427: Norse Legends: Wither or Not

until he really does, and how if you think your step mom might be a monster from another

“world, maybe be nice to her, you know, because of the monster part.”

The creature this time is a merman, a large, stinky, hairy merman sporting a trendy mustache. This is myths and legends episode 427, wither or not. This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some aren't credibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins. Others are stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth a listen.

Today's story is, ostensibly, a fairy tale from Iceland. But it's one I've been wanting to do for a while, because I was able to weave some Norse myth into it, at appropriate spots, and we get to see what's been going on with the giants, who fled Thor's hammer, and ended up in our world.

We'll jump in with a father and son talking about a tragedy that happened to them both,

and how the father needs to make a change. Like anything, do literally anything different, because sitting and crying by a burial mound for two years straight is getting very old. Hey, Jad, Siggurther, the 12-year-old Prince, said to his dad, "The king wrung out his beard and wiped his nose with a sleeve." Oh, Siggurther, oh, his boy, oh, Siggurther looked so much like her.

Oh, he could feel it. He could feel it coming again, he said, glancing back at the mound, before diving on it, and hugging it. Siggurther looked so much like his mother, who was dead. Siggurther died. Side, yep, yeah, she was, and it was also traumatic for him.

When he was 10, he was 12 now, and while grief hits and waves, those waves do eventually abate. Until it's more of a solemn, loving remembrance than a fresh, painful experience, but, well, his dad hadn't gotten there yet. Everyone processes their grief differently, son.

Oh, one minute, the king waved a waiting servant over, who poured the water skin into his mouth. Got a hydrate when you cry in this much. Now, I get it, it's just maybe there are healthier ways to grieve than staring at

“mom's grave mound all day for two years straight, Siggurther, the offered, "Oh, really?”

Like what?" the king challenged, I mean, at most other ways, Siggurther said, "But the king waved the boy off to go back home. Didn't he have a kingdom he needed to learn how to rule?" Yes, the kingdom that you're supposed to be ruling. Siggurther rejoined, but his dad couldn't hear him over the sobbs.

When Siggurther got back from his riding and arms training later on that afternoon, he, wait, you're back, he said it was dad, the king, who was sitting on the throne, conversing with his yars. What are you doing here? The king smiled and dismissed as advisors, rising from his throne and walking over

to the fire. Son, I know I haven't been around a lot these past two years, but grief works on its own timeline, and I couldn't, I wasn't ready to let go. The king said, "You don't have to let go, dad. I still have hurt too.

“We can remember her, but not be overwhelmed by agony.”

She wouldn't want us to forget her, but she wouldn't want that, either." Siggurther hugged his dad, "I know, son, I know, so wise. I feel like I knew that all along. It just took someone special to help me see it. The king must as son's hair, a Siggurther looked up with a smile.

Like a super hot widow, I just happened to meet on my 2pm water break today. The king said, as he made his way back to the throne. Siggurther stepped back, wait, what? Then Siggurther heard a groan from behind a curtain, and a woman stepped out. This was not the wording we talked about, she said.

Tall, beautiful, and graceful. She walked with a respectful reticence to the king's side. "Hi," she said, through a grimace, "who are you?" Siggurther pointed as he backed up. This is your new mom, the king smiled, "No, no, no, no, both in Gibyork, the woman,

and Siggurther said, "Nunison, that was way too soon."

"I'm sorry, I just met the second love of my life today, and I am delirious with

Siggurther demanded an explanation, and the king was more than happy to give one.

It was kismit. He, their morning his wife for years on end, her husband having died the previous day. They were truly twin flames. That's not the same, Siggurther turned from his dad in Gibyork, who had just happened to walk

by the well-known place where the king sat morning his wife every day for over 24 months, in her most beautiful clothes. After losing her husband the previous day, your father is a sweet man. He loved your mother, and I recognized his grief as the same that I feel, and Gibyork pleaded with Siggurther, but yesterday, Siggurther narrowed his eyes and suspicion.

"I, unfortunately, don't have the ability to mourn for two years." Yeah, it's called gender inequality, Siggurther. The king shook his head.

He thought he raised his son to be more empathetic than that.

It's more of a class issue than anything. This is, I'm sorry, ridiculous, and insane. You met her what?

“A half hour ago, and her husband is barely cold, and you think this is on the level?”

Hmm, these are the middle ages. Life moves faster here, because I could be dead tomorrow from a cold from sitting out in the winter, morning your dead mother, who is dead. The king shook his head. "Dad, leave the mound.

Dad, you left the mound, but I don't want you marrying that suspicious stranger you just met." Ugh, he couldn't win with this kid. "I love you, mom," Siggurther said, and Gibyorg took a deep breath and rolled her eyes. "See?

I knew you'd warm up to her." The king clapped, and then chuckle her right. He was feeling great, as usual, who wants to go hunting? Not me. I want to stay home, with mom, because I love mom, Siggurther spat.

