A few notes before we begin: a definite noun designates a specified entity. In Icelandic, it often refers (a) to either someone or something that has been mentioned previously, (b) is in the speaker’s line of sight, or (c) is common knowledge.

Einu sinni voru karl og kona að ganga. Karlinn var …
Once upon a time, a man and woman were walking. The man was…

Hann fór til Frakklands í janúar. Á leiðinni ….
He went to France in January. Along the way…

Hver á hundinn?
Who owns the dog?

Sólin kemur upp í austri og í vestri sest hún niður
The sun comes up in the east and sets in the west.

Karlkyn                                                           Kvenkyn                                                   Hvorugkyn

As you can see, a noun is definite if it has an article. In Icelandic, the article appears as the suffixes -(i)nn for masculine nouns, -(i)n for feminine nouns, and -(i)ð for neuter nouns and their declensions in the four cases. All of these three articles in all of their declensions mean, simply, ‘the’. Note that Icelandic does not have a separate indefinite article, whereas English uses the article ‘a(n)’.

Note: there are some slight spelling deviations from these nouns for ‘irregular’ nouns (e.g., feminine -ing nouns: skilning –> skilninguna –> skilningunni –> skilningunnar)

If you were to use a demonstrative pronoun (i.e., sá, þessi), you would not affix an article to the end of the word.

kona = þessi kona 

Unlike in English, nouns in Icelandic generally stand in front of their corresponding possessive pronouns and contain a suffixed definite pronoun. Nouns are either indefinite or definite (with or without an article).

There are some exceptions to this rule, however:

1. Concrete objects – definite nouns (nouns with an article):

Þetta er bókin mín

This is my book.

Þetta er penninn minn.

This is my pen.

Sometimes possessive pronouns can stand in front of the noun for the sake of emphasis or contrast. In this case, the noun is indefinite and therefore does not take an article. This construct is much more common in spoken language.

Þetta er mín bók (en ekki þín)

This is my book (not yours)

Hann tók sínar bækur heim (en ekki hennar)

He took his (own) books home (not hers)

Þetta eru okkar bækur (en ekki ykkar)

These are our books (not yours)

Don’t be confused if you come across a noun for a concrete object without a definite object even though it’s accompanied by a possessive pronoun. Indefinite nouns before personal pronouns are characteristic of a formal style almost entirely exclusive to writing.

Formal                                                           Informal

Bækur hans hafa verið þýddar                   Bækurnar hans hafa verið þýddar

His books have been translated

Í grein sinni talar Eiríkur um…                  Í greininni sinni talar Eiríkur um..

In his article, Eiríkur talks about…

1. Family words – indefinite nouns (without an article):

Bróðir minn er eldri en ég

My brother is older than me.

Eiginkona hans er íslensk

His wife is Icelandic.

Vinur okkar er frá Frakklandi

Our friend is from France.

Unnusti hennar er ungur og efnilegur maður (formlegt)

Her fiancé is a young and promising man (formal)

The words maður (husband), kona (wife), barn (child), kærasti (boyfriend) og kærasta (girlfriend) are generally definite before a possessive pronoun:

Maðurinn minn eldar alltaf matinn

My husband always cooks dinner.

Börnin mín eru í skólanum

My children are at school.

Kærastinn hennar er íslenskur.

Her boyfriend is Icelandic.

1. Abstract nouns – nouns without an article. This usage is rather formal, and is used more often in written than in spoken language:

Líf hans var erfitt

His life was difficult

Skoðun hennar er sú að …

Her opinion is that…

Nafn mitt er Jón

My name is Jón

Samband þeirra  er innilegt

Their relationship is intimate

Hugmyndir hennar eru athyglisverðar

Her ideas are interesting

Different wording is used to convey the same ideas in less formal style. It’s not enough to simply add an article to the noun. For example:

Hann átti erfitt

He has had a difficult life (lit. He has had (it) difficult)

Hún heldur að …

He thinks/believes that…

Ég heiti Jón

My name is Jón (lit. I am called Jón)

Hún er með athyglisverðar hugmyndir

He has interesting ideas.

Note that when talking about words for body parts or something that’s located on the body, you use a definite noun, without the possessive pronoun.

