This week, on Myths and Legends, there are three stories from Danish folklore about learning from your mistakes. Or, not learning from your mistakes, and maybe setting your hand on fire and getting soup meat from your face. The creature this time is a ravenous fish who loves seafood, and who tucks its mouth into its stomach when it gets scared, and well, you can probably guess where that ends up. This is Myths and Legends, episode 376, Sweet Pea.
This is a podcast where we tell stories from mythology and folklore. Some are incredibly popular tales you might think you know, but with surprising origins, and others in stories that might be new to you, but are definitely worth listening. Today, there are three stories from Denmark that have nothing to do with Vikings, raven, or Vikings enacting revenge. They do have a husband with a weird marriage request, a class action lawsuit, and trolls, but we'll get to all those.
First up, it's the story of a man who lost the love of his life. It was truly a tragedy, because he loved her, of course, but also because he had no idea how to do anything around the house and desperately needs help. The covetous man, well, he was not a people person. He had neighbors, he did business with the locals, but they always seemed to be a disconnect. They were always saying things like, I think you should leave, and I hate you, and you shouldn't be confused by this.
This is not ambiguous or metaphorical, I loathe you because you put money above everything else, even your own family. People were an inscrutable mystery sometimes, like just say what you mean. It did make finding a wife difficult though. Well, finding a new wife, his former wife, the love of his life, had died. It had been the hardest thing he had ever gone through, and teenies that she could never be replaced.
Well, the emotional intimacy that he had with her could never be replaced, but all the stuff she did around the house, that would need to be replaced and fast, please. He had no idea how to do any of that. So, he was looking. He was doing well now, and while he could have married one of his friends' daughters, that would have been gross and weird. Props to him for taking the high road, at least in this regard.
Also, he was unsure about their training when it came to cooking and cleaning, and that was really his aim here. So, it's not all high-minded ideals. He wanted to find a wife who would handle things around the house, just like his late wife would. And he found her, a widow herself. She was practically his age. He did have just one little thing. A quarter of a P a day. That is how much my future wife will get to eat, he said.
The widow held up a finger just to clarify, and this wasn't her rejecting the offer, but a quarter of a P, meaning that she would get a whole P every four days, yes. The widow are protagonist, helped out with the math. The woman shrugged? Sure. Yeah, she could do that. Wait, for real, he said. That had been an apparently hilarious non-starter for literally all the other women, but she was down? Oh yeah. Quarter of a P a day? Sure. I can do that. She smiled.
The widow were giggled and hugged as Newfiancé. They were getting married. You're looking stout. The husband said to his wife, she blushed why thank you. That was such a sweet thing to say to your wife in this time period, and very appropriate, no, OK. It was the quarter of a P a day, she said, with a wink. A wink? A wink. Yes. That was it. He knew it. He paced the room later.
She was looking way too healthy and attractive to be subsisting on one quarter of a P a day. It had been months, and she looked exactly the same as when they had married. Something was going on. What do you think? The husband asked the man who took care of his horses? The groom? The groom said, yeah, maybe, right? Like a quarter of a P a day is that starvation rations.
And she obviously wasn't starving, so something was up. The husband paced the barn. Yes. Yes. And he, the husband, was deeply uncreative. Did the groom have any method where the husband could catch his wife in the act of eating enough to survive so that he could divorce her? The groom pinched his mustache while he thought, well, he actually did have one idea. The wife made food for her husband's massive meals that he enjoyed while she just watched, right? The husband nodded, of course.
Well, there he had it. She was sneaking in bites while she cooked so that she wouldn't starve to death. That monster, the husband made a fist. All you need to do is hide, watch her eat, and pop out. The groom pointed with a smile. The husband rubbed his palms together. Yes. And the groom said that he had just the place. Yeah, he'll be hiding in the fireplace. The groom said to the wife the next day after lunch. She thanked the man.
It had been even easier to win over her husband's servants than she thought it would be. It turned out the man who made his wife eat only a quarter of a pea a day was kind of stingy with his employees. It's generally good to be kind and generous, but definitely with the people who handle your food, draw your baths, and choose your horses.
