Archive for 'Icelandic history'

The wisdom of the vikings – Hávamál

Posted on 16. Apr, 2013 by in Icelandic culture, Icelandic history

What was life like in the Medieval times? How did people view the world they lived in, how did they value it and what were their moral codes? When it comes to Iceland we know much more than for most of the now known world because so many Icelandic texts have survived all through the years! Iceland can boast for having the largest collection of medieval literature written in Old Norse, some thousands of texts. One of the most popular is called Hávamál, the speech of the high one (= Óðinn) and it’s found in the Poetic Edda.

Hávamál can be divided into sections based on their content, of which the first one called Gestaþáttr includes guidance in poetic form for living a successful and happy life. It is still often quoted, and no wonder since the advice within has not been affected by the hundreds of years that have passed since it was penned down.

A virtuous person, Hávamál stresses, is one who is moderate in everything. A happy one is never too much of this or that because extremes bring about them much unhappiness, and at times the stanzas in it seem to carry a double meaning, so it’s best to meditate on each one of the little poems rather than just take them at face value. Much importance lies in how something is said – which happens to be one of the key advice Hávamál offers as well!

Óðinn disguised as a traveler. I just keep seeing Tolkien’s Gandalf though…

Poems 1-11: advice for someone who’s travelling and does not know whether they’re among friends or foes. In Medieval times this could have been a matter of life and death, but the advice can be applied to the present day as well even if we’re no longer risking an ax to the head.

6.
Að hyggjandi sinni
skylit maður hræsinn vera
heldur gætinn að geði.
Þá er horskur og þögull
kemur heimsgarða til
sjaldan verður víti vörum
því að óbrigðra vin
fær maður aldregi
en manvit mikið.

“Of one’s own knowledge/shouldn’t a man shout about/rather keep his thoughts to himself. /When a wise and quiet one/comes to a new village/he makes few mistakes/for more trustful friend/a man shall never have/than his own wit.”

Silence is golden. Boasting about one’s own skills/knowledge/opinions to people one doesn’t know is rarely a good idea. What’s more, there’s a chance to goof up so badly that it will bring about enemies with sharp blades – just read any old Icelandic saga to find an example of what happens next.

Óðinn and Gunnlöð

The parts 12-14 address drinking. It’s important to note, though, that the advice is not to avoid drinking but to do it in moderation, and using himself as an example Óðinn tells how he once drank himself under the table at the giantess Gunnlöð’s place, losing most of his memory of the night, and how the best parties in his opinion are the ones you can remember afterwards.

From part 15 to 18 the text warns against being cowardly or making a fool out of one’s self.

16.
Ósnjallur maður
hyggst munu ey lifa
ef hann við víg varast.
En elli gefur
honum engi frið
þótt honum geirar gefi.

“A stupid man/thinks he might life forever/if he in battle falls back. /But old age gives/him no peace/although spears gave it.”

In confrontation one should stand one’s ground. Trying to save one’s self will only result in bad reputation.

In our time this could mean for example that if you end up in an open confrontation you should stand behind your own words. Don’t try to make excuses for your deeds but face them: apologize where you’ve done wrong instead of trying to explain yourself away. Accept the possible outcome that you may be proven wrong – it will hurt your pride but such “battle wounds” will heal well and leave no lingering regrets in the back of your mind.

Stanzas from 19-23 stress the importance of moderation and power over one’s self. The Medieval Icelanders viewed self control so important that it’s the basis of the whole Gestaþáttr. The reader is advised to hold their tongue, to listen rather than to speak, avoid picking fights and to drink, eat and worry only in moderation. While the others are easily understandable that last part may sound weird. How can one worry in moderation?

The way this was seen in the Viking era was that worrying in itself was not a bad thing because it was vital to be ready to face difficulties. However, worrying endlessly over problems that could not be solved was seen as self indulgence and therefore bad. As Hávamál puts it:

23.
Ósvinnur maður
vakir um allar nætur
og hyggur að hvívetna.
Þá er móður
er að morgni kemur,
allt er víl sem var.

“Stupid man/stays awake all night/and worries about everything. /Then is tired/when the morning comes/everything is as it was before.”

This should not be taken as some kind of jab at people who actually have anxiety or are suffering from depression. I would rather think of it as a general warning against negative thought processes that we all have. Did you make some embarrassing mistake while trying to speak Icelandic to an Icelander? Forgive yourself the mistake, don’t fret over it endlessly or you’ll risk jeopardizing your own learning process if you become too shy to use the language. Most likely you’re the only person that even remembers that mistake anyway.