Mér er illt í bakinu

My back hurts/I have a backache (lit. I hurt in the back)

Honum er illt í höfðinu

His head hurts/He has a headache (lit. He hurts in the head)

Sometimes a prepositional phrase follows the noun. This fulfills the same function as a possessive pronoun:

Hún reyndi að snerta tærnar (á sér)

She tried to touch her toes. (lit. She tried to touch the toes on herself)

Hárið á þér er alltaf vel klippt

Your hair is always well-groomed. (lit. The hair on you is always well-groomed.)

In Icelandic, there´s a concept called eignarfallseinkunn, for which I do not know the English translation. It´s an indefinite noun (no article) followed by a definite noun  (with article) in the genitive case, and it forms a possessive.

The general rule is that the possession is indefinite but the owner is definite:

Þetta er bíll mannsins sem býr í næsta húsi

This is (the) car of the man who lives nextdoor.

Kunnátta nemendanna kom kennaranum á óvart

(The) skill of the students/the students’ skill surprised the teacher.

Innihald sögunnar er frekar einfalt.

(The) contents of the story/the story’s contents are quite simple.

Rödd samviskunnar segir okkur að hætta núna.

(The) voice of conscience tells us to stop now.

Proper nouns (Jón, Ísland …) are definite by nature, and so they never take an article:

Þetta er bíll Jóns

This is (the) car of Jón/Jón’s car

Náttúra Íslands dregur að marga ferðamenn

(The) nature of Iceland/Iceland’s nature attracts many tourists.

Bækur Arnalds eru mjög vinsælar á Íslandi

Arnaldur’s books/(the) books of Arnaldur are very popular in Iceland.

If a possessive pronoun comes before the proper noun, then the possession is definite. This construction is only possible when everyone in the conversation knows the person in question (the owner), and is used exclusively in informal spoken registers and never in writing or formal situations.

Þetta er bíllinn hans Jóns

This is Jón’s car 

Þetta er taskan hennar Ingu

This is Inga’s bag. 

       

Comments

• Thank you again for the rules of usage. It would be interesting ... by Helen Col

 

Nanna, what is a Fringe Festival? 
A Fringe Festival is an art festival that is not limited to one genre of art, and is compromised of independent and often experimental artworks, often by up-and-coming artists. Comedy tends to be the largest sector at Fringe festivals, but they also include theatre, dance, spoken word, circus, cabaret, music, workshops, opera, installations, physical theatre, children’s shows, promenades and exhibitions. The first Fringe originated in Edinburgh in 1947 as an alternative to the Edinburgh International Festival, where 8 theatre companies showed up uninvited and put up shows in small venues. The Edinburgh Fringe has long ago surpassed the Edinburgh International Festival in size and is today the largest art festival in the world. Other Fringe festivals exist in cities across the globe. The Reykjavík Fringe Festival is taking place for the first time in 2018, and I am one of the festival directors.

Why did you decide to start a Fringe Festival in Iceland?

Nanna Gunnars, co-director of the Festival

I have a background in theatre, and have participated in the Edinburgh Fringe three times–twice as a part of a performance and once as a theatre critic. I wholeheartedly love the atmosphere of that festival–the air is brimming with creativity.

I found out that the Reykjavík Fringe was supposed to take place in September 2017, and got really excited about the idea of a Fringe festival in Iceland. A production I was working on, The Box VR, was selected to take part in the festival, but then in the end the festival was cancelled for logistical reasons.

Early in 2018, I was thinking what a shame it was that the festival didn’t come to fruition, and thought “Why don’t I just do it?”

I got in touch with last year’s director, Jón Magnús Arnarsson, and we got along swimmingly and decided to collaborate and make it happen this year instead. I wanted to change the dates to July, so that it would take place at the height of summer when there isn’t much theatre about and the weather is nicer.

What kind of art does Iceland have to offer?

Iceland’s art scene is surprisingly active for such a small population.

I’m mostly familiar with the Reykjavík art scene, but there are also fantastic artistic events taking place in the countryside, such as LungA Art Festival in Seyðisfjörður, I Never Went South music festival in Ísafjörður, and the incredibly active Freezer Theatre space in the tiny village of Rif (population 100-200 people).

Internationally, people are aware of Iceland’s music scene– Björk, Of Monsters and Men, Sigur Rós, Ásgeir, Emiliana Torrini and Ólafur Arnalds make up just a fraction of known Icelandic names in the music industry. But there are also a lot of actors, designers, painters, poets, writers, and dancers making their mark on a global scene.

