spellbookbitch:

systlin:

orie-ana:

systlin:

icel0vesfire:

“You know mistletoe is important to Druids but do you know why people kiss under the mistletoe? It’s a Norse myth. Baldur the son of Odin was the most beloved by the other gods. So much that they wanted to protect him from all the dangers in the world. His mother, Frigg, took an oath from fire and water, metal, stone and every living thing, that they would never hurt Baldur. At a gathering, they tested him. Stones, arrows and flame were all hurled at him. Nothing worked. But there was one god that wasn’t so enamored of Baldur, the god of mischief, Loki. Loki discovered that Frigg had forgotten to ask mistletoe, a tiny, seemingly harmless plant and completely overlooked. Loki fashioned a dart out of mistletoe and it killed Baldur. Frigg was heartbroken. She decreed that mistletoe would never again be used as a weapon and that she would place a kiss on anyone who passed under it. So now we hang mistletoe underneath our door during the holidays so that we will never overlook it again.”

Reblogging again because SOMEONE ASK ME ABOUT WHERE SANTA CAME FROM AND WHY HE HAS EIGHT REINDEER DO IT. 

@systlin why?

OKAY BUCKLE UP CHILDREN

Santa? Is Odin. With a bit of the Turkish Saint Nicholas plastered over top to make him more acceptable to Christianity.

Let’s wind this back a bit.

So. In Norse tradition, Odin rose with the wild hunt on Midwinter. Children would leave out offerings of hay or root vegetables in their shoes for Slepnir, Odin’s horse. In norse tradition, all gifts create an obligation that must be returned in kind, so if Odin found the offerings pleasing he would leave treats and sweets in return.

So. We have a magical bearded man riding through the sky on a winter feast day and leaving treats for children in footwear if they pleased him. Sound familiar? Yeah.

As for Slepnir, Odin’s mount? He has eight legs. So. Bearded man with powerful magic flying through the air on an eight-legged steed on a winter feast day and leaving treats for children in their footwear if they pleased him.

Yeah.

Enter Christianity. Now, the midwinter season is important to all cultures that live in cold climates. The passing of the worst of the hard times and the beginning of the longer days and the promise of the return of life and light and fertility is a powerful thing. There were Christian festival days around the same time as Midwinter was celebrated in many polytheistic faiths. Christians found that they couldn’t get people to stop celebrating the feast days they’d been celebrating for several thousand years, so opted instead to just absorb those traditions into their OWN midwinter festivals. It was a far easier and more effective way of convincing people to convert.

So. The tradition of Odin leaving gifts hung on, in a far different form. This was helped by the legend of Saint Nicholas, a Turkish man who inherited a large amount of wealth and who was known and beloved for his habit of slipping money to poor people via leaving it in their stockings as they were hung out to dry after wash day, or by dropping it down their chimneys. This was similar enough to the old Odin myth of leaving gifts in footwear to paste right over top of the older stories with relative ease. So, the man delivering gifts became not Odin, but St. Nick, who delivered gifts via stocking and chimney.

However, the idea of him flying through the sky, being associated with elves, possessing powerful magic, and the eight-legged steed stuck. (reindeer, incidentally, are an animal with a lot of symbol and power in Norse tales. Ullr, the god of the hunt, had ties to reindeer, and at some point the eight legged horse became eight reindeer.)

Incidentally the image of Santa as a chubby little jolly man didn’t come around until modern advertising began depicting him that way. Before that? A tall, strong man, usually with a staff (echoing Odin’s staff or spear).

So. There you have it. Santa, the jolly bearded old man of beloved childhood Christmas memories? If you ever wondered where he came from in a ‘Christian’ holiday, there’s your answer. He didn’t. He’s the amalgamation of an ancient Norse god and a Middle Eastern saint, filtered through the lens of pop culture.

Jim Butcher actually did this very well in the Dresden Files, where Odin makes several appearances, one wearing the mantle of Father Christmas.

Christianity never really managed to make the old gods vanish.

I love these omg origins of holidays fascinate me

ymirshvolpur:

On the topic of souls, it’s worth reminding people that in the Old Norse worldview, the hug (soul) was contained in the breath and this is why gandr (wind) also means spirit or soul. And it’s why volvas gasp and choke when performing seidr as they’re breathless (soulless) for a bit while their spirit travels. It’s also how they can take in and channel spirits which are also called gandr or gandus spirits though also called vordr. Vord is a term also tied to the concept of the sjaeletro or soul faith, being the part of our soul that is our presence.

Additionally, gandr is tied to sickness etymologically via spewing. And most sicknesses were believed to have been caused by inhaling bad souls (troll spirits mainly.) 

Additionally additionally, fog was believed to spread sickness and fog is essentially just air made visible. So again we have the concept of air spreading sickness.

Papers drawn from:

Meeting the Other in Norse Myth and Legend by John McKinnell

Vordr and Gandr: Helping Spirits in Norse Magic by Clive Tolley

The Historia Norwegiae as a Shamanic Source by Clive Tolley

Spirits Through Respiratory Passages by Eldar Heide

Scandinavian Folk Belief and Legend edited by Reimund Kvideland and Henning K. Sehmsdorf

Ships, Fogs, and Traveling Pairs: Plague Legend Migration in Scandinavia by Timothy R. Tangherlin

i was talking to a friend about gift-giving practices in norse societies. I thought you’d have a more eloquent way of explaining the basics? And I’d love to hear what you think are the basic need-to-know’s about give-giving and reciprocity in ancient heathenistic societies. :)

fjorn-the-skald:

Velkomin, gestir mínir!
(Welcome, my guests!) 

Gather around, friends; the fire is still warm and lively! One night, a fair bit ago now, a raven flew into my hall bearing this interesting question from an anonymous wanderer. It has particular relevance to this gift-giving season (Jól (Yule/Christmas) for some), which is quickly approaching us. I am sure that everyone in the hall this evening can agree that this question is indeed a worthy one! Considering that gifts will soon be exchanged by many folk, it is high time that I got around to answering this anonymous wanderer’s request, ?


