The narrative of this chapter opens with Zarathustra aboard a ship, where his presence stirs curiosity among the sailors due to the arrival of another man from the “Blessed Isles” alongside him. For two days, Zarathustra remains silent, engulfed in sorrow, unresponsive to the looks and questions of those around him. On the evening of the second day, he begins to listen to the peculiar and perilous stories shared on the ship, which revives his spirits and loosens his tongue.

Zarathustra addresses the sailors, whom he describes as bold seekers and and experimenters and people who are naturally enticed by enigmas. He proceeds to recount a vision he had—a profound and solitary experience—and challenges his listeners to interpret it.

In his vision, he ascends a defiant mountain path strewn with rocks, a barren and hostile terrain devoid of vegetation. The path challenges him with each step, and he feels the oppressive presence of a companion perched upon him—a creature which is half dwarf and half mole.

The dwarf-mole mocks him, suggesting that all efforts to transcend will ultimately fail due to the inevitable pull of gravity. Zarathustra then counters with a riddle about time and existence, presenting the idea of eternal return—that all moments recur infinitely. The clever structure of Zarathustra’s presentation of this thought demonstrates how the old notion of temporality falls apart when taken to its logical extreme.

Zarathustra then hears the haunting howls of a dog, reminiscent of a childhood memory where a dog howled at the silent, looming presence of the full moon. Suddenly, the vision shifts, and Zarathustra finds himself amidst wild cliffs under an eerie moonlight. There, he discovers a shepherd writhing on the ground, a heavy black serpent hanging from his mouth. The shepherd is in agony, unable to rid himself of the serpent that has crawled into him.

In a moment of intense urgency, Zarathustra implores the shepherd to bite off the serpent’s head. The shepherd heeds the call, biting decisively and spitting out the serpent’s head. This act liberates him, and he undergoes a profound transformation, rising no longer as a mere human or shepherd but as a transfigured being who laughs with an unprecedented, unearthly laughter.

The chapter concludes with Zarathustra expressing an insatiable longing stirred by this laughter, having envisioned the possibility of a being which is able to overcome of the deepest suffering and embrace life affirmed by the acceptance of eternal return.