What are the most interesting acts that you anticipate for the festival?
We are collaborating with a few artists and groups within Iceland, although it’s still early days and at the moment I can only tell you about a few of them.

We’ll host a pre-festival party with free drinks and small foodstuffs at Hlemmur Square, one of the festival’s main sponsors, in downtown Reykjavík, July 1 – mark your calendar. Our opening show in Tjarnarbíó will be with Improv Iceland, an immensely popular and talented group of people that do improv shows based on The Harold technique. That’s the same type of technique used in venues such as the UCB in NYC.

We’ll close the festival with a performance by The Poetry Brothel Reykjavík in Iðnó, which fuses poetry with cabaret, theatre, and live music in a surrounding that makes you feel like you’ve stepped back in time. The Goldengang Comedy Club will have daily comedy shows. There will be a Poetry Slam night and a Failure Evening with lectures on failures (and what we can learn from them). There will also be a Lindy Hop ball — and the world-touring Smut Slam with Cameryn Moore plus a magical, inventive cabaret show by local performance group Dömur og herra (Ladies and a Gentleman).

Audiences may also be able to do their own dancewalk and “catwalk” around town, but I can’t give too much away about that yet!

If there were a few Icelandic words you’d like to teach our audience, to broaden their vocabulary in anticipation of the event, what are they?
The first ones that come to mind are:

Reykja-vík = Smoky-Bay.
Leik-hús = Play-House (Theatre)
Tjarnar-bíó = Pond-Cinema (the name of the festival’s main venue)
Komdu með! = Come with!
Bravó! = Bravo!
Meira, meira, meira, meira = More, more, more more. (Chanted at the end of a performance, i.e. ‘One More Song/Joke/Act’)

Why is art such a prominent part of Icelandic culture?
I think art is a prominent part of any culture, not just the Icelandic one. People in every culture have the need to dance, to create, to perform, to socialise, and art is such a wide concept that encompasses a wide spectrum of expression. Art is entertainment, and people everywhere in the world want to entertain, and be entertained.

If some of our readers were interested in participating or attending, where might they go for more info?

Applications are open until the 6th of May, so if people want to take part then head to www.rvkfringe.is and apply!

A full schedule should hopefully be ready before June, but festival passes will go on sale shortly for those just wanting to attend. It will also be possible to buy tickets to individual events instead of a festival pass.

     

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Eiga við ramman reip að draga – to have to pull a strong rope

By original uploader Johnmoore6 at English Wikipedia [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

This phrase means simply to take on a difficult task, to struggle with something. 

Að hafa fullu tré við einhvern – to have a full tree with someone

By gillfoto [CC BY-SA 4.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], from Wikimedia Commons

This phrase means “to have a full tree” doesn’t make a lot of sense. So let’s break it down:

First of all, it means “to be somebody’s equal” or  “to be on even footing.” But doesn’t it seem particularly nonsensical? Originally, this phrase referred to a “siglutré,” i.e., a mast on a shop – so you would be “full mast” with someone. I’m not a seawoman, but I assume that this makes sense to some of my more nautically minded readers. There’s a related phrase I’d also like to point out: að hafa í fullu tré við eitthvað, which means “to have a lot of trouble with something”.

Falla í stafi – [a barrel] loses its planks

Courtesy of Pexels.com

This phrase means to be stricken with wonder, to be stunned.
It goes back to a time when wooden barrels, as those above, would fall apart. The stafirnir (planks) would loosen from the iron banding and the cask would simply “falla” apart.

Vera ekki af baki dottinn – not be fallen off (the horse’s) back

Eadweard Muybridge [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I think you can guess this one: it’s to not have given up (yet) or, perhaps, to not give up at all. To continue to hope, work, and persevere.

Fara í hundana – to go to the dogs

I settled on this cute picture of a sleeping puppy because this phrase actually means “your life has gone wrong,” or simply “life has gone wrong”. Ég fór í hundana – my life went all wrong. But luckily, you haven’t yet fallen off the horse’s back, so there’s that.