The king said that while he was a little saddened that a son never wanted to come with

him, he was happy that his boy and his second soul mate were getting along so well. I know you don't like me, Gibyorg said after the king left. "Oh, how'd you figure that out? You use your witch sorcery sorceress, which?" Gibyorg threw her back, crossed his arms, secretly unhappy with that particular insult,

but he was committed to it now. Got me, Gibyorg raised her hands, anyway, did he actually want to help or was he just going to sit there again, and I her suspiciously until his dad got back home like he had been doing for years?

“"I think we both know the answer to that," Siggurther said, and then did his eye warm”

up. The next day, though, something changed. Gibyorg wasn't her usual, resigned, annoyed self. She seemed upset, preoccupied. She didn't go for their usual back and forth banter.

You will go with your father hunting today, she said, as the king strode in the room. "The king said, "Hey, what if he, the king, didn't want to go hunting?" "Well, don't you?" Gibyorg asked, "I mean, I do now," the king said, and shrugged. "Cool, father, son, and courteers, and servants, and hangers on, and berserkers hunting

trip. Great idea, dear." "I'm not going," Siggurther said, "yes, you are," Gibyorg commanded, and with the king going along with it, they ordered Siggurther to get ready to go.

“Hey, Dad, mind if I ride back with people my own age, Siggurther asked?”

The king side with a smile, they told him this day would come, when he wanted to spend time with his friends more than his dad. "Yeah, he'd go back and ride with his buds, but if mom asks, they spent the day having father's son time. I really don't think she cares," Siggurther said.

It sounds great, but the king replied, "are already waiting for the mead." Siggurther wrote past the kids' own age to the rear guard, saying that his dad left a thing back at home, what sort of thing? The guard narrowed his eyes, a thing used for hunting. Siggurther cocked his head, the guard thought about it, "yeah, they were out hunting

and needed things for hunting, all right, that checks out, go ahead." That being easier than you thought it was going to be, and he already thought it was going to be pretty easy, Siggurther made his way for home. Creeping up, he could hear his stepmother preparing for something, but she was completely alone, not a single servant or enslaved person in the house, what was she panicked, consumed

curiosity when an arm reached out of the window and gripped Siggurther by his cloak, and he marveled as it lifted him bodily up to face, "her," his stepmother, "I knew it."

she set him down gently on the table.

“The ferocity of her face not matching the gentleness of her actions.”

What are you doing here? I knew you were a sorceress, Siggurther cried before a hand found his mouth. It wasn't that simple, she whispered, and looked around frantically. Siggurther felt the room fall away as, again, she lifted him bodily into the air and bounded to the back room, where he nearly rolled to a stop under the bed.

Stay there and don't say a word, she demanded, but before Siggurther could spit more accusations, there was a sound at the door, and he'd be your grush to open it, and the house seemed to rumble when she entered, a giantus, one who shrunk down a fit inside the doorway, but grew, once again, until she was inches from the ceiling. "Good morning, Sister," the giantus said, "then, froze, is Prince Siggurther at home?"

"No," like I said, he insisted on going out hunting with his father this morning.

I couldn't keep him, and Gbiark didn't even look back to the far room. To the shadows were Siggurther watched. He laid there trying to choke back coughs from the dust, and will himself to believe those

“were bits of dirt, not mouth-droppings, or were there so many mouth-droppings?”

That's the best lamb and beer I've ever had. I can see why you'd marry a human king," the sister said, and Gbiark smiled. The humans, while foolish, and oftentimes prejudiced, she did manage a glance back on to the bed for that one, did have their charms, and her husband, those silly at times, was a wonderful man whom she loved very much.

"Yes, but does he love you?" "The real you," the sister asked.

He knows, "The real me," even if he's never seen me, and Gbiark assured her sister.

"Well, I must be off before these people who love you for you, but who can never know your true nature return," the sister declared, but was she sure that Prince Siggurther was not in the home? Certainly, Gbiark flashed a smile, she wouldn't betray herself, let alone her sister. Very good, the sister smiled and rose.

After she embraced the woman and left, Gbiark went to work, cleaning up the meal. Siggurther emerged, "You're a giant?" The Yotin. She corrected the prince, not a sorceress. So you're from Yotinheim?

Gbiark's sugarhead now, her father was. She and her sisters were born here on Midgard, the world of the humans. Things with Thor and Odin, they got bad, or associate her. Her parents got out when they could. Came to this world where the acer rule with a later touch.

Does my father know? Like I said, he knows me, but no, he doesn't know what I am. Gbiark said, "You could have killed me," Siggurther replied. He had been thinking about it under the bed. The whole kingdom thought he was out hunting, he, she still could.

But what kind of mother would I be? Gbiark smiled, Siggurther smiled back. It was nice having someone know her secret. And things with the boy were different after that afternoon. He didn't tell the king that night, who thought he had been out hunting the whole time.

And the next day, when she asked if he wanted to go hunting, he said he would rather stay with her. But not in the way where he hurled the word mother like a curse, but out of genuine affection. She had a spot for him that time. She had been up early that morning, crafting a sling to go under the table.

The table the two giant tuses would sit at, and eat dinner. He would be able to look up for the cracks and see them. Here, every word. This made the usually adventurous Siggurther quiet enough for Engiebjork to laugh.

