How to Make a Níðstöng, Part Three

Click here for Part One and here for Part Two of the article.

The horse's head and the goose girl – Illustration by Willy Planck

Jacob Grimm, ever seeking continuity between ancient and contemporary, connects the world of 13th-century Icelandic mythology to that of 19th-century German folklore:

And as Mîmi’s head retained its wisdom after it was cut off, heathendom seems to have practiced all sorts of magic by cutting off horse’s heads and sticking them up. In a nursery-tale (no. 89) the trusty Falada’s head is nailed up over the gate, and carries on converse with the king’s daughter. This cutting off and setting up of horse’s heads has been mentioned at p. 47-8 as an ancient German custom.

The tale he is referring to appears as “The Goose-Girl” in Grimm’s Fairy Tales (1815, available as a free download in The Norse Mythology Online Library) by Jacob and his brother Wilhelm. This story tells how the talking horse Falada witnesses a chambermaid forcefully usurp the role of a princess. The chambermaid marries the princess’ fiancé (a prince, of course), and the true princess is given the task of helping the boy who tends the king’s geese. The usurper fears that Falada will reveal her secret, so she orders the horse’s death. The real princess convinces a servant to nail the loyal Falada’s head under “a large dark gateway, through which she had to pass with the geese each morning and evening.”

Whenever the true princess passes under the gate on her way to tend the geese, the following exchange occurs between her and the head:

O du Falada, da du hangest!

O du Jungfer Königin, da du gangest,
Wenn das deine Mutter wüßte,
Ihr Herz thät ihr zerspringen!

Translated:

O you Falada, there you hang!

O you maiden queen, there you walk,
If your mother would know this,
Her heart would break!

Order is restored by the end of the fairy tale, of course, but the role of the talking head is very striking. The motif of the undead talking head that gives counsel brings to mind the line from the Eddic poem Völuspá ["Prophecy of the Seeress"]: “mælir Óðinn við Míms höfuð” [“Odin talks with Mimir’s head”]. According to Snorri Sturluson’s Ynglinga Saga (c1230), after the Vanir gods behead Mimir,

Odin took the head, smeared it with herbs so that it should not rot, and sang incantations over it. Thereby he gave it the power that it spoke to him, and discovered to him many secrets.

Odin questions Mimir – Illustration by Emil Doepler

The idea that the talking head reveals secrets is common to both the Icelandic myth and the German fairy tale, recorded nearly six hundred years apart from each other.

The horse’s head in the fairy tale seems like a half-remembered and mythicized memory of the níðstöng. In his Teutonic Mythology, Jacob Grimm writes that, in this Hessian fairy tale, “we have surviving, but no longer understood, a reminiscence of the mysterious meaning of a suspended horse’s head.” As with the other examples we’ve seen, the horse-head bears witness for the less powerful player in the conflict and brings shame upon the person who has gone against the cultural codes of conduct.

Note: You can read the entire story in English (including the unbelievably grim fate of the grasping chambermaid) by clicking here.

Followers of The Norse Mythology Blog will, perhaps, not be greatly surprised to learn that the níðstöng tradition continues in modern-day Iceland, a land where so much of the Old Way is still part of everyday life.

In 1985, Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson received national media attention when he raised a níðstöng against nuclear weapons as part of a protest led by the Samtök Herstöðvaandstæðinga (“Coalition Against Military Bases”) on the fortieth anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the United States. Sveinbjörn was the founder of Iceland’s Ásatrúarfélagið (“Æsir Faith Fellowship”) and its allsherjargoði (very roughly translated as "high priest") from its inception in 1972 until his death in 1993.

Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson (1924-1993)

Nearly two decades after Sveinbjörn’s action, the media again covered a níðstöng-raising in 2003, this time by Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson (the current allsherjargoði) against the construction of a hydroelectric dam that was planned without taking into account the harm it would do to the local environment. Hilmar spoke to me in 2010 about his raising of the níðstöng:

I’m just doing things that Sveinbjörn did early on. He was also against the damaging of nature in Iceland by the multinational companies who are, basically, sucking out all the profit and leaving nearly none of it here in Iceland.

As with ancient usage of the níðstöng, the modern poles are raised against an overwhelming force of greater power – one that can not (or will not) discuss issues on equal terms. Then and now, the goal is to shame the níðstöng’s target and focus community disapproval. Awareness of the níðstöng-raising would have once worked its way through a word-of-mouth network; today it is propagated by the national media.

The use of the níðstöng is not limited to religious leaders. Ásatrúarfélagið member Jóhannes A. Levy has sent me a collection of news items about six separate instances of níðstöng-raising between 2006 and 2012 alone. However, Jóhannes comments,

What I read and see in this news are people who have no knowledge about using níðstöng. One of those poles is with a fish head on top of it, and that is not níðstöng but vindgapi, which is part of a weather-magic to conjure a storm.

A Icelandic níðstöng from 2009 – The fish-head is plenty scary!

The use of fish-heads, however, may simply be a result of squeamishness about using a horse’s head. This is completely understandable, given the Icelandic love for their special breed of horses. Even if the modern Icelanders are mixing up various forms of ancient magic, the intended significance of the pole is clearly as níðstöng.

Kári Pálsson of the Ásatrúarfélagið has also been gleefully sending me news items about recent uses of the níðstöng in Iceland. I asked him why he thought the níðstöng continues to play a role in Icelandic culture today, a millennium after the age of sagas. He answered:

I think the biggest reason is that Icelanders read the Viking sagas over and over again, so they are reminded about níðstangir in the sagas over and over again. Níðstangir are also so associated with sorcery and magic – which lived greatly in Iceland for so long – so the magic runes and sorcery are still deep in the nation's mind, at least from a historical point of view. 