A NOTE OF CAUTION

Most of my knowledge about gift-giving in the Medieval North comes from Iceland, so I must admit that my discussion about this topic will heavily rely on sources written specifically about medieval Icelandic society. Do not fret, though! It is within reason to say that life in Iceland was not too drastically different from life in Scandinavia during this time (c.900-1300), at least in regards to cultural and social traditions. Such things have rather deep roots, after all. Yet, it is always good to remember the place and context of our sources. Most of the sources that I have mentioned throughout our discussion have their origins in Iceland from around the thirteenth century (1200-1299). That’s quite late, especially when many folk are thinking of the Viking Age (c.793-1066)! While these sources then provide far more insight regarding Icelandic society around the thirteenth century, they are still able to paint a relative picture of how Norse societies generally functioned before (and even after) this time period. This must be done with caution though, so do your best not to let the information discussed in the hall this evening wander too far from my warnings! Always be weary of the knowledge that you acquire, as well as how it was gathered.


THE SOCIAL WEB OF GIFT-GIVING

One thing that will quickly be noticed is that our sources frequently give precedence to gift-giving practices between chieftains (goðar) and well-to-do farmers (bœndr).This social class is the primary subject of many family sagas, which are prose narratives written around the thirteenth century, but set in the Saga Age (c.930-1030), about prominent Icelandic families. These sources often act as our dominant window into the Norse world, so it is important to understand their complexities. As scholars such as Jesse L. Byock and William Ian Miller have demonstrated, these sagas reflect genuine Icelandic (and, more broadly, Norse) social practices. Therefore, while their accuracy of their setting (the Saga Age) may be questionable, the social and cultural norms they illustrate are worth paying attention to. But enough of my technical rambling! Allow me to share some positive examples of gift-giving from Njáls saga (c.1280), which I will follow-up with some insights:

There was a man named Gunnar who was from Iceland. He was a great warrior and none were his equal. One summer he went abroad and fought against other Vikings in the Baltic. He and his companions, Kolskegg and Hallvard, had great success on this journey, and sailed away from the Baltic with many treasures. They headed for Hedeby in Denmark to meet with King Harald Gormsson, Harald Bluetooth’s father. When he arrived, the king welcomed him warmly and gave him a seat next to his own, which was a tremendous honor to give.

The king spoke to Gunnar: ‘It appears to me that your equal is not to be found far or near.“

The king offered to give him a wife and large holdings if he would settle down there. Gunnar thanked the king but said that first he wanted to return to Iceland to see his kinsmen and friends.

“Then you will never come back to us,” said the king (surely with a saddened tone).

“Fate must decide that, my lord,” said Gunnar.

Gunnar gave the king a good longship and many other valuables. The king gave him stately garments of his own, leather gloves embroidered with gold, a gold-studded headband, and a Russian hat.

Following this, Gunnar sailed north to Hrising, and then to Trondheim, where he intended to meet with Jarl Hakon of Norway. Jarl Hakon received him well and invited Gunnar to spend the winter with him; Gunnar accepted. He had the respect of everybody there. At Yule the jarl gave him a gold bracelet.

In the spring, Gunnar made his way back to Iceland. But before leaving, the jarl offered him as much flour and timber as he wanted – despite the fact that supplies were low that year. Gunnar thanked him and set off for Iceland, arriving there early in the summer. Gunnar then rode home, but soon after went to see his good friend Njal. They discussed Gunnar’s travels and Njal gave him warnings, for Gunnar’s new wealth would bring jealousy. Upon leaving Njal’s home, Gunnar gave him good gifts and thanked him for looking after his property while he was away.2

Even in this short passage from Njáls saga, several examples of gift-giving are mentioned. But the most important thing to mention here is that gift-giving always occurred within the context of building and solidifying social relations.Gunnar, who caught the eye of King Harald, was offered gifts by the king, who wanted him to stay in Denmark and enter into his service. The king’s gifts to Gunnar reflected a desire to better their social relationship with one another. While the king hoped to win over Gunnar, or perhaps make him feel obligated to enter his service, Gunnar turned him down. 

 Yet, one could argue that he was only able to do this because he offered the king gifts in return. This was another important aspect about gift-giving in the Norse world, that a gift was meant to be repaid, whether through more gifts or through social obligations.4 Both King Harald and Jarl Hakon would expect Gunnar to serve them in the future, if he were to sail abroad to their lands again. Jarl Hakon’s Yule-gift to Gunnar, after all, was in similar spirit as King Harald’s offers: to establish a positive social relationship. 

 Gifts could be given when social relations were already well-established, of course. When Gunnar returns to Iceland, he quickly makes his way to his best friend’s home, who, as we learned, watched his property for him while he was away. Njal also encouraged him to go abroad when Hallvard came to Iceland and urged Gunnar to join him in raiding.Thus, Gunnar offered Njal gifts to repay the favors that Njal had done for him: good advice, protecting his property, and continued friendship.


GIFT-GIVING AT FEASTS

But we cannot leave out the importance of gift-giving at social gatherings! While this type of gift exchange was closely related to that which we have already talked about together (i.e. gifts steeped with social context), we have yet to see how gifts are exchanged at larger scales. It was not infrequent for households to hold feasts in their halls and invites friends, kin, and neighbors to join them. In the Norse world, however, it was expected that the host would give their guests gifts as they left. These norms are expressed in Hávamál, an Eddic poem about social wisdom, magic, and Odin. 6 But, to illustrate this norm in a narrative form, allow me to share another passage from Njáls saga:

There was a man named Hoskuld who was the foster-son of Njal. One day he invited Njal’s sons over for a feast, along with many other guests from the neighborhood. Everyone whom he had invited came to the feast, and it went very well. When people were ready to go home, Hoskuld chose good gifts for them and went along with the Njalssons on their way. The Sigfussons and all the others accompanied him. Both sides said that no one would ever come between them.7

