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

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

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

Core Elements in Celtic Mythology

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Influence of Tolkien

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reviving the Celts

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

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

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

Celtic Myth in Modern Fantasy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Origins of the Banshee

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

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

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

Sight and Sound

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

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

Encounters

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

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

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

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

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

The Banshee in Modern Culture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cú Chulainn: Ireland’s Greatest Hero

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Death of Cú Chulainn

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

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

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

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

Many Great Irish Warriors

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

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

Tales of the Mabinogion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Otherworlds and Their Names

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

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

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

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

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

Fairies, Fae, and Powerful Gods

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

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

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

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

The Lure of Paradise and the Divine

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

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

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

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

Darker Sides and Cautionary Tales

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lotus Eaters in the Odyssey

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

-From The Lotos Eaters by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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

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

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

What Was the Lotus?

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Danger of Forgetting Home and Identity

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

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

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

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

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

Duty and Comrades

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

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

The Lotus Eaters in Popular Culture

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

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

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

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

Odysseus is known for his epic ten-year-long journey from Troy to Ithaca, so much so that he gave his name to the word “odyssey.” Fraught with perils that wiped out his crew, his journey was a horrific adventure of trials and tribulations that took him all over the known world and beyond, even past the land of the living and into Hades, where he had to interact with the dead.

Entering the Underworld: Circe’s Command to Odysseus

In Book X of Homer’s Odyssey, Odysseus and his crew arrived on the island of Aeaea, home of the cunning and dangerous Circe, who turned many of the crew into pigs. With the help of Hermes, Odysseus resisted Circe’s attempts to control him and convinced her to lift the spell on his men.

After reconciling, Circe told him that to find his way home, he had to travel to Hades and consult with the seer Teiresias, who alone knew the way home for Odysseus, and what he would find when he got there.

For this, Odysseus had to travel to the edge of Okeanos, the river encircling the world, and pass through into Hades, where he had to perform a ritual to summon the dead.

A Ritual at the Edge of the World

As per Circe’s instructions, Odysseus and his crew traveled westwards to the land of the Cimmerians, a misty place drenched in perpetual night. Upon arriving, he prepared a ritual to summon the dead. He dug a trench and poured into it a drink ritual, offering honey, milk, wine, and water. He then made promises of sacrifices to the ghosts for when he returned to Ithaca. Finally, he slit the throats of two sheep and let the blood flow into a trench.

This final, powerful act was the key that drew forth the dead. Among them were people from all walks of (un)life, from warriors cut down at Troy, to women who died in childbirth, all desperate to taste the blood which would temporarily allow them to remember, and crucially for Odysseus, to speak with the living.

Speaking With Elpenor

Odysseus drew his sword, ready to protect the blood from being touched until he had consulted with Teiresias. The first shade to approach was none other than one of Odysseus’ own men, Elpenor, who had died on Aeaea. Narrated in book X of the Odyssey almost as an afterthought, Odysseus gave no thought to burying or mourning Elpenor, who fell off a roof while drunk and broke his neck.

This brings to the fore the theme of timē, the basic dignity afforded to the dead in ancient Greek culture. While most heroes search for kleos, the glory of their deeds that lives on after they have passed, Elpenor asks for something far more modest. He died an embarrassing and ignominious death, and his body lay where it fell, his death unknown to his comrades.

Having died so recently, Elpenor was able to communicate with Odysseus. Warning that his spirit could bring divine wrath upon the expedition, Elpenor beseeched Odysseus to return to Circe’s island and give him proper funeral rites so that he might rest in peace. Without hesitation, Odysseus agreed to Elpenor’s request.

Then, to his great dismay, Odysseus saw his mother, Anticleia, who was alive when Odysseus left Ithaca for Troy. Odysseus wept, but despite his heartache, he would not allow her to reach the blood before he had had a chance to speak to Teiresias.

Teiresias and the Prophecy

Finally, Teiresias appeared and drank the blood. He immediately recognized the “son of Laertes,” and warned him of Poseidon’s wrath, for the god of the sea was still angry at Odysseus for blinding the cyclops, Polyphemus.

Teiresias offered Odysseus visions of the future and warnings for what had to be done to return to Ithaca and to appease Poseidon. He stated that if the Cattle of the Sun were harmed on the island of the sun god, Helios, then disaster would strike, killing Odysseus’ crew and sinking his ship. And even if Odysseus survived, he would return to Ithaca to find his house filled with suitors competing for his wife’s hand in marriage, while they entertained themselves at Odysseus’ expense.

He then warned that even at this point, Odysseus still had to appease the wrath of Poseidon by undertaking another task, carrying an oar inland to the people who know nothing of the sea, and making a sacrifice.