Even though we Icelanders might not now believe literally in the magic níðstangir have, we still pay respect for their meaning. Níðstangir are raised if someone has very bad thoughts about some other person, or literally hates him. It’s the biggest shame you can ever get on yourself, and it gets attention because Icelanders are very aware of its meaning.

Today’s níðstöng is not always used against large, faceless entities. Sometimes, a níðstöng is erected in connection with personal disputes. In 2006, the Icelandic media reported on a níðstöng-raising that seems straight out of an ancient saga-story about two farmers having a dispute over land and livestock. This translation of a Vísir article was posted by the members of the Icelandic metal band Sólstafir. I’ve edited it a bit for clarity.

Þorvaldur Stefánsson's níðstöng in Otradal, Iceland  

Þorvaldur Stefánsson, a farmer in Otradal, has erected [a níðstöng] on his land, and it's clearly visible from the main road. The reason for this níðstöng is that, a year ago, Óskar Björnsson – who lives in Bíldudalur – had the misfortune to drive over a puppy belonging to the farmer Þorvaldur. [Þorvaldur] has since decided that this was done with malicious intent, and their disputes have steadily increased. 

Þorvaldur slaughtered two calves recently; he scalped and scraped and placed the head of one calf on a níðstöng. He then wrote this powerful curse on the skull: “Here I erect this níðstöng and direct its curse to Óskar Björnsson. I direct this curse to the landvættir who occupy these lands, so that their ways be misled. No relief to this curse will be given until they drive Óskar Björnsson from these lands or leave him dead. Signed, Þorvaldur Stefansson, Otradal.” 

Óskar Björnsson has reported this as a death threat from Þorvaldur to the police. According to police on Patreksfjörður, they will talk to Þorvaldur, but it is not clear what action will be taken as modern laws do not cover the erection of níðstöng.

Þorvaldur is clearly using the curse from Egil’s Saga, which places an injunction on the land-wights that they shall have no rest until they avenge his wrong. After more than 1,000 years, the words of the ancient poet still have the power to inspire fear in the hearts of an Icelander.

Finally, I offer you some practical information. These are the verbal instructions of Ásatrúarfélagið founder Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson for níðstöng contruction, transcribed by Jónina K. Berg, who herself led the Ásatrú organization from 2002 to 2003. I would like to deeply thank Jóhannes A. Levy for sharing the original text with me. This is its first appearance in English.

How to Make a Níðstöng

by Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson

Transcribed by Jónina K. Berg

Translated by Jóhannes A. Levy & Karl E. H. Seigfried

The níðstöng is made from a tree. Preferably, the wood should be intact, i.e. not sawn lengthwise or trimmed into shape. The appropriate height of the tree is just over the height of a man.

Carve the wood with runes lengthwise. Begin carving from the end which is turned down and extend the runes a long way toward the other end. From that end, continue carving the runes down the other side. It is possible to cut more than these two lines, but there are two lines that are the most natural.

Take care that no part of the carvings end up in the ground when the pole is raised, which means that you need to keep the lower end uncarved, one or two feet.

At the upper end, some signs should be fixed: horse head, fish head or some appropriate symbol; these may be carved at the end of the pole.

The number of runes are important. The number must be a multiple of twelve: 12, 24, 36, 72, 144, etc. They should be carved so that each rune stands correctly when the pole is in place, not sideways or upside down.

Try to have a balanced range of runes in size and appearance. No additional marks of runic rows should be made, but the head of the pole can have images and signs.

The subject of the carvings will not be discussed here; the carver or the raiser of the pole will make that decision. The nið will be stronger if written in verse.

The most critical issue is that the words be rational and rightly devised, otherwise the nið may prove useless or – if the mistakes are large – it may turn against the author of the pole himself.

As an accomplished poet, Sveinbjörn places great emphasis on the number of letters and the power of verse. His instructions also tap into the entire history of the níðstöng that has been discussed throughout this series.

The emphasis on the intact wood is reminiscent of the trees with attached skulls in the German forest. While the use of the horse-head is common to most of our above examples, the suggestion of a carved image at the top of the níðstöng lines up with the work of Skeggi and Jokul – and with Simek’s suggestion that an actual animal head may not necessarily be an intrinsic part of the níðstöng. Sveinbjörn’s conception of the rune-inscribed curse is the same as that of Jokul and Egil. The idea of the badly-made magical object turning against its creator is also a theme running through the examples we have seen.

Whether or not you choose to erect a níðstöng against some dastardly foe (boss man, chairman, congressman, etc.), I hope that this series has helped you gain a deeper understanding of this ancient tradition – a tradition that spans 2,000 years and many different lands. I encourage you to delve into the sources that I have cited and explore the intertwining histories and cultures of the North. Please be nice to horses and be careful to not bring nastiness down upon your own head by accident!

How to Make a Níðstöng, Part Two

Click here for Part One of the article.

Saxo Grammaticus by Hans Lamberg Petersen (1866-1927)

Saxo’s History of the Danes (early 13th century) contains an example of the frightening aspect of the níðstöng. This episode, which takes place in Denmark during the reign of the legendary Frothi III, brings together the fearfulness of the níðstöng with two other elements from the earlier examples: the níðstöng is raised against a more powerful enemy (like the pole of Egil) and the curse is reversed to harm the curser (like the carving of Skeggi).

Young Grep is a fellow prone to argument who “would overcome all his opponents not so much by clever language as by bullying them with a flow of insolence.” He verbally challenges Erik, and his gross insults are roundly bettered by Erik’s proverbial sayings, which are reminiscent of the gnomic wisdom presented by Odin in Hávamál. Thus, the conflict starts with Grep acting inappropriately and Erik playing the part that fits with societal norms. In such a situation, Grep would be ill-advised to resort to the níðstöng, given its role in enforcing proper behavior. However, we have also seen that the níðstöng is a tool used against a more powerful enemy, and it is in this wise that Grep attempts to use it.

