“Humbaba awoke. His weapons were terrifying auras. Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and their companions were seized by a sudden weariness. They could barely stand. One after the other they sank to the ground. The first to get up, much later, was Enkidu. He was born and bred in the forest, he knew its moods. And he knew Humbaba. Gilgamesh tried to get up too, but his feet were stuck to the ground. Humbaba was gurgling words that only Enkidu could understand. Before going back to Uruk, they would have to find out if Humbaba was a man or a god. ‘Terror versus terror,’ Gilgamesh said. ‘Cunning versus cunning.’

“Gilgamesh was speaking in a void, because Humbaba didn’t let them see him. He chose to start with cunning, offering two of his sisters, first Emmebaragni, then the younger Peshtur. The first trap is always a woman. Enkidu agreed. They should become relatives, Gilgamesh said, and share the auras of terror between them. But first he had to find Humbaba’s hiding place in the dense forest. Otherwise, his wandering terror would spread farther and farther. After his sisters, Gilgamesh went on offering gifts to Humbaba: big sandals, small sandals, rock crystals, lapis lazuli, chalcedony. As if they were bartering at the market. Humbaba was still invisible, but for every gift he yielded up an aura. They appeared as long cedar trunks. Gilgamesh’s companions immediately cut and stacked their branches.

“At last, Gilgamesh was closing in on Humbaba’s lair. The comedy could unfold. He approached as though to kiss him but instead struck him on the temple and tied him up with the help of two friends. Humbaba gnashed his teeth in rage. Then began to weep. He said he knew nothing but the forest. He didn’t have a father or mother, but wanted at least to talk to Utu, the Sun.

“Gilgamesh would have freed him. His exploit was done. But Enkidu urged him not to. Humbaba, he said, would muddle up all the forest paths. No one would be able to get out. They had to kill him. Humbaba sensed the threat at once. So Gilgamesh thrust a knife in his throat. Then cut off his head and stuffed it in a leather sack. They went back the same way they’d come. And presented themselves to Enlil and his consort, Ninlil. They pulled Humbaba’s head out of the leather bag.

“Enlil was furious. He had never ordered anyone to kill Humbaba, who was a god himself, after all. They should have sat down with Humbaba, broken bread with him, drunk some water together. But his rage didn’t last long. Enlil was eager to get his hands on Humbaba’s auras. So ended Gilgamesh’s first exploit, model for all exploits.

“Gilgamesh never explained why he decided to kill Humbaba. And no one asked him. Humbaba was nothing less than a god, even though his parents had no name. They were a cave in the mountains. Humbaba possessed immense power and didn’t use it. They called him the Living One. The gods thought of him as the guardian of the cedars. Gilgamesh had done something wicked. But in the end, the Anunnaki were quietly pleased. It meant one less power beyond their own.”