From 24 to 32 Gestaþáttur considers when one should talk and how, and when being quiet might be the better option. Yet, like mentioned before, these stanzas can actually address the matter deeper than the first look would have it.

28
Fróður sá þykist
er fregna kann
og segja ið sama.
Eyvitu leyna
megu ýta synir
því er gengur um guma.

“Wise seems that man/who knows how to ask/and how to answer. /No secret/can stay among men/of the things that happen between them.”

The one who asks the right questions and answers truthfully, but carefully, will seem like a wise person. Trying to keep secrets that will come out sooner or later anyway is unwise. In short, this poem tells you to be honest and sincere about the things that have been done, but also to watch how you speak and of what.

Perhaps you had a disagreement with someone and have to explain yourself to a third person. If you yourself did or said things that added up to the fight it’s best to come clean about them in as non-aggravating manner as possible. There’s a huge difference between saying “Yes, I called her a XXXXX because she really is one!” and “Yes, I called her a XXXXX and I wish I hadn’t, it was horrible of me.”

Does it matter whether you actually are feeling sorry about the name calling? Gestaþáttr says – no! In poems 33-35 and 41-46  it’s often stressed that you should be courteous even to the people you don’t trust, and that your outcome will almost certainly be better with friendliness than aggression.

36-40 and 47-49 are general advice of self sufficiency and the handling of one’s properties. Owning even a little is a blessing and outward appearances can deceive: no man is worse for not being rich.

The importance of friendship appears in 50-52. Here is where a very popular saying comes from: Maður er manns gaman. It’s a bit tricky to translate but the general gist of it is that no man is an island; a human finds happiness in another human’s company.

Poems 53-60 are my own personal favourite – they suggest moderation is equally important in braininess! Or perhaps, rather, that common sense is worth much more than endless wisdom, for it’s common sense that’ll keep you alive and able to not worry beyond that which is necessary.

56.
Meðalsnotur
skyli manna hver,
æva til snotur sé.
Því að snoturs manns hjarta
verður sjaldan glatt
ef sá er alsnotur er á.

“Middle-wise/should every man be/and never too wise. /For a wise man’s heart/becomes rarely happy/if he is too wise.”

Too much knowledge can cause much unhappiness.

61-77  deal with a variety of subjects such as reputation and necessity: what one really needs and how much of it. There’s also a strong message of the importance of being alive and how no one is useless, no matter how “faulty” they may seem:

71.
Haltur ríður hrossi,
hjörð rekur handar vanur,
daufur vegur og dugir.
Blindur er betri
en brenndur sé,
nýtur manngi nás.

“The lame can ride a horse,/a flock of cattle can be driven by a handless,/the deaf can fight a battle bravely. /It’s better to be blind/than to be burned/the dead are no use to anyone.”

Don’t judge a book by its cover. There’s a talent within everyone, so don’t scorn a person based on appearances. You can trust Óðinn’s word on this, after all he’s only got one eye and that’s never stopped him from being the king of æsir. ;)

YouTube Preview Image

Here are a couple of proverbs read out – some that are in this entry and others that aren’t, but which nevertheless give an interesting look into the moral code of the Medieval era.

Loki’s children.

Posted on 20. Feb, 2013 by in Icelandic culture, Icelandic history

“You can choose any text you like, except for poems or song lyrics.”

The first translation course that the University of Iceland offers is typically on the first semester of the third year. It takes two years of studying Icelandic before we have gathered enough vocabulary and knowledge on Iceland and its culture to be able to properly translate to our own mother tongues, and even then there are limits. Our professor forbidding us to try poems and song lyrics as our first project was wise indeed, for those texts are and can be mindbogglingly difficult, even if they seem easy at a first glance. I’ve decided to translate you the lyrics to the song Narfi by Skálmöld to better illustrate what gives Icelandic its reputation for being a difficult language to master.

Let’s first just translate the meaning of the song without bothering to try to make it fit the music, or worse, use the same traditional poetic metre as Skálmöld is using.

(You can listen to the song here while you read on.)

 

Narfi

Narfa ég hitti er nóttin var liðin,
Niflheimahliðin.

I met Narfi when the night was over
By the Niflheimur’s gates/inside Niflheimur’s gates.

