Terrifying Ogress or Hoax?

In mythology, Norse magic was inherently a woman's art, however, the sagas do record men as well as women practicing magic.  The woman of the Viking Age often had a magic spindle and distaff, and she would weave special clothing for her family.  She would create thread laced with magic spells and then use it to make her cloth.  This inspired me to think of Grýla and wonder perhaps this is where part of her power came from - the ability to terrorize generations and have such an evil and terrifying reputation. 

What if instead of concealing the truth, she used her spindle and wove a magic spell that made people just think they were seeing something horrifying when in reality she was just an average ugly trollwife?  How fun if she was a seið-witch and just used her impressive magical talent to create the image of a hideous visage?  And, what might have happened that she lost so much power to terrify?  It made a wonderful inspiration for a new short story!

A specific type of magic is used to affect the mind, called seiðr .  Typical symptoms include forgetfulness, delusion, illusion, or fear.  In mythology, a sudden mental or even a physical fog is a common attribute of this type of magic.  This type of magic is called sjónhverfing, a  delusion or "deceiving of the sight" where the victim cannot see things as they truly are, but instead sees what the seið-witch wants them to see.    In Jón Árnason's writings of the Icelandic folk stories, his description of Grýla is hideous:  “Grýla has three heads and three eyes in each head ... Horribly long, curved fingernails, icy blue eyes at the back of the head and horns like a goat, her ears dangle down to her shoulders and are attached to the nose in front. She has a beard on her chin that is like knotted yarn on a weave with tangles hanging from it, while her teeth are like burnt rocks in a grate.”

The sagas have many stories where a seið-witch uses a magical illusion to conceal a person or confuse a pursuer.  The Viking Answer Lady (http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/seidhr.shtml) has a wonderful account of such a story: 

Eyrbyggja saga (ch. 20) uses this idea. A woman called Katla, skilled in seiðr, wished to save her son Odd from a band of men determined to kill him. As the men approached the house, Katla told Odd to sit beside her without moving, while she sat spinning yarn. Arnkell and his men searched the house, but saw nothing beside Katla but a distaff. They returned a second time, to find Katla in the porch; she was combing Odd's hair, but it seemed to them that she was grooming her goat. The third time Odd was lying in a heap of ashes, and they thought it was Katla's boar sleeping there.

Each time they left the house they realized that a trick had been played on them, or ‘a goatskin waved round our heads,' as Arnkell put it, so that Katla could not try the same deception twice. Finally Geirríðr, another woman skilled in seiðr and a bitter enemy of Katla came with the men to help them cut through the deceptions. When Katla saw the rival seið-kona's blue cloak through her window, she knew that sjónhverfing or illusion would no longer work. She hid Odd inside the dais, but Geirríðr popped a sealskin bag over Katla's head, negating her spell casting abilities, and both Odd and Katla were taken and killed.

An essential portion of this technique seems to have involved wrapping an enchanted goatskin around the head of the victim (Reykdoela saga, ch. 14), or over the witch's own head (Njáls saga, ch. 12). A related magic was the magical technique called thehuliðshjálmr, the helmet of hiding or invisibility. The method for invoking the huliðshjálmrvaried, from placing hands atop the head of the person to be concealed, to throwing magical powders over them or other means (Ellis-Davidson, 21-24). In another instance, the special hood worn by the seið-witch was used to render another person invisible while wearing it (Vatnsdoela saga, ch 44).

Was Thor afraid of Gryla?

This story has been around since the 1300s....Thor himself may have hid under the covers as a child - terrified of the trolls and ogres!  The hideous Gryla was mother to the famous Yule Lads.

The Legend of the Icelandic Yule Lads is the start of a new series - Children's stories based in Scandinavian mythology.  This first book centers around the Icelandic legend of thirteen trolls that cause mischief and havoc around the holidays.  Haven't read it yet?