This custom is mentioned several times in Njáls saga alone, as well as in several other sagas. Not much detail tends to be given though, likely because most folk listening to the saga were already familiar with such festivities. While this is indeed a woe for historians and curious readers, time need not be wasted on such things for them! To give more examples may run the risk of redundancy, but there is one from Laxdœla saga regarding Christmas that may be of particular interest to some folk in the hall this evening:

There was a man named Thorkel Eyjolfsson who became a leader of prominence in Iceland. After a summer spent in Norway, he returned to Iceland with a great deal of honor. Thorkel spent the following winter at home on his farm. He held a Christmas feast at Helgafell attended by a great number of people. Everything he did that winter was done extravagantly, with no opposition from Gudrun, who said that wealth was well spent if people gained esteem as a result, and anything Gudrun needed in order to have things in grand style was made available. That winter Thorkel gave gifts to his friends and many valuable objects he had brought with him from abroad.8

While it is true that our anonymous wanderer sought insight to how heathens gave gifts to one another, this example of converted Icelanders celebrating Christmas still holds some value for such ends! As we have spoken of to great lengths already, traditions and norms regarding the exchanging of gifts in the Norse world had rather deep roots (socially and culturally). Even after converting, these traditions did not change drastically. Feasts held for Christmas (ON jól) were likely much like those once held for Yule (ON jól), even the Old Norse word for such a holiday remained unchanged as conversion took place.


GIFT-GIVING AT YULE

When Yule came around, a Yule-feast (jólaboð) was held, which included Yule-drinking (jóladrykkja), perhaps even the drinking of Yule-ale (jólaǫl), and the exchanging of Yule-gifts (jólagjafar).10 A wonderful example of gift-exchanges during Yule comes from Egils saga, which I will now retell below:

There was a man named Arinbjorn who was a close friend of Egil’s. One year he held a great Yule feast to which he invited his friends and neighbors from the district. It was splendid and well attended. He gave Egil a customary Yuletide gift, a silk gown with ornate gold embroidery and gold buttons all the way down the front, which was cut especially to fit Egil’s frame. He also gave him a complete set of cloths, cut from English cloth in many colors. Arinbjorn gave all manner of tokens of friendship at Yuletide to the people who visited him, since he was exceptionally generous and firm of character.

Then Egil made a verse:

From kindness alone
that noble man gave the poet
a silk gown with gold buttons;
I will never have a better friend. 
Selfless Arinbjorn has earned 
the stature of a king
– or more. A long time will pass 
Before his like is born again.11


EXCHANGING THE GIFTS OF FEUD

Not all gift-giving was positive, though. While gifts were often used to promote new social relations and maintain old ones, as well as to satisfy guests and celebrate the holidays, gifts often had a broader scope in the Norse world. The gifts exchanged in feud, disputes between prominent families, were not in the form of goods from abroad or gifts from kings, but rather they were gifts of slander and blood. Consider this passage from Njáls saga:

After a feast gone wrong, Hallgerd, Gunnar’s troublesome wife, called Njal “Old Beardless” and his sons “Dung-beardlings.” These are grave insults for men to have received in the Norse world. News quickly spread of this slander, and when Bergthora, Njal’s wife, learned about this, she had this to say to her sons:

“Gifts have been given to you all, father and sons, and you’re not real men unless you repay them.”

“What gifts are these?” said Skarphedin, one of Njal’s sons.

“You, my sons, have all received the same gift: you have been called ‘Dung-beardlings,’ and my husband has been called ‘Old Beardless.’”

She then encourages them to act accordingly, and that night they left the farmstead with weapons and shields in their hands.12

As one can tell from this example, medieval Icelanders spoke about gifts not only in terms of goods exchanged, but also in terms of insults and offenses. These ‘gifts’ were much like those mentioned earlier: they had social implications and demanded repayment. Yet, a gift of slander is to be repaid in a similar fashion. So, what was their gift in return? They took the life of a man named Sigmund, who composed verses with these slanderous names at Hallgerd’s encouragement.13 Thus, the concept of gifts in the Norse world was not restricted to material goods exchanged between friends or social partners, gift-giving was also an intricate part of the larger game of honor and feud.14


GIFT-GIVING IN THE OLD LORE

To further illustrate just how imbedded gift-giving norms were in the Norse world, let’s consider some mythical examples involving the god Odin. As I mentioned briefly before, the Hávamál has much to say about host-guest traditions in the Norse world, and it is a poem ‘attributed’ to the High One, also known as Odin. Yet, his role in symbolizing gift-giving norms is highlighted through his interactions with great heroes, such as King Hrolf Kraki, Sigmund Volsungason, and Sigurd Fafnisbani. In these examples, Odin offers these heroes gifts that hold the promise of victory in battle. If they accept his gifts, they will be granted victory, but not indefinitely. He often offers these gifts in disguise, however, which tests the recipient. Odin performs the social expectations of a good host by offering gifts, but will the hero, as his guest, respond appropriately? Let’s see if King Hrolf Kraki can pass Odin’s gift-giving test:

King Hrolf and his men were riding one day when night was soon upon them. As the sun retreated from them, they came across a farm. When they went to the door for shelter, a farmer by the name of Hrani opened the door; they had run into him before. Hrani welcomed them in, and, performing wonderfully as a gracious host, he provided them with full hospitality. Before long, Hrani offered them gifts (as we saw with feasts in the sagas recalled above):

“Here, I want to give you these weapons,” said the farmer.

The king replied, “These are hideous weapons, farmer.” There was a shield, a sword, and a coat of mail, but King Hrolf refused to accept the equipment. Hrani’s mood quickly changed. He nearly lost his temper, thinking that he had been shown dishonor.

Hrani said, “You, King Hrolf, are not acting as cleverly as you think, and you are not always as wise as you might assume.” The farmer was much offended.

Now there was no staying the night and, even though it was dark outside, they prepared to ride away. Hrani’s face showed only displeasure; he thought himself poorly valued. The king had refused to accept his gifts, and he did nothing to hinder their leaving if that would please them. King Hrolf and his company rode out and, as matters stood, there were no farewells.