Odysseus Speaks to His Mother

After Odysseus had finished speaking with Teiresias, he spoke with his mother. She drank from the blood and recognized her son, confused as to why he was in Hades, but still alive. Odysseus explained his wanderings and why they brought him to Hades. Odysseus had many questions of his own. First among them was enquiring as to how his mother died.

She replied that she had died from longing for her son to return, just as Odysseus’ father was dying too, living a life of grief and akin to poverty. Meanwhile, Odysseus’ wife, Penelope, and son, Telemachus, were steadfastly awaiting his return. Odysseus then tried to embrace his mother, but she, having no corporeal form, slipped through his arms.

Meeting a Host of the Dead

After speaking with his mother, Odysseus saw a number of other shades with whom he was familiar. Tyro, Antiope, and Alcmene, three women of importance, Odysseus noted as having borne famous heroes to the gods. The Odyssey then lists a number of women among the dead, their importance determined by the children they bore and with whom.

The subsequent passages in the Odyssey read as a maternal genealogy list rather than a statement of heroic deeds. This contrasts sharply with the male spirits seen by Odysseus, who are noted for their actions and their positions of power, as well as their misdeeds and offences to the gods.

Odysseus saw Minos, the son of Zeus, who judges those who enter Hades. He saw Orion, the giant huntsman, and the mighty Heracles. In torment, he saw Tityos, who had been violent towards Leto, a beloved mistress of Zeus (and a powerful Titaness). Tityos lay pinned to the ground while vultures tore at his bowels. Tantalus, too, suffered. For stealing ambrosia from the gods (assumed in later traditions, but not directly stated in the Odyssey), he spent eternity in thirst and hunger, standing in a pool of water from which he could not drink and in arm’s reach of fruits that would slip away from his grasp.

Then there was the famous Sisyphus, who thought to outsmart Zeus. For his hubris, he was forced to push a boulder up a hill only for it to tumble down near the apex, forcing the damned soul to start over for all eternity. Although the reason for his punishment is similarly not actually mentioned in the Odyssey.

Odysseus spoke with the heroic Achilles, who had perished at Troy. The mighty warrior asked after his son and father, and added that he would rather be alive as a servant living a common life than a lifeless hero lording over the dead.

Odysseus was saddened to see the spirit of Agamemnon, the king of Mycenae and the brother of Menelaus. Agamemnon explained that he was killed after returning home from Troy, betrayed by his wife, Clytemnestra, who conspired with her lover Aegisthus. Here, Agamemnon is a lesson that even after the dangers of returning home have been avoided, there are still deadly obstacles to overcome, and this proves to be true in the case of Odysseus, too, who has to deal with his wife’s many suitors.

Through all these conversations Odysseus has with the dead, Homer paints a tragic, bleak picture. No matter how one lives, there is only suffering in death. Even the greatest heroes regret not enjoying life to the fullest.

Departing Hades

While there were many shades that Odysseus still wished to see and speak with, he feared Persephone would send to him the Gorgon (likely Medusa, but not named in the Odyssey), and so he bade his men to enter the boats and left the realm of the dead behind, returning to the island of Circe.

As soon as they arrived on Aeaea, they retrieved Elpenor’s body and cremated it with proper funerary rites. Circe knew of Odysseus’ arrival and greeted him and his crew with food and drink. After Odysseus related his tale to Circe, she gave him more advice and warnings for the journey ahead, detailing the dangers of the Sirens, the Wandering Rocks, as well as Scylla and Charybdis.

From his visit to Hades, Odysseus was forced to confront the results of his actions, from abandoning his family to the duty he had to his crew. Homer used this part of the story for exposition. It is a pause in the action of the Odyssey for contemplation.

More importantly, from a pragmatic sense, was the navigational knowledge Odysseus gained, allowing him to chart a course home, although it would still be many years before he would set foot on Ithaca.

Although Odysseus is the epic’s central figure, it is the characters surrounding him that reveal the Odyssey’s deeper reflections on human nature. The poem explores struggles that extend beyond mythological spectacle, engaging with questions of fate, endurance, loyalty, and moral responsibility. From divine intervention to human resilience in the face of loss and temptation, these themes remain immediately recognizable. By examining characters other than the protagonist, it becomes clear that the Odyssey is shaped by an intricate web of forces that define both Odysseus’s journey and the epic’s lasting meaning.

1. Telemachus: A Son’s Search for Identity

The opening of the Odyssey follows Telemachus, Odysseus’s son and heir. His father had departed nearly 20 years earlier to fight in the Trojan War and has still not returned. Telemachus struggles to assert his authority within his own household. Believing the king to be dead, more than 100 suitors occupy the palace, consuming its wealth, abusing the servants, and relentlessly courting Queen Penelope in an effort to claim the throne.