 Get your copy now from Amazon.com

The Legend of Katla Volcano in Iceland

I truly enjoy updating the Icelandic legends into modern stories, but it is fun to share versions written by others as I come across them.  I hope this brings a smile to your face as it did mine.  This was originally posted on 10/27/13 by Liz in Adventures, Destinations, Europe, Iceland

Once upon a time there was a monastery nestled among the jurassic green hills of southern Iceland. Nearby was the impressive Mýrdalsjökull Glacier, a mountain of ice looming over the south coast of this unforgiving land.

Run by a friendly abbot, the monastery thrived with villagers and locals coming to work together and chip in, a community of people working hard to survive the harsh arctic winters. Among them was the housekeeper, Katla. Powerful and frightening, it was whispered that she was a witch, though none dared speak of it to her face.

It was rumored that she used her black powers to create a magical pair of panties, and whoever wore them could run as fast as the wind and never get tired.

Feared by all, including the Abbot, Katla had a terrifying temper and most avoided her when possible.

The hardest worker in the abbey was a shepherd named Barði. Simple-minded but friendly to all, Barði’s usual duties were to take care of the sheep, which if you have ever been to Iceland, you know are EVERYWHERE.

Terrified of Katla, Barði was careful to never offend her, but sometimes he couldn’t find all the sheep to herd and she punished him. Voicing his fears to the Abbot, he was told not to worry, that he had no reason to be afraid of the housekeeper.

“I know I shouldn’t say anything sir, but it’s Katla. She really, really scares me,” said Barði in secret one day.

“Don’t worry, my child. We are all God’s creatures, and everyone can be saved,” the kindly old Abbot replied. Little did he know how much he would come to regret those worlds. Dun, dun, dun.

One day he returned home from a long day of working in the fields to find Katla waiting for him. Shaking down to his very boots in terror, Barði stood silent while Katla yelled that one sheep was missing. Getting ready to leave for a party with the Abbot, Katla warned poor Barði that he better find the missing sheep before they returned….OR ELSE!

“If you don’t have that missing lamb back in its pen before I return, don’t bother coming back!” She cackled!

Scampering off in fear, Barði panicked about what to do. He spent all day looking and couldn’t find that one sheep. What to do? What to do?

“If only I had a horse or someway to find that stupid sheep,” thought Barði to himself.

The sun was starting to set and fearing he would be out at night looking high and low in the dark, Barði began to panic.

Suddenly the lightbulb clicked on in Barði’s mind. Katla’s magic panties! If he could find them and wear them, he was sure to find the missing sheep like THAT!

Running to her room, Barði searched high and low until he found the magical black undies. Pulling them on, he ran like a bat of hell all over the farms and fields until he found the missing little lamb.

Hightailing it back to the monastery sheep in tow, he quickly put Katla’s panties back where he found them and waited for them to return, pleased with his quick thinking.

Little did he know that Katla was all-powerful, and knew immediately what he had done. Livid with Barði for both stealing her underwear and trying to outwit him, Katla lured the poor shepherd down to the wine cellar (though, let’s be honest here, I would be pretty peeved if some guy wore my undies, magical or otherwise!)

“You stole my magical panties, I know it!” Shrieked Katla at the cowering shepherd among dusty bottled of red wine and mead. “No one could find a sheep like that so fast in the dark!”

Shoving poor Barði into a giant vat of wine, Katla drowned the shepherd in a fit of rage. Leaving him inside the vat til spring, she went back to work as if nothing happened. The Abbot and everyone else at the monastery thought he disappeared while looking for the sheep.

After a few months, the weather grew warmer and the level of wine was dropping so low Katla was sure the Abbot would find Barði’s body sooner rather than later. Fearing discovery, Katla ran away from the monastery as fast as she could towards the Mýrdalsjökull Glacier.

Jumping into a crack in the ice, Katla the witch wormed her way below, discovering a dormant volcano beneath the glacier. Searching for the entrance, she finally found her way inside, burrowing her way into the volcano. Shortly after there was a huge eruption, causing a tidal wave glacial flood all over the south coast of Iceland, destroying everything in its path.

Since that day, the volatile volcano that sleeps beneath Mýrdalsjökull has been known as Katla, and even now she causes fear among foreigners and Icelanders alike.

