Episode 113 – The Estonian Giant – Myths Your Teacher Hated

Episode 113 Show Notes

Source: Latvian Mythology

This week on MYTH, we’re going to circle back to Latvia for another episode in the Bearslayer chronicles. You’ll see how effective hero school can be, learn how the Devil brought Crusaders to the Baltics, and discover what weapons giants prefer. Then, in Gods and Monsters, you’ll meet the mysterious figures who protect the forests. This is the Myths Your Teacher Hated podcast, where I tell the stories of cultures from around the world in all of their original, bloody, uncensored glory. Modern tellings of these stories have become dry and dusty, but I’ll be trying to breathe new life into them. This is Episode 113, “The Estonian Giant”. As always, this episode is not safe for work.
When we last left our hero (back in Episode 89), a council of the gods had been called at the castle of Perkons, god of thunder. The fire and blood of the Crusades of the 13th Century are headed straight for the doomed heart of the Baltics, sure to crush the steadfast and worthy people who lived there and worshiped the gods of the council. The water nymph Staburadze, who lives in a crystal palace beneath the mighty Daugava river, comes forward at the end to tell the story of a handsome young man that she had saved from some witches. She’d like to keep him, but Perkons tells her that he is fated to be a hero so she can only keep him long enough to get him healthy. We then flashed back to the young man’s origin story, where he rips a bear in half to save his father, only to learn that the old lord is actually his adopted father. He had been given care of the boy as an infant by the gods themselves (after having been abandoned by his unknown real parents and fed on she-bear breast milk as an infant), and raised Lacplesis the Bear-Slayer as his own. Back in what seems to be the present, Bear-Slayer is heading for the magical hero school run by his dad’s old buddy Burtnieks but stops off at the home of Aizkrauklis and his wicked daughter Spindala. Lacplesis is stunned by her incredible beauty but a bit put off when he discovers that she’s a literal demon-worshiping witch. He manages to hitch a ride in her hollow log down into the Devil pit as she goes to meet the aforementioned Devil. The whole gang is busy corrupting famed holy-man Kangars into abandoning the gods and pushing the false religion of Christianity instead. Lacplesis is caught in the act and dumped in the whirlpool, thus bringing us back to where the whole story actually began. Now healthy, Lacplesis sets out for hero school again, but not before meeting the beautiful Laimdota who studies under Staburadze and both give the young hero talismans. He encounters another heroic young man named Konesis and they promptly become bestest friends as both enroll in Burtnieks’ hero school.
Now, the once-holy man and now doer of evil Kangars lived in a remote, isolated house. It was a deliberately difficult place to reach, beyond mountain passes that led through dismal swamps filled with writhing serpents and savage beasts. A narrow path was marked through this treacherous, dangerous terrain forcing many fearful travelers to risk their lives to seek the advice of a supposedly holy hermit. I mean, I know it’s super traditional for hermits to live in wild, remote places like caves and mountains but the sheer amount of foreshadowing of how evil Kangars is on the way to his house is pretty hard to overlook. He only recently sold his soul to the Devil, sure, but I get the impression he was already a swindler and a grifter running his own ancient version of a televangelist megachurch. See, Kangars hadn’t sworn any silly vow of poverty and his advice certainly didn’t come free. He had a whole room in his home piled high with the offerings penitent parishioners brought him to try and earn forgiveness for sins of every kind.
It was late in the day and he had finally offered vague wisdom to his last visitor of the day. Once they were safely shooed away, he put their offering in with the rest of his horde and, for the first time, wondered if he had made a terrible mistake.“That awful fiend backed me into a corner with the help of those evil fucking witches, but maybe I should have just faced death with dignity instead of selling my soul. If word ever gets out… No, the witches would never let that happen. They’d be right there in the shit with me if word of what happened in that dark pit ever got out. I’m surely safe and everyone still adores and respects me, which gives me greater influence than simple wealth or land! I mean sure, I feel a little conflicted about my choices but I’d rather be rich and honored than one of those poor wretches who wonder where their next crumb is coming from.”
Closing the door, he was startled to hear a great rushing sound from outside. Wind ripped through the trees with a terrible moan punctuated with cracks of thunder that sounded like a tornado was swirling just outside his home. The sound rose to a deafening crescendo and then died to silence. From his front door came a sharp knocking. Who the fuck could that possibly be, especially with that kind of entrance and at this late hour? Nothing good happened after dark, that was for fucking sure. Still, he had a reputation as a helpful hermit to keep up so there was nothing for it but to answer the damned door.