When they had not gone very far, Bodvar halted and said, “Good sense comes late to fools, and so it comes to me now. I suspect that we have not behaved very wisely in rejecting what we should have accepted. We may have denied ourselves victory.”

King Hrolf answered, “I suspect the same, because that must have been Odin the Old. Certainly the man had but one eye.”15

It was too late to reverse their offense; their victory was denied. What is important to make note of here, though, is that this mythological scene reveals much about Norse customs. As we saw before, hosts often gave their guests gifts, but little was said before about guest rejecting such gifts. Here we see this unfold, and the guests’ refusal of the host’s gifts results in a grave offense being made. This matter was made worse by the fact that Hrani was actually Odin. Nonetheless, it still reflects genuine social norms.


CONCLUSION

There are a few other examples of Odin’s gift-giving in Völsunga saga, but I suspect that I have rambled on far longer than I was requested to. After all, our anonymous wanderer asked for the basics of gift-giving, did they not? Let’s not get too carried away then, ? Allow me to summarize what has been said about Norse gift-giving practices for all the folk in the hall this evening:

  • Our sources for gift-giving practices frequently give precedence to chieftains (goðar) and well-to-do farmers (bœndr), as well as kings abroad (especially Norway).
  • For those people, gift-giving always occurred within the context of building and solidifying social relations (kings to heroes, friends to friends, kin to kin – usually occurring between people of relatively similar social status).
  • A gift was meant to be repaid, whether through more gifts or through social obligations.
  • At feasts and social gatherings, hosts would give gifts to their guests (this was expected social behavior; if a gift was not given, the guest would be insulted).
  • Gifts were often exchanged during Yuletide at special feasts called jólaboð. This could occur between close friends or even to the local community.
  • Gift-giving was also an intricate part of the larger game of honor and feud (an insult or injury was considered a gift, and was expected to be repaid as such).
  • If a guest refuses the gifts of their host, the host will be insulted (just as a guest would be if the host does not offer them a gift).
  • Odin is deeply connected with gift-giving, especially in regards to the guest-host relationship.

There is certainly more that could be said about gift-giving in the Norse world, such as the examples from the grágás of laws dictating that gifts were to be given to those who were less fortunate.16 But if I were to include everything, I wouldn’t be giving our wanderer the basics, would I? Thus, the bullet points above are my own selected basics of Norse gift-giving that folk gathered here tonight should be aware of. Yet, I should say that there is much more to learn by reading the sagas for yourself! As always, I highly encourage you all to delve into those fascinating tales from the days of old! They are all truly quite wondrous. But, for now, let’s return to drink and merriment, shall we? I hope that my stories have provided you with some wisdom and pleasure, but festivities await, so let’s not dwell!

Skál! (Cheers!)
 – Fjorn the Skald


ENDNOTES

  1. For more on goðar and bœndr, see William Ian Miller, “Chieftains and Thingmen,” in Bloodtaking and Peacemaking: Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990), 22-26.
  2. To read this passage in earnest, without summarization and reinterpretation, see Robert Cook trans., Njal’s Saga (London: Penguin, 2001), 48-52 (chapters 30-32).
  3. Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, 82.
  4. Ibid.
  5. Cook trans., Njal’s Saga, 46 (chapter 28).
  6. To read this poem, see Carolyne Larrington trans., The Poetic Edda (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 13-35.
  7. Cook trans., Njal’s Saga, 185 (chapter 109).
  8. Retold and quoted from Keneva Kunz trans., The Saga of the People of Laxardal and Bolli Bollason’s Tale (London: Penguin Books, 2008), 164-66 (chapters 74 and 75).
  9. See Geir T. Zoëga, A Concise Dictionary of Old Icelandic (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2004), 234, for a full definition of jól and other related words.
  10. For the definitions of these terms, see the source cited above.
  11. Retold and quoted from Bernard Scudder trans., Egil’s Saga (London: Penguin Books, 2004), 146 (chapter 68).
  12. Cook trans., Njal’s Saga, 74 (chapter 44).
  13. Ibid.
  14. For more on Norse feud, see Jesse L. Byock, Feud in the Icelandic Saga (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982) and William Ian Miller, Bloodtaking and Pacemaking: Feud, Law, and Society in Saga Iceland (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990).
  15. Retold and quoted from Jesse L. Byock trans., The Saga of King Hrolf Kraki (London: Penguin Books, 1998), 68 (chapter 30).
  16. Miller, Bloodtaking and Peacemaking, 82-83.

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What is Hel (the place) like? Who goes to Hel? Is it something to be feared?

transistorxiii:

oldmotherfrost:

answersfromvanaheim:

trollkunnigr:

This! Hel (or more accurately Helheim)  is not to be confused with the Christian Hell. 

It is literally just a place that spirits go who were not chosen for Valhalla. The only ones chosen for Valhalla are the absolute best fighters and warriors because Odin wants them to help fight for him at Ragnarok. 

Families and friends are reunited, there are fires, and it is considered to be a place of rest and fellowship. Do not think of this as a negative place. 

Likewise, Hel (or Hela) does not represent the Devil. She is a kind Goddess who is gentle with Spirits and helps the Bereaved family grieve and heal. 

I would also like to note that there are more possible afterlife destinations than Hel, Valhalla, or Folkvangr.

  • You could stay around your grave, giving advice to your descendants. (This is really popular in certain Heathen circles.)
  • You could chill with your ancestors in a mountain.
  • You could go live with Ran in her hall (she takes drowning victims).
  • You could reincarnate (some say you only reincarnate through the family line).

And since the soul (for lack of a better term) is split into multiple parts, it’s possible that different bits go to different places. IIRC I think the fylgja could be inherited.

None of these afterlives are better or worse than others, they’re just different.

This explains it better than I could.