The Sunstone

Eons ago, (and that is a very, very long time), there was a Viking named Agnarr who sailed to Iceland.  Leaving his longboat at the base of a cliff, he set off to explore the island with his Viking crew.   He knew his boat would be safe there.  After all, there were very few people in Iceland in those days, and who would dare steal from a Viking? 

As he walked away with his men, a small brown mouse poked his head up and watched them.  The mouse was Tassi and he had been a resident of the longboat for several years.  As they sailed back and forth, Tassi enjoyed exploring each new land and sampling the endless supply of new foods.  He stretched out along the wide bench, sunning himself in the weak afternoon rays, when suddenly a shadow crossed over him.  He sat up and looked around.  “Strange,” he thought, “it must have been a bird.” and he laid back down.  Just as he started to close his eyes again, he caught a quick movement at the end of the boat.  Tassi looked around slowly.  Everything seemed to be in order.  The oars were all neatly lined up, the boxes of food and supplies tied down in the center, and the prized Sunstone hung at the bow, glinting and sparkling in the bright sunshine. Ship captains used the position of the sun in the sky to navigate their ships.  The Vikings used the rare  stone to navigate on cloudy days when they couldn’t see the sun.  Otherwise, they would not be able to tell which direction they were going if it were cloudy or raining.  The Sunstone was a crystal spar that they could only find in Iceland.

As Tassi watched, a strange-looking creature jumped into the boat and quick as a wink snatched up that glittery rock, disappearing back over the side rail.  Tassi stared, shocked, as the little man scampered away with his prize.   This simply would not do!  Without the Sunstone, the Viking captain would not be able to navigate except on sunny days.  Their adventures and exploring would come to an end!  Tassi jumped over the side of the boat and ran as quickly as he could after the creature.  “Stop Thief!”  he shouted, “You stop there!”

The little man paid him no attention and quickly disappeared from sight.  Tassi looked around in desperation.  He spotted a bird with a black and white body and bright orange-colored feet and beak.  He knew Icelandic bird was very smart and could fly very fast.

“Mr Puffin!”  he shouted, his whiskers shaking violently as he ran, “Mr Puffin!”

The Puffin turned to look and the tiny mouse scampering excitedly toward him.  “Well, hello there little one!”  he said, cocking his head as he looked down.

“Mr. Puffin, thank goodness you are here!” squeaked the little mouse in his squeaky little voice, “I am Tassi and I sail with the Viking Agnarr”

“Good Morning, Tassi, I am Fimm, at your service—how can I help you?” the Puffin said as he bowed to the little mouse.

“I was standing guard on our Viking longboat as everyone else went exploring, when a strange little man with thick eyeglasses jumped on board and stole the Sunstone!” Tassi explained quickly.

To his surprise, the Puffin chuckled and shook his head.  

“That would be Window Peeper you saw.  He is one of the Yule Lads and often swipes the most sparkly and glittery trinkets.  You are in luck, Tassi, I can indeed help you.”  He bent down and Tassi quickly scrambled on his back.

Fimm took off and flew several miles, to a tall cliff wall that was covered in a creepy fog.  Fimm spoke quietly, “You stay here, I must ask for help from the Hidden Folk.  I do not know where the Yule Lad’s cave is.”

Tassi watched as Fimm approached an opening in the stone wall.  As if by magic, a beautiful creature appeared, smiling and nodding.  Fimm bobbed his head back and fluttered his wings.  The beautiful woman pointed to a spot high in the mountains and as Tassi watched, she disappeared in the swirl of fog.  Fimm came back to where Tassi had waited.  “That was Sigga.  She is a very old and wise member of the Hidden Folk.  She showed me where the Yule Lad’s cave is.  I can fly us there, but you will have to sneak in and steal back the Sunstone.  Just be very quiet and don’t get caught!” he warned.  Tassi nodded.

 A puffin can fly as fast as a horse can gallop, and Fimm flew as fast as he could toward the cave the Hidden woman had pointed out.  He landed on a tiny ledge and as quick as Window Peeper had stolen the Sunstone, Tassi jumped off and scampered into the hidden cave.