Spindala the beautiful witch swept dramatically past Kangars, dressed to kill. By which I mean she was all fancified and looking the part of the lady instead of the witch, not that she was here for murder. The night was still young though. She smiled at the corrupted hermit. “Evening uncle. I assume you don’t have another visitor over this late?” Kangars forced a smile. “I certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors, no. It’s always a…pleasure to see you. Does all go well?”
Spindala snorted. “Does all go well? No, it fucking does NOT all go well. Shit’s gone pear-shaped, and I need your help. There was an intruder in the Devil Pit.” Spindala then told Kangars the whole tale about Lacplesis sneaking in and spying on the witchy ceremony. As the story unfolded, Kanagars felt the fear grow stronger in his belly though his rising anger was almost as powerful. Those evil witches had dragged him into that foul pit to grovel for his life before the Devil himself and they hadn’t even had the fucking decency to keep it private? If Lacplesis told the world what he’d seen down there, Kangars would be ruined and selling his soul would be a total waste. “So what are we supposed to do about this, Spindala? If this Bear-Killer has the gods on his side, he’s an even deadlier foe than we thought. How do we stop him?”
“Bear-Slayer. And we don’t. This handsome asshole is deadly strong, so we need to be clever. He’s young, he’s rash, and he’s desperate to become a hero. We can use his dreams of fame and glory against him. You have heard of the dread giant Kalapuisis who lives in the wild hills of Estonia? I think it’s about time to send him on a rampage through Latvia to Lake Peipus.” – a real lake in Latvia that was the site of the Battle on the Ice in 1242 during the Crusades. Kanagars nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll rile the locals up to go and fight the giant, which you and I both know is a fight they can’t win. Kalapuisis is said to be invincible! Lacplesis won’t be able to help himself – he’ll come running to fight the giant, impossible fight or not, and meet his bloody end. ”
The plan set, Spindala headed for the door to head for home but, at that moment, lightning split the sky and thunder crashed with a deafening roar. The inside of the room was lit for a terrifying moment with the brilliant light of the thunderbolt that rocked the earth just outside the house. Rain began to pour down in buckets as a terrible storm roared to life from nothing. So great was its fury that bears roared in the swamps and wolves howled in fear along the hills. Spindala and Kanagars huddled inside, unable to move forward with their vile plans. Both were pale and shivering, far more afraid than the beasts outside because they knew that Perkons, god of thunder, was behind this. “You can’t possibly go outside in this, Spindala. I think maybe Perkons heard us plotting. I think you’re sleeping here tonight.”
The witch and the false holy man crawled into bed and hid beneath the covers like children from the storm lashing the hills. They kept hoping that the thunderclouds would pass but it just grew worse. Trees groaned in the awful wind and toppled to the earth with tortured screams as thunder exploded in a rolling cacophony. It felt like exactly what it was – the fury of the gods made manifest. Kanagars and Spindala only survived the night because said fury was not actually directed at them. Perkons was hurling his lightning bolts towards the earth and Antrimps was throwing up towering waves as tall as mountains to crash into the shore in pursuit of a storm-tossed ship on the raging sea not far from Kangars’ home.
Tempest tossed on waves that reached up into the very clouds, this ship bobbed and spun. Its mast had been ripped away and lost leaving the tiny vessel at the mercy of the storm. Perkons strove with all his might to sink this vessel even as the terrified humans cowered inside and begged the gods for mercy. Or rather, one god – the Christian one. He had decided that doom was at hand for this ship and its cargo of missionaries, but another force was at play. The gods are powerful but even they cannot turn aside Fate. The ship was smashed onto the beach where, even on solid ground, they probably would have died from the storm’s fury if not for one bit of luck – they had come ashore beside a fishing village named Riga. These humble folk saw the desperate plight of the ship and, not knowing that the Germans aboard had come to convert the country to a foreign religion, they showed mercy. The doom of Perkons was dodged.
Having lost his chance at smiting the missionaries, Perkons finally let the storm die away. When morning dawned, it dawned red. Kangars walked around the property to survey the damage. Huge chunks of roof had been ripped off and scattered across the yard between fallen trees. As he walked, two men approached along the narrow path that led from Riga, at the mouth of the Daugava River. One was a local fisherman but the other was an odd, pale stranger who looked as exhausted as Kangars felt. The stranger was dressed in long, flowing robes of white and wore a cross on a cord around his neck. The local told Kanagars about the daring night time rescue during the terrible storm, including the man he had brought to see the Latvian holy man.