He hadn't yet made the connection between his miserliness and how many times he had gotten sick, how many skin infections he'd come down with, and how many times he'd been thrown by a horse hot under the saddle. The wife was sure to be out just after her husband returned and made a big show of asking the servants where he was, then replying as per their coaching that he had been called back to town on business and will be late for dinner.
So she got to work cooking. She didn't take any extra food that night for obvious reasons, and she again made a big show of forgetting to boil the water for the chicken. No matter, she could do it now. She stood by the fireplace as the servant packed it with peat and lit it.
It didn't get too hot while it got very hot, but not enough to kill him. Probably, it was more smoke than fire, but while there was more than she would want to bear, and while she again made a show of the house, and made a show of swearing at the servants that it wasn't getting hot enough, she would have to make something else. She waited for the fire to go down, before heading back to the kitchen and finishing a different meal.
She said that she would go outside and wait for her husband, and a few minutes in one crash inside later, and he was home. He must have slipped in the back door while she wasn't looking, and, oh, what happened to him?
The husband, sitting at the bed, said that he was caught in a fire in town, a real fire that happened, though, they put it out, and it looks like they'll have the house rebuilt by tomorrow, and it was all pretty traumatic, so it would probably be better for everyone if she didn't ask around about it or anything. He, though, barely escaped with his life. Saving all those children, he had breathed in a lot of smoke, he was just going to lie down now, for two straight weeks.
And he did, he was in bed for two weeks with the burns and everything, and his wife waited on him, feeding him and carrying for him, and only eating a quarter of a pea herself each day, wink. She did it again, the husband hissed. She winked when she was talking about the pea. The groom, helping his master from bed, said he thought that she just had something in her eye maybe. Look how well she cared for him while he was recovering.
Didn't he think she deserved more than a quarter of a pea per day for her lies, for her deception? She deserves nothing, but I'll give her something, I'll give her divorce is what I'll give her. The groom said his boss was really mastering those evil speeches. As it turned out, he could help. He had another idea.
Why is there a mattress in the pantry, the wife asked? The groom who had just placed the mattress said that was a new initiative on the part of her very wise husband, who was very physically strong for his age and still had a lot of hair. The husband who sat surrounded by feathers inside the mattress and was already sweltering, smiled.
He heard the servant say that it was, yeah, a new initiative. The groom pointed out that while the wife only ate a quarter of a pea a day, her husband ate more, and liked midnight snacks. So a servant would sleep in the pantry and be ready at all hours. Sounds great, but the wife observed trailing off. But what? The groom asked?
But well, that mattress really, it was just so, ugh, dirty. The husband heard the tapping of his wife's foot, and then the footsteps of the pair as they entered the pantry. He saw through two eye holes, the one's meant to catch his wife in the act of eating more than a quarter of a pea whenever she stalked the pantry, his wife looking at the mattress with the stain. No, no, a servant can't sleep on this. It's nasty, she said.
But your husband says, quite frequently, that we're not worthy of nice things, up to and including a living wage. The groom recited the words he had heard far too often. The husband had to keep himself from nodding and giving away his hiding spot. Well, I disagree here. Call some others to grab a corner of the mattress. No one should sleep on this, as wife said. Not until it is cleaned. Cleaning the mattress meant, of course, throwing it over a sharp fence and beating it.
So a team of burly servants dragged the surprisingly heavy mattress outside, grabbed some clubs, and proceeded to get the dust and dirt out of the mattress. Inside, draped over the fence, the husband could feel every hit against the mattress, but didn't dare utter a word. When, at last, he was placed back in the pantry, he crawled from his hiding place and made it about 10 feet before he lost consciousness.
He woke up in bed, his wife said he knew for him, asking to know what happened. Why did he abroos his all over his body? The man shook his head, he didn't know, he was just sick, he imagined. The wife shook her head, he knew what it was, it was his diet. He should try what she had, look how healthy she was. Only a quarter of a P.A. Day, she felt great. We'll see that the husband, who has been beaten and burned to the point of near death, is not remotely done, but that will be read after this.