As Telemachus worries about the future of his home, the goddess Athena appears to him in the disguise of Mentor, an old friend of Odysseus. She urges him to leave Ithaca in search of news about his father. When Athena transforms into an eagle and flies away, Telemachus realizes that these were the words of a divine figure. The following day, he sets sail on a black ship with 20 oars, almost as if he were walking in the footsteps of his father.

Telemachus visits Nestor in Pylos, who recounts the events of the last 20 years, and encourages the young man to assert himself as a leader. In Sparta, Menelaus reveals that Odysseus is alive, but trapped on the island of Calypso. He also confirms the murder of the famous king Agamemnon.

Through these tales, the Trojan War is no longer understood as merely stories of glory, but as a plight in surviving its aftermath. Telemachus also realizes that his father’s absence was wrought by misfortune. As he listens to legends of kingship grounded in memory, Telemachus feels a new breath of life and is swept with a feeling of purpose.

Returning to Ithaca, Telemachus asserts himself as the future of the kingdom. No longer the shadow of his great father, his is a story of a son in search of identity and meaning, and the resolve found in battling one’s struggles.

2. Penelope: The Endurance That Saved Ithaca

Queen Penelope was renowned in the ancient Greek world not only for her loyalty, but also for her intelligence and resilience equal to that of her husband. As the daughter of Icarius of Sparta and a cousin of Helen, whose abduction sparked the Trojan War, Penelope belonged to the highest ranks of Greek nobility. Her strength of character preserved Odysseus’s household during his absence and allowed him to reclaim his position upon returning to Ithaca.

Before her marriage, Penelope attracted many powerful suitors intrigued by her political status and her qualities of self-restraint and intellect. Her father sought to secure an advantageous alliance. Despite lacking great wealth or military fame, Odysseus distinguished himself through his mental capacity, which mirrored hers. Penelope deliberately chose Odysseus, and thus, one of history’s most legendary unions was forged.

Penelope’s most memorable act is the weaving ruse. Pressured by suitors who sought to claim Odysseus’s throne, she promised to choose a new husband only after completing a burial shroud for Odysseus’s father. Every day she wove, and every night she secretly unraveled her work, delaying her remarriage. Through this deception, Penelope maintained authority while appearing compliant to the wishes of her courtiers.

When Odysseus returns and defeats the suitors, he reveals his identity to his wife. Penelope is ever careful and discerning. She orders a servant to move their bed out of the bedchamber. Odysseus immediately objects, describing how the bed was built from a living olive tree, rooted in the ground. By exposing his knowledge of the bed’s secret construction, Penelope and Odysseus finally reunite after 20 years.

It is Penelope’s intelligence and endurance that lead to the salvation of Ithaca. Without her, Odysseus would return to a kingdom in ruin.

3. Athena: The Goddess Who Sets the Story in Motion

A central theme in the Odyssey is the ever-looming presence of divine intervention. The gods’ undeniable, though not omnipotent, role in Odysseus’s story becomes evident in the opening pages of the poem. It is the goddess Athena’s hand that sets in motion the chain of events that ensures Odysseus’s survival and return.

The epic opens on Mount Olympus, where Zeus reflects on the tendency of mortals to blame the gods for their own misfortunes. He argues that humans suffer beyond the plan of fate because they act recklessly, with hubris and excess being their demise. Athena interrupts by drawing attention to the prolonged hardships endured by Odysseus, despite his having committed no recent offense. She presents him as a rare case of undeserved suffering that contradicts Zeus’s own moral logic.

Appealing to reason rather than compassion, Athena persuades Zeus, who orders Hermes, the messenger god, to demand Odysseus’s release from Calypso. From this point onward, Athena carefully shapes the conditions of the hero’s return. She ensures that Odysseus enters Ithaca in disguise, so that he can observe the corruption within his household before acting. Her mediation allows justice to unfold deliberately rather than chaotically.

When the families of the dead suitors seek vengeance, threatening a cycle of perpetual bloodshed and civil war, Athena appears in all her might. With a cry of divine authority, she orders an end to the violence and imposes peace.

4. Poseidon: The Vengeance of the Sea and the Cost of Pride

The image of a lone ship battling the wrathful waves of the sea as its captain longs to complete his voyage is one of the most enduring symbols of the Odyssey. The deep waters separating Odysseus from home represent the unknown and the primordial, a realm where deadly creatures prey upon unsuspecting wanderers. It is therefore narratively powerful that the epic’s principal divine antagonist is Poseidon, the god of the sea.

