My blog focused on the history of the Romanian people (based on works by Neagu Djuvara and Radu Oltean), as well as Romanian tradition and folklore
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Balaur - the Romanian Dragon
by Alexandru (Sasha) Bogdan - the Great Wanderer of Valinor
“Romanian Green Dragon – initial sketch”, by Ana M. Pavlov
In Romanian culture, the phrase “balaurul cu şapte capete” (tr. ‘the seven-headed dragon’) is often used to refer to an issue that is particularly troublesome, difficult to overcome. It has become so ingrained in colloquial language, that few ever stop to wonder about the phrase’s origin.
So let us dive into Romanian folklore and take a look at the mythical beast itself.
What is a balaur?
Balaur (or bular in Aromanian) is an autochthonous term and the equivalent of dragon (Latin: draco and Ancient Greek: drakon – these two terms were originally applied to great serpents in general). It is an etymological remnant from our Dacian heritage, being likely derived from the Thracian root bel, meaning “beast, monster” and closely linked with the Albanian words boljë (‘snake’) and buljar (‘water snake’). Sometimes balaur is treated as being synonymous with zmeu, although typically zmeu is used to described a vaguely humanoid ogre-like creature.
“Saint George and the Dragon”, by John Howe
In Romanian fairy tales, balauri are ravenous beasts that plunder treasure hoards, terrorize towns – devouring peasants and their cattle – or abduct maidens, before being slain in battle by a brave young knight-errant like Făt-Frumos (tr. ‘Fair Youth’ or ‘Handsome Lad’ – a Prince Charming-esque character). Green or golden-colored creatures, with obvious serpentine features such as their sleek long necks and with scales as hard as steel, they are usually depicted with wings, though there also wingless balauri, crawling on the ground on four legs or slithering limbless like snakes – this type is akin to the modern-day interpretation of wyrm (Old English: “worm, serpent, snake”). These dragons are either endowed with a fiery breath, or drip venom from their fangs.
“Storm Dragon – Detail”, by Ana M. Pavlov
In some Romanian traditions, it is said that the balauri come into being through a ritual known as “Fiertul Mărgelei“, meaning the ‘Boiling of the Bead’. One spring day every seven years, serpents of all shapes and sizes muster in a rocky mountain where no man has ever set foot. There they pour their saliva, while the eldest among them chants verses known only in their tongue. From their spittle, mixed and enchanted, a precious pear/jewel-like stone emerges that shines like the very sun. Then the snakes challenge one another for the stone until the strongest one prevails and swallows the stone whole. This mighty serpent then slithers into the darkest of woods and – if not seen by the eyes of any mortal for seven years – transforms into a balaur. In his collections of Romanian mythology, folklorist Tudor Pamfile also mentioned a race of balauri said to dwell in the Armenian land and whose spittle formed such stones. And according to scholar Mircea Eliade, the basis for these beliefs is the myth of “piatra șarpelui” (tr. ‘the serpent-stone’), which is “widespread, from China all the way to England”:
ENG: “In many regions it was believed that precious stones had fallen from the heads of serpents or dragons.”
“Storm Dragon” (2), by Ana M. Pavlov
In Romanian mythology there is only one being who can master a balaur: a solomonar. It is said that the solomonari/şolomonari – an order of red-haired and white-robed sorcerers that could control the very weather and who, depending on the version, were either viewed as followers of King Solomon, of Saint Elijah (Romanian: Sfântul Ilie) or of Satan- could summon balauri (alternatively zmei) which they kept concealed in bottomlessly deep lakes, and ride them, using a bridle fashioned out of gold or out of birch bark to rein them in. Together, the solomonar and the storm-dragon would soar the skies and provoke rain, thunder and hailstorms. Of the Romanians’ beliefs concerning the solomonar and his balaur mount, folklorist Simion Florea Marian said:
ENG: “They believe that he wanders mounted on a dragon, that he boils the ice through clouds until he churns them into ice floes and then wherever he wills, there he brings it, pouring it on the flowery fields, destroying all their crops and the fruit-laden trees.”
