Free Gilgamesh by Stephen Mitchell Page A

can say, “I alone rule, supreme among mankind”? The goddess Aruru, mother of creation, had designed his body, had made him the strongest of men—huge, handsome, radiant, perfect.
    The city is his possession, he struts through it, arrogant, his head raised high, trampling its citizens like a wild bull. He is king, he does whatever he wants, takes the son from his father and crushes him, takes the girl from her mother and uses her, the warrior’s daughter, the young man’s bride, he uses her, no one dares to oppose him.But the people of Uruk cried out to heaven, and their lamentation was heard, the gods are not unfeeling, their hearts were touched, they went to Anu, father of them all, protector of the realm of sacred Uruk, and spoke to him on the people’s behalf: “Heavenly Father, Gilgamesh—noble as he is, splendid as he is—has exceeded all bounds. The people suffer from his tyranny, the people cry out that he takes the son from his father and crushes him, takes the girl from her mother and uses her, the warrior’s daughter, the young man’s bride, he uses her, no one dares to oppose him. Is this how you want your king to rule? Should a shepherd savage his own flock? Father,
do
something, quickly, before the people overwhelm heaven with their heartrending cries.”

    Anu heard them, he nodded his head, then to the goddess, mother of creation, he called out: “Aruru, you are the one who created humans. Now go and create a double for Gilgamesh, his second self, a man who equals his strength and courage, a man who equals his stormy heart. Create a new hero, let them balance each other perfectly, so that Uruk has peace.”
    When Aruru heard this, she closed her eyes, and what Anu had commanded she formed in her mind. She moistened her hands, she pinched off some clay, she threw it into the wilderness, kneaded it, shaped it to her idea, and fashioned a man, a warrior, a hero: Enkidu the brave, as powerful and fierce as the war god Ninurta. Hair covered his body, hair grew thick on his head and hungdown to his waist, like a woman’s hair. He roamed all over the wilderness, naked, far from the cities of men, ate grass with gazelles, and when he was thirsty he drank clear water from the waterholes, kneeling beside the antelope and deer.
    One day, a human—a trapper—saw him drinking with the animals at a waterhole. The trapper’s heart pounded, his face went white, his legs shook, he was numb with terror. The same thing happened a second, a third day. Fear gripped his belly, he looked drained and haggard like someone who has been on a long, hard journey.
    He went to his father. “Father, I have seen a savage man at the waterhole. He must be the strongest man in the world, with muscles like rock. I have seen him outrunthe swiftest animals. He lives among them, eats grass with gazelles, and when he is thirsty he drinks clear water from the waterholes. I haven’t approached him—I am too afraid. He fills in the pits I have dug, he tears out the traps I have set, he frees the animals, and I can catch nothing. My livelihood is gone.”
    â€œSon, in Uruk there lives a man named Gilgamesh. He is king of that city and the strongest man in the world, they say, with muscles like rock. Go now to Uruk, go to Gilgamesh, tell him what happened, then follow his advice. He will know what to do.”
    He made the journey, he stood before Gilgamesh in the center of Uruk, he told him about the savage man. The king said, “Go to the temple of Ishtar,ask them there for a woman named Shamhat, one of the priestesses who give their bodies to any man, in honor of the goddess. Take her into the wilderness. When the animals are drinking at the waterhole, tell her to strip off her robe and lie there naked, ready, with her legs apart. The wild man will approach. Let her use her love-arts. Nature will take its course, and then the animals who knew him in the wilderness