Grep flees from the battle of words

After being soundly trounced by Erik in the battle of words, Grep seeks magical help.

The fury of his over-excited mind was not entirely recalled to discretion; as a prize-fighter in wars of words, who had had scant success in his latest controversy and had been denied armed retaliation, he demanded that at least revenge by way of black magic should be at his disposal. 

Having obtained his request [from the king], he set off again for the shore with a chosen bevy of wizards. First he sacrificed a horse to the gods and impaled its lopped-off head on a pole. Then he propped open its mouth with sticks to give it wide-grinning jaws, hoping the outlandish apparition would strike fear into Erik and thwart his immediate efforts. He believed the simple minds of these savages would cringe before the scarecrow head. Erik was already on his way to meet them when he sighted it from far off; comprehending this unsightly creation, he bade his companions be silent and conduct themselves warily. No one must blurt out any words in case unguarded speech gave a loophole for sorcery. If talk should be needed they must leave him to be their spokesman. A river flowed between Erik’s party and the magicians, who, in order to discourage him from approaching the bridge, set up the pole with the horse’s head at the very edge of the water, on their side. Erik, undeterred, walked fearlessly up to the bridge: 

“May this burden’s bad luck recoil on its bearer and ours be the better fortune! Let evil come to evil-doers. Let this accursed load break its carrier. Let stronger auspices bring us safety.” The sequel came exactly as he wished, for the neck was immediately shaken free, and the stake fell and crushed the man who held it. The whole magical contraption collapsed before the power of a single curse and belied its expectations.

The níðstöng is presented as the weapon of one who is otherwise powerless against a stronger foe. In addition to possessing innate flaws, Grep is further weakened when the king forbids a physical attack, declaring it “improper.” However, unlike Egil (an acknowledged master of rune-lore) Grep cannot raise the níðstöng by himself. He needs “a chosen bevy of wizards” to help set it up, which further underscores his weakness.

Classic illustration of
Grep & his níðstöng

The motivation for erecting the níðstöng is unclear: is it meant to simply scare “simple minds” as an “outlandish apparition,” or is it actually a physical manifestation of a magical curse? The passage makes more sense if we assume that this confusion is really a result of Saxo’s Christian prejudices against heathen magical practice. The fact that Grep sacrifices the horse to the gods and Erik fears that the words of his men may create “a loophole for sorcery” shows that both sides of the conflict are treating the níðstöng as a magical device.

This passage underscores two important aspects of the níðstöng: it is used to enforce societal norms, and it is a way to strike back at a more powerful foe. In the case of poor Grep, his own níðstöng was used against him by the more socially correct Erik. However, the initial impetus for setting up the pole lines up with that of Egil in setting his own up against the Norwegian king.

Portrait of Egill Skallagrímsson

The idea that magic can harm its user is echoed in another passage from Egil’s Saga. Egil meets Helga, a young woman made sick by a rune-inscribed whalebone given to her by a young man from a neighboring farm. Perhaps the fellow was trying to work love-magic on the farmer’s daughter of the kind attested on actual historical rune-sticks (discussed below).

Then [Egil] examined the bed she had been lying in, and found a whalebone with runes carved on it. After reading the runes, Egil shaved them off and scraped them into the fire. He burned the whalebone and had her bedclothes aired. Then Egil spoke a verse: 

No man should carve runes
Unless he can read them well;
Many a man goes astray
Around those dark letters.
On the whalebone I saw
Ten secret letters carved,
From them the linden tree [= woman]
Took her long harm. 

Egil cut some runes and placed them under the pillow of the bed where she was lying. She felt as if she were waking from a deep sleep, and she said she was well again, but still very weak. But her father and mother were overjoyed.

While Egil’s magical “waking” of Helga reminds the Tolkienite of Gandalf’s similar resuscitation of Théoden, the passage is important to this discussion because it underscores that using magic is a dangerous undertaking and should only be attempted by professionals. Who are the hapless members of Grep’s “bevy of wizards”? While the expert Egil sets up his níðstöng alone, it takes a crew of magicians to set up Grep’s pole – and their magic is not strong enough to prevent Erik’s “single curse” from literally bringing it down upon their heads.

Archeological finds have confirmed the reality of the type of love amulet that was used so disastrously against poor Helga. In Runic Amulets and Magic Objects (2006), Mindy MacLeod and Bernard Mees give an example of such a “runic leading charm” found in the late 1920s on a silver brooch from the late 6th century – the only runic inscription yet found in Switzerland.

Frifridil duft mik.
L(auk), l(auk). 

‘Dear beloved desire me! Leek, leek.’

Runic leading charm transcription
by MacLeod and Mees

MacLeod and Mees suggest that Frifridil is a pet name meaning “beloved” and that the two (backwards) l-runes

are probably abbreviations of the old German word for ‘leek,’ a vegetable associated with penises, lust and fertility in Germanic tradition, the name of which often appears on early runic amulets; the abbreviated terms seem to function similarly to the apparently abbreviated Christian holy names on the Charnay brooch [another leading love inscription], i.e. as magic words that made the amulet more powerful.

It seems that the neighbor’s boy in Egil’s Saga was trying to create a love-charm like this for Helga, but went “astray around those dark letters” and instead made the object of his desire become sick.

Putting aside the failure of Grep’s magical efforts, his actual action and intent deserve further discussion.

First he sacrificed a horse to the gods and impaled its lopped-off head on a pole.

This connects Grep’s níðstöng to that of Jokul – which called down “the wrath of the gods” – and reopens the question of the meaning of the horse’s head. A possible clue can be found in a passage from the Annals of the Roman writer Tacitus, written in the early 2nd century but describing an event in the year 15 CE.

