Creation, Explanation, and Huldufólk

Since I was very small, mythology has fascinated me. I can't remember how old I was when I started listening to D'Aulaires Greek Myths on tape, or when I began carefully studying the family tree of the gods in their book; it is all ingrained in my memory as if etched in stone. The creation stories of Gaia and Uranus, of Pontus, the seas; of the cyclops and fifty-headed fifty-armed monsters and the golden children, the titans; of Cronus, who swallowed all his children until his wife, Rhea, fed him a stone swathed in baby blankets and hid away her youngest son Zeus, who would one day become king of Olympus and impregnate several thousand women. I could go on.

Gaia and Uranus.
The stories were fantastic, colorful, unreal, and yet each one carried meaning, a truth behind some earthly mystery. Why are dolphins so friendly to humans? Well, they were once men until Dionysus transformed them. Why does the sea churn, and why does lightning strike? Of course, because Poseidon and Zeus are angry. Why are there seasons? Because for half the year, Persephone, daughter of Demeter, the goddess of the harvest, resides in the Underworld with her cold husband, Hades, and her mother mourns her absence.

Hades carries off Persephone.
Throughout history--even now, with modern science--humans have searched for explanations: the why, the how, the when of all things. And we have quite the imaginations. Why would we want to answer every question our children asked with "just because?" No, instead, we spin tales, sometimes too tall, but often within the realm of possibility (if you ask me). I mean, is it really so absurd to say that a Dryad inhabits every tree trunk, or that love at first sight is the fault of Eros' bow? Just because you can't see it or prove it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. If it can't be proven or disproven, then why not believe what you like (as long as you don't impose it on others)? Therein lies the beauty of spirituality, and of individual choice. If I want to believe in Dryads, I can. It's a lot more fun than not believing in them.

Equally as fascinating to me is how these myths and legends from cultures around the world influence our world today. After all, the planets are named after Roman gods. But aside from scientific names, the place these influences are most often found are in literature, and they provide a depth we seldom see in modern beliefs.

Take Tolkien's work, for example. It is well-known that he was heavily influenced by Scandinavian mythology. Look at Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling did not invent the idea of witches and wizards, giants, centaurs, werewolves, shape-shifters. She drew from centuries of mythology across various cultures, and made it her own.

Returning to Tolkien (as I often do), I always wondered where he got the idea for hobbits. Elves and dwarfs and gods were drawn from older lore (though he of course made them entirely his own, and his interpretations have since been copied by hundreds of writers [I'm looking at you, Eragon]). But hobbits? It was revolutionary. Hobbits, with their simple joys and pleasant manner and common speech, are our connection to the rest of Middle Earth, with its riddles and complexity and peril.



While I never doubted that Tolkien had the ability to draw the idea of hobbits out of thin air, I recently stumbled upon an Icelandic myth: that of a race of creatures called the Huldufólk, which translates to "hidden folk", or more directly, "folk pertaining to secrecy". While they are also called elves, there were some characteristics of the Huldufólk that stood out: they are small, experts at staying hidden, and (here's the kicker) tend to live in small houses under grass mounds. Structures such as this one can be found around Iceland, built by people for the hidden folk.

A house under a hill.
There are, of course, numerous disparities between hobbits and Icelandic hidden folk: the latter have magic, and have been known to use it to manipulate humans. In addition to living under hills, they also dwell in water and in air; they are more akin to nature spirits than humans.

One of the hidden folk lures a human to his death.
Yet the similarities, though perhaps few, cannot be ignored. An Icelandic theologian, Haukur Ingi Jónasson, writes:
"The hidden people have various human attributes, and even though they live longer than we do, they are born and they die just as we do. They eat and drink, play instruments, have lights in their houses, go fishing, move residences, and keep animals, though they are more productive than those of humans".

There you go. Hobbits.

Hobbits: they eat, drink, play instruments, have lights in their houses...
Let me say that, in writing this, I am in no way doubting the imagination of J.R.R. Tolkien. To this day, the depth of his work is unmatched, and likely will stay that way for a long time, if not forever. Yet inspiration is not a crime (although copying is, Eragon) and inspiration from mythology is already known to be central to Tolkien's work. I could be wrong, but I could also be right. And if I am right (although I doubt I'll ever know), well; to state it rather un-eloquently: that would be awesome.

Hope you're all having a wonderful day; maybe it's as beautiful as mine, as rain pours down outside my window. Oh how I love rain.

Love,
Maralah