“Oh, first you wanted to know all about her and now she was showing him too much?”

His dad was right, he really wasn't possible. She elbowed him with a smile and then helped him get into the sling. It went as the previous day did. With a sister eating lamb and drinking beer and basking twice. If Prince Siggurther was there.

When the sister left, Siggurther helped Engiebjork clean up, while learning all about her homeland, hearing the stories of how her ancestors fought Thor, and caused the god of thunder to wet his pants and fear, and how he has a wetstone shard lodged in his forehead because of them. When the next day came around, though, Engiebjork was insistent.

He could not stay there for this one. The sister was, well, she was thorough, and she would know he was there. But Siggurther could not be persuaded.

Our other sisters warned me that you would lie. Have the humans rubbed off on you that much? The elder sister asked, "I'm not lying, he is not here," Engiebjork said. "It had been ten minutes of this without much more than a hello."

Finally, when it looked like she was satisfied, Engiebjork laid out the lunch.

Beer and lamb, I guess if it isn't broken, you know. They sat at lunch and though they chatted, Engiebjork could tell her sister was holding back about something. As things wound down, the sister rose. "Are you quite sure?" Prince Siggurther is nodded home.

"Quite," said Engiebjork. "I've told you already that he wrote off with his father this morning, a hunt."

“You said that he was often joined himself in the forest, and now you say he's hunting?”

The sister glanced around the house. He's enjoying himself on a hunt in the forest. Engiebjork shrugged. What was going on with them?

The sister looked down at Engiebjork.

What was going on with them? What was going on with her? She married a human and now she was defending one? Lying not just to her own kind, but to her family. "I'm not lying," she lied. The giant has gritted her teeth and took a deep breath.

Calling out loudly enough for her words to echo throughout the house. If he is near enough to hear my words, I lay the spell on him, let him be half scorched and half withered, and he may have neither rest nor peace till he finds me. She then paused.

It seems her sister may have been telling the truth. "Great lunch." Biscis. Engiebjork stood like stone until the door closed behind her sister. Then she ran to the wall and tore off the slats that hid Siggurther, where she found him huddled there, twitching, half scorched and half withered.

She took him into her arms and he cried out in agony. We'll see Siggurther set out on a squest, but that will be right after this. We move recently and now we have a guest room.

“We didn't have one at the old house, so you know what that means?”

We needed to get stuff for a guest room. You know what that also means? We still haven't gotten anything for a guest room. I've been taking the guest room furniture box I might do list and dragging it a few weeks into the future for months now.

But with the new year and having missed having people over for two major holidays now, we were like, okay, it's not going to be easy or fun, but we're going to get this thing figured out. And it turns out, it was both easy and fun. Of course then I were hanging out, I pulled up Wayfair and no joke. Fifteen minutes later, that's probably overestimated.

The guest room was done, bed frame, nightstands, light fixture, all on the way, and it will be hearing like the next week. When it comes to decor, I am aesthetically challenged.

“But Wayfair suggests things that look good together,”

and they have such a massive selection that you will find what you're looking for. Okay, we got the Ashley Solid Wood platform bed. W Solid Wood nightstand, and the Janto Janto, three light glass mount light fixture.

And the room is done, it looks amazing too.

And went from this thing I didn't look at as I passed by because it was like something I didn't want to deal with. To something I'm legitimately excited about, all thanks to Wayfair. And I can finally check that box off and we can finally have family from out of town. And it was like, not that much. Trust me, we have paid way more for things that do not look this good. So, I'm excited. Get organized, refreshed, and back on track this new year for Wayless.

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plus free dessert for life. Go to home chef.com/legends. That's home chef.com/legends. For 50% off your first box, and free dessert for life, home chef.com/legends. Must be an active subscriber to receive free dessert. So you're at their winced. Zingy Bjork lightly touched the side of his scorched face. Oh, he went all too face like the Batman villain. She said she was so sorry, but she did

warn him not to stay. He began to rise, though, that itself appeared to be torture. What are you doing? He stealed himself for speech. He was leaving. He was going to find her sister. At least stay in gather your strength. The spell is still fresh, she pleaded. But Zigrther shook his head. He couldn't. If he stayed, his father would know. The king might be open-minded, but even if he was, the people weren't.

Regardless, he wasn't willing to stake his mother's life on it. The tear-found Inky Bjork's eye. But only for a moment. Okay. She rushed to the other room as he stood and found his cloak. And when she returned, she opened a chest, revealing four items. Three gold rings, and a ball of string. Once he was out of the town, he needed to roll that ball of string. Follow the direction it unrolled. Re-roll it and roll it again. That would lead to the cliffs.

There was no other way to the eldest sister, except by passing the first two. The rings resized small as to largest, and he was to give the progressively larger rings to the progressively larger sisters as gifts. That would win their favor. Then it would be the most difficult part. He would need to wrestle with them.

Each one, Sigrther Grimmest. Yes. Sigrther nodded. Okay, guards in the table, he had never

“wrestled with anyone before, but he could do this. Inky Bjork cocked her head. What was he talking about?”