After the Romans suffer a great defeat in the Teutoberg Forest (in modern-day Germany) while trying to subdue the Germanic tribes, the Roman general Germanicus sends Cæcina to survey the wreckage at the grim scene of the battle. Cæcina already knows the area, having “been sent before to explore the gloomy recesses of the forest” (shades of Mirkwood!). Among corpses and broken weapons, Cæcina discovers the skulls of horses “fixed upon the trunks of trees.”

Modern Midsummer celebration in the Teutoberg Forest
Photograph by Bernd Mestermann for CNN

In his Teutonic Mythology (1835, also available as a free download in The Norse Mythology Online Library), Jacob Grimm writes, “these were no other than the Roman horses, which the Germans had seized in the battle and offered up to their gods.” Is he correct in this reading?

On the one hand, these horse skulls may indeed be the remnants of a sacrifice to the gods that offered up the possessions of a vanquished enemy in thanks for their defeat. If this is the correct interpretation, it would suggest an ancient origin of the níðstöng in ritual sacrifice. In his History of the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen (c1076), Adam of Bremen describes a holy grove in Uppsala in which the bodies of horses (and dogs and people) sacrificed to the gods were hung from trees.

On the other hand, the fact that the horse-heads are attached to the tree-trunks suggests that they may actually have been playing the part of the níðstöng. Adam of Bremen describes a holy grove, not the site of a battle; he mentions bodies dangling from branches, not skulls nailed to tree trunks. Maybe the skulls in the Teutoberg Forest were meant to heap scorn upon a more powerful enemy that had broken societal rules by invading their homeland, or perhaps the níð was directed at Germanic tribesmen who had submitted to Roman role and not actively joined the rebellion. This latter idea would fit with the accusations of cowardice we have already seen associated with our earlier examples.

Kids enjoying a reenactment of the Battle of the Teutoberg Forest
Photograph by Friso Gentsch for The Washington Post

Again, to return to Grep’s actions:

Then he propped open its mouth with sticks to give it wide-grinning jaws, hoping the outlandish apparition would strike fear into Erik and thwart his immediate efforts.

Jacob Grimm discusses such gaping animal mouths in his Teutonic Mythology:

In Scandinavia they stuck a horse’s head on a pole, and turned the gaping jaws, propped open with a stick, in the direction whence the man they had a spite against, and wished to harm, was sure to come. This was called a neidstange (spite-stake).

It is well worth noticing, that to this very day the peasants’ houses in a part of Lower Saxony (Lüneberg, Holstein, Mecklenburg) have horses’ heads carved on the gables: they look upon it merely as an ornament to the woodwork of the roof, but the custom may reach far back, and have to do with the heathen belief in outward-pointing heads keeping mischief away from houses.

This idea of the horse-heads scaring evil away echoes the above discussion of the níðstöng frightening the landvættir. In Grimm’s example, carved horse-heads perform a similar function against evil spirits. Simek connects this German tradition to English legend in his dictionary’s entry for Hengist and Horsa, both names meaning “horse”:

According to Anglo-Saxon tradition, these are the names of the two leaders of the Angle army during their settlement of England, supposedly in the year 449 AD… The mythical horse-shape of the brothers is strikingly confirmed by the horse heads on the gables of farmhouses in Holstein [Germany] which were known as Hengist and Hors even as late as around 1875 and can still be seen there today.

Horse gables on summer home of German author Thomas Mann

This is truly striking, and suggests the possibility of related beliefs in the magico-protective power of the horse-head (actual, symbolic, or incarnate) throughout the Germanic world over vast stretches of time and distance. The import is even greater if we read Grimm’s footnote to the above passage: “Wolves’ heads were in like manner held open with hazel rods and hung up.”

Aside from reminding us of the hazel pole of Egil, this immediately brings to mind the binding of Fenrir in Snorri Sturluson’s Edda (c1220). After the gods have successfully bound the giant wolf Fenrir (through the hand-sacrifice of Týr), they use a “great rock” as an “anchoring-peg” to keep the wolf in place. Fenrir isn’t happy about this:

The wolf stretched its jaws enormously and reacted violently and tried to bite them. They thrust into its mouth a certain sword; the hilt touches its lower gums and the point its upper ones. This is its gum-prop. It howls horribly and saliva runs from its mouth. This forms the river called Hope. There it will lie until Ragnarok.

In light of the evidence we have seen, I would like to suggest a new reading of this well-known passage and posit that Fenrir is functioning as a living níðstöng erected by the Æsir against the giants. His mouth is propped open not with a hazel rod (as in Grimm), but with a sword. This is perfectly understandable, given the mythic nature of the story (and the fierceness of the live wolf). The river formed by his saliva is called “Hope” because, in my reading, this living níðstöng embodies the desire of the gods to stave off the fated attack of the giants at Ragnraök.

The binding of Fenrir in an illustration from the early 1900s

In this context, the description of Odin’s hall in the poem Grímnismál ("Sayings of the Masked One" – a name of Odin) is suggestive:

It’s very easy to recognize for those who come to Odin
To see how his hall’s arranged;
A wolf hangs in front of the western doors
And an eagle hovers above.

Here, the wolf seems to have a protective function similar to that of the horse-heads on historical German houses. As this hanged wolf magically protects Odin’s hall, the chained Fenrir protects the worlds of gods and men.

One piece of evidence that supports the notion of Fenrir as anti-giant níðstöng is something that Thor says to Odin in the poem Hárbarðsljóð (“The Song of Graybeard” – another name of Odin):

I was in the east, and I fought against giants,
Malicious women, who roamed in the mountains;
Great would be the giant race if they all lived,
Mankind would be as nothing on the earth.