So I asked someone this question on WordPress earlier today but I’ll ask here too. I’ve heard in the past sometimes the Gods will allow people they favored in their halls as well. How accurate is that?

…maybe. Obviously we have the issue where no one in the Eddas or sagas wrote any specific practices down, and there’s probably a good chance that things changed over time, which we don’t see. But off the top of my head there are a few lines that possibly imply it could happen.

In Egils saga, in the Sonatorrek, line 18, he says this about his son who drowned:

I do not like the company of men,
even though they are in agreement;
my son has
arrived in the world of the gods,
the son of my wife, to pay a visit

(i.e. to Óðinn)

(tr. Anthony Faulkes)

So while one would think said son would have gone to Rán, the poem seems to imply that he’s in Asgard (or whatever else ‘the world of the gods’ might mean). In another instance, in Krákumál, which is a (probably later) poem said to be the final words of Ragnar Lothbrok, you get this stanza, where despite dying in a snake pit he says he’ll be “drinking beer soon from a deep horn, this drengr won’t worry over death at Odin’s house”– Crawford doesn’t get to stanzas 28 and 29, but they reiterate the notion.

Then Harbarthsljoth, the argument between Odin (Greybeard) and Thor over getting a ride (go figure), has this little tidbit in it, in stanza 24:

theasatrucommunity:

Hel is the realm that most people will see after they perish. Those who do not go to Odin’s or Freyja’s hall after dying in battle will find themselves in Hel. Unlike the Christian adaptation of the underworld, Hel [for the most part] is not a place of punishment and should not be feared. In literature, the realm has been defined to be in eternal Autumn, and the spirits continue their life’s work just as if they were still alive in Midgard. There have been other parts of Hel described to exist to punish law and oath breakers, but for the most part, Hel is a rather pleasant place.

Graybeard said:
 [24] “I was in the south
 making battles.
I turned princes against one
another, I never made peace.
Odin receives the powerful men
who fall in battle,
and Thor receives their servants.”

(tr. Jackson Crawford, emphasis mine)

So there’s that. The first two examples are sagas/poetry, and could be wishful thinking (although Ragnar seems pretty sure….but you know, good trait to have in that situation). The Poetic Edda excerpt has Odin seemingly confirming that Thor receives the dead in some capacity, but… the details end there; I don’t have anything on why, how, or what that would even entail. It also doesn’t seem like a ‘favored’ thing in this example; it’s specifically being used as an insult. That said, Thor immediately hits him with almost the same line Loki does in Lokasenna, (to paraphrase- that he deals out victory unfairly), so this could very well be a YMMV moment. 

So I don’t know. I’m not comfortable just given that information that it’s a yes, but I wouldn’t rule it out (maybe I’ll poke around a little more into it, or someone will know more)

Hello, vinur minn! (I’m learning haha!) I have a question I’ve been thinking about since I’ve started reading the Poetic Edda, and delving into the stories. To what extent do you think Snorri’s Christian background influenced his writings? Obviously, there are many parallels, and many of these parallels occur in many, many religions (ex: virgin births, Odin/Christ’s sacrifices on the tree/cross and being pierced by pointy things, etc). (Part 1)

fjorn-the-skald:

(Part 2) Natural overlap/ideas must be taken into consideration. But what about Christianity, and its influence on Snorri, specifically? Do you think that there are any particular stories or themes that are purely Norse? For example, from what I remember, the cyclical aspect (birth and rebirth of the world, the beginning, Ragnarok, and the cycle repeating) of the Norse religion is fairly unique compared to other more linear religions (such as Christianity). What are your thoughts in this? (Sorry the question is a little messy)

In sum: To what extent do you think Snorri’s Christian background influenced his writings? What about Christianity specifically? Do you think that there are any particular stories or themes that are purely Norse? What are your thoughts on this?


Velkomin(n), vinur minn!
(Welcome, my friend!)

Without a doubt, his background and time influenced his writings a great deal, but not necessarily in an intentionally malicious way. Christianity inevitably played a considerable role in this (culturally), but not in a completely restricting way, either (especially for Iceland). Besides, discussing anything “pure” is quite tricky (if not impossible). Even the Prose Edda itself, as a work of literature, was influenced by Latin treaties (in terms of form and structure, but not necessarily in purpose). Furthermore, even the concepts of rebirth surrounding Ragnarok can be found in Greek mythology and in the Old Testament (both feature Great Floods), but even in the New Testament with Jesus’ return (which in itself is a form of a reborn world). They may have different ways of telling the story, but the essence is still shared (as you have noted). Despite this, Snorri seems to have actually managed to preserve some genuine Norse lore. It may not be in the same form that it once was, and it may not be “pure” to some fictional standard version that never actually existed, but there is truth within his work; he did not simply conjure up these tales from nothing. They have mixed with a later culture, but they derive from older roots.

But that’s just the simple, quick-and-dirty way of answering your questions. We have much more to discuss if I want my words and thoughts to be taken seriously. But do keep in mind that I am a historian, which means that my thoughts are based on historical areas (social, cultural, etc.) rather than strictly literary analysis. In other words, I have not broken down individual stories to discover what is Norse and what is not, but instead I have broken down Snorri’s life and society to discover what might have contributed and influenced the creation of the Prose Edda itself.


Snorri Sturluson: Keeping the Old Alive with the New.

To get into the depth of your questions, we need to first get a grasp for who Snorri was and what kind of world he lived in. What was his education? What influenced him? What was his purpose? How would his work have been received? The answers to these questions can be found both in his personal life and in the society in which his life took place.

Snorri Sturluson’s Life and Education.