The balaur in fairy tales, legends and other works of literature
“Balaur”, by Carlos Herrera
Among the most well-known Romanian fairy tales that feature balauri are counted Prâslea cel Voinic și merele de aur (tr. ‘Prâslea the Brave and the Golden Apples) and Balaurul cel cu şapte capete (tr. ‘The seven-headed Dragon’), both collected by folklorist and storyteller Petre Ispirescu:
In the first tale: Prâslea, caught in the Other World during his quest to uncover the thief of the Golden Apples, rescues the chicks of a zgripțuroaică (zgripțor/gripsor, derived from the Byzantian Greek grúps means griffin) from a balaur, engaging the monster in battle and slaying it.
In the second tale: the eponymous seven-headed balaur was terrorizing a distant land and had a hunger for man-flesh:
ENG: “There was once in the land a dragon that was a terrible blight. It had seven heads, it lived in a pit and it ate only men. When it issued forth to feast, all folk fled and hid themselves in their homes and stayed hidden until it sated its hunger with an unwary traveler who was bound to get himself offed.”
The emperor of that realm promised his daughter’s hand in marriage and half of his dominion to the brave champion who could vanquish this threat. Among those who gathered to answer the emperor’s call to arms was a young Romanian lad who decided to try his luck. When faced with the balaur the lad remained stout of heart and threw himself at it, cutting of the seven heads one at a time until he felled the beast.
In most Romanian translations of the Holy Bible and Christian myths, the balaur takes the place of the traditional dragon. For example, the “Prince of Darkness” – Satan himself – in the guise of the “multi-headed red dragon” is referred to as ‘balaur’ in our native tongue:
“Saint Michael [the Archangel] and the Dragon”, by Klimecki
And in Legenda Sfântului Gheorghe, the Romanian retelling of Saint George’s victory over a dragon, the fearsome adversary that the Christian-soldier faces is a balaur. The terrible venom-spewing beast plagued Capadoccia (alternatively Libya) and, in their desperation, the people hoped to appease it by paying homage. At first the tribute was in sheep or cattle, but it later turned into children and youths, chosen by lottery. Eventually the lot fell on the king’s daughter, who was dressed as a bride and sent to the balaur’s lair as a sacrifice. But to her fortune, Saint George, a Roman tribune at the time, arrived at the spot, and though the princess bade him leave, he remained by her side until the monster emerged. After making the Sign of the Cross, Saint George charged at the balaur with his lance and slew the beast.
“Saint George and the Dragon”, by Ognjen Pavkovic
As a fun fact, particularly for fans of the Middle-earth legendarium: when translating J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings into Romanian, Irina Horea and Ion Horea opted to use the term balaur for “the fireless cold-drakes” – dragons who instead of breathing fire possessed an icy breath – as a means to distinguish them from fire-drakes like Smaug:
And as another fun fact: balaur has since become the namesake of the balaur bondoc (tr. “stocky dragon”), a feathered dwarf theropod dinosaur from the late Cretaceous period that lived in Hațeg Island – modern-day Hațeg in Romania.
“Balaur perched”, by Emily Willoughby
Myths behind the Romanian balaur
Now let us take a look at other myths that could have inspired the balaur from Romanian folklore.
“Hydra” by Andrew Baker
With regards to the seven-headed dragon from the story Balaurul cel cu şapte capete, I think that the most obvious influence on this creature’s depiction is found in Roman-Greek mythology, specifically the Twelve Labours of Hercules. For the Second Labour, Hercules (Greek: Herakles) is sent by Eurystheus, the king from Mycenae, to slay the Hydra of Lerna, a fearsome serpentine monster with six/nine heads (depending on the source) – one of which was immortal – that was counted among the monstrous spawn of the Titan Typhon and his mate Echidna; some versions claim that the goddess Hera herself had raised the Hydra to be the bane of Hercules, for he was a living reminder of her spouse Zeus’ constant infidelity. The beast would emerge from its lair in the swamp near Lake Lerna to terrorize neighboring villages and devour their denizens – so it was a a great regional blight much like the eponymous monster from Balaurul cel cu şapte capete.