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Now more determined than ever to catch her in the act, he knew what it was. Beer. Beer was basically liquid bread. She could eat her quarter of a pea and then when no one was looking, sneak to the basement where she could siphon out beer to keep herself alive. Maybe she was even replacing it with water like in Breaking Bad Season 5. She was an evil genius, but he was a geniuser. Whatever is better than a genius.
He was smarter, and he was vexed. Vexed by her quote, good and healthy looks, he made his way down to the basement, this time without telling the groom. He would keep his own counsel on this one. Four weeks later, the wife finished her ale and went to go see her husband in bed. At week two after his horrifying injuries, most of his skin stopped falling off, so that was nice for everyone.
She was taking some of the girls to clean the barrels in the cellar when seeing an eye peeping from the hole in the hog's head cask, she directed them toward that one with the boiling water. She was impressed that he didn't scream, but he didn't have some barely clever lie for when the servants found him later.
I have something to tell you, the wife said to her husband, and she could see the smile grow on his face and then stop because between the smoking, the beating and the scalding, it seriously hurt the smile. I gave some of our cows away, she said.
The groom, the man who worked in the barn, well his parents had just lost two of their best cows, so she offered and they accepted and they took two of the husbands. Maybe this was true? Maybe this was part of the deal regarding all the planning and informing who really knows. Whatever the case the cows were gone and the husband, well the husband was dead. But dead the way fast? The, I guess, dying man? Dead, you have killed me, he cried out gripping his chest.
Oh, you don't do anything to just be in a maybe a little bit over dramatic, they were just cows. The wife said, but it didn't matter because her husband was dead. He's, he's not dead though, the groom said, looking over the very much still warm and well-prefused body of his boss. Now, now you're wrong, the wife said. With her foolish, foolish error she hath killed her beloved, they should prepare for the funeral. What are you talking about? Oh, yep, okay, big wink, I see now.
For his part, the husband was committed to the bit. He didn't move for hours, and the wife worked quickly. The wife purchased a coffin from the coffin maker and talked to the minister about a service that evening. Maybe this was because even Danish summers can get moderately warm enough for things to deteriorate fairly quickly, but also because she didn't want her husband to get up and go for a glass of water and ruin everything.
They skipped the undertaker because, well, obviously, and the minister looked to the wife at the service. What, we do in this? She gestured to the coffin, he was still in there, wasn't he? The minister shrugged. Fair enough. Most of the town actually thought the miserly, covetous man was gone, so they were mostly at the funeral for a chance to dance on the husband's grave, after party at Ionars.
The minister said the grave side service, and ropes lowering the husband into the ground, the wife didn't hear anything, so she nodded to the grave diggers. Alright guys, it was the dirt hitting the coffin that finally did it, that finally provoked the pounding, caused the dirt to shudder, and the shouting to emanate from the hole. It was the husband, shouting to please, please stop. It was all just a brilliantly acted, supremely clever ruse, he wasn't dead.
The wife gestured to the grave diggers to keep piling the dirt on. Her shaking head responded to the minister's anxious eyes. Soon, the husband wasn't crying out to the grave diggers, who obviously couldn't hear him, but to God. Realized he had been a covetous man, he had been greedy and self-centered and stingy with his wealth, he had demanded his wife starve, he ate whatever he wanted, and he withheld all that God had given him from the needy in town.
If he was saved from this, he would be different. He would be a good husband and give his wife whatever she needed. He would be a good citizen and help out those in poverty and think of something else, other than hoarding money. Please, God, please. The grave diggers looked to the wife who finally nodded. They stopped piling on the dirt.
The town was, frankly, a little bummed that the husband wasn't actually dead, and as he climbed up out of the hole, he knew it was a miracle from God that he was alive, and he would not squander this second chance. And he started by allowing his wife more than a quarter of a P a day. He gave her the whole P, just kidding. He cheated as much as she wanted, like she had been doing anyway. More than that, though, he was a good person.
