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Description
Last week marked the end of Goddesses in Obscurity Deserve Stories' quest to catch up with every naiad, dryad, and minor goddess across Gaia once we finally tracked down Hebe and Elithyia for an interview. Today, after generations of bureaucracy (mortals only live so long, you know), we at GODS have finally gained permission for one journalist to ascend to Mount Olympus in order to grant our readers an exclusive interview with the most prestigious of obscure goddesses, Hestia (or 'Vesta' for our readers in Italy), Goddess of the Hearth. Because of my years spent training for high altitudes and numerous awards for my writing, I was the obvious choice for the job.
Of course, it didn't seem that anyone had mentioned my visit judging by her appearance when I came to call on Hestia at Mount Olympus. Upon receiving me, she was pale enough to send the women of Athens into fits of jealousy. Her clothing was loose and far too casual for an interview; it appeared as if she had barely bothered to change out of her pyjamas this morning. As it was half past four in the afternoon, I was quite perturbed. Honestly, I was expecting a perfectly groomed 1950s housewife with cookies fresh out of the oven, not the borderline narcoleptic frail creature that stood before me. Despite the oil that seemed to be dripping from what I could see of her hair beneath the veil and my many years of interviewing immortals, I was quite humbled by her stature. (Immortals tend to be a few sizes larger than us mortals.) Still, as the top journalist at GODS, I could not lose composure.

H-hello! I-I-I- er, well, I'm here about the- My name is Hapo* and I'm-
That's not Greek, is it?
It's Celtic. And I know, I know; it's a boy's name. But hey-! I'm asking the questions, if you'll pardon me-
'Celtic'? You're the interviewer, right?
Yes, of course I am! Er- you knew I was coming? Then why are you all…
All what?
Never mind. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?
That's why you're here.
I'm sorry, I'm not usually so nervous; this is the biggest story of my career…
That's alright. Come in.

At first glance, the living room of Mount Olympus was not quite as well kempt as I expected from a woman who stayed home all day since time immemorial. It was as if every one of the twelve Olympians had been through the room at some point in the day without much care. The couch was occupied by a sad looking lyre (Presumably Apollo's) and strings in various sizes and states of health. Demeter's gardening magazines littered the coffee table, and magazines of quite a different nature had been hastily stuffed into a decorative urn when, I imagine, Hera had made her entrance. Hestia was quite unphased by the mess, sitting down on the floor by the hearth without so much as clearing off a chair for me. As I had no wish to tamper with the possessions of the gods, I left Hephaestus' assortment of heavy looking tools on their stool and sat on the floor across from the flames. I instantly felt much more at home, and it dawned on me that the gods, like any family, actually lived in their living rooms.