She saw him wrestling all the time with his friends out in the fields. Oh, wrestling. Okay. Yep. Got it. Sigrther chuckled awkwardly. What did you think Inky Bjork asked before gasping? Oh, no. Gross. Those are my sisters. I wasn't excited about it. That makes you feel better. Sigrther replied. Nothing about where this conversation is going makes me feel better. Inky Bjork clarified. Oh, you said it would be difficult. Sigrther should be said.

Yeah, because you're half burned and withered and their giants, she replied. The pain would be the most challenging part. How will I win or even survive? Like you said they're giants. Sigrther shrugged. You're stronger than you know. Inky Bjork hinted and then continued.

After the first match, they would give him a horn to drink out of. For a normal human,

it would just be a horn. But to him, it would make him so strong that he would easily be able to win.

“She paused. What? They still had stuff to get through. Why was he looking at her like that?”

Obviously, what you just said, Sigrther pointed out. I've been fortifying you since I got here in the event that you came in contact with them, my people. Inky Bjork said. Little things. Food, drink. Various herbs and tinctures in his ears while he slept. She wanted him to be safe. He was her son, after all. There's one more thing she said. Pressing the thread into Sigrther's scorched hand. Went seen with him. After Sigrther left, things might not go so well. Here,

if her little dog that she kept, but the story hadn't mentioned up until this point so neither did I, if her dog found him in the wilderness with tears in his eyes. She, Inky Bjork, needed Sigrther because her life was in danger. Shouts went up from the edge of town. The hunting party had returned. If he was going to leave, he needed to do it now. Sigrther limped out the back door each step on agony as she told him goodbye and asked him not to forget his step mother.

When he was far enough out, he threw the ball forward and it rolled to his right. His journey began.

morning after a night of fitful sleep. Walking throughout the day, he couldn't not feel the

“agony of his scorched side, but it wasn't a surprise. In the moments before he opened his eyes,”

when his body was on fire and his brain didn't yet remember what happened, it was like the curse was occurring all over again. It got both better and worse after that. Better because he could will his steps forward and there was a place to go. He had hope. There was an end to this agony. Worst because of well the agony, each step was pain no matter how much he tried to block it out. Sometimes the string just fell from his withered hand, but he knew he had to press on

where. Or else this would be his life forever more. He arrived at the first cliff around midday.

Just what I wanted, the head that peaked over the edge cried out when she saw him. Here is Prince Sigrther. He shall go into the pot tonight. Sigrther had seen the cliff to which the string pointed and ready the smallest ring as he saw a giant fish hook swinging through the air

“on the cliff above. You're not, you're not going to run? The woman asked?”

Sigrther yelled a, uh, nope. Oh, sounded from a top the cliff and the fish hook slowed. I'm just going to lower it then if you're okay with that, the giant said. Honestly, sounds a lot better than being hooked while running away. Sigrther said as he stepped onto the hook. I wouldn't know personally, but from all the screaming and pleading, it's probably better. The giant's words were getting closer and closer. That could be the me eating them part, though.

There's a lot of confounding variables there. You, you did hear that, right? About putting you in my pot. Yep, yep, Sigrther said. They could talk about that. He stepped from the fish hook to the grass of the cliff and dug in his pocket. Before they got to that, he had something for her. His fingers came out of the pocket

with the golden ring, the smallest one, and a message. As the first giant sister read the message

and inspected the ring, she nodded. All right, not eating, at least not immediately. Apparently, Sigrther loved to wrestle. That's weird. Sigrther said he didn't love to wrestle. He was told she, it says right here, you love to wrestle. The woman pointed to the letter, wrestling fiend. Can't get enough of it. I'm curious why you think wrestling a giant is a good idea, so I want to see how this plays out for you. That's actually the only reason I'm not putting

you directly into the pot. Sigrther's side. Whatever, wrestling it is. [Music]

Tap out or I knock you out. You can take a flying elbow drop in a piledriver but not a sleeper

hold. The giant is gaffod. Sigrther tapped her forearm and she released him. You? Sure, you're not secretly into wrestling. Sigrther asked when he caught his breath. There was no shame, really. It's kind of pretty fun. I have no idea why you think that. The giant is sugarhead. Sigrther pointed out that she knew a lot of wrestling terms and famous wrestlers and oh, also the wrestling ring she had in the basement area of her cave. That's actually a natural

formation. It came with the cave. She said. Sigrther said, yeah, okay, hey, did she happen to have anything to drink? She smiled but it was one of those grinch smiles. The one that curls halfway up your face and does not look good or safe. Sure. She had just the thing. Oh, wow. She was right. Sigrther said after he guzzled the liquid. What did my sister tell you? It wasn't poison.

“If that's what you're wondering. The giant size grew wide. We're thing to say if it's not poison.”