Actually, following thrown his promises while being buried alive, he gave to everyone who needed it and did so happily, with a smile and a pleasant demeanor. The story ends by telling us he lived long and happily with his wife, a changed man. All it took was a massive, violent scam. It was kind of the perfect con, even if it was pretty brutal. I do like how the husband never realized the wife and the groom and the minister were in on it.
He did truly change from what he thought was God's deliverance, though, and became a better person. Next up, a man is going to visit his daughter, but he can't remember how to get there. And the road ahead is getting pretty dark, and oh yeah, he's in troll country. The father sat, head in his hands on the hill by the roadside. He was going to visit his daughter, but he couldn't remember where the woman lived.
Now, he was alone, and the son was getting low. There were things that lived out by the crossroads. Things that must not be spoken of, things like the hill opening up behind him, and the troll emerging from the darkness. The father heard the footsteps hit the stones, but it was too late. The troll was behind him, gasping with a turn, the father relaxed.
Oh, it's you. Troll. Hi, dad. The troll said it was, it was Sven. Yeah, he was a troll, but that was actually really kind of hurtful since he was the man's son-in-law for about a decade now. My troll, son-in-law, the father shook his head, or just, son-in-law? Sven, the troll, or once again, just Sven said, dad, stop being like that.
The man's human daughter said, emerging from the magical hillside. The man grimaced. How was he supposed to be any other way when his daughter had been carried off by a troll? She said that they had been over this, she wasn't carried off, they dated, they married, it was a beautiful ceremony, he was there. Also, she wasn't his only daughter married to a mountain troll.
All three of them were. Now please, come inside, it's dinner time. She only wished that she knew he was coming. Then they would have had meat for the stew, but that couldn't be helped now. Sitting down in their hobbit-like troll kitchen, Sven the troll said that that wasn't any big deal, really. He didn't need to run to the market. He could get the meat.
Oh, not this again, honey, please. The human daughter grimaced. As Sven pulled out a board with an upturned nail on it, and, well, he started ramming his face against it. Eventually, he pulled enough flesh-office face for a good-sized stew, and much to the horror of the wife. An entertainment of the father, who thought that now that he was all too face-like, like from the dark night, maybe his daughter would come home, but it was not to be.
Sven healed faster than Wolverine. Stew was good, though. Then, next morning, after a terse and uncomfortable breakfast, the father announced that he was going. Sven held up a finger. He had something for his father. Is it more disappointment? Because you already got me enough of that for a lifetime.
The father said, Sven laughed. Oh, his dad-in-law was such a joker. His father grimaced, yes. Those were jokes. Then his jaw dropped when he saw what Sven, his troll son-in-law? No, his troll son. No, his Sven son got him. Gold, a bag full of gold. How did you know the father tears in his eyes, hugged his Sven son? I mean, it's a bag gold. It's pretty obviously something everyone would want.
Yeah, you know what? It just seemed like a you-gift, dad, Sven smiled, and hugged his father-in-law. Sure, he had to buy his acceptance into the family, but it still felt pretty great. The father was very clear that he loved the free gold, and as such, loved Sven even more. He embraced the man, calling him son. Sven had to hold back his tears of joy.
Hey you, hey traveler, come here. The father waved to the traveler over on the road. He pointed down to the bag. He had a massive bag of gold from his troll son. Sorry, his son son. Anyway, he wanted to surprise his wife with it. So, would the traveler mind watching it on the roadside?
If he did, the father would gladly throw him a few coins for his trouble. Traveler blinked. The stranger was just going to leave him unattended with his giant bag of gold? Yes, please try to keep up. That's exactly what he just said. Luckily, this was just watching a stationary bag to make sure no one stole it. It should be so easy that even a man, the father, justured to the traveler, such as yourself, can't mess it up. I'll be right back.
Title, 10 minutes later. My giant bag of gold is gone. The father said, his wife standing next to him. You had a giant bag of gold? Yeah, troll gold for my son, the father said.
Oh, how are Sven and our daughter, the mother asked? The father held up a finger. The trolls actually don't like being called nasty, dangerous monsters. They have names, by the way. One, I didn't say anything about trolls. And two, I've always loved Sven. And I referred to him by his name. All that anti-troll stuff was you, the mother said. Speaking of trolls.