Að fara fyrir ofan garð og neðan – to go above the garden and below

Courtesy of Pexels

This phrase means to miss the point – to misunderstand.
The way it was explained to me (by a poet, of course) was thus:
imagine a farmer throwing hay to the pigs, but his hay goes everywhere but the trough.
He wasn’t able to account for the garden. I know I have so native speaker readers, so I’d be interested in hearing their takes.

Að fara á vonarvöl – to go on a hope-cane

This one means “to be unable to sustain yourself financially,” to “not be financially independent”

Which one was your favorite? Would you like to hear more?

     

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Note: “eigi” in that folktale means ekki. It’s an older usage.

In brief: this folktale (which I’ll call hans jóns míns for short) revolves around the wife of a man named Jon. She is an excellent homebuilder – organized and kind – and clever. She cares for her husband deeply, though he’s surly and not well-liked by others, and he never ever helps around the house. In other words, he’s not a good husband, but she overlooks his faults for a reason that’s unclear to me – perhaps economic, but I’d guess that she’s also the breadwinner.

Well, one day, Jon gets sick, and he takes a turn for the worst. She watches over him (“keeps vigil over him” strikes me as a more precise translation), as he labors to breathe.

She realizes that he’s not going to get into heaven.
But what can she do?!

(BTW: more on Christianity in Iceland here)

courtesy of pexels.com

She grabs a sack (skjóða – F) and, as he takes his last breath, she captures his soul in it. She knows what to do now. She’s going to take his soul right up to the heavenly plane, and heckle the angels into letting him into the kingdom. And so she marches right up to heaven, where she confronts Saints Peter and Paul, dissing them each for their respective sins (Peter – for denying Christ; Paul – for persecuting the early disciples of Jesus): the audacity is incredible. They both slam the door in her face.

Then the Virgin Mary shows up, seemingly more sympathetic to the wife’s cause. But alas, she won’t let Jon in – he’s even got a bad reputation in heaven. So the wife of hans jóns míns calls her some rather nasty names, saying “eða manstu það nú ekki, að þú áttir eitt barnið og gast ekki feðrað það?” 

Or don’t you remember that you had a child, but couldn’t produce its father?

i.e., she effectively slut shames the Virgin Mary while calling Jesus a bastard child.

That takes some serious nerve. And PSA: slut shaming is totally unacceptable.

Mary slams the door in her face, too.

But she doesn’t give up. She knocks on the door a fourth time – and this time Jesus Christ himself shows up. Imagine it. She’s like a disgruntled shopper who calls the Customer Service Line and insists on talking to the manager, then the manager’s manager, then the manager’s manager’s manager, then the CEO!

Jesus is also unsympathetic to her cause – Jon had his chance, and he blew it. But as he finishes his spiel, and turns to close to the door, the wife of hans jóns míns tosses his soul past Jesus into the kingdom of God! With no regard for the morality she’s subscribed to her entire life – no respect for the beings she chooses to revere. Justice means nothing to her. The rules mean nothing to her if they’re counter to her will.

So she heads home, a “stone lifted from her heart” – bouncing with a sense of gladness and accomplishment. We don’t know what happens to either character – maybe Jon landed in the hell-bound garbage shoot after all. But what we do get is a story of Icelandic endurance and, perhaps – Birkir Blær posits – exceptionalism, which is undantekningahyggja in Icelandic.

Courtesy of pexels.com

Exceptionalism posits that certain individuals or nations consider themselves to be exceptional, and thus above the laws that apply to others. And in his essay, Blær explicates the many ways in which Icelanders have demonstrated this behavior over the years. A few notable examples are the concurrent glamorization and exploitation of natural resources, the economic crash in 2008, orchestrated essentially by a handful of bankers who weren’t really punished despite viral news stories, and the abuse of the land and resources by big corporations who, for example, continued to make and sell certain products even though their manufacturing processes broke the law. He cites certain inflammatory statements by the former president, as well as a report commissioned by the Icelandic government that concerned manicuring the image of Iceland in the global media.

But, very fairly, he presents both sides of the argument:

On one hand, the wife of hans jóns míns represents the ignorance of a society that considers itself the best in the world – and the false justification that Icelanders inherited übermensch-like qualities from the vikings. A nation that would march right up to heaven and demand to be let in.

On the other hand, he speaks of the confidence (prettier in Icelandic – sjálfstraust) of a nation that would, despite its smallness and sufferings, amble up to heaven to speak to the man himself, in defense of that which they love.