Early in Odysseus’s journey home, he and his crew are captured by the Cyclops Polyphemus, the son of Poseidon. Odysseus blinds his captor and escapes, but Polyphemus, enraged and humiliated, raises his hands to the sky and prays to his father. He asks that Odysseus never reach home, or, if fate demands his return, that he arrive alone and in misery. This prayer emphasizes the epic’s moral universe, in which divine power is not absolute, and even the greatest gods cannot violate fate, even if they can twist it.

After reaching the safety of his ship, Odysseus, unable to resist claiming his triumph, shouts back to the Cyclops and reveals his true name. This moment of hubris proves pivotal. A private victory becomes a public, cosmic offense. It is no longer a stranger that provoked and wronged Polyphemus, but Odysseus of Ithaca himself, and Poseidon could now exact vengeance with the legitimacy of divine order.

As the journey continues, the sea becomes perilous. Storms shatter ships and scatter Odysseus’s crew, and every moment is a struggle for survival against treacherous waters. Years later, after Odysseus is released from Calypso, Poseidon unleashes a violent storm that nearly kills him. Only through endurance and the aid of lesser divinities does Odysseus survive to reach Ithaca.

Poseidon’s wrath is not villainous, but punishment meted out to those who forget their humility and disregard the limits of the moral world in which they exist. His feud with Odysseus serves as a reminder that cleverness is not morally exempt, and excess and arrogance inevitably invite consequences.

5. Calypso: Refusing the Temptress’s Offer

Following the destruction of his ship, Odysseus arrives at the island of Ogygia, exhausted and isolated. The name Ogygios means “primal” or “from the earliest age,” evoking deep antiquity and timeless stillness. As the sole inhabitant of this place that sits outside normal time and space, the nymph and deity Calypso rules over Ogygia.

She nurtures Odysseus and tends to his wounds, sheltering him from the pain of the outer world. On this island, Odysseus faces perhaps his toughest test, as Calypso promises him immortal life free from suffering if he remains by her side. Claiming that her beauty and power surpass even that of Penelope, the enchantress’s offer sounds as seductive as it is comforting. After years of painful endurance, what can be more appealing than an escape from plight, the curse of old age, and the anxieties of the world?

Though under her spell, Odysseus refuses the proposal through persistent fortitude. Although he shares her bed at night, each day he sits by the shore, staring out at the sea with longing for Penelope, for Ithaca, and for home. He deliberately exhibits his grief and yearning for Calypso to witness. When she confronts him, Odysseus earnestly acknowledges her allure and that of her offer, but insists that he would rather face the woes of a mortal man than live eternally with no memory or identity, without a home.

Calypso’s enchantment ends when Hermes, at Zeus’s bidding, commands the release of Odysseus. She immediately complies, but cautiously warns the hero of the gods’ proclivity for deceiving mortals, suggesting that Zeus may have concealed a trap and that he is being sent to sea only to bear further punishment.

In an epic that, through myth, illuminates the profoundest of human struggles that are grounded in reality, Calypso’s lure exposes one of the Odyssey’s most important messages. By refusing eternal comfort, Odysseus chooses a mortal life shaped by struggle, but fulfilled by the richness of belonging and purpose.

What should have been the end of a horrendous journey, full of trials and tribulations, turned into one of the most depressing events in Homer’s epic. A bag, gifted by Aeolus, its contents sealed, had been the instrument of a swift journey home. Mistaken for treasure, it is opened, and the travelers are blown completely off course, thus extending their journey by many years.

Meeting Aeolus

After dealing with the Cyclops, Polyphemus, Odysseus and his crew set sail and eventually arrive at a “floating” isle; the home of Aeolus, a mortal entrusted by the gods to keep the winds.

Homer describes the island as being surrounded by a wall of unbreakable bronze and sheer cliffs, suggesting the island does not literally “float,” but is atop a peak that juts from the water.

In reality, the Aeolian Isles are an archipelago of volcanic islands north of Sicily. Named after Aeolus, they are also notable for their sheer cliffs owing to their volcanic nature. Whether one of these islands is the one Odysseus visits is a subject of supposition and can never be ascertained for certain.

Ruling over this isle is Aeolus, who has twelve children—six sons who are also husbands to his six daughters, and they live a utopian life in a palace, spending their days feasting. When Odysseus arrives, he is treated with hospitality. He recounts his story to Aeolus, who is generous and helps Odysseus on his journey. Aeolus gives the hero a gift of a bag in which are contained the winds that would work against Odysseus, leaving free the West Wind to blow Odysseus home.

