.

Up came Tom with his big boots on.
Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?
For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim.
As should be a-lyin' in the graveyard.
Caveyard! Paveyard!
This many a year has Tim been gone,
And I thought he were lyin' in the graveyard.'

'My lad,' said Troll, 'this bone I stole.
But what be bones that lie in a hole?
Thy nuncle was dead as a lump o' lead,
Afore I found his shinbone.
Tinbone! Skinbone!
He can spare a share for a poor old troll,
For he don't need his shinbone.'

Said Tom: 'I don't see why the likes o' thee
Without axin' leave should go makin' free
With the shank or the shin o' my father's kin;
So hand the old bone over!
Rover! Trover!
Though dead he be, it belongs to he;
So hand the old bone over!'

'For a couple o' pins,' says Troll, and grins,
'I'll eat thee too, and gnaw thy shins.
A bit o' fresh meat will go down sweet!
I'll try my teeth on thee now.
Hee now! See now!
I'm tired o' gnawing old bones and skins;
I've a mind to dine on thee now.'

But just as he thought his dinner was caught,
He found his hands had hold of naught.
Before he could mind, Tom slipped behind
And gave him the boot to larn him.
Warn him! Darn him!
A bump o' the boot on the seat, Tom thought,
Would be the way to larn him.

But harder than stone is the flesh and bone
Of a troll that sits in the hills alone.
As well set your boot to the mountain's root,
For the seat of a troll don't feel it.
Peel it! Heal it!
Old Troll laughed, when he heard Tom groan,
And he knew his toes could feel it.

Tom's leg is game, since home he came,
And his bootless foot is lasting lame;
But Troll don't care, and he's still there
With the bone he boned from its owner.
Doner! Boner!
Troll's old seat is still the same,
And the bone he boned from its owner.

Above: This stone, photographed in Hamarøy, Norway, with its roughly man-like features could be explained by folklore as a troll petrified by sunlight, like the one's in Tolkien's The Hobbit (1937).

Sources: Spirits, Fairies, Leprechauns, and Goblins: An Encyclopedia by Carol Rose (1996) and The Tolkien Reader (1966).