Sigrther's own eyes narrowed. Why? I'm just stating what the drink is or rather what it is not because it's not poison. It would be weird if I was like that drink is not a squirrel because it's clearly not the giant laugh. Okay, I'm going to let you think about that afterward because that line of reasoning does not help your case. Ready to get back to it? Sigrther stepped back into the ring and pinned the giant with one hand behind his back. The not poison, which was actually

poison to anyone who hadn't been prepared for it, had the opposite effect. Temporarily increasing his abilities 20 fold. Sigrther won. Not too surprising with some performance enhancing poison, but very surprising to the giant us, who had no respect for the kid and the mother that raised him to literally tackle any obstacle, especially with half of his body burned in the other half withered. That night, with Sigrther as a welcome to guest in the giantus's house/cave, he told her all about

from the hill behind him. Sigrther took out the red gold ring, the largest one that Ingibyork had sent with him. He stood before the third giant sister as she read the misive from Ingibyork and looked the kid up and down. Without a word, she waved him into the following room. Oh, wow, another cave with this completely naturally formed wrestling ring, crazy!

“The giantus squinted was, was he making fun of her? What was he talking about?”

Naturally forming wrestling rings, that's ridiculous. She built this. It cost a ton of money, but she loved wrestling. Did he have a problem with that? Sigrther catching up to this

giantus confidence in self-assurance, said absolutely not. It was just in and never mind.

Because if he did, she had something for him. And that something was a flying elbow as their wrestling match started. And sorry to repeat moves, I don't know too many wrestling moves. It ended the same way as the other two. Slowly and exhaustantly, and then very quickly when the giantus gave him the drink from the horn that multiplied his strength. When Sigrther finished counting and let the third giantus go, she smiled. But it wasn't a sinister smile,

like when they all offered him the drinks. It was genuine. He followed her eyes as she jestered

“to his left side, and looking down at his hand, he watched the burns come together and disappear,”

like water evaporating in the sun. He took a deep breath, and found the agony that plagued him for the last few days gone. He had been healed. I see now. Sigrther said, as he stretched his fingers and then balled his hand into a fist, marveling that he could do that without pain with the left hand,

and make a fist at all with the right. But when that had been withered, I see now that you never

intended to hurt me. You were maybe just stung that your sister had this whole life without you, and you just wanted to be a part of it. So you encouraged her to send me to learn more about me and her. Sigrther smiled. What? Now I definitely meant to hurt you. I don't like it when people lied to me or are sneaky and you too were both. And getting you to come here was basically getting you to admit that. The giant is said. Oh, but seeing how she cared for you even with how nasty

“you were to her, I'm happy for you both. The giant is smiled. Sigrther unrolled his bedroll,”

while the giant is in the other room getting some mutton and meat, and she came back, um, what was he doing? Stain? Nope. She said to the kid who was clearly misreading a number of things regarding her appetite for her or mean family togetherness. Okay, like don't make a show of awkwardly packing up your bedding. You were the one who took it out and wanted to sleep here uninvited.

The giant is said. Plus, he had to go meet her. Sigrther spun her? Yes, her. There's always a her.

Helga. She described Helga, young giant is who, with the sisters in Ingebiorg, had been born on Midgard. As Sigrther packed up and made ready to leave, the eldest sister told him how to find her, and if he hurried, he might be able to catch her while she was still out exploring the forest. Go. Sigrther son of Ingebiorg, you are one of us now, one of the yachtin' are. You are stronger than you've ever been. She cupped his face in his hands before waving at him,

as he strode off down the hill. Stronger than he'd ever been? Yes. Stronger than Helga's father, one of the greatest of the yachtin', a king and exile, absolutely not. And he would do what neither she nor her sisters have been able to. We'll see what happens when Sigrther tries to woo a giant princess with her angry giant dad around and able to smell humans, but that will, once again, be right after this.

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my own, match with a therapist. They've boiled it down to a short questionnaire, and while they usually

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into a later version of yourself without leaving behind what's been weighing you down. Therapest can help you clear space. Sign up and get 10% off at BetterHelp.com/miths. That's BetterHELP.com/miths. Helgo was a girl. About his age, maybe a little younger, she was playing with a boat on the C-shore, and Sigerther called out a "Hello?" Helgo? She looked up with a smile, mainly because she and her father had been living in this lonely forest her whole life, and he had spared

her the terrors of their homeland, so she didn't know that if strange dudes who know your name approach you on the beach, you don't necessarily need to be wary, but maybe learn a little bit more about them before inviting them to play. She was younger than Sigerther, but old enough so it

“wasn't like, "Oh, boys are gross, but more boys are gross, but also, hello."”