My translation of around 1/3 of this essay is available on EuropeNow.  

       

Comments

• @Helen Col In reply to Helen Col. ... by Meg
• The translation is out and available here: ... by Meg
• Thank you Meg for this. At present delving into the sagas of ... by Helen Col
• Fascinating, mjög upplýsandi. Takk. by Ken Doran

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Many of you certainly know of the densely-populated Icelandic fisheries – mainly women on land – and Iceland’s heavy reliance on the fishing industry, a dependence that goes back to the throes of the Danish empire’s rule over Iceland. Iceland has been host to “Cod Wars” — you read right — not Cold Wars, but COD wars — two times in its history because of the richness of its fishing grounds. The Icelanders, the Danes, the Germans, and the English have all at one time or another fatted their billfolds with Iceland’s fish.

Bátur hlaðinn fólki við bryggju í Steinsvör, 1900-1910
1900-1910, bátur hlaðinn fólki við bryggju í Steinsvör. Skemmtiferð.
Ljósmyndari / Photographer: Magnús Ólafsson
Höfundarréttur / Rights Info: Enginn þekktur höfundarréttur / No known restrictions on publication. Myndavefur Ljósmyndasafnsins / Reykjavík Museum of Photography´s photoweb: ljosmyndasafn.reykjavik.is/fotoweb/Grid.fwx

Few Icelandic farmers (ca. 15%) had access to the sea in the 19th century, despite the prevalence of farming. In the 18th century, as fishing became increasingly valuable, those farmers that did have sea-access, and thus the opportunity to send out fishing boats, contracted farm laborers – who had few rights and no entitlement to the profits of their catch – to work on their farms. These farmhands doubled as fishermen and women, with distinctions between them made not by gender, but by brute force – by strength. Nevertheless, seawomen were entitled to 1/3 of the wages of a male fisherman, had to have special permission granted by the local magistrate to wear, e.g., the water-repellent leather pants required for their work (instead of a wool skirt). These women, with few exceptions, are not present in most accounts of Iceland’s fishing exploits – probably because the histories were written, as is often the case, by men. When women do show up, it’s either because of tragedy or an extraordinary feat. Despite that, going to sea wasn’t necessarily a revolutionary act for women in Iceland, unlike in Canada and Australia. Rather, it was a part of the job, and a part of daily life. Into the 20th century, as fishing technology improved and laws around marriage and homestead ownership changed, women became more and more bound to the land and their duties as wives and mothers: at which point, they begin to disappear from the sea.

But they existed, despite scant mentions. Two of the best known Icelandic fisherwomen — Þuríður formaður (Þuríður the foreman: LISTEN) and Látra-Björg (Björg Einarsdóttir: LISTEN) — struggled for their positions as fisherwomen, and are best known for exploits that aren’t directly related to their work at sea. Látra-Björg was an important poet – a very independent, strong, and prolific poet – who is best recognized for her creative work (skáldskapur). Þuríður was a powerful fisherwoman, who took up the unlikely work of the ‘foreman’ or ‘skipper’ of her fishing crews. She showed a natural ability for fishing, which her independence complemented: when in trouble, when her rights or the rights of those around her were compromised, she sued for reparation, to make things right. When she was harassed by a man once, for example, who asked if she was a hermaphrodite (essentially), she took the matter to the local magistrate. When she was denied her fair pay as a foreman by the farmer who owned the boats, she went to the local authorities to resolve it – and it worked. Remarkably, during her lifetime, equal pay between fishermen and fisherwomen came into law (1775) – and the law, according to historian Margaret Willson, was followed relatively well.

Minnisvarði um Látra-Björgu. Kirkjan í Stærra-Árskógi á Árskógsströnd í baksýn. Höfundur verksins er Sigurður Guðmundsson

Látra-Björg was considered a fiskin, or a person with a supernatural sense of the sea. She was able to read the weather, predict when seals would swim into certain areas so that they could be easily netted. She knew when to row out, when to row in. She was so good, in fact, that she was able to write poems while out at sea in an open-decked (meaning no-deck) boat. She was so remarkable, in fact, that there is a folktale about her. 