Snorri was born at Hvamm in western Iceland around the year 1179 AD to a powerful family known as the Sturlungs. He was fostered at Oddi in southern Iceland after the age of three, partly due to the death of his father. The one who fostered him was Jón Loptsson, who was both a deacon and a chieftain, but also the grandson of the Latin-writing historian Sæmundr fróði (the Learned).(1) Although Jón was a religious man, he fought strongly against the solidification of the Icelandic Church throughout the later twelfth century.(2)

As for Snorri’s education, it does not seem that he was deeply familiar with Latin; he seldom uses it, even in quotation.(3) In the end, his learning “was mostly in native lore rather than continental European writings in Latin.”(4) What he did know about Latin concepts and theological ideas came from society, from clerical friends, such as Styrmir Kárason (a priest and historian), and from “vernacular preaching in churches.”(5) Although Snorri himself was not directly exposed to Latin learning (as a student), he was, at the very least, indirectly exposed to it (as a layman) through society.

The majority of the rest of his life is filled with secular politics (which we need not concern ourselves with too much), wherein he gained considerable wealth through marriage (to Herdís Bersadóttir) and acquired connections with powerful Norwegians (such as the young King Hákon and his father-in-law Jarl Skúli).(6) He was so involved with secular affairs, in fact, that he died in 1241 while ‘feuding’ with the also powerful Icelander Gizurr Þorvaldsson.(7) Yet, no matter how involved Snorri was with secular, native life and knowledge, he was a Christian and so was the majority of his society (which had been so for over two hundred years). This inevitably impacted his writing of Norse lore and myth, but how much so? In what ways did his writing of old material reflect this new society?

Snorri’s Writing: The Debate of Influence.

Ursula and Peter Dronke, Faulkes, and Margaret Clunies Ross have all “pointed to various Latin sources, Classical, Biblical or Medieval, as possibly contributing to Snorri’s understanding of the heathen religion.”(8) Andreas Heusler, an earlier historian from the early twentieth century, even rose the question of Snorri’s authorship of the Prologue and Gylfaginning completely, calling it (the Prologue in particular) ‘ein elendes Machwerk’ (‘a sorry piece of work’).(9) To further illustrate how Snorri deviated from other authors who were, in fact, steeped in knowledge of the Latin tradition, Anthony Faulkes offers this:

“For even more remarkable is the fact that none of the writers mentioned has been able to point to any verbal correspondence in Snorri’s work with a Latin source. It is only the concepts that can be said to be similar. He has no quotations from or references to non-Icelandic works, and unlike the priest Ari Þorgilsson he does not scatter Latin words in his text, or use Latin in his headings (Ari’s surviving work is labelled Libellus Islandorum). Though he has prologues like Latin writers, Snorri’s prologues do not include the same standard topics as those of writers in Latin (see Sverrir Tómasson 1988). In his well-known discussion of the importance of skaldic verse in the prologue to Heimskringla he directly contradicts the views of most Classical historians, who generally did not regard poetry as suitable for use as a historical source.”(10)

To continue on, Snorri briefly mentions in his Prologue that the gods came from Troy, which is a point often raised by those who say that his Prose Edda is ‘corrupted’ by Christianity. This is also known as euhemerism, a concept attributed to the Greek philosopher Euhemerus (c. 300 BC), and a concept that was “widespread in the Middle Ages, usually among historians (my emphasis).”(11) Instead of portraying the old gods as the devil in disguise, as most theologians would have, Snorri went the philosophical (historical) route. Furthermore, allegory was “all-pervasive in Latin writings during the Middle Ages,” but Snorri “does not interpret mythology allegorically, nor does he derive moral teaching from it.”(12) Instead, he speaks of them rather plainly; his account seems more like “a scholarly and antiquarian attempt to record the beliefs of his ancestors without prejudice” for the sake the skaldic art which was still alive in his day (but at risk of losing its older roots).(13) In further regards to Troy, Faulkes has this to say:

“So this way of reading mythology is closest to euhemerism: the Greek and Trojan heroes came to be regarded as gods after their deaths, their deeds were transferred into supernatural ones, and their names changed. It is nothing like the allegories of Latin tradition, and there is little or no moralisation. The writer of this passage, whether is was Snorri or not, had clearly come across allegory, but has not fully understood how it works (my emphasis). His allegorisation of the Greek story does not give it any coherent non-historical meaning. His equivalences are also mostly preposterous, and there are many mistakes or misunderstandings of the Greek story. It cannot be used as evidence that the author was greatly acquainted with Medieval Latin tradition.”(14)

In the end, when looking more closely at Snorri’s work, it is evident that he was not professionally trained in the Latin tradition. Instead, the Christian influences that made their way into Snorri’s rendition of Norse mythology do not come from education or learned ‘bias’, but rather from the influence of his society. Thus, it was not just Snorri’s own Christian background that influenced his writing; he was influenced by (and perhaps to a greater extent) the cultural environment in which he grew up and worked in. Snorri’s attempt to preserve the Old was true, but he inevitably mixed it with the New in order to ensure it survived by making old lore relatable to a drastically different world.

Snorri’s Cultural Environment: The Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries.

What determined the degree of Christian influence in his works, then, was not even an active desire to Christianize older material, but rather to rationalize it within the framework of his own, later time; he had to make heathen gods and stories appealing and useful to a Christianized culture.

To provide a bit of historical context, the Icelandic church had been consolidating throughout the twelfth century, before Snorri’s birth. Although the Icelanders had been Christian since around the year 1000, the real founding years of the Icelandic Church were during the years of Bishop Gizurr (1082-1118), the first true bishop of Skálholt.(15) The bishopric of Skálholt (which is fairly close to Oddi) is traditionally dated to having been founded in 1056. Another bishopric was then established at Hólar under Jón Ögmundarson (1106-21), who swiftly began a cathedral school there.(16) During this time, under Bishop Gizurr (and beyond), Christianity began to expand. In 1096, tithing was introduced to Iceland, and by 1133, Iceland had its first monastery (and would gain six more by the end of the medieval period) at Þingeyjar in Húnavatnsþing; in 1186, Iceland’s first nunnery was established at Kirkjubær in Skaftafelsþing.(17)

Even before Snorri’s birth, Christianity was rapidly being embraced and expanded by Icelandic society and culture. Oddi, where Snorri was fostered, was not only near Skálholt, and thus inevitably exposed to its cultural and learning environment, but also regarded as a place of learning with a latin school.(18) Although Snorri himself likely did not learn at such a school, he would have been influenced by those who had, and the ideas that flowed in that region as a result.