Thor’s efforts at population control imply that there is a larger number of giants than there is of gods. The use of Fenrir as a níðstöng would then be yet another case of a níðstöng being erected against a superior force.

Thor and a lot of dead giants

The wolf-níðstöng can also be seen as an enforcer of proper behavior (as with our earlier examples), as the giants exist, by definition, outside of the realm of acceptable human or godly actions. The use of the wolf-níðstöng against the giants who would invade Asgard also lines up with the German use of horse-heads against the invading Romans (if that is the correct interpretation of the skulls in the Teutoberg Forest).

This idea gains greater strength if we accept the theory of Týr that Georges Dumézil puts forth in Gods of the Ancient Northmen (1959, also in The Norse Mythology Online Library). He argues that Týr is the god of law, and that his giving up of a hand (the sign of legal pledge) qualifies him for that position – as Odin’s sacrifice of an eye qualifies him to be a god of mystic sight. The fact that the law-god sets up the wolf-níðstöng strengthens the idea that it is meant as a device to keep the giants from breaking the boundaries set out by the gods.

As with the failed níðstöng of Glep, the curse of Fenrir-as-níðstöng is turned against the gods who created it. Significantly, the wolf will break his bonds at Ragnarök and kill Odin, the gods’ master of runic magic. As with Grep, it is the failure of the gods to live up to their own society’s codes of behavior that can be seen as the cause of the níðstöng being turned against its creators.

To be concluded in Part Three.

How to Make a Níðstöng, Part One

Usually translated as “scorn-pole,” the níðstöng is a strange object with an ancient history – perhaps even more ancient than is usually thought. In this article, I will trace the history and use of the níðstöng from the first century to the twenty-first century in Denmark, Germany, Iceland and Norway.

Egil Skallagrímsson raises a níðstöng – Sculpture by Gustav Vigeland (1869-1943)

In order to understand the significance of the níðstöng, we first need to understand the concept of níð. In “Níð, Ergi and Old Norse Moral Attitudes” (1973, now available as a free download in The Norse Mythology Online Library), Folke Ström summarizes Johan Fritzner’s definition of níð as “a form of ridicule whereby a person is represented as worthy of universal contempt, is given the label of hvers manns níðingr. The laws distinguished between tunguníð, verbal níð (literally ‘níð of the tongue’), and tréníð, carved níð (‘wood-shame’).” Whether through verbal insult or the setting-up of a carved object, níð is shame that is put upon another person. This shaming is done publicly, in order to bring down societal censure on the object of scorn.

In his Dictionary of Northern Mythology (1984), Rudolf Simek suggests that the roots of the níðstöng “could have been the setting up of wooden poles with carved human faces in order to curse particular people, in which the intention was probably less to curse than to mock the person.” This sort of ridiculing “wood-shame” can be seen in Gisli Sursson’s Saga, which takes place between 940 and 980 and was written down in Iceland between 1270 and 1320.

The saga begins in Norway, where Skeggi challenges Kolbjorn to a duel over the hand of the beautiful Thordis. Personal relationships in the story are very complicated, as they are in all the Sagas of Icelanders. Skeggi is a close relative of Bard; Bard had an illicit affair with Thordis and was killed by her brother Gisli for his actions. Skeggi wants to marry Thordis, and Kolbjorn is her new lover. Following so far?

After Kolbjorn loses his courage and refuses to go to the duel, Skeggi announces his intention to mock Kolbjorn with “wood-shame.”

Skeggi had already arrived at the spot where the duel was to be fought. He announced the rules and marked out where Kolbjorn was to stand, but he could not see his opponent nor anyone to replace him. 

There was a man named Ref, who worked for Skeggi as a carpenter. Skeggi asked him to make wooden effigies in the likenesses of Gisli and Kolbjorn. 

“And one will stand behind the other,” he said, “and these figures of níð will remain like that forever to mock them.”

The suggested suggestive carving is meant to shame the cowardly Kolbjorn for his behavior by portraying him in a subservient sexual position. This rhetoric of shaming is related to ergi, another complicated concept that encompasses “unmanly” behavior of all sorts and often includes insulting sexual implications.

Cover art for The Saga of Gisli by Eric Fraser (1963)

Discussion of the obscene carving inspires Gisli to leave his hiding place in the woods and take Kolbjorn’s place in the duel. He cuts off Skeggi’s leg, and Skeggi then “bought his way out of the duel, and from that time he walked with a wooden leg.”

The saga’s author underscores the irony of the failed níð. The wooden carving is not completed and does not bring harm to the object of shame; instead, a wooden leg is carved for Skeggi, who is himself shamed by buying his way out of a duel that is not going his way. Examples below will show that “wood-shame,” if not created with proper care, can redound to the harm of the carver.

Even though the níð goes awry, what is important about this example is that the carving is aimed at someone who has broken the social contract. Although no hero, Skeggi is seeking to avenge the killing of his kinsman and to legally marry Thordis. Kolbjorn is engaged in an affair with Thordis, makes no declaration that he intends to marry her, and backs out of a duel he has publicly accepted. The role of the carving is to bring níð upon someone who has broken the behavioral codes of the society.

A similar situation occurs in the Saga of the People of Vatnsdal, which takes place between 875 and 1000 and was written between 1270 and 1320. At the Hunavatn Assembly in northwest Iceland, a double duel is arranged. After Finbbogi challenges Thorstein to a duel and Berg challenges Jokul to a duel, Jokul says:

“You must now turn up to the duel if you have a man’s heart rather than a mare’s. And if anyone fails to turn up, then a níð will be raised against him with this curse – that he will be a coward in the eyes of all men, and will never again share the fellowship of good folk, and will endure the wrath of the gods, and bear the name of a truce-breaker.”