When he confronted the beast in its den, Hercules attempted at first to sever the Hydra’s many heads – similarly to the Romanian lad. However, the Hydra had a trait that the balaur from the story collected by Petre Ispirescu did not: each time Hercules cut off one head, two would grow in its place, making the Hydra almost unkillable. Ultimately it was not mere brawn but cunning that would end the monster: Iolaus, Hercules’ nephew, came up with the idea of brandishing fire to cauterize the stumps after each decapitation, to ensure nothing emerged from the scorched flesh. The demigod and his nephew did just that, until only the beast’s immortal head remained. With a sword that had been gifted to him by the goddess Athena, Hercules cut off that final neck, ending the Hydra.
“Hercules and the Hydra”, by Nuit Blanche
The Greek hero would then dip his arrows in the creature’s blood, using the poisonous ichor to vanquish foes in his following Labours. While the blood of the balaur in the Romanian tale is not exactly described as venomous, it is black as pitch and strong enough to quench the entire campfire:
ENG: “Then black blood issued from the foul beast, and it flowed, and flowed, till it quenched fire and all.”
“Cyclops”, Daren Horley
Aside from these similarities between the two creatures – chiefly the many heads, the harmful blood and the fact that they are both great regional threats – there is another element that proves the Roman-Greek influence on the Romanian fairy tale. (Though this one leaves the dragon-territory, I think it is still valuable for the sake of the argument in favor of the Hydra-seven-headed-dragon connection.) As he goes off in search of fire, the young Romanian hero finds himself in a cave where he sees light. But the cave is not unoccupied:
ENG: “In that cave dwelled some giant men that had only one eye in their forehead. He asked them for fire and the giants, instead of giving him any, got their hands on him and bound him. After that they laid a cauldron on the fire and prepared to boil him so they could eat him.”
Now what monsters do we know that resemble gigantic and grotesque versions of men, with only one eye and possessing a hunger for mortal-flesh? Why, the Cyclopes from Greek mythology, of course! And this particular scene brings to mind the episode with the Cyclops Polyphemus from Homer’s Odyssey.
“The Blinding of Polyphemus” sculpture at Sperlonga, Italy
It is noteworthy that the blinding of the monster occurs in the Romanian fairy tale as well: right when the one-eyed giants were about to toss the hero in the cauldron, they hear a noise from outside and decided to check it out, leaving their elder (ironically referred to as “unchiaşul”, meaning ‘gaffer’) with the prisoner. The moment he was alone with the old giant, our brave Romanian lad set to work: when the monster untied him to toss him in the cauldron, the hero snatched a burning coal and threw it straight into the giant’s eye, blinding him.
As a side note, I am honestly curious by which way these elements from the Greek legends came into the Romanian fairy tale. Were they popularized by the Romans during their occupation of Dacia and so a remnant from the Romanization period, that endured in the folklore of us Romanians/Vlachs, the “shepherds of the Romans” (originally Latin: “pastores romanorum”)? Or did they emerge later in our culture after the fall of Byzantium through Byzantine Greek families that found refuge in Wallachia?
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets concept art: Basilisk
Returning to balauri while still pursuing this line of thought – of a Greek influence in the Romanian conception of dragons – I think that with regards to those balauri that resemble huge serpents more than the Western European interpretation of the beast, Roman-Greek mythology provides another possible source as well: the basilisk. Not the Middle-Age version – that combined the creature with the half cockerel-half snake monster named cockatrice – but the one described in Antiquity by Plinius (English: Pliny) the Elder in Naturalis historia:
As more tales were spun, the basilisk’s size grew ever greater. The title of “King of Serpents”, popularized by J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, was originally bestowed upon the basilisk by scholar and archbishop Isidore of Seville. And as a matter of fact, the beast did enter Romanian culture through Byzantine influence as vasilisc , though there are scant few mentions of it in our folk tales. Perhaps the more serpentine balauri assumed some of the basilisks’ features and an allusion to the king of snakes status can be seen in the Fiertul Mărgelei ritual I mentioned earlier in the article?