Opening the Bag

A smooth journey, however, does not come to pass. While in sight of Ithaca, the gift given by Aeolus is undone by the folly of Odysseus and his men. Odysseus fails to tell his men what is in the bag, and his men believe it contains gold and silver.

Jealous that Odysseus would return home with such treasure while his men endured the same journey, the crew opens the Bag of Winds while Odysseus sleeps, and the winds are released, blowing the ships wildly off course, back to the Aeolian Isles.

Odysseus beseeches Aeolus for his help, blaming his men for the mistake, but this time Aeolus is angered and demands they be gone from his isle. And so, with great despair, Odysseus and his men set forth once again and continue their journey, which would take many years to complete. Their next stop would be the shores of lands ruled by the Laestrygonians, where most of Odysseus’ men would be killed.

Fate, Free Will, and Human Error

Many of the trials of the Odyssey are brought about by monstrous attacks, divine intervention, and other elements beyond Odysseus’ control. Here, however, Odysseus and his crew are their own worst enemy.

When reciting the story, Odysseus takes collective responsibility with the line “The West wind which was fair for us did he alone let blow as it chose; but it all came to nothing, for we were lost through our own folly.“

When beseeching Aeolus, however, Odysseus frames the incident as the fault of his men, citing, “My men have undone me; they, and cruel sleep, have ruined me.” For his own error, he blames not himself, but sleep.

Later in the story, Odysseus recounts the tale to Penelope, and Homer sums up the narrative, leaving out blame altogether. The author states, “…but it was not yet his fate to come to his dear native land, nay, the storm-wind caught him up again.”

The source of the disaster is thus framed in uncertain terms. Is Odysseus to blame for not telling his men, or are his men to blame for letting their envy dictate their actions? Or is the blame squarely on the head of fate?

Symbols and Emotions

The episode with the winds of Aeolus also carries certain significant weight as being symbolic of timeless ancient Greek beliefs and their modern parallels.

Meteorological elements shape human existence, but they are completely beyond human control, if not now, then certainly not in the ancient past. And although Aeolus is mortal, the gift he bestows on Odysseus is divine. It represents the favor of the gods. As such, it was something to be cherished and protected. It is also a symbol of xenia, the sacred custom of hospitality, which honored Zeus and Athena, both of whom were patrons of foreigners.

The actions of Odysseus and his crew are examples of carelessness— a grave affront to the clemency of the gods. Aeolus gives him this precious gift through the highest form of xenia, and it is squandered through inattentiveness, secrecy, and envy— major aspects of hubris.

Odysseus begs Aeolus for a second chance, but mercy is withheld. The guest-host relationship was disrespected and broken. What was done will not be undone. Odysseus and his crew’s poor judgment is irreversible and leads to terrible consequences, as the journey home will encounter many years of horrific encounters and gruesome death. This is a prime example of trust being broken and the results of such actions. In this, the Bag of Winds is a parallel to Pandora’s Box (or jar), written about by Hesiod, where misfortune is the result of curiosity and disobedience.

With the Bag of Winds, anger and regret are the results of ignorance and envy— an immutable dynamic as common today as it was 3000 years ago in the world of the ancient Greeks. Ultimately, it leads to defeat and despondence.

Aeolus in Modern Times

Like many other episodes in Homer’s Odyssey, the metaphor of Aeolus’ gift and what happened with it are themes in modern language and thought. It represents the timeless occurrence of when victory is within sight, only to be dashed by poor decisions or negligence. In this, the story is akin to the saying, “snatching defeat from the jaws of victory”— a feeling of disappointment commonly felt by sports fans watching their teams throw away a significant lead to lose an event. The Bag of Winds represents a single avoidable mistake that leads to complete failure.

Meanwhile, in historical and pop culture, “Aeolus” has come to represent many things that are connected to the wind, and is referenced in literature for this reason. Emerson famously invokes Aeolus when talking about the power of steam:

“He no longer waits for favoring gales, but by means of steam, he realizes the fable of Æolus’s bag, and carries the two and thirty winds in the boiler of his boat.”

—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature

In more recent years, Aeolus appears in the Percy Jackson lore as the master of the winds tasked with fulfilling weather requests, which drives him quite mad. And in the real world, Aeolus was the name of the European Space Agency’s wind-mapping satellite.

Aeolus is not a major character in the Odyssey, or any subsequent works which mention him, yet his influence has been profound. Likewise, Odysseus’ contact with him, and the episode involving the Bag of Winds, occupy just a few lines written almost 3000 years ago. Despite this, the resonance throughout history has been far more significant than Homer might ever have expected.