The first line above will remind Norse mythology readers of Mokkurkálfi, the clay giant with the heart of a mare who wets himself at his first sight of Thor. Jokul is using the rhetoric of ergi as he threatens to erect a níðstöng against his opponents. As in Gisli Sursson’s Saga, the mere threat of making a carving carries weight.

Abandoned Vatnsdalur farm where a boat burial was found with bones of four
men and three women, along with grave goods including a silver Thor's hammer

It is important to note that this threatened carving has more meaning attached to it than the simple ridicule of the earlier example. Jokul’s pole will not merely brand his enemy as a coward and a truce-breaker (the charges implicit in Skeggi’s carving), but it will curse him as an outlaw from the world of men and bring down the anger of the Æsir.

On the morning of the duel, Jokul and Thorstein (along with their friend Faxi-Brand) brave bad weather to go to the site of the fight. Finnbogi and Berg decide not to go out in the snow and stay inside at Borg.

The brothers [Jokul and Thorstein] waited until mid-afternoon, and at that time Jokul and Faxi-Brand went to Finnbogi’s sheep-shed, which was right by the yard, and they took a post and set it on the ground by the wall. There were also horses there, which had gone to shelter during the storm. Jokul carved a man’s head on the end of the post, and wrote in runes the opening words of the curse, spoken of earlier. Jokul then killed a mare, and they cut it open at the breast, and set it on the pole, and had it face towards Borg. They then set off home and stayed at Faxi-Brand’s overnight. They were in good humour during the evening.

Now we see the classic form of the níðstöng. A caricature of the object of scorn is carved into the head of a pole. The words of a spoken curse are inscribed on the pole with runes. An animal’s head – here, an entire horse – is placed on top of the finished pole, and the completed níðstöng is aimed at the home of the enemy.

The animal head is not necessarily intrinsic to the níð, but seems to bring an added magical potency. Simek suggests that “the setting up of a níðstöng with a horse’s skull on top of it and carved runes recorded in the Egils saga 57 [discussed below] should be considered to have clear magical significance.” On the other hand, Ström sees the horse as merely adding another level of insult: the addition of the dead mare insinuates that Berg is as cowardly as a female horse, reflecting the rhetoric used by Jokul in his initial statement at the assembly.

Rudolf Simek's German Lexicon, released in
English as Dictionary of Northern Mythology

The original offense of Berg that had started this entire kerfuffle is significant.

One day they [Thorstein’s workers] noticed ten men grazing their horses in the meadow, and there was a woman with them; they were all in coloured clothing. One of the men was wearing a cloak and a long gown of fine quality cloth. They watched what this man did. He drew his sword and cut off the bottom of the cloak which had become dirty during his riding, and he threw the strip of cloth away – it was the width of a hand – and, speaking so they could hear, said that he had no wish to go around covered in muck. Thorstein’s men had no contact with these people but felt that it was unseemly to graze horses in other men’s meadows. A servant woman picked up the piece of cloth which the man had cut off, and said that this fellow could well be called an outrageous show-off.

The well-dressed man is Berg, and he is simultaneously making two transgressions against the codes of proper behavior: he is grazing his horses in another farmer’s fields without permission, and he is making a grand show of conspicuous consumption in a society where many live at the mercy of nature’s vicissitudes. This improper conduct is contrasted with Thorstein’s generosity, described in the preceding paragraph:

Thorstein from Hof was generous to his neighbors with the goods from his estate. There was free food for everyone and a change of horses and every other kind of help for a journey, and all men from other areas felt duty bound to go first and visit Thorstein and tell him what had been going on in the regions, and anything else that was new.

In direct contrast to Berg, Thorstein lives the life of a proper Icelandic farmer. He follows the code of generosity outlined in the Eddic poem Hávamál ("Sayings of the High One") and is rewarded with the respect of his neighbors. Again, the raising of the níðstöng is directed against the person who has repeatedly broken the society’s rules of behavior.

In her commentary on the Peter Fisher translation of Saxo Grammaticus’ The History of the Danes, Books I-IX (published 1979/1980), Hilda Ellis Davidson brings together elements of the níðstöng discussed above – threat, magic, shame, and censure of social transgression: “To raise the head or the skull of a dead horse on a pole was a means of threatening an opponent, felt to possess magic potency. In the sagas this rite was known as ‘raising a níðstöng,’ (insult pole, scorn pole); this could be done against a man who was a coward, or guilty of any type of anti-social behaviour.”

Title page to 1514 edition of History of the Danes 

The most famous níðstöng appears in Egil’s Saga, written in Iceland between 1220 and 1240 but taking place between 850 and 1000. Embroiled in a bitter conflict with the Norwegian King Eirik and his wife Gunnhild, Egil Skallagrímsson erects a níðstöng on the island of Herdla and directs it at his enemies on Norway’s mainland.

He took a hazel pole in his hand and went to the edge of a rock facing inland. Then he took a horse’s head and put it on the end of the pole. 

Afterwards he made an invocation, saying, “Here I set up this níðstöng and turn its níð upon King Eirik and Queen Gunnhild” – then turned the horse’s head to face land – “and I turn its níð upon the landvættir that inhabit this land, sending them all astray so that none of them will find its resting-place by chance or design until they have driven King Eirik and Gunnhild from this land.” 

Then he thrust the pole into a cleft in the rock and left it to stand there. He turned the head towards the land and carved the whole invocation in runes on the pole. 

After that, Egil went to his ship. They hoisted the sail and put out to sea. The wind began to get up and a strong, favourable wind came.

Egil’s níðstöng has the same core elements as that of Jokul. Although no carved caricature is mentioned, Egil includes the runic inscription of a spoken curse and an animal’s head then aims the device at the home of his enemy.