There are plenty of other potential Greek inspirations for the snake-like balaur type:
Illustration of the Dragon of Colchis by Johan Egerkrans
The Dragon of Colchis that guarded the Golden Fleece at Colchis and was put to sleep by the witch Medea with magic during the adventures of Jason.
Ladon, the serpent or dragon that guarded the Golden Apples of the Hesperides and was slain by Hercules during one of his Twelve Labors.
Since we are speaking of Greek mythology, recall that I mentioned a balaur in the tale of Prâslea cel Voinic și merele de aur was threatening the chicks of a zgripțuroaică/female griffin. Well, the playwright Aeschylus, a contemporary of the historian Herodotus, described the griffins as the “silent hounds of Zeus”. The fact that they are half-eagle also lends credence to this take, since the eagle is the symbol of the god Zeus as lord of the heavens: Zeus shapeshifted into an eagle when he abducted the Trojan Ganymede and the nymph Aegina, and he notably sent an eagle to punish the chained Titan Prometheus by feasting on his ever-regenerating liver. And there is also the struggle between Zeus and Typhon, who sired the Hydra, which ranged from battles between their offspring to Typhon challenging Zeus for supremacy, only for the King of the Gods to prevail. And when you look back at the conflict between the balaur and the zgripțuroaică and her chicks you get a glimpse of the Typhon-Zeus conflict: you have a Hydra/Ladon/basilisk-like monster that pits itself against noble creatures associated with Zeus.
“Beowulf and the Dragon”, by John Howe
The winged and limbed balauri are most likely inspired by the Western European take on the creature, which is rooted in Norse mythology and the old Germanic legends. The dragon from the Anglo-Saxon poem Beowulf that does battle with the eponymous hero is perhaps the most akin to the Romanian balaur. It is a winged, fire-breathing scaly-beast which curiously displays quite serpentine features, for it is described as being capable of coiling and slithering like a snake and is even referred to as a “many-coiled wyrm”. Then there is Fáfnir, the dragon opponent of Sigurðr (German: Siegfried), who is described as wingless and serpent-like in the poem Fáfnismál from the Poetic Edda; many other sources, however, depict him as a winged and four-limbed beast. A small similarity between Fáfnir and the seven-headed dragon from Balaurul cel cu şapte capete is the blood that flows like a river after the slaying of the monster, with Sigurðr needing to dig several trenches for Fáfnir’s venomous blood to pour in. And at last, there is Nidhogg, the dragon that, according to the Prose Edda, gnaws one of the three roots of the World Tree, Yggdrasill.
Our modern perception of dragons has certainly been shaped by the Western European interpretation of the beast, particularly by fantasy novels such as J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Silmarillion or George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire cycle, as well as their adaptations. Personally, the first thing I picture when I think of a dragon is artist Andrew Baker’s beautiful take on Smaug for Peter Jackson’s The Hobbit the motion picture trilogy.
Concept of Smaug by Gus Hunter for The Hobbit the motion picture trilogy
Before I finish the article I would like to commend the drawings of Ana M. Pavlov from Timișoara, Romania. You have seen some of her artwork in the article and I can honestly say that after the concept pieces made by WETA Workshop for Smaug, her depictions of dragons are some of the most beautiful interpretations I have ever seen (together with John Howe’s take on Saint George clashing with the dragon). I think it is a real pity that we Romanians do not encourage more of this artistic creativity or promote our folklore and traditions to a greater extent like other European peoples do. But I will do what I can to encourage interest in such topics. And I enjoy trying to trace the thread of what we know all the way back to the origins of those beliefs. Mythology and the fantasy genre in general have always fascinated me and dragons – from our own Romanian balauri all the way to those in the West – have always been counted among my favorite creatures!
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