In ancient mythology, the Greek realms of the dead were rich in lore, full of mystical places and inhabited by heroes and villains, powerful in equal measure. These were, however, places for the dead, and the dead were confined to their specific roles in their state of existence. Preserving this status quo were guardians who made sure everyone stayed in their place.

1. Cerberus, the Guardian Hound

One of the most famous legends from Greek myth is the three-headed hound, Cerberus, who guards the gates to Hades. Hesiod named Cerberus in literature in the 8th to 7th centuries BC, and gave the hound 50 heads, while Pindar (6th to 5th century BC) described Cerberus as having 100 heads. However, subsequent literary descriptions almost universally had the hound of Hades with three heads, while artistic depictions varied. Some sources also mention Cerberus having additional snake heads along his back. Given the animal’s parentage, this is not surprising. His mother was Echidna, whose lower half was that of a snake, and his father was the serpentine giant Typhon.

Cerberus was said to devour any spirit trying to leave Hades, and blocked passage to any living being trying to enter. Orpheus, however, was able to pass by the guard dog by charming him with music, while Heracles, in the last of his Twelve Labors, captured Cerberus and brought him up to the land of the living, after which the mighty hero returned him to the underworld.

2. Hermes, the Psychopomp Messenger

Although generally thought of as a messenger, Hermes played an important role as a guide, taking the dead to the underworld so they wouldn’t have to make the journey alone. In this, he was an important bridge between the land of the living and the deathly realm of Hades. Recognizable with his winged helmet and sandals, and wielding a caduceus, Hermes was the god of boundaries, and this included the boundary between the living and the dead.

In Classical Greece, images of Hermes were frequently depicted on funerary objects and offerings out of respect and in the hope that Hermes would take good care of the beloved deceased. Hermes took his wards as far as the boundary of Hades, by the waters of the Styx, where Charon would take over and ferry the dead into the afterlife.

3. Charon, the Ferryman

Known for his duty of ferrying the dead across the Styx (or the Acheron) into Hades is Charon, the grim and dutiful servant of the underworld. Exercising his mandate, he refused entry to the living and barred the dead from leaving.

In the Greek myths, he had several encounters where his duty in this regard was put to the test. Orpheus charmed all the guardians of the underworld with his lyre so that he could retrieve his wife Eurydice, while Heracles took a less subtle approach, refusing to pay the toll and overpowering Charon with his strength in order to enter Hades and retrieve Cerberus.

Later Roman poets described Charon as an unkempt character with a long, uncombed beard and dressed in greasy clothes. In Dante’s Inferno, written in the Late Middle Ages, Charon appeared as a vicious demon who beats the damned with his oar, forcing them into his boat.

People were often buried with a coin so that they could pay Charon to ferry them to Hades, and according to Virgil’s Aeneid, those who had not received proper burial rites had to wait on the shores for a hundred years before Charon would take them across.

4. Hades, the Ruler of the Underworld

A ruler of immense power, Hades reigned over the underworld, sharing a name with his domain. Along with his younger brothers, Poseidon and Zeus, Hades overthrew the Titans for control of the cosmos. Hades was given dominion over the underworld, where the dead would reside. Despite the negative associations with ruling over such a place, in Greek mythology, Hades was depicted as a passive figure concerned with maintaining balance, rather than the vindictive villain as portrayed in popular culture today.

Like his faithful hound, Cerberus, Hades was concerned with preventing the dead from leaving his realm and the living from entering it. Those who crossed him or tried to flee death were subject to Hades’ wrath.

5. The Erinyes, the Goddesses of Vengeance

A triad of fearsome goddesses, the Erinyes punished men for their crimes against the social order. Murderers, perjurers, blasphemers, and those committing acts of unbrotherly conduct were the unfortunate targets of the Erinyes’ attention. Of particular importance to these deities were crimes committed by children against their parents, as this was what created the Erinyes. According to Hesiod’s Theogony, they were born from the blood of Uranus when he was castrated by his son, Cronus.

They tormented their victims in life and punished them in death, as they served Hades and Persephone, organizing punishment for those condemned to suffer. Surviving the end of mythic Greek belief, they lived on, being mentioned when they confronted Dante and Virgil outside the Hellish city of Dis in Dante’s Inferno.

6. Hecate, a Chthonic Goddess of the Crossroads

A goddess associated with witchcraft, the night, liminal spaces, magic, plants and herbs, and the moon, Hecate was also a powerful deity of the Greek underworld, and by the 5th century BC, she was also strongly associated with ghosts. In later periods, and especially in Roman times, Hecate was seen as a triple-goddess, embodying three forms. Existing on the periphery rather than in the center of Greek and Roman mythology, Hecate’s cult prospered on the fringes of society.