I suppose the question we must turn to, then, is how did goðar (chieftains, of which Snorri was a part) adapt to the presence of Christianity? How did Christianity transform their role, and how, then, did it influence them?

Before Christianity, the goðar were also pagan priests. Although it is not known when goðar began to seek Christian learning, it is not unreasonable to assume that they maintained their dual role as both social and religious authorities by, to put it simply, switching gods.(19) As a result, lay aristocracy began to intermingle with the tasks often reserved to Churchmen in continental Europe. Iceland soon felt tension as some Church authorities began to push for a separation, which began in the late twelfth century (especially with St. Þorlákr) and early thirteenth century. This struggle is what Snorri grew up with, and the Church never quite separated itself from lay society during his time.

***

Snorri himself was far more concerned with secular life than religious learning, but he was inevitably exposed to both worlds given his position and upbringing. Furthermore, the world that he was communicating to was now deeply Christian, which is stressed by the fact that secular authorities had even embraced Christianity into their domain; it was more and more a part of everyday life. Thus, even though his formal Christian background was quite meager (educationally speaking), he lived within a culture and society that now communicated through a different lens. It was this cultural lens, more than his own personal background, that truly influenced his work. Since this lens now dominated their worldview, it obscured any old material that passed through it. Such is the natural process for historical information, for even today the lens of present experience filters and ‘alters’ meaning, interpretation, and significance.

So, if not to Christianize older material, why did Snorri write the Prose Edda? To what benefit did he see old lore to such a Christianized culture and society? Anthony Faulkes has words better than I on this, and I would like to close our discussion with them:

“Sagas and poetry on native subjects were not the only sorts of writing cultivated in Iceland. Literature of other kinds was penetrating the north from southern Europe. From early in the twelfth century at least, saints’ lives and other Latin works had been known and soon translated in Iceland. Stories of love and chivalry, like that of Tristram and Yseult, and ballads, were becoming known and popular in Scandinavia. It is likely that Snorri Sturluson, traditional aristocrat as he was, would have foreseen that the traditional poetry of the skalds was to be superseded on the one hand by the writing of prose sagas (an activity in which he himself engaged, ironically with greater success that his poetical compositions), and on the other by new kinds of poetry in different metres and on new themes. It seems that he wrote his Edda as a treatise on traditional skaldic verse to try to keep interest in it alive and to encourage young people to continue to compose in the traditional Scandinavian oral style, although in form the work itself is highly literary and owes much to the newly introduced tradition of Latin learned treatises.”(20)

In the end, it is difficult (if not impossible), to sort out what is “purely” Norse against what is Christian influence from his contemporary cultural environment. What we do know, however, was that Snorri gathered genuine Norse lore and, through a new form of expression, brought it into conversation with a Christian culture; he aimed to make old lore relevant to a new, Christianized society. And so, to answer your question, I would say that his personal background influenced him less than his society did, and that Christianity only dramatically influenced his work in terms of form and presentation. Even Snorri himself should have known that such lore once orally told never had a concrete, singular form; but his writing had to subject it to such stagnancy if it were to be preserved amid the influx of ‘foreign’ culture; his society was becoming more and more literate, and thus becoming less oral. He did what he felt necessary to promote and educate the new, younger generation in the old, traditional art form of skaldic poetry.

That said, he was not hostile to his contemporary society; he was not a pagan, nor was he promoting a resurgence in paganism. In fact, if anything truly influenced his writing of Norse myth, it was his purpose. His goal was not to create an objective history of Norse lore, but rather to make it useful to a new society. Even today, most historians do not find an objective history plausible. Historians create narratives from a chaotic past; we make stories out of scrambled evidence that we can relate to. Snorri was no different. He gathered scattered bits of tradition and brought them together into a narrative that himself and his contemporaries could better understand and appreciate.

Með vinsemd og virðingu,
(With friendliness and respect,)
— Fjorn


ENDNOTES:
1. Anthony Faulkes, “Snorri Sturluson: his life and work” (London: Viking Society for Northern Research), 1.
2. Ibid. Secular and religious (Christian) life were strongly intertwined in Iceland. The Church began to push for autonomy, but the secular ‘lords’ pushed back against them.
3. Ibid. He easily could have been, but our historical records do not show us enough to be confident in making such an assertion.
4. Ibid.
5. Ibid.
6. Ibid., 1, 3.
7. Ibid., 3.
8. Anthony Faulkes, “The influence of the Latin Tradition on Snorri Sturluson’s writings,” (London: Viking Society for Northern Research), 1.
9. Ibid.
10. Ibid., 2.
11. Ibid., 3-4.
12. Ibid., 5.
13. Anthony Faulkes, “Introduction,” in Edda (London: Everyman, 1995), xviii.
14. Faulkes, “The Influence of Latin Tradition…,” 7.
15. Gunnar Karlsson, The History of Iceland (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2000), 38. Technically speaking, Ísleifr was the first, but he was “hardly more than a missionary bishop.” Ari Þorgilsson credits Gizurr as being the one who “laid down as law that the see of the bishop that was in Iceland should be at Skálholt, whereas before it had been nowhere…”
16. Ibid.
17. Ibid., 39.
18. Ibid., 41.
19. Ibid., 40.
20. Anthony Faulkes, “Introduction,” in Edda (London: Everyman, 1995), xiii.


DISCLAIMER | ANSWERS | SELECTED ANSWERS

Rådare (Norse Creatures)

urbanspacewitch:

I will be using the Swedish names/words as there are no English translations.

  • Rådare
    comes from the word “råda” which means “to rule/take care of” so a rådare is a creature that rules over
    something.
  • Every rådare
    rules over their own thing. For example there’s a skogsrå for every forest.

  • The easiest way to make them happy is through
    respect and gifts.

  • You can protect yourself from them by wearing
    metal.

