Chapter Text
Enkidu descended to the underworld, Gilgamesh’s warning in his mind.
But he did not heed it, for he thought only of retrieving his friend’s ball.
He did not heed it, for he thought only of retrieving his friend’s bat.
Walking like a human was his nature now.
He wore clean clothes, anointed with sweet oil, wearing sandals on his feet.
Walking like a human was his nature now.
Gone were the days of being naked, like an animal.
Gone were the days of drinking water, like an animal.
Gone were the days of running unbound, like an animal.
When he reached the underworld, he called out, and he heard his voice thrown back at him.
The shadows hissed. He was not supposed to do this.
When he saw the shadow of the wife he loved, he kissed her.
When he saw the shadow of the wife he hated, he hit her.
The shadows hissed. He was not supposed to do this.
But he did not heed it, for he thought only of retrieving his friend’s ball.
When he saw the shadow of the son he loved, he kissed him.
When he saw the shadow of the son he hated, he hit him.
The shadows hissed. He was not supposed to do this.
He did not heed it, for he thought only of retrieving his friend’s bat.
At last, the outcry of the underworld overwhelmed him.
Enkidu looked up at the way back from the underworld, and found it dark.
Enkidu looked at the way ahead of him, and he found it dark as well.
Enkidu placed his hands in front of him, and he found that he was like a shadow.
Like a shadow, Enkidu moved through the underworld.
He saw the man with one son, two sons, three sons, four,
five sons and six and seven sons.
He walked through the palace where the eunuch sits.
Still, he thought only of retrieving his friend’s ball.
He walked through the pen of the leper.
Still, he thought only of retrieving his friend’s bat.
He walked past the restless spirit of the man who was doomed
by a curse from his father and mother.
He walked past the spirit again and again and again.
At last, he called out to the spirit, and his voice was one with the outcry of the underworld.
“Who were you?” Enkidu asked.
The restless spirit turned and sighed.
“I was cursed by my father and mother,
and I have no heir.” “Why do you wander?”
“I wandered in life, now I wander in death.”
“Could you not find a place here in the underworld?”
“I made nothing with my life, now in death I find nothing.”
“Perhaps you can come with me,” Enkidu said.
“I do not belong here. I come from the land of the living.
I am searching for my friend’s ball.
To the land of the living I will return,
once I find my friend’s bat.
If you help me find my friend’s ball,
perhaps I can help you return to the land of the living.
If you help me find my friend’s bat,
perhaps I can help you find a place in the land of the dead.”
Even so, the restless spirit could not hold a purpose.
Enkidu walked with the restless spirit of the man who was doomed
by a cursed from his father and mother.
The spirit lagged behind.
Enkidu thought of how freely he had doled out curses in his life.
The spirit ran ahead.
At last, he lost the spirit among the figures of the underworld.
He walked past the spirit again and again and again.
At last, he called out to the spirit, and his voice was one with the outcry of the underworld.
“Where are you?” Enkidu asked.
The restless spirit did not respond, or he was too far away.
Enkidu searched on.
He thought of retrieving his friend’s ball.
Lower and lower he descended into the underworld.
He thought of retrieving his friend’s bat.
Lower and lower he descended into the underworld,
until he saw his reflection in a pool.
When he had descended to the underworld,
he wore clean clothes, anointed with sweet oil, wearing sandals on his feet.
When he saw his reflection in a pool,
he saw himself barefoot, covered in fur, naked, like an animal.
Knowing shame, he went to cover himself.
Knowing shame, he went to cover the twisting horns sprouted from his head.
He looked upon his reflection, then he looked upon his hands.
Indeed, he found himself barefoot, covered in fur, naked.
He reached into his shaggy hair and found horns sprouting from his skull.
He looked to the ground and found a trail of pools leading away.
He followed the trail of water.
Feeling ashamed, he covered himself and followed the water.
The water flowed downhill.
Enkidu followed the water.
The water flowed into a lake.
Enkidu stood at the edge of the lake.
He knelt at its edge.
He peered into the dark water and saw his reflection.
His fine clothes were gone, and his body was covered by
the sight and scent of thick fur. Like an animal he looked,
and like an animal he felt. Peering past, he perceived
thorough misery and mire, strange sights, whole worlds
beneath the surface of the lake. He saw forests of dark trees
lichens lolling loosely from limbs lofted by lake currents,
mud miles beneath the mere made murky in the flow,
far-winding currents convecting
cool shadows slowly upwards.