The foreigner had asked to speak with the local lord, and Kangars was the closest thing this small village had. This missionary had come prepared and already spoke the local language well. “My name is Dietrich. It is by the grace of God and the good nature of these fishermen that my brothers and I survived. We have come here in His name to spread the holy word of his Son throughout this land and with it, the joy He brings. We had intended to sail up the river to trade and to preach, but the storm has wrecked our ship. We will not be leaving this place until another German ship can come for us, which will take some time. Since we’re stuck here, we thought it wise to meet the local leader and introduce ourselves – we only want peace.” Which the coming Crusades will show is a damned lie, but Kanagars had promised the Devil to help spread Christianity so he was wholly on board with this.
Kangars smiled at Dietrich warmly. “I am happy to meet you, Dietrich. Fear not – I heard of your coming and your mission, and your new God’s presence is welcome here. I know that it will take time for trust to grow between us but I will help you. Kaupa’s mighty castle lies nearby and I think he might be very interested in what you have to say. We can head up there tomorrow, I think. Today, you can rest here and we can chat about what’s to come.” And so they did, talking long into the night and forming a strong, evil friendship.
Years passed in relative peace for the Balkan lands. Lacplesis the Bearslayer and Koknesis trained together, studying hard to learn the ways of the hero in the castle of Burtnieks. The two young men listened to the tales of ancient warriors and read ancient texts of scholarly wisdom. Naturally, heroes need to exercise their muscles and their minds. Remember that ribbon that Laimdota (the young maiden who was serving under the goddess Staburadze) gave our hero back in Episode 89? It was just a simple ribbon without any magical power but Bearslayer decided to wear it on his hat from that day on. He has something of a crush on that beautiful young woman and he wears his heart on his sleeve – or on his hat as it were. This habit proved to be a good move when he eventually met Burtnieks’ daughter – who was, of course, none other than Laimdota herself. Since he had no idea who she was, his devoted wearing of her talisman proved his affection was real.
Both of their hearts blazed with rekindled young love, each impressed with the poise and diligence of the other. They began to spend their free time together, often taking long strolls along the lake shore as evening turned to sunset. They talked of Laimdota’s time in the Crystal Palace beneath the waves and of Lacplesis’ adopted father. Puppy love deepened into something deeper and more meaningful to the point that Bearslayer began to plan how to ask Laimdota’s father for her hand in marriage.
Unfortunately for him, that was when the peace finally broke. Word came from deep in the hills that the dread Estonian giant Kalapuisis had invaded, cutting a bloody swath of death and destruction through the populace. Such red slaughter could not be ignored and allowed to march on unopposed. On the other hand, given Kalapuisis’ terrifying reputation, everyone was too pants-shittingly terrified of him to cross swords with him. Who could possibly hope to stand against his terrific might?
In classic legendary fashion, old Burtnieks decided to sweeten the pot a little – he offered up a boon to anyone who could defeat Kalapuisis in mortal combat and win. This boon could be anything a person wanted that was within the old lord’s power to grant – up to and including Laimdota’s hand in marriage. That part wasn’t explicitly part of the deal for the general crowd but, given the burgeoning romance between Lacplesis and Laimdota, both understood what victory would mean for Bearslayer. No one was surprised when Lacplesis asked Burtnieks for permission to leave his training and journey out into the hills to confront the Estonian menace. Nor were they surprised that Koknesis (who had become bestest buddies with his hero friend) stepped up right behind him. They would face this dread foe together.
Even given all of this, Burtnieks tried to refuse the two of them permission. He knew how deadly dangerous this mission was and, though he knew well how strong the two young men were, he doubted that they had the experience and the raw nerve to survive this encounter. He had come to love these two young men like sons and he was terrified of losing them. Lacplesis and Koknesis refused to take ‘no’ for an answer however and, at last, the old lord was swayed by their determination. He gave them his blessing and two feisty colts to ride into battle. Armed and armored, they rode at speed into the hills.
They knew the general direction they were headed but obviously the giant wasn’t just hanging around in one spot. Luck was with them and they ran into another pair of riders galloping desperately the other way. The pair were messengers riding hard for Burtnieks’ castle carrying an urgent plea for aid. The news was grimmer than even the rumors from the hills had made it sound. This was more than a single monstrous foe rampaging through the countryside – this was a full raid by Estonian warriors into Latvian territory. Their message begged the old lord for reinforcements from his own forces. This was bigger than a duel between opposing heroes – this was war.
The two young heroes were faced with a decision. After a short discussion, Koknesis agreed to lead the two messengers to Burtnieks’ home so that he might respond with the desperately needed men more swiftly while Lacplesis rode ahead to challenge the Estonian champion in single combat. Victory would not end the invasion but hopefully it would take the heart out of the foe and slow them down enough for Burtnieks’ reinforcements to break them. “Besides,” added Koknesis, “I know how much winning Laimdota’s hand means to you. I was hoping to be there to help, but this is your fight to win and your love to claim. I wouldn’t dream of getting in the way.”