This does not exactly tell a foreigner all the little details that it tells an Icelander. To better understand what was just said you’ll have to first know that Narfi is the name of one of Loki’s children. Loki Laufeyjarson, a trickster god (or more correctly a jötunn and Óðinn’s bloodbrother)(also his patronymic is coincidentally a matronymic – his mother’s name is Laufey) caused the death of Baldur, and as a punishment his son Váli was turned into a wolf. In his wolf form he tore his own brother Narfi to death, and Narfi’s guts were then used to tie Loki onto a rock.

And as if that’s not bad enough, there’s a huge snake hanging above him and dripping poison onto his face. When the drops hit him Loki writhes in pain, and that’s what causes earthquakes.

Niflheimur is the place where all the dead go who don’t get chosen for their bravery in a fight. “Hlið” is a difficult word to translate since it can either mean a gate or a side – hliðið (= the gate), hliðin (= the side). However, the plural for gate is, confusingly enough, also hliðin. My Icelandic friend says that the meaning of this line is unclear even to a native speaker, and that the meaning can be either that they meet Narfi by the gates of Niflheimur or right inside the area of Niflheimur. Both are logical places for him to be at, after all, he’s dead.

Kom hann í hnakki á kolsvörtum fola,
kólnaði gola.
Starði á okkur með stingandi augum,
staðurinn umkringdur vofum og draugum.
Þrek hans var búið og hugrekkið brostið,
beit okkur frostið.

He rode a pitch black horse
The breeze grew colder.
He looked at us with piercing eyes
The place was surrounded by spirits and ghosts.
His strength was spent and courage faltering,
The frost bit us.

Niflheimur is considered a place of eternal coldness, and in fact when Christianity first came to the Nordic countries hell was thought of as being a frozen waste just like Niflheimur! Naturally anyone nearing the place would be seeing the inhabitants too, the spirits of the dead.

Loki vill buga legg þinn og hug,
lítið því duga vopn og vörn.
Hlusti nú hver sem heyrir í mér:
Hættuleg eru Loka börn.

Loki wants to crush your leg and your mind
Little help you’ll get from your weapons and defenses.
Listen now you who hear what I say
Loki’s children are dangerous.

The verb “vilja” is another tricky one to translate, since Icelandic has many verbs that all translate as “to want” and the difference between them can be but a nuance.  ”Vilja” is probably the strongest form of wanting – f.ex. “ég vil borða ís” and “mig langar að borða ís” both translate as “I want to eat ice cream” but in the first case the meaning is “I want ice cream and you won’t be able to stop me” whereas the latter one is more of “I’d really like to have some ice cream”.

In short, the first line could just as well be translated as “Loki shall crush your leg and your mind”, meaning that he wants to see you kneel in front of him.

As for Loki’s children… they are many! Most of them are monstrous, like the eight-legged horse Sleipnir, the Fenris-wolf, the sea snake Jörmungandur/Miðgarðsormur and so on. I think the only ones that are considered human shaped and not too awful to look at are Narfi and Váli.

Hann þekkir staðinn sem hrímar og frystir,
Hel er hans systir.

He knows the place that ices over and freezes
Hel is his sister

Hel is yet another child of Loki’s, half blue-black half white, or half rotten. She was so ugly in appearance that the other gods could not bear to look at her, and that’s why she was told to hide forever and became the ruler of Niflheimur.

Hel seen on the bottom right, above her sits Baldur. Below are her dish called Hunger and her knife Famine. Hermóðr is riding Sleipnir.

Sagði að núna hann vildi mig vara
við því að fara
niður til hennar sem Niflheimi stjórnar,
neyðir og pyntar og sveltir og fórnar.

He said that he now wanted to warn me
Against going
Down to her who rules Niflheimur,
Forces and tortures and starves and sacrifices.

Hel, like mentioned.

Bráðum ég myndi svo bágindum mæta,
Brynhildi græta.

Soon I might meet such distress,
as to make Brynhildur cry.

Brynhildur is a valkyrja (= a valkyrie) and one of the goriest, most ruthless ones of them. She’s known f.ex. by the fact that she didn’t shed a tear over the death of the man she loved*, and that she among 11 other valkyries owned a loom where they wove fabric out of dead men’s guts**, so just imagine what would make a woman like that cry…

Here’s Brynhildr’s take on a broken heart: burn together on the same pyre!

Lævís og slyng þau læðast í hring,
lokka þig kringum Bæjartjörn.
Hlusti nú…

Artful and clever they sneak around
coax you around the Bæjartjörn.
Listen now…

Bæjartjörn is the central square of Ásgarð, the home of the æsir, gods.