A shade settled to his side.
Enkidu knelt at the edge of the lake.
Grendel knelt at the edge of the lake with him.
Enkidu, friend of Gilgamesh, was embarrassed:
he knew shame, and he went to cover himself.
He had not expected this to be the home of any man.
Then he wondered if this was the spirit of any man:
Grendel was much like Enkidu. Taller than any man,
made and mothered by the wilderness. Untamed hair
grew from their heads. Horns for butting like rams sprouted
from Enkidu’s head, and talons for slicing like scythes from
Grendel’s hands. They sat in silence. Nobody had ever
given Grendel reason, yet they sat still together on the water’s side.
He was quiet, his mouth sealed,
still and silent with a predator’s gaze.
He was almost human. He looked like a god!
He could have been anointed with sweet oils,
if anybody ever given Grendel the reason Enkidu possessed.
Enkidu envied him, too: he wore clothes
around his waist, and sandals of fine quality on his feet.
Enkidu, friend of Gilgamesh, was the first to speak:
“I am Enkidu, and I come from the land of the living.
I have come to find a ball and a bat, which belong to
my friend, Gilgamesh. If you have seen either of these things,
which fell to the underworld earlier today,
I would be pleased to know, so that I could be on my way.”
But Grendel, who did not know reason by speech,
could not reply to Enkidu in the same way. Even so,
his words were one with the outcry of the underworld.
Grendel, descendant of Cain, replied in the song of the shadows:
I am called Grendel, and this is my home.
I have not seen either of the things of which you speak.
I know you come from the land of the living,
because those from the land of the dead die here.
Enkidu knew of what he said. He had seen the man
eaten by the lion, bitterly pouring his own lament in libation
to his misery; the man who fell from a roof, beyond mending,
in life as in death; the man who was drowned by the Storm God,
resigned to be consumed by the ghosts of maggots and mushrooms.
This was a demon, a maker of death, not one who suffered it.
Enkidu, friend of Gilgamesh, was afraid:
“Have you come to kill me, then? Will you make my death here?
If I die here, I do not know what will become of my spirit.
Please, spare my soul, for I have nothing now. I had come
with splendid clothes and shoes on my feet, smeared in
sweet oils, shouting to the shadows, but now I have nothing.
I am naked and barefoot, and I have grown back horns
and fur that had been shorn,
and, too, it seems that I still do not have my friend’s ball.
I do not have my friend’s bat, and I cannot return
to the land of the living until I have what I came for.
If you kill me, I fear what Gilgamesh will do. He is
two-thirds god. If he calls on the gods, they will raise
my spirit from the underworld. If they find out who killed me,
they will punish your soul. Please, let me go in peace.”
Grendel turned his head as Enkidu, friend of Gilgamesh
supplicated. He stood and walked a few steps to the side
of the lake, where water washed soundlessly against the shore.
His footstep made gentle ripples across the surface as he stepped,
and as if the water were made of glass, it took his weight.
Grendel, descendant of Cain, replied in the song of the shadows:
I am not here to kill you. You are not here to die.
This place is for my death.
If you have been searching for a long time,
then you may rest here. I do not have bread
for you. I do not drink beer. But it is silent,
and good for sleep.
And now Enkidu, who had been given reason by Shamhat,
saw that this was strange indeed. He spoke:
“Once I was like an animal, with a mind to fit
this furred form. I did not speak. I did not wear
clothes. Then a woman found me, and showed me
sex, and then I knew shame and speech and then
I could eat bread and drink wine. You are like an
animal. You do not speak. Yet you wear clothes.
You are like an animal and yet you have offered me rest.
What are you? What reason is this? Your life
must have been a strange one indeed.”
Grendel walked on the surface of the still lake,
like glass, it lifted him away from the worlds beneath.
Enkidu stood and tried to follow, but when he did,
his foot plunged into the cold dark depths, and he
sank himself up to his knee. Grendel sat on the surface
of the lake, and Enkidu on the muddy lakebed.
Grendel, descendant of Cain, replied in the song of the shadows:
You say sex with your woman showed you reason.
I say there are other ways I have taken mine.
I do not remember much of my life.
I remember eating flesh and drinking blood.
The taste of iron had its own pleasure.