Wasn't he supposed to go see the other daughter and her husband? That troll, the father said. Mom looked at him. What about his change of heart? Well, that was Sven. This is the troll that took their second daughter away from them. He said, totally different. Also, that one didn't give him a big bag of cash.
And then did Sven, apparently, the mother just stood to the road. As the father mounted his horse. He said he had the cash, but now he learned a lesson. He didn't want to get in a fight about it. He had to leave now, though. To go see his other troll son-in-law.
It's Eric, though. Eric, the troll married to his second daughter, said. I talked to my sister, the second daughter said. Why couldn't her father accept Eric like he accepted Sven? The father said that he had his reasons. Also, their troll layer was too dark. Didn't they have any candles?
Dad, don't call it a layer. It's our house. She looked around, but yeah, it actually was kind of dark. On it, honey, Eric said. And how that is hands over the fire. They began to catch light candles until the hand full of flame illuminated Eric's smile. See? Special troll powers. Didn't even hurt.
I will not be swayed by your troll tricks. The father shrieked. His daughter rolled her eyes and nodded to the husband, who, with his non-burning hand, brought out two giant bags of cash. Would he be swayed by this?
Yep, the father's face cracked into a grin. Gimme, gimme. He stayed with his second daughter and his provisionally favorite troll son. He had to count the contents of the bags to be sure, and headed back the following morning. He passed person after person on the surprisingly busy road through the forest to his home.
He stopped right before the path to turn into his house and decided that he, again, wanted to surprise his wife with the two massive bags of gold from their son-in-law. He learned his lesson, though, and decided to hide it this time.
He looked around, stashed the bags in some leaves, and then made for his house when, hmm, you ever feel like you're being watched by the ten people at once who turned and started walking your direction when you were bringing your gold back home from your troll son-in-law? The father left. He was probably just paying paranoid. He went to go surprise his wife.
We'll see the visit with the third daughter, and see if the husband ever truly learns anything, but that will, once again, be right after this. And the gold was right here. Again, a life-changing sum of money that you keep leaving on the road? The wife could believe equally both in the fact that her husband had lost the massive amount of gold twice, and that he was exaggerating his own usefulness.
That probably says more about their marriage than anything. She says, wait, didn't he have to leave? He said, yeah, he had to go visit his troll son-in-law, the third one. You're still doing that? She shook her head, whatever. The next day, Bruin sat across the table from his father-in-law. He wanted to get one thing out of the way before they got started. Then he needed to go catch some fish for dinner. He piled three bags of gold on the table.
Favorite? The father had tears of joy. My boy. Fishing for Bruin was a little different from what the father was used to. The husband and wife went to the shore together and stared directly into each other's eyes. Floating in a winnowing trowel, Bruin, the husband, would ask if his eyes were green, and his daughter kept replying, no, until they did turn green.
Then Bruin would grab the bucket. He brought along, jump in, and scoop fish out of the sea. It was amazing. The farmer marveled as he walked home the next day. His sons were amazing and rich, most importantly rich. Can I check your bag, sir? The helpful bag check clerk said on the side of the road, the father looked around, wow, this is new. This is a great idea. The father said, as he unloaded his three bags of gold on the counter that had been constructed in the past few days.
I should have come up with this myself, honestly. I have lost so much money on the stretch of road. It's so nice to have someone here that I can trust, like an official business. He got the ticket for his bags from the new bag check station that serviced the 12 feet of road right in front of his house and went to go tell his wife the wonderful news. They were rich. It was right here, he said to his wife. He just wanted to come to surprise her and check on that sick cow first.
Oh, come on. Okay, well, he learned his lesson now, but unfortunately he didn't have any more sons and thus no more bags of gold. So the husband and wife settled into their normal non-rich life and one evening she asked if you went to the store to pick up the soup meat, like he said he would. He groaned, he just had a long day of work in the barn.
Ha, then he had an idea. He didn't have meat. He did, however, have a nail. Well, having seen what his son-in-law did on that first stop and knowing that he could do anything they could do even though he couldn't, he bled from the head so much from just a few hits that not only did he not provide face meat, but he was bedridden for a week.
