nymphs and satyrs. Things got pretty wild—lots of nectar drinking, ambrosia eating, and crazy dancing with the Kouretes. The gods even convinced Zeus to tell some of his infamous satyr jokes.
Hestia wasn’t used to partying so much. About three in the morning, she got light-headed from the dancing and the nectar and wandered off into the woods. She bumped into a random donkey tied to a tree; probably one of the satyrs had ridden it to the party. For some reason, Hestia found this extremely funny.
“Hello, Mr. Donkey!” She giggled. “I’m going to—hic!—I’m going to lie down right here and, uh, take a nap. Watch over me, okay? Okay.”
The goddess fell face first in the grass and started snoring. The donkey wasn’t sure what to think about that, but he kept quiet.
A few minutes later, this minor nature god named Priapus came wandering through the woods. You don’t hear much about Priapus in the old stories. Frankly, he’s not very important. He was a country god who protected vegetable gardens. I know—exciting, right? Oh, great Priapus, guard my cucumbers with your mighty powers! If you’ve ever seen those silly plaster garden gnomes that people put in their yards, that’s a holdover from the days when people placed statues of Priapus in their gardens to protect their produce.
Anyway, Priapus was all about parties and flirting with the ladies. He’d had a lot to drink that night. He was roaming the woods looking for some unsuspecting nymph or goddess he could get cuddly with.
When he came to the clearing and saw a lovely goddess passed out in the grass, snoring alluringly in the moonlight, he thought, YES!
He sneaked up to Hestia. He didn’t know which goddess she was, but he didn’t really care. He was sure that if he just cuddled up next to her, she would be delighted when she woke up, because hey, who wouldn’t want to get romantic with the god of vegetables?
He knelt next to her. She smelled so yummy—like wood smoke and toasted marshmallows. He ran his hand through her dark hair and said, “Hey, there, baby. What do you say we do some snuggling?”
In the darkness nearby, the donkey apparently thought that sounded like an excellent idea. He brayed, “HHAWW!”
Priapus yelled, “Ahhh!!”
Hestia woke with a start, horrified to find a vegetable god leaning over her, his hand in her hair. She screamed, “HELP!”
Back at the party, the other gods heard her screaming. Immediately they dropped whatever they were doing and ran to help her—because you simply didn’t mess with Hestia.
When they found Priapus, all the gods started whaling on him—throwing goblets at his head, punching him, calling him names. Priapus barely got out of there with his life.
Later, he claimed he had no idea he was flirting with Hestia. He thought she was just a nymph, or something. Still, Priapus was no longer welcome at the Olympian parties. After that, everyone became even more protective of Hestia.
Now, there’s one more part of Hestia’s story that’s kind of important, but I’m going to have to do some speculating here, because you won’t find this in the old myths.
At first, there was only one hearth in the world, and it belonged to the gods. Fire was like their trademarked property. The puny humans didn’t know how to make it. They were still cowering in their caves, grunting and picking their noses and hitting each other with clubs.
The Titan Prometheus, who had made those little dudes out of clay, really felt sorry for them. After all, he’d created them to look like immortals. He was pretty sure humans were capable of acting like immortals, too. They just needed a little help getting started.
Whenever Prometheus visited Olympus, he watched the gods gather at Hestia’s hearth. Fire was the single most important thing that made the palace a home. You could use fire to keep warm. You could cook with it. You could make hot beverages. You could light torches at night. You could play any number of funny practical jokes with the hot coals. If only humans had some fire…
Finally Prometheus got up his courage and spoke to Zeus.
“Hey, Lord Zeus,” he said. “Uh, I thought I should show the humans how to make fire.”
Zeus frowned. “Humans? You mean those dirty little guys that make funny shrieks when you step on them? Why would they need fire?”
“They could learn to be more like us,” Prometheus said. “They could build houses, make cities, all sorts of things.”
“That,” Zeus said, “is the