Smash cut. It’s high time we meet this mysterious Estonian giant, don’t you think? We find him sitting beside his wooden hut high on a hill munching on an entire calf for lunch with a suckling pig for dessert. When I say this dude is a giant, I’m not talking NBA, I’m talking Andre the Giant supped up with Super Soldier Serum. This dude is a beast! Beside him, as befits a mythical giant, he carried an enormous club suited to his enormous stature. It had been fashioned from a literal tree trunk with a fucking millstone bound to the end for extra deadliness. If you ran into him as a boss in Elden Ring, he wouldn’t be out of place (except for all the Lovecraftian horror, I guess).
From his high perch, he could survey the entire surrounding countryside. More importantly, he could see young Lacplesis riding out of the Baltic hills hellbent for leather towards Estonian territory. Kalapuisis knew a challenger when he saw one and he laughed at this puny would-be hero. Time to make the donuts. By smashing skulls into bloody pulp or whatever. Anyway. Tossing the remnants of his lunch aside, Kalapuisis took up his enormous club and whirled it over his head in a test swing. Such was the force and speed of this idle movement that it created a swirling whirlwind in its wake.
Laughing, he leapt down the hill in a single bound directly in Lacplesis’ path. The much smaller hero (I mean, still strapping and muscle-bound in a Conan the Barbarian sort of way but small compared to the literal giant) pulled his colt into a stop. The two sized each other up as Lacplesis, still on horseback, approached slowly, unlimbering his own weapon. “Does your mother know you’re here, little man? Someone should let her know that her son dies this day.” Bearlslayer grinned savagely at this insult. “You know, I think it’s just about time that giants finally die the fuck off and become barely remembered legends. I’ll show you the path to Pakols so we can get that party started.”
In response to this taunt, Kalapuisis whipped his massive club in a tight arc far, far faster than the younger warrior would have thought possible. It caught him square in the chest and knocked him flying off the back of his startled horse (who very understandably bolted away from this mortal peril). On the plus side, the colt’s reins managed to get tangled around the millstone as it smashed Bearslayer into a tree, snatching it from the unprepared giant’s fingers. Standing up from the broken tree trunk, Lacplesis drew his sword and charged, sword whistling viciously. It bit deep into the Estonian warrior’s armor and drove him clear off his feet. He landed on his back on the swampy earth and struggled to rise.
As the saying goes ‘the bigger they are, the harder they fall’, and there’s some real truth to it. Being a literal giant has a lot of advantages, but getting up easily is not one of them. Kalapuisis struggled to rise, knowing that remaining on his back was a death sentence. Flailing desperately, he seized a low-hanging branch of a nearby pine tree to help leverage him to his feet. Alas, the swampy mud wasn’t strong enough and instead of pulling himself up, the giant pulled the tree down across his own chest, roots ripping out of the earth with a wet crack. Seizing the opportunity, Bearslayer leapt onto the fallen tree, pinning his foe to the earth and putting him in perfect position to decapitate the giant and end the fight. Kalapuisis was beaten and he knew it.
“Hold a moment, young hero. You have won, and fairly, but before I die may I say a final word? You wouldn’t happen to have been raised by a she-bear, were you?” Taking the startled look on Lacplesis’ face for the confirmation it in fact was, the fallen giant continued. “I thought so. Many years ago, my own mother told me that one day, a bear-cub would come up from the Daugava’s banks and fight me. This young bear would be a worthy opponent and the hero destined to strive to free the Baltic peoples from approaching tyranny. Dread monsters are coming to our shore clad in iron with hearts full of boundless greed. They will take all the land has to offer and still it will not be enough. If they are not stopped, they will devour everything we hold dear. She told me that, on the day I meet this cub, peace should reign between our peoples. War will only divide us when we need to unite against our common foe. Let me live, young hero, and I swear that I will return home and guard both our shores from invaders. No one will pass my watch from the west, this I vow. When this task is done and my life is at an end, I can take my deserved rest in Zunda.”