When he recovered, his wife said she really needed him to go out. She had been doing all the farm work and he needed to go pick up meat and of course candles and I'm going to stop you right there, babe. He said he could do the meat later, but he would light up the night by, oh my gosh, this hurts so bad. He held his hand over their last candle until the skin bubbled and popped and it was a lot of screaming and he passed out and it was back to bed with him.
He wrapped hand in a few more weeks later, the wife run ragged by trying to keep the house together, animals happy and farm running was beside herself. Please do anything. Shop, clean, fish. He smiled. He wanted to show her a tricky learn from his third, troll son, sorry, third son.
Why would your eyes be green? Why would they ever be green? She asked, his eyes were brown, they don't do that. Also, why was he floating in a winnowing trow and not a boat? Did he have any idea how dangerous this was? He didn't even know how to swim. He shook his head, she just didn't believe in him. He could do anything anyone else could do, even his troll son, sorry, sons. He bet his eyes were green already and she was just saying they weren't because she wanted to be right.
Clutching his bucket, he jumped. And the story says, was obliged to stay there, which is the most chill and least violent way to say he drowned, because it was true. He could not swim and he was never seen again. Ostensibly this is a silly story. I picked it mainly because for so many traditions, even other stories in Danish folklore, a troll taking your daughter is a nightmare.
In this, though, they're great husbands and it's the father that's mean and obstinate and refuses to learn anything despite having so many chances. On the final story today, a farmer is selling a cow and we'll see how that one action leads to him making a lot of enemies. I have a cow that I've decided to sell. The farmer said to the butcher, the butcher said that that intrigued him definitely. What price did he want to set?
The farmer could tell the price was a little higher than the butcher wanted to pay but it all worked out. All he needed was $10 to secure the cow. The farmer walked out of the butcher shop with $10 in hand and into the butcher shop down the street to make that exact same deal. The next day the cow sold to the first butcher who made the deal. What do you mean you sold her? The next butcher asked when he arrived with his wagon. The farmer grand-yep, sold her this morning.
So why did you sell her to me yesterday? You took my deposit. The butcher said the farmer laughed. He was wondering why the butcher was so eager to buy a cow who was already spoken for. He didn't say she was spoken for. The butcher gritted his teeth, then pointed at the farmer. You need to give me back my deposit. $10 and pay me for my time coming out here. The farmer laughed. That deposit was non-refundable, sir. He didn't have it any more anyway.
It might surprise the butcher but he had a lot of very violent creditors and was not great with money. And besides, if you pay back this butcher, he'd have to pay back all the others too when they realized that he didn't have the cow. The farmer pointed behind the butcher who turned to see the four more butchers, each with their carts, each who had paid a deposit the day before. What did he just say?
You look like a man who needs a lawyer. The lawyer said. The farmer gasped. How did the lawyer know? The lawyer smiled. When someone's been in the game as long as him, he developed a sixth sense for the sort of thing. Also, it didn't hurt that the farmer was crying in the gutter outside the courthouse.
It was because all the butchers in the city had joined together to bring a lawsuit against him. I don't know how even a man like you can help me. I messed up. I messed up real bad. Accidentally scammed five butchers out of a cow. And now I need someone to help me scam them on purpose to get out of it. The lawyer said, well, he certainly didn't scam people. He did, however, turn and twist things around until he could get what he wanted, like in this conversation right now.
The farmer sat back, turning and twisting things around could work for him. Yeah, okay. What did the lawyer want in return for his services? The lawyer smiled. They could talk about that when they win. For now, they would talk strategy. The day of the trial arrived and standing in the middle of the courtroom, the judge demanded an answer of the farmer. Why had he promised the same cow to six men, the farmer looked to his attorney who whispered in his ear. He nodded.
Oh, Pashaul, the farmer said. The judge said that that wasn't an answer. What even was that? Oh, Pashaul, the farmer looked to his attorney who again whispered in his ear. He nodded. He turned to the judge. Oh, Pashaul, waving the farmer in his attorney up. The judge saw the attorney backing away saying that the judge did not want to do that. The judge asked why not, but then got an earful of Pashaul.