It was all I knew. Nine years, or ten, before
my body began to betray me. I do not remember
a thing after that. I was a man once. No,
I was a boy. Then I became something else
entirely, bred on blood, the breaking of
bones. Laughing, falling, something else
taking and moving my limbs.
My memories are flashes, flesh and teeth,
tearing and feeling the soft life bleed out from
the last light of day—
death was my respite, the spirit flowing back
into my broken mind. It had been eaten by
whatever plague had corroded my mind and
mastered my body for all those years that I
had moved. My body had long since lost
any ability to bear a complete conscious,
but not my soul. This is, I think, as good as a
death as I could have, being but a boy
when my brain broke.
Enkidu shivered in the water. Then the friend of Gilgamesh spoke:
“I spent my youth running with wild herds.
It was by will and lust that I became a man.
Could this have mended your mind?
Would you have turned to the gods,
knowing what you do now?”
Grendel, the son of no man, replied:
What I wish will not change the past, will it?
I remember wishing well into my hunts
that the night would be silent for a change,
that I could walk where I please and that
the gods could not reach me. Here, I think
I am in both heaven and hell.
I do not think I would change it.
Would you? Now you are stuck in the land
of the dead. If you could have denied
your desire, knowing what you do now,
would you have changed it if you could?
Enkidu, friend of Gilgamesh, knew not what to say.
His words cut the silence as he spoke anyway:
“Since I became a man, I found my friend, Gilgamesh.
We fought and killed Humbaba together.
I dressed in dazzling clothes and anointed
my body in fragrant oils. I hunted lions with weapons,
wielded axes and cudgels, and though I cannot
run by the strength of my legs, I can sail on ships.
Though the wild herds run from me, I have
wives and sons who rush to me. So, no, I
do not think that I would change a thing.
Though I am in the land of the dead, I am here
because I have a friend whom I love. I am searching
for a ball and bat that he lost when they fell here.
I think that I would happily give up
a hundred years of sleeping on soft grasses beneath
speckled sunlight for one more moment of searching
the underworld for my friend’s ball and bat.”
Enkidu smiled. He stood in the water,
which still reached his knee. When he looked down,
he saw, with surprise, a man’s reflection at his feet.
He touched his body, and his skin was soft and bare of fur.
So, too, his head was bare of curling horns. When he looked
back to the lake’s shore, he saw his splendid clothes,
folded neatly upon the edge. There was a fine belt to hold
them, and shoes for his feet. So, too, there was bread
and beer. He rushed to the shore.
Enkidu dressed himself in his clothes.
Enkidu fastened the belt around his waist.
Enkidu tied the shoes upon his feet.
When he looked at the water, he saw a man’s reflection.
He took the beer and put the cup to his lips,
but he hesitated.
Enkidu offered the beer to Grendel,
and he hesitated.
“Thank you for your hospitality.
I’ll leave these here for you.
Thank you for your hospitality.
I’ll leave now. I have rested well.”
Enkidu left from the edge of the lake.
The water flowed downhill.
Enkidu walked against the water.
Bare footprints in mud faced him,
and he followed them back the way he came.
Gilgamesh’s warning came to mind.
His friend, who cared for him, had told him how to return,
but he had not heeded the advice.
He heeded it now: he smeared handfuls of mud on his clothes.
He heeded it now: he smeared handfuls of mud on his belt.
He heeded it now: he took the shoes from his feet.
Hid friend, who cared for him, had told him now to return,
and now he heeded the advice.
Enkidu stilled his voice and listened for the sound of the
song of the shadows.
Enkidu closed his eyes and let the shadows
become one with those of his mind.
Enkidu walked through the underworld, Gilgamesh’s warning in his mind.
He heeded it as he thought of retrieving his friend’s ball.
He heeded it as he thought of retrieving his friend’s bat.
Chapter 2: Enkidu Searched For The Way
Chapter Text
Enkidu searched for the way out of the underworld.
He thought of his friend and how he might worry.
He wished to tell Gilgamesh that he had not found his ball,
but he was still well in the underworld,
even though he had not found his bat.
Enkidu searched for the way out of the underworld.
He retraced his steps through the fields and cities and palaces.
He saw the man with seven sons, six, five, and four,
three sons, two, one son, and none.
He was sure that he was returning the way he had come,
but he could not find his way out of the underworld.