Lacplesis considered for only a moment. He was an epic hero, with all the intuition, impetuousness, and decisiveness that entails. This had indeed been a worthy fight and he trusted this giant to keep his word. Grinning, the Latvian offered his hand to help the Estonian to his feet. “Agreed, mighty Kalapuisis. Henceforth, let there be peace between us although our armies still fight each other.” Getting to his feet with a grunt, Kalapuisis grinned back. “I think we can put a stop to the fighting. Help me bind up this mighty sword-stroke of yours and we can go talk the armies down.” And so they did. With the two great heroes of the two opposing sides both offering the same peace and the same warning about outside invaders, the two armies agreed to end the Estonian-Latvian war. The place where Lacplesis knocked Kalapuisis to his back is still there, a pit at the foot of a great hill called the Giant’s Bed. It is said that, somewhere in the surrounding swamp, his mighty club still lies buried in the mud where it fell from the colt’s reins.
And that’s where we’ll leave Bearslayer for now. Peace has been forged between the two warring states and Lacplesis has won his great victory and the boon that comes along with it. Thus, it’s time for Gods and Monsters. This is a segment where I get into a little more detail about the personalities and history of one of the gods or monsters from this week’s pantheon that was not discussed in the main story. This week’s monstrous couple are Metsavana and Metsaema.
Lots of cultures have some version of forest guardian. Similar to the Russian Leshy (which fans of the Witcher series might be familiar with), the Estonian old man of the forest and protector of wild places Metsavana is roughly humanoid in shape and size. As we’ve seen with the lake goddess Starburadze, nature spirits in Estonian and Latvian folklore are more commonly female. Thus, it should come as no surprise that Metsavana has a feminine counterpart: Metsaema the forest mother. The stories don’t have much to say about their relationship, if any, but it does say that they are attended by the metsahaldjas or the forest fairies.
As we’ve seen before, a lot of the information about these figures has been lost, and much of what remains is fragmentary or just made the fuck up. For instance, there are stories of straw puppets being used as late as the 18th century dressed alternately as Metsavana and Metsaema to be used the metsiku tegemine festivals. It’s entirely possible however that the writer who documented this, a man named Friedrich Kreutzwald, may have assumed the connection based entirely on the similarities of the names as there is no other evidence to be found of the puppets (who were absolutely real and absolutely used in the aforementioned festival) being called Metsaema or Metsavana.
As with many forest spirits, the Estonian metsahaldjas and their presumed leaders – question mark? – are tricksters. Unwary humans, especially those foolish enough to wander off the path or put the forest in peril in some way, would never leave the forest alive. For those who managed to earn the spirits favor – or just find them in a good mood – the metsahaldjas could be quite benevolent and helpful, sometimes leading lost travelers to safety. Using the actual names of the old woman or the old man of the forest could draw their attention to you, which was usually a thing to avoid. Best case, you found yourself the butt of some humiliating forest joke (think Bottom in Midsummer Night’s Dream); worst case, you were never seen again probably thanks to unspeakable forest violence.
The spirits are said to be tall and wizened, with Metsavana sporting a long, unkempt wizard beard sometimes said to be made from moss. Their clothes are made of tree bark (usually birch) with a large hat and big stompy boots. Earning their favor could be essential as, being able to speak with animals and ruling over the forest (each forest having their own ruling spirits), they could also influence how plentiful game would be for hunters in any given year.
Being tricksters, their human forms are not set in stone. These spirits can shapeshift into any number of wild creatures native to their domain, which could vary from swampy woods to dense pine forests. Stories are told of people meeting the spirits in the forms of foxes, birds, or even a particularly lovely tree. Perhaps you are walking along the path and hear a bird chirping happily above only to realize that you can understand the bird’s words. Maybe the wind is rustling in the branches, only you can hear whispering interlaced with the sounds of nature. If so, you have just been visited by one of the metsahaldjas. If you aren’t planning on cutting, burning, or trashing the place, this is a good thing. If you’re up to no good, well – it’s been nice knowing you.
That’s it for this episode of Myths Your Teacher Hated. Keep up with new episodes on our Facebook page, on iTunes, on Stitcher, on TuneIn, on Vurbl, and on Spotify, or you can follow us on Twitter as @HardcoreMyth, on Instagram as Myths Your Teacher Hated Pod, and on Tumblr as MythsYourTeacherHated. You can also find news and episodes on our website at myths your teacher hated dot com. If you have any questions, any gods or monsters you’d want to learn about, or any ideas for future stories that you’d like to hear, feel free to drop me a line. I’m trying to pull as much material from as many different cultures as possible, but there are all sorts of stories I’ve never heard, so suggestions are appreciated. The theme music is by Tiny Cheese Puff.
Next time, we’re venturing into another dangerous jungle – the Congo. You’ll see that Donkey Kong got a surprising amount right, that you should always look up, and that bananas can vanish without a trace. Then, in Gods and Monsters, we’re meeting another predecessor of that old trickster, Bugs Bunny. That’s all for now. Thanks for listening.