So, why 'Goddess of the Hearth'?
As the eldest of the Olympians, I was much more attached to the comfort and warmth of the walls of my dad's stomach than the others. Well, except perhaps Hades.
Everyone was far too eager to leave home behind that they often forget how much they miss it. I liked not moving around, the security, and I think I've managed to recapture that here.
Fascinating… do you read GODS?
Never heard of it.
I'm not surprised, we're pretty obscure ourselves. Anyway, we have a few feminists in our demographic that want to know how you feel being responsible for the home and… er… housekeeping.
Housekeeping obviously isn't one of my duties. I'm not anyone's mother, I am not responsible for looking after everyone's affairs. I prefer not to get involved unless there is something I can do to solve a quarrel. It is ridiculous to think any household or community, mortal or immortal, should function with perfect harmony and cohesion.
Would that make you an emulsifier then?
(laugh) I suppose so. Tea?
Oh, sure, but-
Nectar-free, promise.
Not many of our readers are aware that you are also the Goddess of Chastity. Can you elaborate on that?
I swore to Zeus I would remain a virgin. It was a choice I made for myself long ago, but I still stand by my actions.
I heard there was a little… incident with Priapus at a party a while back.
Anything scandalous you might have heard is probably a lie.
Don't you think it's ironic that you are the goddess of the home, yet you are unable to have a family?
It is hasty of you to conclude that marriage and children define a family. I have two parents, grandparents, three brothers, two sisters, and countless nieces, nephews, and cousins, in addition to their offspring. You could say I have the largest family in the universe. Do you honestly think I'd want to add my own dramas to that chaos?
I guess that's why you rejected Apollo and Poseidon. Do you have anything to say about that?
Poseidon is now happily married, and I don't think Apollo would have had any more luck than he has had with others, poor thing. I occasionally tend the flames at his home in Pytho.
How did you feel about having to give up your throne to Dionysus?
Much better, actually. The throne was kind of stiff and too cold; my place is by the hearth. Of course, Dionysus did work very hard for his position on Olympus against much adversity. He completely deserved it. It was my choice, and it stopped a whole lot of conflict.
Are you close to your family?
I don't see Poseidon that often anymore, and I can't recall seeing Hades since he became the lord of the Underworld. It's very difficult to relate to the rest of the Olympians; they always have stories about their adventures and their children.
Are you jealous?
Not really. I just find it hard to talk to them about my day to day life. I doubt they'd understand. Even so, the hearth is a gathering place. I get more opportunities to learn about the others in conversation, things they may never have revealed otherwise.
Any juicy gossip?
None that I would feel safe revealing. We're talking about people like Athena and Hera, after all.
Back to the hearth; considering your obscurity, would you say that your job is less important than that of the other more well known Olympians?
Definitely not. I have been associated with mortals since they first acquired the power to tame fire. During the time of the Mycenaeans, the hearth was always the focal point of the king's throne room in the center of the palace, four meters across. Once the monarchies began to dissolve, the king's hearths were replaced by state hearths in buildings called prytaneia, where most cities kept the flames continuously burning.
Most intriguing… what were these 'state flames' for?
They were gathering places of the public and also for foreign visitors. Mother cities would often send their colonies a torch lit by the fire from its own hearth to symbolize their connection. The state flames were eliminated in Attica in favour of unity by Theseus, replaced by one prytaneia in Athens. As you can see, the hearth is a symbol of bringing people together and maintaining positive, stable relations with one another.
Care to elaborate on that a little?
All beings, mortals and immortals, have the capabilities to be wild or controlled, destructive or creative. So does fire. While my nephew Hephaestus emphasizes the physical creations of fire, I represent the abstract. Fire gave mortals a gathering place, the ability to cook and share food, the light and protection to stay awake longer which entailed most importantly: the time to think and dream.
Any last things to say about the functions of the hearth in Greece?
Certainly. Rituals around integrating a new family member or slave often were centered on the hearth. After a baby was born, it would be picked up and ran around the hearth in order to place it under my protection. This is called Amphidromia, 'running around'. Deaths, at least in Argos, were considered to make the fire 'impure' and it would have to be extinguished. After the Persian occupation in the fifth century, all the fires had become polluted by the Persians and had to be extinguished and renewed from Delphi's hearth.
Do you have any comments on how you are portrayed in Rome?
I suppose I'm paid more attention in Rome, where fire is a more important element; the Vestal Virgins who attend the sacred fire of Rome are among the most respected. Rome has their own household gods, the penates, that are often associated with me.

I had reached the dregs of my chamomile tea. It was almost 6:00 judging from the sundial on the wall, so I wanted to finish on the subject that has been the focal point of GODS since it was first published in the sixth century BCE.

Do you ever feel like the Boba Fett of Olympus?
The what?
Exactly! He's the coolest character in Star Wars, but no one knows who he is and he never gets any lines!
…
Let me rephrase: Do you feel like you aren't getting enough recognition for all the work that you do?
Not at all. I think Homer's hymns to me sum it up nicely. I am always given offerings of wine before and after every meal, I protect the homes of mortals with Hermes, and most importantly I am always present both on Olympus and in the centers of every household on earth, 'the highest of honours and a precious right.', he says. I also get the nicest parts of the sacrifices!

So there you have it, possibly the most revealing issue of GODS yet. Unfortunately, it is also our last, as we no longer have any minor goddesses to interview. It has been suggested by a reader that we relocate to Egypt in search of such minor deities as Taweret and Tefnut; if we get the funding from the Meandering Yarns and Tales of Heroes Society, that is. Until then, dear readers!