Vigeland's statue of Egil raising the níðstöng

In this case, the magical element clearly takes precedence over shaming. Egil erects the níðstöng alone on an island – as opposed to the two earlier examples, both of which were meant to be seen and discussed by the public. Egil’s magical use of runes throughout the saga leads the reader to see his níðstöng-raising as a magical act. The fact that Egil threatens the landvættir (land wights, land spirits) to turn them against Eirik underscores the supernatural nature of his curse.

However, the idea of using the níðstöng against someone who transgresses social boundaries is constant between the preceding examples. Egil is asserting his independence from the overbearing Norwegian king, and the níðstöng is a manifestation of that assertion through the use of magic. Our following examples will show similar uses of the níðstöng as a means of declaring resistance to a more powerful enemy.

In his classic Myth and Religion of the North (1964), E.O.G. Turville-Petre discusses the landvættir that Egil calls upon in his curse:

The land-spirits or landvættir were even more closely attached to the soil than the elves; the welfare of the land, and thus of its inhabitants, depended largely upon them. 

It is laid down in the first clause of the pagan law of Iceland, introduced about AD 930, that no one may approach the country in ships furnished with gaping heads and yawning snouts, i.e. dragon-heads. If they had them they must remove them before they came in sight of land, for otherwise the landvaættir would take fright.

Turville-Petre goes on to connect the role of the horse-head on the níðstöng to that of the dragon-head on the ship’s prow. This is an important idea, because it provides a magical rationale for the use of the animal head atop the níðstöng – a reason aside from the social accusation of mare-like ergi. The terrifying sight of the bloody horse-head is meant to frighten the land-wights so that they will turn against the person targeted.

To be continued in Part Two.

Ásatrú Definitions for Journalists

I wrote the following set of definitions for the Religion Stylebook of the Religion Newswriters Association at the request of the organization's president, Ann Rodgers. After reading about my interactions with Public Radio international over its poorly researched and disrespectful coverage of Ásatrú (“Æsir Faith,” the modern iteration of Old Germanic religion), Ms. Rodgers asked me to pick ten terms important to Ásatrú and write definitions for the online guide. Before my submissions, the guide contained no entries related to Ásatrú.

The Religion Stylebook is an important resource for journalists in the United States. It is produced by the Religion Newswriters Association, "a charitable, literary and educational organization whose purpose is to promote excellence in media coverage and in public discourse about religion." The print version of the guide contains the following explanation of its purpose:

Religion Newswriters' Religion Stylebook is an easy-to-use authoritative guide created for journalists who report on religion in the mainstream media. It includes entries on the major religions, denominations and religious organizations journalists often encounter; preferred spellings, capitalizations, some definitions and usage guidelines for religious terms; accurate titles for religious leaders in different traditions; selected pronunciation guides; entries on terms used in stories on current topics in the news, such as abortion and homosexuality; and entries on religion terms that are not included in The Associated Press Stylebook.

It's not every day that the head of a major journalists' association asks you to literally define a religion for the nation's mainstream media, and I took this responsibility very seriously. I modeled my definitions on those already in the Religion Stylebook and tried to match the selection of terms, lengths of definitions and writing style to entries for other religions already in the book. Of course, I could have written much more on each of the terms I selected, but I matched the amount of text to equivalent terms already included from other faiths.

My first goal was to provide short, simple, serviceable definitions for mainstream religion journalists with no prior knowledge of Ásatrú. These are not meant to be exhaustive academic definitions or in-depth theological discussions. You will notice that some of my definitions include instructions; these reflect both the tone of the Religion Stylebook, the guide's role as a help to writers, and my own desire to address some common misconceptions. I am happy to expound upon these definitions or provide further information for any interested journalists who contact me.

My second goal was to write definitions that would be general enough to be acceptable by members of the many divergent Ásatrú communities around the world. I fully understand that there is a great diversity of approaches to Ásatrú – as there is to any religious tradition. In an effort to balance out any personal bias, I asked leaders in three different Ásatrú communities to read my definitions and give their comments. Jóhanna G. Harðardóttir (Iceland), Josh Heath (USA) and Sven Scholz (Germany) were all kind enough to share their time and wisdom, and I am deeply grateful for their generosity. Their insights have made the definitions stronger; all remaining faults are my own responsibility.

While editing my definitions for the guide, the Religions Stylebook's Mary Gladstone asked me to add to the existing Yule definition, which only discussed Christian usage of the term. I'd like to thank her for her kindness and diligence in adding all of my definitions to the Stylebook.

I wrote about my reasons for joining the Religion Newswriters Association in a January 2012 article that discussied the lack of coverage of minority faiths by religion journalists working for major news organizations:

In order to help shine a light on this issue, I recently joined the Religion Newswriters Association. I hope that my membership in the organization will enable me to make contact with the more open-minded wing of the profession. I also hope that my work on this blog (and the other websites of Norse Mythology Online) will inspire other writers to move beyond their comfort zones and begin to investigate the deep reservoir of all the world’s religious beliefs – past, present and future.

Now that these definitions are part of the searchable online database, I feel that my faith in the organization has been rewarded. I hope that this small step will encourage journalists to cover minority religions with the same respect they give to faiths with larger numbers. Things can only get better.

______________________________________________

ÁSATRÚ DEFINITIONS
for the Religion Stylebook
of the Religion Newswriters Association

Writer

Dr. Karl E. H. Seigfried

Author | The Norse Mythology Blog | United States

Consultants

Jóhanna G. Harðardóttir

Staðgengill Allsherjargoða | Ásatrúarfélagið | Iceland

Josh Heath

Co-Founder | Open Halls Project | United States

Sven Scholz

Co-Founder | Nornirs Ætt | Germany

Editor

Mary Gladstone

Assistant Editor | ReligionLink | United States

Æsir

Pronounced “AY-seer.” A collective term for the principal gods of Ásatrú, including Odin and Thor. Since at least the 13th century, the term has been used to designate all the Norse gods — even those (such as Frey and Freya) who are considered part of the Vanir, a second group of deities.