Vilja úr leyni vinna þér mein,
villidýr reynast hefnigjörn.
Hlusti nú…

They wish to harm you from a hiding place
wild animals prove to be vengeful
Listen now…

One of the most difficult to translate parts, I found. “Úr leyni” means “from hiding”, or “from somewhere they cannot be seen”. “Að vinna” means “to work”, but “vinna þér mein” translates as “cause you harm”. The verb “reynast” means “to turn out to be”, but with the additional meaning that this has been proven to be so before; something turns out to be the way it’s expected to be. Not exactly easy to fit in one English stanza.

Óðinn vs. Fenris.

Þig vilja hryggja, þau eru stygg.
Þagna mun Frigg og fölna Hörn.
Hlusti nú…

They want you to grieve, they are distrustful/loath
Frigg will fall silent and Hörn will turn pale
Listen now…

Þig vilja hryggja might sound a little confusing. You’re supposed to look at the form of the verb, which tells you who is doing what – vilja is a plural, so it means that some others want the singular “you” of the sentence to grieve.

Stygg, the dictionary says, means shy. Yet it does not, not in the same meaning as shy has in English: an animal can be stygg if it’s been mistreated for a long time and it’s learned that humans are not to be trusted.

Frigg is the wife of Óðinn. She’s a goddess of the home, marriage and love, and she knows the future yet never speaks of it – and indeed, she will fall silent here as well even though she knows what’s going to happen.

Hörn is a battle-ready goddess who receives half of the slain (the other half going to Óðínn’s place), rides either a wild boar or a chariot pulled by two cats and owns a necklace called Brísingamen… yes, it’s one of Freyja’s names. She’s not a typical love goddess either, she’s known to be fierce enough to stand against Þór (he rather wore a dress than made her any angrier than that). There are theories that state that Frigg and Freyja might originally have been the same goddess, but this cannot be proven this way or that. It’s clear though that they’re goddesses of very different types of love.

So now that the lyrics are translated and all the names are explained – you guessed it, now would be the time to re-write the stanzas so that the meaning stays the same but the words fit the music. With both end rhymes and the traditional Icelandic ones. Well… you can now try it if you like and I wish you the best of luck! I’m going to try it as well, let’s get back to it in… say… three months time.

 

* Völsunga saga: she also plotted for his death, killed his son by her own hands and eventually herself, to be burned on his funeral pyre with him.

**Brennu-Njáll’s saga. She’s called Hildr, but in Völsunga saga she mentions that Hildr is another name for her.

Jólasveinar, the Icelandic Yule lads.

Posted on 12. Dec, 2012 by in Icelandic culture, Icelandic history

What if there was no Santa Claus but thirteen trolls instead? What if your main task for the Christmas season was not to be good so that you’d get presents but to be good so that you might live through it? What if talk of the Christmas trolls was once officially banned due to their frightfulness? Welcome to Iceland. Gleðileg jól.

The origin of the Icelandic Christmas myth dates back all the way to the viking era and Snorri Sturluson, the author of f.ex. Edda, who mentions a fearsome ogress by the name Grýla. Hundreds of years afterwards her description had mostly stayed the same. She was still a magnificent troll lady with 15 tails, except that by the 17th century she had become a voracious man-eater. Her favourite food was stew made of naughty children and to collect enough for a meal she carried 100 sacks in each tail, each sack holding 20 children, meaning that she was capable of eating 30 000 children for a single meal.

According to the legends she was thrice married and gave birth to at least 72 children according to the studies of Árni Björnsson. Of these the 13 she had with her latest husband Leppalúði became her helpers in kidnapping children for her, and her only competition in eating humans was her own cat, Urðarkötturinn. The stories of her and her children eventually became so horrifying that a law was passed in 1746 that prohibited scaring the children with stories about these monsters.

In 1932 Jóhannes úr Kötlum wrote a small poetry book of the Jólasveinar (= yule lads) where he gave a small description of each of the Christmas monsters.I was lucky enough to find a re-print of it, dating from 1970, and all of the photos in this entry are taken from that book.

The first one of them was called Stekkjarstaur/Stekkjastaur (= sheep-cote clod). He had two wooden legs or peg legs which may have made him slow to move but he still found all the energy to harass sheep that had been brought in for the winter. Old Icelandic houses were linked to the barn so the sheep running around in panic would be easily heard through the house.

The second one’s name was Giljagaur (= gully gawk). He was described as having grey hair and hiding in gullies, looking for a chance to steal milk.