The fact that Sigerther was a very handsome, slightly older boy went a long way when in her trust. Given the customs around hospitality in the ancient medieval world, it's less weird that Sigerther asked if he could stay at her house than it would be say today, but well, not to be inhospitable, but her father was extremely inhospitable. He had been hurt before. By Thor, a lot. She didn't know this, and only saw him being paranoid of the world that had

at the very worst, only been extremely boring for Helgo. Never dangerous. As they chatted and walked,

she said yes. He could stay. He didn't see her slip on her glove. As the sun faded, and the trees were little more than black veins and plumes on a blue purple sky, Sigerther approached the house. The house that, for a cabin in the woods with two people in it, was grandeur and stronger than any long house her palace yet ever seen. Mainly because he had seen exactly zero palaces and only his father's long house,

and one other when he was four and went to the all thing with his father, but he barely remembered that. This was like something out of legend. Massive timbers hemmed with gold stretched into the darkness beyond torches burning before him. The large, heavy, ornately carved wooden door stood up only a few short stone stairs. "Sorry in advance," Helgo said, in raised her hand. "Why?" "You've been nothing but love," Sigerther said as she waved her hand over his head,

but he didn't get to finish that sentence. When her arm completed its arc, the bundle of wool that used to be him bounced softly on the path. Helgo scooped it up, took off the glove, and brought Sigerther inside. "Oh, what is that smell?" the giant father's scraggly beard contorted, and his nostrils flared, then he stood and went for his club, whipping the grease from dinner on his furs. "Human," he smelled human. "Father, please," Helgo said. "Did you

speak to a human today? Is there a human here?" the giant spun, tossing another log toward the heart so he could see better. "It's sheep, father." "I sheared sheep today, your smelling sheep," Helgo

said. Raising up the bundle, he eyed it suspiciously. "You always told me that humans smelled

like sheep but worse, so that's probably it," the giant dad relaxed. "Yeah, they did smell horrible." He cracked a smile, but she was sure she hadn't seen a human out there, right? Humans worship the Acer, and they hated giants because all they believed about them was what Thor and Odin told them to believe. "Don't, giants eat humans sometimes too," Helgo asked. "Sometimes will be sheep and they're still cool with us," the giant went back to his porridge that did not contain

any human. Helgo went to bed excited that night, excited that she had a friend, excited that she had managed to sneak him past her father, and excited that she had met a boy, of lead to me. Sugerther said the following morning, after Helgo waved her glove over the bundle of wool, after breakfast, and after her father had gone off in the forest to cut wood. "Wait, wasn't it just night?" Helgo pressed a bundle into his hands, saying it was breakfast.

"Come on, she packed in breakfast. They had the whole day to play."

“"Breakfast," he looked down at the apples, bread, and cheese. He means "dinner," right?”

Helgo? Sugerther called after her, and then took off in a jog to go find her.

exploring and playing and talking. They had more in common than either of them thought,

“and, at the end of the day, when she invited him back to stay at her father's house. He didn't”

want to leave her side. But he was confused. Last night she put on a glove, and mid-sentence, night became day. "Yes, that is what's happening," Helgo smiled as she slipped on the glove. "Okay, but," Sugerther watched with trepidation. As her outstretched hand waved over his head, in an instant, it was morning. See? Just like that. My father's gone and we have the whole day. He traveled on Yigdresil, the world tree, so he wasn't even on mid-guard at the moment,

which meant she threw up in the door. Sugerther could come inside. Okay, but Sugerther continued what he had been saying the night before, or to him, about 12 seconds ago. If the time just passed like that for both of us, how do you know where your dad went, and where did you get breakfast for me, and how are you wearing different clothes? She laughed and waited for him to come inside. The house was amazing, and this was from a kid who was an actual prince. Ritches and store houses

of food, games he had never heard of, tombs, probably, that the cultures of this time in

region weren't known for their written records, Helgo showed him everything, looping keys from one side of the ring to the other as they went through the rooms. Well, that's it, Helgo said, squinty not the window. Some was still in a no-case spot, but she had been keeping an eye on it for both

“of their sakes. But you have a key remaining, Sugerther pointed. Helgo looked down. Yes,”

he followed her furtive glance down some darkened stairs at the end of the hallway. It's not something I can open. Helgo called out after him as he descended the stairs. She caught up to him in front of the heavy iron door. Okay, we got to open it. Sugerther stood inspecting

the door. I can't. I promised I would never open it. Helgo crossed her arms. The Sugerther

knocked on the door. Wow, it just like ate the sound. It must be thick. He turned. Do you know what he wouldn't do if you wanted you to never open it? He wouldn't have given you a key. Besides, don't you want to know if there are bodies behind it? What? Why would there be bodies? Okay, if it's not bodies, I'll tell you the story of Bluebeard. If it is bodies, that's pretty much the story of Bluebeard. All right, come on, open open open. Sugerther slapped the door. To

hold this credit, it took about 10 more minutes and all Sugerther's persuasive powers to get her

“to put the key in the lock. And when she did, a click that was more of a thud echo throughout the house.”

A couple things, if you've never felt an old bank vault door, like one of those Scrooge McDuck circular

ones that are about a foot thick, they are heavy and hard to move even if they're on an oil hinge. So opening an iron door is a choice and it requires a ton of effort. Secondly, this does make me think of Bluebeard. In the 1989 movie, Little Nemo Adventures in Slumberland, where Little Nemo turns a key to a forbidden door and awakens the Nightmare King. That seemed messed me up as a six year old and I posted a link to it in the show notes.