Ásatrú
Pronounced “OW-sa-troo.” The modern iteration of pre-Christian Germanic religion; the Icelandic term for “Æsir faith” refers to belief in the Old Norse gods.

Ásatrú has a 4,000-year history; its gods, symbols and rituals have roots dating to approximately 2000 B.C. in Northern Europe. From Bronze Age beginnings through the Viking Age, local variants developed throughout continental Europe, the Nordic countries and the British Isles. While large-scale practice ended with Christian conversion, private worship is documented for several subsequent centuries. Some beliefs and rituals survived into the 20th century as elements of folk religion throughout the Northern European diaspora (including North America).

Bronze Age Swedish rock carving with axe-image strikingly
similar to Viking Age portrayals of Thor's hammer Mjölnir 

The contemporary revival began in 1972, with the founding of Iceland’s Ásatrúarfélagið (“Æsir Faith Fellowship”). Since then, practice has spread worldwide through a mixture of national organizations, regional gatherings, local worship groups and lone practitioners. In Iceland, the Ásatrúarfélagið is now the largest non-Christian religion.

In 2013, the Department of Veterans Affairs responded to a petition by Ásatrúar in the United States and approved Mjölnir (Thor’s hammer) as an available emblem of belief for government grave markers.

Beliefs and practices vary greatly and span a range from humanism to reconstructionism, from viewing the gods as metaphorical constructs to approaching them as distinct beings. Deities venerated in Ásatrú include Freya, Odin and Thor, but respect is paid to a large number of gods, goddesses and other figures (including elves and land spirits).

Odin, Thor and Frey – 12th-century Swedish tapestry

The common ritual is the blót, in which offerings are made to gods and goddesses. Major holidays include Midsummer and Midwinter (Yule). Practitioners tend to incorporate local elements into their praxis and are often quite studied in traditions dating to the pre-Christian era.

Ásatrú is also known by adherents as heathenry or the Old Way. Followers should be referred to as Ásatrúar (singular and plural) or heathens.

Although Ásatrú clergy are referred to as goðar (singular goði), the term is not placed in front of their proper names as an honorific.

blót
Pronounced “blote.” The central ritual of Ásatrú. The Old Norse word for “sacrifice” is used for a ritual in which offerings are made to gods, goddesses and other figures (including elves and land spirits). Blót is often performed outside, and the most common offering is some form of alcohol (beer, mead).

Eddas

Foundational texts of Ásatrú. The Prose Edda, compiled by Snorri Sturluson circa 1220, contains the major surviving myths of the Norse gods and goddesses and preserves pre-Christian poems not attested elsewhere. The Poetic Edda, an anonymous manuscript from circa 1270, is the most important source of Old Norse mythological and heroic poetry; the poems it contains were composed in the centuries preceding the formal conversion of Iceland to Christianity in 1000.

Codex Regius manuscript of the Poetic Edda – Photograph by Kári Pálsson

Unlike holy books of other traditions, the Eddas were transcribed by writers who were not part of the religion and are notable for Christian interpolations.

Freya
Pronounced “FRAY-uh.” The major goddess of Ásatrú. She is a deity of death, fertility, love and magic. Although not married to the god Odin, she shares many characteristics with him; medieval literary sources state that she taught him to practice magic. Do not refer to her as “goddess of love,” a common misunderstanding that equates her with Venus.

Freya by Rold Adlersparre (1897)

goði
Pronounced “GO-thee.” Title for Ásatrú clergy (plural: goðar). Use when referring to the role of the individual, but do not place in front of a proper name as an honorific.

Mjölnir
Pronounced “MYUL-neer.” The universal sign of Ásatrú; the Old Norse name for Thor’s hammer. In a tradition originating in the pre-Christian era, Ásatrúar wear small neck pendants representing the hammer of Thor. Dating back to Bronze Age carvings in Scandinavia, the hammer has a 4,000-year history as a symbol of protection, blessing and community.

Gold and silver Mjölnir pendant (England, c975-1025)

Odin
One of the major gods of Ásatrú. He is a deity of death, inspiration, language, magic, poetry, war and wisdom. The subject of many poems and stories in the Eddas, he is seen by followers of Ásatrú as leader of the Æsir. Also known as Woden and Wotan; Odin is the preferred English spelling.

Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson
Pronounced “SVAIN-byordin BAIN-tain-son.” The founder of the Ásatrúarfélagið (“Æsir Faith Fellowship”). An Icelandic farmer-poet, he led the emergence of Ásatrú as a modern religion and served as chief goði of the heathen church from its founding in 1972 until his death in 1993. Since Icelandic second names are patronymics (not family names), refer to Sveinbjörn by first name after full initial mention.

Sveinbjörn Beinteinsson (1924-1993) 

Thor
One of the major gods of Ásatrú. His main role is one of protection, and he is considered the god of everyday people. Although many myths portray him fighting giants (symbols of dangerous natural forces), historical sources tie him to agriculture. His hammer, Mjölnir, is a symbol of protection, blessing and community; most followers of Ásatrú wear it as a sign of faith. Do not use imagery and quotes from Marvel comic books and films to illustrate Ásatrú belief in Thor.

Yule
An ancient name for the Northern European pre-Christian celebration also known as Midwinter (see Ásatrú). The word is etymologically related to Jólnir, a name for the Norse god Odin, who was particularly venerated at this sacrificial feast (see blót). After Northern Europe’s conversion to Christianity, the name of the heathen feast came to refer to the Christmas celebration. Nowadays, the terms Yule and Yuletide are most often associated with the season marking Jesus’ birth.