Description
Last week marked the end of Goddesses in Obscurity Deserve Stories' quest to catch up with every naiad, dryad, and minor goddess across Gaia once we finally tracked down Hebe and Elithyia for an interview. Today, after generations of bureaucracy (mortals only live so long, you know), we at GODS have finally gained permission for one journalist to ascend to Mount Olympus in order to grant our readers an exclusive interview with the most prestigious of obscure goddesses, Hestia (or 'Vesta' for our readers in Italy), Goddess of the Hearth. Because of my years spent training for high altitudes and numerous awards for my writing, I was the obvious choice for the job.
Of course, it didn't seem that anyone had mentioned my visit judging by her appearance when I came to call on Hestia at Mount Olympus. Upon receiving me, she was pale enough to send the women of Athens into fits of jealousy. Her clothing was loose and far too casual for an interview; it appeared as if she had barely bothered to change out of her pyjamas this morning. As it was half past four in the afternoon, I was quite perturbed. Honestly, I was expecting a perfectly groomed 1950s housewife with cookies fresh out of the oven, not the borderline narcoleptic frail creature that stood before me. Despite the oil that seemed to be dripping from what I could see of her hair beneath the veil and my many years of interviewing immortals, I was quite humbled by her stature. (Immortals tend to be a few sizes larger than us mortals.) Still, as the top journalist at GODS, I could not lose composure.

H-hello! I-I-I- er, well, I'm here about the- My name is Hapo* and I'm-
That's not Greek, is it?
It's Celtic. And I know, I know; it's a boy's name. But hey-! I'm asking the questions, if you'll pardon me-
'Celtic'? You're the interviewer, right?
Yes, of course I am! Er- you knew I was coming? Then why are you all…
All what?
Never mind. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?
That's why you're here.
I'm sorry, I'm not usually so nervous; this is the biggest story of my career…
That's alright. Come in.

At first glance, the living room of Mount Olympus was not quite as well kempt as I expected from a woman who stayed home all day since time immemorial. It was as if every one of the twelve Olympians had been through the room at some point in the day without much care. The couch was occupied by a sad looking lyre (Presumably Apollo's) and strings in various sizes and states of health. Demeter's gardening magazines littered the coffee table, and magazines of quite a different nature had been hastily stuffed into a decorative urn when, I imagine, Hera had made her entrance. Hestia was quite unphased by the mess, sitting down on the floor by the hearth without so much as clearing off a chair for me. As I had no wish to tamper with the possessions of the gods, I left Hephaestus' assortment of heavy looking tools on their stool and sat on the floor across from the flames. I instantly felt much more at home, and it dawned on me that the gods, like any family, actually lived in their living rooms.