Inside the Giants vault, though, wasn't a Nightmare King or piles of corpses, but four things. A lantern sputtered to light when they entered the room, revealing a horse stall and a horse, goldfoxy, his horse. It means golden mane. It was a beautiful horse, but Segerther was more interested in the sword that hung above it. Battle plume. Oh, like I said. Goon Feather. And that, Segerther pointed to a sign that read,

he who rides this horse and wears the sword will find happiness, and the stone in twig that appeared to be in the highest place of honor. The sign was self-explaining, sort of like a Viking version of "Live Laugh Love", but the rock, stick, and twig, less so. But Helga picked up the slack there. Saying that the rock and stick and twig were even more valued than goldfoxy and Goon Feather. The twig, if thrown on the ground, would generate a mass of forest knowing could pass through.

When it came to the stick and stone, if you struck the stick with the stone or the stone with the stick, transitive property, I guess. Hillstones, the size of pigeons eggs would fall from the sky and kill everyone 20 miles around. Helga's face contorted in horror as Segerther scooped at the sword, twig and stone, off the shelf with a single motion. What was he doing?

want happiness? Segerther scoffed, grabbing a saddle from the wall. No, no, you can't ride it.

“Hill, no, Helga scrambled. But Segerther told her to relax. He wouldn't take it out. He would just”

ride it around the house. It's a way to destroy a horse. Wouldn't even take it off the lot. Maybe Helga thought that this was reasonable. That her dad wouldn't be able to tell someone had ridden his horse around the house when he could smell humans even when they were in the form of the bail of wool. Maybe she wanted to believe him. That it would be okay. When the horse exploded out the front door of the house with Segerther on top of it, she knew she had been so,

so wrong to trust him. Segerther knew he had at most an hour or two to put as much distance between himself and the giant as he could. It took the giant 45 minutes to catch up. Segerther was happy the horse didn't need

“to take breaks and could gallop for 20 miles straight. He also hoped that this particular happiness”

wasn't the promised happiness, because while it was nice, it was also just okay. The ground rumbled as Segerther dared look behind him. The giant tore through anything before him and a mad dash to get his horse, sword, and magic items back. Maybe wondering why the giant would even need the horse when he could run 20 miles faster than it could gallop, Segerther dug into his pockets and found, and grimaced. Hoping that the twig the giant had prized was more than just a twig,

and it was where it landed roots took hold, and from those roots more trees sprouted until, in moments, a forest stood between him and the giant, and moments after that, the forest was in the sky.

The giant, on his end, waved his hand, and the first half of the trees merely drifted off into

the sky like dandelion seeds. While the second half exploded out in splinters, barely slowing the giant down. As the horse kept galloping, Segerther was struck by two things. One, the first item worked. Hey, that's cool. It made a forest. It hadn't worked in that he had been able to escape, but he could be assured the second would work. That meant killing him, the giant, Helgus' father. He barely knew Helgus, but she had been kind to him. It felt wrong, then, to kill her father.

You know, he knew how he felt when his own mother died. Oh my gosh, that guy was really close. Okay, he took out the stick and stone, raised the stick, and thought better of it.

No. He should turn around first. He did so, holding the stone off the back of the horse and

tapping it with a stick. Meer inches from where his hand hung in the air, stones flew from the sky, pulverizing and pummeling the giants outstretched arm. And, also the rest of him, killing him in an instant under a hail of rocks the size of pigeon's eggs. Segerther wrote on word. Not slowing for a moment until sunset. When he could finally stop and breathe, he had done it. He had escaped and slain the giant in the process. Despite that really being more of a robbery and murder

situation.

Segerther awoke the next morning to sobbing. At first he thought it was Helga and felt really bad.

Then he realized it was a dog and felt really confused. Hey there, jog. Segerther patted the dog on his head as it's face streaked with tears. He sat up from his pack next to the cold black logs of last night's fire and said to himself

“that he knew there was something important about crying dogs and not just that dogs can't cry”

in the traditional sense unless he'd count watery discharge which he didn't. Mom! Inky Bjorg's dog that he had been introduced to briefly right before he left but he imagined had been there the whole time. He thanked the puppy. Let the top go to faxie and recognizing the roads and the far off hills and the daylight. New the way home. Burn her! Burn! The nine men yelled. Burn her yeah. This is really fun by the way. One said as he cinched the hands

of Queen Inky Bjorg behind a pole. I've been trying to get out more and meet people. I really like the communal nature of mobs summary executions. You know I thought like pickleball or a book club

Plus an intoxicating level of moral outrage and violence that book clubs and pickleball only

“sometimes have. It's too bad which is can't kill the prince every week you know. Oh yeah.”

Burn her! So fun. Burn her indeed. One of the longer time members laughed. Fun thing about witches is that they could be anywhere. Inky Bjorg struggled against the ropes and chewed on the gag and the new guy. Watching the spray of sparks catch the end of a torch. Looked up.

Hey um my first time so you know take my observations with a grain of salt. But what if the prince

the witch killed is riding toward us yelling with a sword out. Pretty specific question but I like that you're curious. The more experienced guy said well I would probably chalk that up to an illusion you know. Witch stuff. But what if we're wrong though? The new guy watched a cigarther. Still a bit of a distance away, moved closer at a quickening pace. That's the thing. We have

“fail saves for this sort of thing. The veteran witch hunter finished tightening the bonds. If”

the kid is an illusion he'll disappear when he burn her. If he doesn't disappear she wasn't a witch.