Like Hermes, Hecate was also a psychopomp and guided the dead to the afterlife, lighting the way with her torches. She was revered as a guardian of travelers in the real as well as the mythic realms. The Roman poet Virgil wrote of Hecate in the first century BC as being equally powerful in Heaven and Hell and having authority over the Grove of Avernus at the entrance to Hades.

Today, Hecate is still revered as a goddess of witchcraft, and practitioners of Wicca seek her guidance in spellcraft and rituals.

7. Thanatos, the God of Death

As the god of death, Thanatos had significant ties to the underworld, acting as a guardian of cosmic order. Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night, was his mother, and Hypnos, the god of sleep, was his twin brother. His siblings also included the Keres, vicious spirits of slaughter and disease.

Quiet and ever-present, he was the god of peaceful death. His touch was soft, and his temperament was calm and silent. Nevertheless, he represented the end of life and was naturally feared by the ancient Greek people, all of whom had to eventually meet him.

While not a major figure in Greek myth, Thanatos did feature in a few stories, most notably that of Sisyphus, who tricked the god of death, binding him with chains so that he could not perform his duty. Without Thanatos, nobody could die, not even from brutal wounds inflicted in the most violent ways. Ares, incensed that without death battle would mean nothing, came to the aid of Thanatos and released him. Another version of the story had Hades as the god who was bound.

Appearing in funerary poetry and art, Thanatos was a representation of the Greeks’ desire for dignity in death and was depicted as young and beautiful.

8. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, the Judges of the Dead

Guarding against chaos and ensuring that order reigned in the afterlife, Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus stood as judges, deciding the eternal fate of those who passed into their realm. Each a mortal son of Zeus, they were kings who gained divine recognition for establishing order within their kingdoms. In death, they were granted ministerial positions as demigods, answerable to Hades in the underworld.

Aeacus guarded the keys of Hades and was responsible for judging Europeans, while Rhadamanthus judged Asians, and Minos cast his vote in the case of indecision.

Long after the end of pagan Greece, Minos lived on, finding a new home in Christian theology, being a monstrous judge in Dante’s Inferno.

In their own way, each of these beings guarded Hades, whether it was the physical form of the underworld or the principle of cosmic order and the boundaries of life and death. From the monstrous and terrifying to the beautiful and serene, Greek beliefs on death and the afterlife were complex, exemplifying a deeply philosophical engagement between the ancient Greeks and their own existence.

For the ancient Greeks, death wasn’t the end. It was the beginning of an eternity in the underworld where a soul could be rewarded, punished, or simply ignored depending on how they lived their life. Getting to the Underworld, however, was a journey; one that involved a ferryman named Charon, who demanded payment for his duty of ferrying souls across the dreaded waters of the Styx.

Who Is Charon?

The ominous nature of Charon is immediately apparent from his parentage. The traditionally accepted genealogy is that he is the son of Erebus, the primordial force of darkness, and his mother is Nyx, the primordial goddess representing night.

The explanation for his name is open to debate. It is thought to be a poetic form of the Greek χαρωπός, meaning “of keen gaze.” The Sicilian historian Diodorus Siculus suggests the concept may have originated from an ancient Egyptian source, but there is no solid evidence to support this. However, it is salient to note that in ancient Egypt, there were close analogs to Greek deities that may have influenced the formation of Greek belief. In this case, the minor deity Aken stands out, as he was tasked with ferrying the dead across the waters to the Egyptian afterlife, and is mentioned several times in the Book of the Dead.

Although an Egyptian etymology for Charon is dismissed in modern academia, there is a plausible reason it has traction. It is a well-known fact that Greek belief was influenced to a certain degree by outside sources, including those of Egypt (especially in later eras). This much is even stated by Herodotus, who claims the appellations of the 12 gods were brought by the Egyptians and adopted by the Greeks.

Charon may also have been influenced by the Etruscan deity Charu, who was the god of Death itself and was believed to ferry the dead into the underworld. Likenesses, however, differ, and Charu was depicted as a fearful demon, often with a hooked nose and animal ears and even wings. He carried a hammer to break down the doors of tombs so he could retrieve the bodies.

Visions of Charon

Throughout the millennia, from ancient Greece into the modern era, even to today, Charon exists as a character of myth and fiction. Variations of his appearance have changed little, and they generally fit the dynamic of an angry boatman.

The origins of Charon in literary works are fragmentary, and much of it is lost to history. One of the oldest surviving mentions comes from Pausanias (2nd century AD), quoting the Minyas, a 6th-century BC poem that exists only in fragments. Here, Charon is mentioned simply as a ferryman.

“Then the boat on which embark the dead, that the old ferryman, Kharon (Charon), used to steer, they found not within its moorings.”

