Mountains, Lakes and Rivers
Legends behind the names and forms of Armenia’s landscapes
The Armenian mountains were once strapping, giant brothers. Every morning, upon waking early, they had a custom of first fastening their belts and only then greeting one another. But as the brothers grew old, they could no longer rise so early. One day, waking up late, they forgot to fasten their belts and, contrary to custom, greeted each other unbelted. Seeing this, God punished the brothers: they petrified and became mountains, their belts turned into green valleys, and their tears into springs of immortal water.
Masis and Aragats were once deeply loving sisters. It so happened that one day they quarreled and had a terrible argument. One said, “I am the better one, and higher than you!” The other replied, “I am even better than you, and greater and higher!” During their dispute, Mount Maruta arrived and tried to reconcile the sisters, but failed. Departing in vexation, he cursed the sisters to be separated from each other and never meet again. Masis then cursed Aragats, wishing that grief would never leave her heart all year round and tears would never dry from her eyes. Aragats did not hold back either; in her turn, she cursed Masis, wishing that no man on earth should ever ascend her peak, nor should any sacrificial offering (matagh) ever be slaughtered upon her. And so it came to pass: a lake of tears formed atop the summit of Aragats, while to this day, no one has ascended Masis, and no sacrificial offering has been made upon her.
The worship of Mount Maruta greatly angered Andok, and he challenged Mount Maruta to a duel. During the battle, Andok struck with his lightning sword and split the head of Mount Maruta, which is why it is called the twin-peaked Maratuk. Wounded by Andok's blow, Mount Maruta ripped a colossal rock from its flanks and struck him back. The rock embedded itself into Andok's chest, buried within his ribs; only a fragment the size of two millstones remained exposed, upon which the handprints of Maratuk can still be seen today.
The Zagros Mountains were once a horned vishap (dragon). Zagros wanted to devour Taurus and marched to war against him. Taurus, though smaller in stature, was far stronger; he struck Zagros upon the forehead so fiercely that the dragon's horns snapped off and flew apart. One horn flew far from Argeol and impaled itself into the ground, called Masius to this day. The other horn flew and embedded itself into the flank of Ararat, known as Masis to this day. Dazed, Zagros leaned his back against Taurus's peaks, Arnos and Artos. Furious, Taurus struck Zagros’s back and belly so violently that he opened a great gorge stretching from Kothur to Tiartkhur. Through this gorge flows the Zab River, which is the blood of Zagros. From Taurus's blow, new mountains rose, dividing the waters from one another. A portion of the salty waters from Zagros's entrails flowed into Van, forming Lake Van. From that day forth, Zagros retreated, dragging his body away; one end of his form reaches Ararat, while his head extends toward Shiraz and India.
Mount Dagestan and Mount Mrav argued with one another. Mount Dagestan said, “What are you compared to me? I am much higher than you.” Mrav replied, “How can you be higher than me when my position is already so far above yours?” Mount Dagestan said, “Shut your mouth, or I will hurl the plate in my hand right into your face!” Saying this, he threw the plate at Mrav. The plate did not reach Mrav’s head but fell nearby on a flat plain. Mrav said, “Since you threw a plate at me, I curse you: may the snow upon your head never melt.”
The Black and Red mountains were once human beings. The Black mountain was a tyrant, and the Red mountain was a wish-granting maiden. The tyrant possessed the maiden by force and, through the curse of the people, petrified. Yet, because he could never enjoy the maiden's love, the Black mountain remains unable to approach her to this day. Thus, the Black mountain weeps from impotent rage and wreaks vengeance upon humanity: in the middle of summer, the sky suddenly darkens, bringing blizzards and tempests that choke both man and beast.
In Aghbak, east of the monastery of the Apostle Bartholomew, lies a cave called the Dragon's Cave (Vishapi ayr). A vishap lived there, which swallowed a maiden passing nearby. When the Apostle Bartholomew saw this, he charged at the vishap on horseback. The vishap fled out of the cave and vomited the maiden out. This vomit turned into a mound of white stones, which remains scattered to this day south of the cave, upon the hillside.
In Mtnadzor (The Dark Valley), it is always cloudy and rainy. Once, there was a beautiful maiden: when she laughed, roses and flowers blossomed all around, and when she wept, rain fell. Devs (demons) abducted her and carried her to the darkest depths of Mtnadzor, where neither sunlight nor any living breath could reach. In captivity, the maiden weeps incessantly, which is why Mtnadzor is perpetually shrouded in clouds and rain. Yet occasionally, when she laughs in her sleep while dreaming, Mtnadzor clears up and brightens.
Once, a forty-headed vishap came and drank half the water of the Black Lake (Sev Lich), then lay down to rest, intending to drink the remaining half and dry the lake up. By God's command, the mountains moved closer together, lifted the lake up to the heavens, and rescued it from the vishap. The dragon could no longer ascend to drink water; from thirst, it cracked open, burst, and shattered to pieces. A beautiful maiden also dwells in the Black Lake. When it is sunny, she rises to the water's surface and plays with the waves. This maiden catches the legs of animals that fall into the lake and prevents them from escaping the water.
The Euphrates River is a woman with disheveled hair, clad in sackcloth. Every year, she swallows hundreds of people. When the festival of Vardavar arrives, the Euphrates looks at the rock opposite her and says, “Vardavar has come, but the one has not.” The site of the source of the Meghraget River used to be a tonir (oven). One day, the village priest's wife was baking bread. A beggar came and, for the love of Christ, asked for fresh bread. The priest's wife gave him bread, but the beggar also asked for cheese. She gave him cheese too. Then the beggar, for the love of Christ, asked for a kiss. The priest's wife brought her face close to the beggar and gave him a kiss. At that moment, the priest walked in, saw his wife and the beggar kissing, and grew furious with her. The woman defended herself, saying that the beggar asked for bread for the love of Christ—she gave it, asked for cheese—she gave it, and asked for a kiss—she could not refuse. “Well, if that is so,” said the priest, “for the love of Christ, throw yourself into the tonir!” The woman instantly threw herself into the blazing tonir. The burning oven was immediately filled with honey-sweet water and turned into a river. The priest's wife became a fish, remaining within the river's source.