Stúfur (= stubby) was the third lad and like his name suggests he was very short. He stole pans that had food dried on them and ate the crust.

The fourth, Þvörusleikir (= spoon licker) was abnormally tall and thin as a rake, severely malnourished for his habit of only eating by licking spoons clean. Not just any spoons, mind you, only the long handled ones used for cooking.

Fifth, Pottaskefill (= pot scraper) stole pots to eat what was left in them. The poem by Jóhannes mentions that he had a habit of tricking children to think someone was at the front door and when they ran there to see who it was he stole the pots and ate them clean – sad to be a child who had wished for a bit more food.

One of the creepiest ones was no doubt the sixth Jólasveinn Askasleikir (= bowl licker). See him there under the bed? That was where you’d find him if you were unlucky enough to have him in the house. He would wait there silently until you put your bowl on the floor – as you can see from the picture beds doubled as chairs and putting things on the floor was typical – and then he would reach out from under the bed, steal the bowl and eat everything that was in it. No food for you if you weren’t careful!

If Askasleikir was creepy, Hurðaskellir (= door slammer) was probably the most annoying. True to his name he slammed doors, especially during the night. Several times per night. When you had just drifted off to sleep, that’s when.

Skyrjarmur, or Skyrgámur (= skyr gobbler) was the eighth. You could tell that he had been around if there were finger marks all over the skyr. He’s often described to be a bit of a messy eater and with skyr making an awful mess is easy – just watch some of the videos of Icelandic protests, sooner or later someone flings a skyr at either the Parliament house or the police.

The ninth, Bjúgnakrækir (= sausage swiper) literally stole sausages. He hid in the rafts and at the first chance he got your sausages would be gone.

The tenth must be the creepiest, worse even than Askasleikir. His name was Gluggagægir (= window peeper) and he was described as having enormous eyes. The illustration makes it all the worse because just look at those children, they know being seen by him cannot bode well. Logically enough he’s the worst thief of the bunch which means that originally he was probably the best at stealing food for his mother whose favourite treat – well, you know.

As eleventh, Gáttaþefur (= doorway sniffer) liked to hang around the houses on the outside if someone was making laufabrauð, an Icelandic Christmas treat, and had forgotten the door open. He’s the one with the huge nose!

Ketkrókur (= meat hook) stole meat in a rather curious way – he lowered a hook through a chimney and used it to grab smoked meat that used to be hung from the rafts. Let’s not think too much about how he might have kidnapped children.

The thirteenth and the final one of the jólasveinarnir was Kertasníkir (= candle stealer). In times when candles were still made of fat he stole them to eat them.

These 13 trolls arrived one by one and guess what, today the first one leaves his cave in Dimmuborgir (= dark city, a strange lava formation area near Mývatn) where they are reputed to live. It’s Stekkjastaur, the sheep harasser, and tomorrow his brother Giljagaur the milk thief will follow suit. One by one they arrive until the Christmas arrives and after that, one by one they leave, starting again from Stekkjastaur. The last one to leave will be Kertasníkir, who will leave around Epiphany.

So when the Christmas is finally here and you may be a little hungry for having so much of your food stolen, a little tired for waking up with a start several times a night, a little spooked because weird sounds and coming from the sheep pens, the roof and – what was that shadow that just passed the window? – of course you cannot have much light because for some inexplicable reason you’re almost out of candles, isn’t it still good that you have not become Grýla’s food yet? Well, yes, it’s very nice to still be alive to celebrate the holiday, but do not let your guards down yet. The next one to arrive is

…Urðarköttur (= cliff cat), the pet cat of Grýla. No amount of being good will save you from her. In fact nothing you do yourself can save you if you are on her list. If you received no new article of clothing as a Christmas present she’ll eat you. Unfair? Very. Frightening? Yes! A popular myth to this day? Well… yes, people love this kitty cat. Here’s Björk singing about her. The lyrics are actually the same poem by Jóhannes úr Kötlum that is in this little book I photographed for this entry. They can be found in the info -part of the video so you can try learning to sing it too.

So you better watch out, you better not cry…

 

More information about the Icelandic Christmas trolls and monsters can be found here:

Grýla (English).

Yule lads (English).

Getting even with Grýla (English).

The painting of Grýla by Þrándur Þórarinsson that has recently become an internet hit. Before you click it I’m warning you all that this is a gory image of her eating a small baby alive, it may be upsetting to look at (Icelandic).

Grýla og jólasveinar (Icelandic).

Hvað getið þig sagt mér um jólasveina (Icelandic)?