The underworld had claimed him,
the underworld had claimed him for his folly.
Enkidu thought to strike the ground.
Enkidu thought to curse it.
But then he thought that it would not help him find
Gilgamesh’s ball. Invoking the anger of the underworld
would not help him find Gilgamesh’s bat.
Enkidu looked around. He could not see the ball.
Enkidu looked around. He could not see the bat.
He looked at his feet, and he could see that they were bare.
He held his shoes in his hand.
The spirits knew that he was one of them.
They did not shriek and strain when he moved among them.
He turned around and followed his steps back.
He followed his steps back until he saw his reflection in a pool.
He looked at his human face and smiled.
He looked to the ground and found a trail of pools leading away.
He followed the trail of water.
The water flowed downhill.
Enkidu followed the water.
The water flowed into a lake.
Enkidu stood at the edge of the lake.
He called out: “is Grendel here?
It is Enkidu. I would like to know
if you would like to join me.
I have not found Gilgamesh’s ball,
but I will continue looking.
I have not found Gilgamesh’s bat.
Would you like to help me search?”
Grendel heard Enkidu. The strange request confused him.
The gift he had given, of bread and beer,
had confused him, but he had found it sincere.
He considered the strange request,
and that Enkidu was sincere.
Enkidu stood at the edge of the lake,
waiting for Grendel to reply.
He replied: Let me ask my mom.
“Alright. I will wait.”
Enkidu waited for Grendel to reply.
She says I can look for Gilgamesh’s ball.
She says I can look for Gilgamesh’s bat.
She says that I can come with you.
Grendel joined Enkidu on the edge of the lake.
Enkidu and Grendel left from the edge of the lake.
The water flowed downhill.
Enkidu and Grendel walked against the water.
Three lines of footprints in mud faced him,
and they followed them back the way he came.
Enkidu knew why he was in the land of the dead.
He searched for Gilgamesh’s ball. He did not belong here.
He searched for Gilgamesh’s bat. He did not belong here.
Enkidu knew why he was in the land of the dead.
Grendel knew why he was in the land of the dead.
He was a demon, a maker of death. He belonged here.
This was both his heaven and his hell. He belonged here.
Grendel knew why he was in the land of the dead.
They went together through the underworld
walking away from the lake.
They walked until they came across a restless spirit.
Enkidu addressed the restless spirit:
“Who were you in life? How did you die?
Why do you find yourself tormented like this?
Were you cursed by your mother?
Were you cursed by your father?
Or were you restless such as this in your life?”
Ea-Nasir replied:
“I sold poor-quality copper,
and I was rude to the servant of Nanni.
I did this to him and many others.
I was cursed by men like Nanni.
I was cursed by servants like that of Nanni.
I was cursed by those who knew me.
I was cursed by those who know of me.”
Grendel came to know of him.
He knew that he certainly would have gone to hell.
Enkidu was more forgiving.
He extended his hand to Ea-Nasir.
Enkidu said, “I would like to know
if you would like to join me.
I do not belong here. I come from the land of the living.
I am searching for my friend’s ball.
To the land of the living I will return,
once I find my friend’s bat.
If you help me find my friend’s ball,
perhaps I can help you return to the land of the living.
If you help me find my friend’s bat,
perhaps I can help you find a place in the land of the dead.
I have not found Gilgamesh’s ball,
but I will continue looking.
I have not found Gilgamesh’s bat.
Would you like to help me search?”
Ea-Nasir shook his head. He would lag behind.
Ea-Nasir could not come. He would run ahead.
Enkidu and Grendel lost the spirit
among the figures of the underworld.
They walked past Ea-Nasir again and again and again.
Enkidu said to Grendel:
“You have been here longer than I.
Is there a place where lost items go?
Is there a place more downhill than most?”
He heard his reply in his mind,
though Grendel thought with a hand over his mouth.
I do not leave my home often.
Those from the land of the dead die there.
I am not familiar with this land.
I do not know if there is a place where lost items go.
I do not know if there is a place more downhill than most.
“That is alright.” Enkidu looked to his left.
Still, he could not see Gilgamesh’s ball.
Enkidu looked to his right.
Still, he could not see Gilgamesh’s bat.
Because he could not see these things where he stood,
they continued to walk together through the underworld.
For if they could not see these things where they were,
then moving towards anything at all was making progress.