More vivid depictions followed in later centuries, especially in the Roman era. Virgil (70 BC to 19 BC) describes Charon in the Aeneid as having a long “hoary” beard, uncombed and unclean, while his eyes are like hollow furnaces, and his “obscene” clothes are greasy and full of dirt. His boat is an old rust-colored wherry (like a skiff), echoing the undignified journey of death and Charon’s task. He is a “surly” man, and the poor souls who have not undergone proper burial rites and have no resting place for their bones must wait for a hundred years on the shore before Charon takes them across.

1st century AD Roman poet Seneca paints a similar picture, writing of Charon being clad in foul garb, with haggard cheeks and an unkempt beard. He is a fierce character, brave enough to fight against Heracles (and lose).

Charon was also the subject of satirization, and Lucian (2nd century AD) does a good job of deriding the tradition of placing an obol (coin) in the mouth of the deceased to pay the ferryman. He notes that the living have no idea what currency is legal tender in the Underworld, and further states that even if it were possible to pay Charon, it would be better not to, because who wants to go to Hades anyway?

In the Middle Ages, Charon was largely absent from literary works and survived through commentary and an effort to record the beliefs of the ancients. That is, until Dante Alighieri came along and breathed new life into the ferryman of the dead.

Dante’s Charon is transported into and transformed in a Christianized setting. He is no longer simply a scruffy herder of the dead, but rather a demon employed in the grand carnival of Divine Justice.

“Charon the demon, with the eyes of glede,

Beckoning to them, collects them all together,

Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.”

Dante’s version certainly wasn’t the last mention of Charon. He is a popular character in modern fiction, crossing millennia of history to appear on modern television screens, largely unchanged in essence as a ferryman for the dead across the waters of the Underworld. From vases to ancient and modern literature and finally to cinema, Charon evolved from something functional to a fully developed character.

In the movie Percy Jackson & the Olympians, Charon makes an appearance as a pale figure in a dark robe who only accepts drachma as payment for his services of transportation across the Styx. This is in contrast to his character in the book, where he is portrayed as stylish and witty; a major break from traditional depictions, although the flashy exterior falls away upon entering the Underworld.

In Netflix’s Kaos (2024), Greek mythology is revisited in a comedic contemporary setting, and Charon is portrayed by Ramon Tikaram as a cynical, moody character (dressed in casual clothes) dealing with issues of betrayal. He is also portrayed as gay, as a former lover of Prometheus.

Paying the Ferryman

Traditionally, Charon was thought to demand coinage in the form of an obol, a coin of low value, to ferry the dead across the Styx (or the Acheron in some versions). As a result, the literary tradition suggests bodies were often buried with an obol in the mouth or in the hand, although in reality, archaeological evidence reveals that this practice wasn’t universal and very few burials actually contained any money. In even rarer cases, bodies were buried with two coins. In literary tradition, Charon could ferry people or the dead both ways, although this being tied into the two-coin burials is speculative rather than based on archaeological or written evidence of ancient Greek funerary practices.

The idea of covering the eyes with coins is a more modern invention that has little basis in ancient customs. Despite the lack of archaeological evidence, the custom was perpetuated in literature, if for nothing other than its poetic impact as an act of respect for the dead.

Famous Encounters

In ancient literature, many heroes and heroines had encounters with Charon, as only through him could one pass into the Underworld, a place which features significantly in the ancient Greek stories.

As part of his Labors, Heracles had to travel to the Underworld to capture Cerberus, the three-headed guardian dog. He avoided paying Charon for the journey across the Styx (or the Acheron) by using brute force. Charon’s failure angered Hades, who sentenced him to a year in chains.

In his quest to find his dead wife Eurydice, Orpheus charms Charon with his lyre rather than pay the fee, thus gaining entrance to the Underworld. This story, however, seems part of the broader mythological tradition as it is not mentioned (at least by naming Charon) in any of the ancient Greek texts. Orpheus does charm many in the Underworld, but charming Charon is a Roman elaboration based on assumption rather than any actual mention of the event in early sources.

In the Golden Ass by Lucius Apuleius (2nd century AD), Psyche journeys to Hades and pays the covetous ferryman twice: once to enter the realm of the dead and once for the return journey. In Virgil’s Aeneid, Aeneas books passage across the waters with the help of the Sibyl of Cumae, who shows Charon a golden bough, sacred to Persephone, who rules over Hades.

Charon is not a central character in Greek myth, but he plays an important role, representing divine order and the debts that are owed to the dead. His reliable loyalty to his job echoes through the millennia, and he outlasted all the cultures that wrote of him, standing as a symbol of resilience to the present.