Here’s a poem she wrote to poke fun at the men who didn’t row as well as she did:

“Róðu betur, kær minn karl,
kenndu ekki í brjósti um sjóinn.
Hafðu þyngra herðafall,
hann er á norðan gróinn.”

Do row better my dear man,
Fear not to hurt the ocean.
Set your shoulders if you can
Into harder motion.

For more interesting photographs of the Reykjavik Harbor specifically, from the late 19th and early 20th century, please visit this wonderful Flickr account. 

       

Comments

• @Cydonia In reply to Cydonia. Thank you @Cydonia! That's ... by Meg
• @Dimitri In reply to Dimitri. Thank you! More to come 🙂 by Meg
• Iceland sure has their own distinct culture. interesting read! by Dimitri
• I just wanted to tell you I love your blog! I love learning ... by Cydonia

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The five senses are unchanged in Icelandic (although one might argue that the natives have a flair for seeing those pesky elves we talked about). They are:

1. Sjónskyn – Sight
2. Heyrnarskyn – Hearing, auditory
3. Snertiskyn – Touch
4. Efnaskyn – Sense of smell and the sense of taste (“the chemical senses”)
   1. Bragðskyn
   2. Lyktarskyn

With these sense you can:

Að sjá – to see

Að horfa á – to watch

að stara á – to stare at

að líta á – look at

að blikka – to blink

að líta einhvern (accusative) hornauga – look askance at something

Að heyra – to hear

að hlusta [á eitthvað (accusative)] – to listen [to somebody]

hár – loud

lágvær -soft

hljóð – NOUN – noise/sound and quiet – this is a peculiar word because it can mean either sound or quiet depending on the context.

hávaði – noise (noisiness)

Að snerta – to touch

This one is fairly straightforward, though often used with the preposition ‘á’. As you see below, one most often uses á when touching an object rather than a person. 

— að snerta á einhverju (dative) is to touch something.

–að snerta einhvern is to touch somebody)

að þreifa á e-u – to touch something

mjúkur – soft

hjúfur – rough

Að finna bragð af – to taste of something

This one is a bit strange because taste is expressed indirectly. So one doesn´t “taste” something so much as one finds/perceives a type of taste .

–Þeir finni beiskt og vont bragð af gúrkum

–Ég finn ekkert bragð af matnum.

Að bragðast – something tastes of (e.g., mjólkur bragðast súr – the milk tastes sour)

Súr – sour

Sætur – sweet

Beiskur- bitter

Saltur – salty

Hvernig smakkast þetta? – How does that taste?

Smakkar! – it´s good!

Að finna lykt af e-u, að þefa af e-u – to smell something

–Ég finn stanslaust lykt af salti! – I keep tasting salt!

–Hann finnur lykt af blóði – He tasted blood.

Einhverju (dative) lyktar vel/illa – something smells good-bad

— Blómið lyktar vel. – The flower smells good.

Lykt – F – smell

Ólykt – F – stench, odor

Angan – F – pleasant smell

Ilmur – M – aroma
–ilmvatn -N – perfume

Þefur – M – scent

Daunn – M – stench

Stækja – F – a powerful, unpleasant odor

Jacques Linard – The Five Senses and the Four Elements — Work in the public domain: PD-old-100

       

Comments

• @Þórir Pétur Pétursson In reply to Þórir Pétur ... by Meg
• One mistake I noticed: að hlusta á takes accusative, not ... by Þórir Pétur Pétursson
• Hi Meg, thank you for this very interesting post. Really good ... by Armelle
• This is Great. Thank you for sharing. by Linda Pastor

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What’s the difference between álfar (elves) and huldufólk (hidden people)? Tell me a story.

Short answer: none. Scholars of Icelandic folklore generally agree that the two terms refer to the same entity. Elves are, by their nature, able to become invisible to humans. They are also very often beautiful, well-dressed, affluent, but they can either be helpful to humans or vengeful toward them. Elf stories are oftenmoral stores – but with quite a lot of interspecies action. Worth noting – and perhaps looking into – is the double standard in the elven tales: men who go to bed with elves are rewarded for getting in premarital practice, but women who do so are often punished for their transgression. Let’s not forget that. But sometimes there are quite lovely tales of forbidden elf-human pairs dying in each others arms, the survival of their half-elf, half-human heir, and the presumed dropped-jaw of the woman’s human-husband who has found them (only after oppressing her for her entire life).