Grading his teeth, the judge ordered the farmer back to the center of the courtroom and turned to the butchers. He's faking. Obviously, the butchers pointed. How could we make a deal with him if all he could say is a Pashaul? What even is that? How indeed could you make a deal with him? The judge exhaled sharply.
Look, he didn't know any of these men. This was the best case scenario of misunderstanding. Worst case, it seemed like the men were angry the farmers sold the cow to the first butcher and wanted to use the courts to retaliate. They should be ashamed of themselves, taking advantage of him like that. The judge waved to the police who, grabbing all six men by their collars, ejected them from the courtroom.
Oh, Pashaul, oh, Pashaul, oh, Pashaul. The farmer set outside as the butchers, giving him dirty looks, soaked back to their storefronts and their stalls. Well, my boy, we won. Now, as for the matter of my fee, the lawyer smiled. He told the farmer the sum and the man gasped. Then the farmer smiled. Oh, Pashaul, he said, with a wave and started walking away. Now that's, come on, that's what we were doing to scam all the other guys.
We're done with that part. Now, now is when you pay me. That, we're that that part now. Oh, Pashaul. The farmer said, no, but stop saying that. Pay me now. That was so many billable hours. The lawyer said, oh, Pashaul, the farmer laughed and trudged homework. This one was fun. It's like when a bad guy in a movie makes a perfect weapon and then it turns on him in the end, except these were the lowest possible stakes. Some $10 deposits and a few billable hours lost to a farmer who only says,
Pashaul. Those are the stories for this week. Next time we're back in 1,000 in one night with a Persian story of a bunch of guys who love science and geometry and OES eliminating their enemies. If you'd like to support the show, there's still a membership thing on the site. For less than the price of a dust stash, a dust bin that looks like a little guy with a mustache, where you use the mustache to put dust in the guy's face, there's a link in the show notes if you want to see it.
Anyway, for less than the price of a dust stash, you can get extra episodes and add free versions of the show that I actually don't know if they're better than a dust stash. The dust stash is pretty charming. If you have enough for both, go for it, but I wouldn't even be insulted if you chose the dust stash over me. Anyway, check out mythpodcast.com slash membership for more info on the membership or find the show on Apple Podcasts.
The creature this time is Ahuna from medieval Europe. The Ahuna is a fish roughly the size of an old pirate to the Caribbean style ship. It's hungry, but it's not dangerous. And when it lacks an esophagus, its mouth opens straight to its stomach, it makes that foreign girth, because it's so big, apparently it can only be caught on an empty stomach.
If people want to catch it though, they'll have to work quickly, because, like a hedgehog, it will tuck its head into its body to hide, which is kind of adorable. Thing is though, when it does so, it'll catch a whiff of all that fresh fish, and start digging in, and die, because not even a giant mythological fish can snack on their internal organs without consequence.
The creature has also been called the swamp-fisk, which resides mostly off the coasts of Sweden. Up there though, the creature has some sneakier tactics. If you call smelling like rotting garbage a tactic, it allows all of its outside fish skin to become rotten, and begin decomposing. And then, when the other fish stop by for a delectable nibble on their stinky dead friend, the swamp-fisk, aka the Ahuna, attacks.
The Ahuna is really only a danger to itself. Another fish who enjoy half-rotten cannibalism, which I guess technically includes the Ahuna, because it can't go through a hide and see. It can't go through a hide and see game without a snack. This creature was featured in a 16th century text by Olis Magnus, one that was all the raging Europe, and remained the continent's chief source of information on Sweden for hundreds of years.
Being taken completely seriously, despite having wood cuttings of giant battles of dwarves and cranes in Greenland. That, yes, I absolutely post on the site. There's a link in the show notes. That's it for this time. Myths and Legends is by Jason and Curris O'Wiser. Our theme song is by Broke for Free, and the creature of the week music is by Steve Colmes. There are links to even more of the music we used in the show notes. Thank you so much for listening, and we'll see you next time.