  • Remember that the gift has to be biodegradable!
    A lot of sources say that you should give coins, clothes, tobacco etc. But this
    is extremely disrespectful as you’re destroying their home (and it’s generally
    shitty to pollute).

  • Even if
    you haven’t done anything to make them angry it’s always good to show respect
    by acknowledging them when you enter their home.

Skogsrå

  • Rules
    over the forest and the creatures that live there.
  • Usually looks like a beautiful woman with a
    hollow back and/or hooves and tail. She can also take the shape of different
    forest creatures.

  • If in a good mood she helps those who are lost
    and warns people about incoming storms.

  • If in a bad mood she makes sure people get lost.

  • If you live on your own in/close to a forest (or
    if you are camping) she might come at night when you’re sitting by the fire and
    attempt to seduce you. If you sleep with her she will keep a part of your soul
    and you will always have a longing and obsession with the forest.

  • If
    hunters give her gifts she might “give” them an extra big animal. Though if
    they manage to shoot one of the animals she protects they have to face her
    wrath

Havsrå

  • Rules
    over the ocean and the creatures that lives there.
  • Usually looks like a beautiful woman with long hair, gills, fins, and a
    fishtail. She can also take the shape of different sea creatures.
  • If in a good mood she shows fishermen where they can find the best fish or
    warns them about incoming storms. She can also give them good wind and help
    boats that are taking in water.
  • If in a bad mood she can trick boats into storms so they get lost or sink.
  • Sometimes she will seduce people and drag them down to her home at the bottom
    of the ocean where they are forced to work as servants.
  • She might stop boats and offer to buy their load, if this happens it’s best
    to accepts as if you say no she might get so angry that she takes down the
    entire ship.

Sjörå

  • Rules over lakes
    and the creatures that live there.
  • Usually looks like a beautiful woman with a hollow back. Unlike havsrået she
    has legs. She can also take the shape of different freshwater creatures.
  • If in a good mood she might help fishermen and warn them about incoming
    storms.
  • She only drowns people who have made her angry or if she is very hungry.
  • Just like skogsrået if fishermen give her gifts she might “give” them an
    extra big fish. Though if they manage to catch one of the creatures she
    protects they have to face her wrath.

Gruvrå

  • Rules over
    mountains and mines.
  • Usually looks like a tall woman in an elegant, grey dress. If seen wearing
    black it is a sure sign of death.
  • If in a good mood she shows miners better ore veins or warns them about any
    dangers.
  • If in a bad mood she tries to scare people away, if they ignore the warning
    signs she makes sure they get lost in the mine.
  • Enjoys silence and solitude.
  • Doesn’t like it when people make too much noise.
  • Becomes very angry if miners manage find one of the ore veins she protects.

Källrå

  • Rules over
    natural springs.
  • Usually looks like a young girl but most of the time she’s invisible. She can
    also take the shape of a toad.
  • If in a good mood she might show you the future though the water surface. It’s
    important to remember not to look for too long or too deep as you might lose
    yourself.
  • If in a bad mood she can make you sick after you’ve drank the water.
  • A lot of sources
    will say that if you sacrifice something to her before you drink the water it
    will heal you as well as make the water clean/drinkable. This is
    not true. There’s not a magical cure for
    deceases or disorders. Also there’s no way to magically make water drinkable.
    Always make sure a natural spring is clean before you drink from it.

This is compiled from my own grimoire / what I was taught growing up

Seiðr Resources (WIP)

thewitchofthenorse:

ergiinmiddleearth:

I get asked a lot about how I got started practicing seiðr, so I’ve decided to try and compile a Helpful Post™

from all the resources I’ve collected over the years instead of gesturing vaguely with a spindle or babbling at another stranger for hours.
I would suggest checking out the bibliographies of these sources (when they have one.) 

General Essays:

Seiðr Magic by Ed Richardson

Women and Magic in the Sagas: Seiðr and Spá by the Viking Answer Lady
Seiðr, seið, Sol-Iss-Þurs and Nordic shamanism by Yves Kodratoff

Heathen Shaman, A Practical Look into Seiðr and Norse Shamanism by Larisa Hunter

The Return of the Völva: Recovering the Practice of Seiðr by Diana L. Paxson
Drumming with the Witches: Odin and Women’s Wisdom by Diana L. Paxson

The Image of Seiðr in Old Icelandic Literature: An Essay by Lyonel D. Perabo


What is a völva? by Kari Tauring

Völva, a Shamanic Seeress by Bernadette Weyde

Purveyors of Fate – Symbols of Life and Destiny in the Icelandic Sagas by Nóel Braucher 

Norns as Fates in Gisli’s Saga by 

Nóel Braucher

Parpola, Asko 2004. Old Norse seiđr, Finnish seita and Saami shamanism. Pp. 235-273 in: Irma Hyvärinen, Petri Kallio & Jarmo Korhonen (eds.), Etymologie, Entlehnungen und Entwicklungen: Festschrift für Jorma Koivulehto zum 70. Geburtstag. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. 

Ergi Things:

Dirty Magic: Seiðr, Science, and the Parturating Man in Medieval Norse and Welsh Literature by Sarah Lynn Higley

The Valkyrie’s Gender: Old Norse Shield-Maidens and Valkyries as a Third Gender by Kathleen M. Self


Old Norse religion in long-term perspectives : origins, changes, and interactions : an international conference in Lund, Sweden, June 3-7, 2004 by 

Anders Andrén; Kristina Jennbert; Catharina Raudvere
Loki and Women Myriad Hallaug Lokadís


Sex, Love, and Beauty in Viking Age Culture by Cara Freyasdaughter
An Examination of Gender in Viking Age Scandinavia by Lizzie Colwill

Odin and Loki: A Comparison of Two Tricksters by Sam Urfur

A Womb by Magic – Transcending Gender, Transcending Realities by Maria Kvilhaug


Gender Roles in Heathenry by Sara Gavagan Conley 

Keep reading

For the anon!🌿