But let’s talk invisibility and moral lessons. Take the story Sýslumannskonan á Bustarfelli – The Magistrate’s Wife of/in Bustarfell (Manor), who one night goes to sleep without lighting the candles in the bedroom (baðstofa, here) and doesn’t wake as usual to wake the servants, etc. Instead, she’s fast asleep, and her husband instructs the servants to keep it that way. When she finally wakes (langt er liðið á nótt), she has the most fantastic story to tell:

An elf man came to her in the night – presumably in her dream – and asked her to follow him. He led her to a rock, which he walked around 3x clockwise. It transformed into a house! A “little but decorative” house (lítlu og skrautlegu hús), but still, a house. There, inside this house that was a stone 3 seconds ago, is his elf-wife, who is in labor on the floor, and “would die without the assistance of a human being” (muni deyja nema hún njóti að fulltingis mennskra manna*). The wife says “May the Lord Jesus help you,” and everything turns out okay and the elf delivers. The elf-mother starts to tidy the house, and eventually asks the woman to clean the baby up, anointing its eyes with ointment. But the woman decides she wants some of the ointment, too, and sneaks some into her eyes when nobody is looking. Before she leaves the house, she’s given a beautiful golden, embroidered cloth as a reward for the good thing she’s done.

*Mennskri maður is terminology often used in these folk tales to solidly differentiate humans from otherworldly beings.

But the catch is – she’s done something wrong. She’s now able to see the elves. The elf-man lead her out of the house, circled around it three times counter-clockwise, and walked her home safely. But now, since she’s slipped some ointment into her eyes on the sly, she can see the otherwise-invisible-don’t-call-us-we’ll-call-you elves. And she learned that the elves were both clever and intuitive when it came to weather: when they spread out hay on the ground to dry, it didn´t rain – when they didn´t – it did.

She decides at one point to go to the shops in town. And when she goes into the store, she sees, with her arms full of goods, the elf-wife. And she goes right up to her, saying enthusiastically, “And so we meet again!” Uh-oh.

The elf woman turns to her angrily, spits in her right eye (where she’d applied the ointment) and disappears from sight. And of course, so did every other elf because now the woman can’t see them any longer.  But she does keep the cloth, which you can visit at the National Museum.

By John Bauer – Illustration of Walter Stenström’s The boy and the trolls or The Adventure in childrens’ anthology Among pixies and trolls, a collection of childrens’ stories, 1915., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=92923

So, then, what’s a troll?

ronger than humans, often ugly, greedy, and cruel. Trolls live in mountains, cliff walls, and gigantic stones. They do eat people, but they also have a taste for fish. They’re pagan beings, but more primitive and more closely connected to nature than humans, and they lack a sort of moral code or ethics to guide their society. They don´t use knives and forks, but they do work with their hands. They´re definitely an older culture than (and perhaps of) human beings, but they do not read books. Sometimes, they turn to stone in sunlight, as in the story of the nátttröll, when a scared girl left alone on Christmas night distracts a tröll with a rhyme until daybreak.

But trolls aren’t always bad. Sometimes they’re quite helpful. For example, in the story Skessan á Arnarvatnsheiði  – The Troll Giantess Of Arnarvatnsheidur, a man falls in love with a tröll woman, who has given he and his traveling friend shelter from the cold, and sent them on their way with a heap of trout. But during the night, presumably, one of the travelers made love with the troll – and so, halfway home, he splits, without a trace to return to his lovely troll mistress. The legend states explicitly that we’re not sure if they have kids or not, but there are a lot of half-troll, half-humans running around because, according to legend (this legend), there are only two male trolls left, but there are 50 women.

TW: some of the sexual encounters between trolls and humans in the folk tales are, in fact, what we would probably call sexual assault.

At other times, like the giantess Grýla – mother of the Yule Lads – trolls eat people. Kids, specifically. After her husband Leppalúði has shoved them in a bag.

Is there a moral to the story?

Sometimes, but generally these troll stories are thought to be outlets for human fears and desires, Freud-esque. Trolls are perhaps a little bit less black-and-white than trolls, and their stories are less easy to digest (no pun intended).

So, based on that limited information, who’d you rather run into? An clever (but possibly mean-spirited) elf? Or an oafish (but potentially kindhearted) troll? 

     

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