So, why 'Goddess of the Hearth'?
As the eldest of the Olympians, I was much more attached to the comfort and warmth of the walls of my dad's stomach than the others. Well, except perhaps Hades.
Everyone was far too eager to leave home behind that they often forget how much they miss it. I liked not moving around, the security, and I think I've managed to recapture that here.
Fascinating… do you read GODS?
Never heard of it.
I'm not surprised, we're pretty obscure ourselves. Anyway, we have a few feminists in our demographic that want to know how you feel being responsible for the home and… er… housekeeping.
Housekeeping obviously isn't one of my duties. I'm not anyone's mother, I am not responsible for looking after everyone's affairs. I prefer not to get involved unless there is something I can do to solve a quarrel. It is ridiculous to think any household or community, mortal or immortal, should function with perfect harmony and cohesion.
Would that make you an emulsifier then?
(laugh) I suppose so. Tea?
Oh, sure, but-
Nectar-free, promise.
Not many of our readers are aware that you are also the Goddess of Chastity. Can you elaborate on that?
I swore to Zeus I would remain a virgin. It was a choice I made for myself long ago, but I still stand by my actions.
I heard there was a little… incident with Priapus at a party a while back.
Anything scandalous you might have heard is probably a lie.
Don't you think it's ironic that you are the goddess of the home, yet you are unable to have a family?
It is hasty of you to conclude that marriage and children define a family. I have two parents, grandparents, three brothers, two sisters, and countless nieces, nephews, and cousins, in addition to their offspring. You could say I have the largest family in the universe. Do you honestly think I'd want to add my own dramas to that chaos?
I guess that's why you rejected Apollo and Poseidon. Do you have anything to say about that?
Poseidon is now happily married, and I don't think Apollo would have had any more luck than he has had with others, poor thing. I occasionally tend the flames at his home in Pytho.
How did you feel about having to give up your throne to Dionysus?
Much better, actually. The throne was kind of stiff and too cold; my place is by the hearth. Of course, Dionysus did work very hard for his position on Olympus against much adversity. He completely deserved it. It was my choice, and it stopped a whole lot of conflict.
Are you close to your family?
I don't see Poseidon that often anymore, and I can't recall seeing Hades since he became the lord of the Underworld. It's very difficult to relate to the rest of the Olympians; they always have stories about their adventures and their children.
Are you jealous?
Not really. I just find it hard to talk to them about my day to day life. I doubt they'd understand. Even so, the hearth is a gathering place. I get more opportunities to learn about the others in conversation, things they may never have revealed otherwise.
Any juicy gossip?
None that I would feel safe revealing. We're talking about people like Athena and Hera, after all.
Back to the hearth; considering your obscurity, would you say that your job is less important than that of the other more well known Olympians?
Definitely not. I have been associated with mortals since they first acquired the power to tame fire. During the time of the Mycenaeans, the hearth was always the focal point of the king's throne room in the center of the palace, four meters across. Once the monarchies began to dissolve, the king's hearths were replaced by state hearths in buildings called prytaneia, where most cities kept the flames continuously burning.
Most intriguing… what were these 'state flames' for?
They were gathering places of the public and also for foreign visitors. Mother cities would often send their colonies a torch lit by the fire from its own hearth to symbolize their connection. The state flames were eliminated in Attica in favour of unity by Theseus, replaced by one prytaneia in Athens. As you can see, the hearth is a symbol of bringing people together and maintaining positive, stable relations with one another.
Care to elaborate on that a little?
All beings, mortals and immortals, have the capabilities to be wild or controlled, destructive or creative. So does fire. While my nephew Hephaestus emphasizes the physical creations of fire, I represent the abstract. Fire gave mortals a gathering place, the ability to cook and share food, the light and protection to stay awake longer which entailed most importantly: the time to think and dream.
Any last things to say about the functions of the hearth in Greece?
Certainly. Rituals around integrating a new family member or slave often were centered on the hearth. After a baby was born, it would be picked up and ran around the hearth in order to place it under my protection. This is called Amphidromia, 'running around'. Deaths, at least in Argos, were considered to make the fire 'impure' and it would have to be extinguished. After the Persian occupation in the fifth century, all the fires had become polluted by the Persians and had to be extinguished and renewed from Delphi's hearth.
Do you have any comments on how you are portrayed in Rome?
I suppose I'm paid more attention in Rome, where fire is a more important element; the Vestal Virgins who attend the sacred fire of Rome are among the most respected. Rome has their own household gods, the penates, that are often associated with me.

I had reached the dregs of my chamomile tea. It was almost 6:00 judging from the sundial on the wall, so I wanted to finish on the subject that has been the focal point of GODS since it was first published in the sixth century BCE.

Do you ever feel like the Boba Fett of Olympus?
The what?
Exactly! He's the coolest character in Star Wars, but no one knows who he is and he never gets any lines!
…
Let me rephrase: Do you feel like you aren't getting enough recognition for all the work that you do?
Not at all. I think Homer's hymns to me sum it up nicely. I am always given offerings of wine before and after every meal, I protect the homes of mortals with Hermes, and most importantly I am always present both on Olympus and in the centers of every household on earth, 'the highest of honours and a precious right.', he says. I also get the nicest parts of the sacrifices!

So there you have it, possibly the most revealing issue of GODS yet. Unfortunately, it is also our last, as we no longer have any minor goddesses to interview. It has been suggested by a reader that we relocate to Egypt in search of such minor deities as Taweret and Tefnut; if we get the funding from the Meandering Yarns and Tales of Heroes Society, that is. Until then, dear readers!