“There is no mention of the devil in the oldest accounts of these women who fare abroad in Holda’s company by night; he was only introduced later. But the whole thing is reminiscent of Odin when the witches are called caped riders. Their intercourse with the devil, and his choice of the one he likes best as witch queen on Walpurgis night is probably associated with the wedding feasts of Odin and Freya, which were celebrated at these times. It is likely that folklore has attached to these wedding dances the idea that the witches dance the snow off Bloksberg on the night of 1st May.”
“Don’t worry,” I thought, “it's only a preface; it won’t take more than an evening to translate. Put it off until later.”
It’s later.
The preface is 22 pages long. The language is old-fashioned, the argument is convoluted. It’s taken me a week so far, and I’m still only ⅔ of the way through.
On the other hand, it is one of the most interesting texts I have ever read, documenting the connection between (modern) folkloric witches and their familiars, valkyries, and the goddess Freya. The #folklore, #mythology, and writing communities need to read it.
A footnote from the text: A German journalist and poet [Julius Hammer] states in truth: “There are no poetic flowers that are so difficult to imitate as folktales and legends. Artificial flowers of this kind betray themselves as soon as they are made, even if they come from the most skilled hand.”
Hello! A Norwegian folktale (unpublished, of course) with central elements of bisexualism and polyamory.
One of the advantages of lots of small kingdoms all over the place is that the heroine can marry a king's daughter in one, and a king's son can subsequently marry the heroine in another. Thus the heroine is legally married to two people.
This folktale needs a lot of work before publication, as the record is the collector's account of not just the tale, but also the manner in which it was related, and his reaction to what he heard.
We were blessed beyond measure when Erik Werenskiold and Theodor Kittelsen et al. took over the illustration of Norwegian folktales. Here's a rather phlegmatic troll by Johan Eckersberg, 1850.
“The Seal Girl’s Revenge” is the ultimate “selkie” legend. It comes from the Faroe Islands, and is dark, raw, brutal. There are, as there should be, consequences for kidnapping, enslavement, and murder.
Possibly the earliest illustration of the tale you know as "The Three Billy-Goats Gruff" (but which is really called, "The Three Billy-Goats Bruse"). This one is from George Dasent's A Selection from the Norse Tales (1862), and predates any Norwegian illustration (that I know of so far).
Reasonably often in Norwegian folktales, a great distance is described in terms of "bluings" (my coin; Norwegian: blåner). To a novice, this term may be confusing. But once in a while, the explanation is presented in nature.
I took this picture as we were flying into Oslo last night. I count up to nine bluings, which is even farther than the seven spoken of in the folktales.
Teolls are Norwegian. There are 150 texts in The Complete Norwegian Folktales and Legends of Asbjørnsen & Moe; 66 of them either feature or mention trolls. (42 of them feature or mention parsons.)
“And everyone agreed that they knew of no man so generous and liberal, or so manly in every respect, as Svein the Fearless.”
Svein the Fearless sounds like a Viking hero, and had he been born in another age, perhaps he might have been. Here, though, he demonstrates his heroism by staying put in church for a night.