Fimm paced nervously as he waited for Tassi.  Minutes ticked by and Fimm worried about his new little friend. Suddenly, he heard squeaks and shouts! A rustling noise grew louder by the entrance to the cave.  Fimm saw a brown blur come flying out at top speed, barreling right for him!  He heaved a huge sigh of relief when he saw it was Tassi, the sunstone sparkling as it dangled from its leather string grasped tightly between the mouse’s jaws.  Fimm scooped him up on his back and took off from the cliff, flying straight back to the beach.

Minutes later, Fimm had dropped Tassi and the precious Sunstone back at the longboat, just as the Viking Agnarr and his crew appeared in the distance.  Fimm watched later as Tassi sailed away on his next adventure, but knew they would see each other again the next time Agnarr’s longboat brought Tassi back to Iceland. 

-Short Story by Heidi Herman

Leave the Calving to the Elves!

Near the Eyjafjöll mountains in an area called Drangshlíð, there is a big rock in a field, almost the height of 20 men. On one side of it, there are caves and big spaces beneath it, and the farmers kept there all of their hay and their cowsheds.  In the cowsheds, no candles or lanterns would stay lit, no matter how hard people would try to keep the flame alive. 

The distance from the farm to the cowsheds in the rock was a long one, and on cold, dark, stormy winter nights it was not easy walking to the cowsheds. But the elves in the rock would take care of the cows in the cowsheds while they were giving birth to their calves.   It was tradition in this area that one of the stalls always had to be kept vacant for elf-cows.  Human beings were not allowed to sit by the cows while they were giving birth. If the farmer could see that a cow was about to give birth that night he would leave the milking bucket, filled with good hay, by the window above the door of the cowshed.  The elves would then attend to the cow; they milked it after it gave birth, fed the calf and the cow. And the milking bucket was in the same position where the farmer had left it, filled!

Any time the farm would change hands, if the new owner would follow tradition, he would have his assistants stay with the cow while it was giving birth.  If they did this, something would inevitably go wrong.  They would hear and see strange things.  In all cases, the assistants would not be able to stay inside in the dark cowsheds and fled.  The farmers learned it was best to let the elves tend to the cows.

Edited from

Drangshlíð rock and the elves!

By Regína Hrönn Ragnarsdóttir 

Jules Verne on Icelandic Horses

I can just imagine Jules Verne riding an Icelandic horse, traversing fjords and mountains as he learned about Iceland while researching his book "Journey to the Center of the Earth".

 "There is no more sagacious animal than the Icelandic horse. He is stopped by neither snow, nor storm, nor impassable roads, nor rocks, glaciers, or anything. He is courageous, sober, and surefooted. 

He never makes a false step, never shies. If there is a river or fjord to cross (and we shall meet with many) you will see him plunge in at once, just as if he were amphibious, and gain the opposite bank." - Author: Jules Verne

Wiggle Waggle Monsters

This week's work has centered around three new short stories.  I am expanding the Yule Lads coloring book to be a full activity book and include new characters.  The characters are introduced in stories and included in games and puzzles along with the coloring book pages.  The new stories in the book are Gryla's Story-Origins of the Yule Lads, Monster Worm's Afternoon, and The Sunstone.  

While researching these stories, I came across delightful references to "Wiggle Waggle" Monsters.  You can be sure they will turn up in a collection all their own.  What is a Wiggle Waggle Monster?  They are very unique characters that show up in dance-games associated with Vikivaki Games.  The Vikivaki are sort of the Scandinavian version of an old western barn dance, where Wiggle Waggle Monsters are introduced in dance-games similar to Turkey in the Straw.  

The Wiggle Waggle Monster dances are reminiscent of Indian tribal dance that records the history of tribal victories in battle and the hunt.  In the case of the Vikivaki, the stories being told are of wicked monsters, lonely travelers, and Christmas spirits.  There are elements and origins in Icelandic, Norwegian, Danish, Swedish and Finnish traditions, as well as some Faroese, Shetland, and Scottish.  Stories of the Vikivaki Games can be traced back as far as 1588 and were continued as a tradition through 1877.