He said with a wink. That makes so much sense. The new guy smiled up. A supplementary sort of

fall up question. What if the illusion stabs us and it hurts? The more experienced man was waving for the torches to get this party started. Well that's not really an illusion anymore. That's definitely some sort of dark cursed magic and thus a way worse offense. And it's a good thing we're burning her. You know? He turned back to the new guy. I really appreciate your interest. You're going to go far in the world of outrage driven baseless summary executions. Then he paused. Oh. Oh you're dead.

He said to the new guy who was sliding off the sword, Goonfutur. He looked up and tear at

Sagerther. The prince they were doing all this for and screamed something about Necromancy as the kid raised a sword.

Sagerther squinted and tried to line the sword up to cut the knot that bound to step mom's wrists. What, Sagerther leaned? Take a good shot. Yeah I'm trying. Sagerther said. Oh yeah. Sorry of course. Here. Sagerther took out the gag. Thank you. Also please don't cut

“the rope. My hands are right there. Just untie it. There's no rush now. I think you'd be”

excited. Then she was right. The nine men trying to burn her were all dead. They die committed to their delusion that the kid slain them was the reanimated corpse of the prince the queen had killed and completely refusing to see that they had been wrong at all. Inky Björg was silent when she looked on the sword. Oh yeah. He gave that to me. Sagerther chuckled. People only lie to someone when they fear them and you have nothing to fear from me. He was a king in our lands but he fled

from Thor and ended up here and he Björg looked on the ground. But if he was your king and fought Thor to Gurther stood puzzled Thor might be bad but that doesn't make him good. She said. Now come let's go find your father. As we talked about the king doesn't have the healthiest of responses to grief. The execution of his wife thankfully was not one such response because his reaction was to do what he did the last time but without a burial mound to look on and weep.

So he mainly wept in bed not even rising when the mob came for Inky Björg. I don't know how as a couple you get past something like that but I guess you don't marry someone who has been sitting crying by a burial mound for two years straight without some understanding of his response to stress. The king, happy that Sagerther was alive, marveled at his son's adventures. But Sagerther at the end of his story said he had one adventure left. Love. So there are two ways to look at Helga

being forced to marry Sagerther, the kid who robbed them and killed her father. Actually just one way that makes any sense to me, she was alone in the world that she wasn't prepared for. And Ponsene Inky Björg, knowing that at least one of her people was here, she could make peace with the idea of being married to Sagerther. It wasn't happily ever after but it was better than the alternative. And for her, at least until Ragnarok, when the giants would have their revenge on the

my additions. But it did help to add a little dimension to the giant characters. What's interesting

“too is that the story is fairly sympathetic towards the giants, not the king who was killed,”

but Inky Björg definitely who actually subverts the trope of an evil stepmother. We've seen so much by being both a literal monster to the humans and also pretty cool. Also the protagonist Mary's a giant, which yeah, I don't think we're supposed to see it as forcing her into marriage

against her will because, well, the story doesn't seem to care about her will at all. Not sure

if that little wrinkle is a product of its time or the translation or what. If you're interested

“in Norse myth, we burn through those very early on the podcast. I haven't listened to them in”

years. I don't know how good they are, quality wise, but I did link to a bunch of those episodes in the show notes.

The creature this time is that you poopy out of it. From Brazil, the creature is ostensibly a

merman. The name apparently literally means C-man, man from the C. Yeah, it's about 15 feet long. Like most mythological creatures in some heroes, he enjoys crushing his enemies with a hug.

“Like almost no one but the Eucupiata, he only eats eyes, noses, fingers, and other parts that”

sort of extend from the body, which if you're wondering, yes. It's covered in hair and has a bristling mustache, apparently keeping up with the trends. If you're wondering how to defeat the creature, it has one weakness that we know about. Being stabbed in the stomach. I and probably many others also have that weakness. But the death of an Ampupiata was apparently documented by a portuguese historian and chronicler in 1564. And no, they didn't have photos back then, but they did

the next best thing, and drew a picture, might post that picture on the site. There's been a transition from the conception of "merperson" in Brazilian culture from the Eucupiata, the big hairy and evil "merperson" to the idea of the era. The mother of water, a beautiful feminine creature that kind of represents the colonial influence of Europe. Since, according to a folklorist of Brazil, no one in colonial times would ever consider a "merperson" and be beautiful. And yeah,

Eucupiata is not beautiful. In fact, and this is just me saying this, 15 foot long, stinky, hairy guy with a mustache that crushes people with their weight. Well, my son would use this as a very solid burn and say something like, "Oh, is that my dad you're talking about?" I did have a mustache last year, but to me it seems like just a walrus. That's somehow found its way down to Brazil. That's it for this time. Myths and legends is by Jason and Corris O'Wiser.

Our theme song is by "Broke for Free" and the creature the week music is by Steve Holmes. There are links to even more the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.