#glíma

[luxsit]

Glíma

[city-of-ladies]

Strong seawomen

You can read more about Iceland's seawomen here!

"Born in 1829, Ísafold Runólfsdóttir grew up on a remote farm in East Iceland near present-day Vopnafjördur. From a family celebrated for their singular strength, Ísafold was known as the best and strongest of the bunch. She was so renowned for her strength that she became part of the folk history of the area, with accounts of her taking on the form and style of the traditional Icelandic narrative tales. She is described as very intelligent, tall, broad-shouldered, handsome with a firm expression, bold, eager in her work, unsparing in her words, unafraid to speak her mind (her language sometimes a bit crass) and overall considered a hero both at sea and on land.

Ísafold went to sea when she was “very young,” first rowing with her father Runólfur. Fishing became her main source of income. She often went out alone, and only the “hardest workers could hope to match her.” As with so many of the seawomen in the historical record, it was not so much for her fishing that Ísafold is remembered but for her personality and phenomenal strength. This included her ability to pull her heavy wooden boat ashore alone—an unheard-of feat. One young seaman recalled that once, when the boat was getting in danger upon encountering rough waves as they neared shore, Ísafold jumped from the boat into the waves, grabbed him, and then tossed him with such a throw that he landed safely on shore. Then she dragged the boat ashore after her. Another account describes how, when unloading hundred-pound bags from the boats with the men, who carried one bag each, Ísafold would often remark, “Well, you are not so strong,” and grab two bags, one in each hand.6 Some speculated that it was the fish oil she took religiously that aided her famous strength—but that she was stronger than almost anyone else, man or woman, was undisputed. 

Ísafold also had exceptional skill and strength at a wrestling and martial art form called glíma. Brought from Norway by the early Icelandic settlers, glíma was played in medieval times by men, women, and gods alike—and considered fundamental for a warrior. In the 1800s, it was still popular, and as Ísafold’s reputation at glíma grew, many men came to test themselves against her, including some of the area’s best-known fighters. But always these men found themselves facedown in the “cow muck” in the barn, defeated by Ísafold. Eventually, Ívar Jónsson, a “mountain of a man in both size and strength” came to challenge Ísafold. Their fight was both “long and even,” but “being an experienced fighter,” he was eventually able to take Ísafold to the ground, where she admitted defeat. Even so, Ívar affirmed that “he had never before or since fought a worthier opponent”. 

Ísafold was clearly both attractive and independent, and the descriptions of her thwarting sexually aggressive men (usually reported as foreigners), repeated to the delight of the town, take on the tone of parable. These accounts always start by outlining a situation in which some very foolish man or men decide to harass Ísafold. (...).

At this juncture in each account, someone goes running to Ísafold’s father, warning him that his daughter is in danger. Each time he declines to budge, saying that his “little girl” can take care of herself. And each time she competently does. On the ship, some men flee but the rest she sends “one by one rolling down the gangway.” In the other cases, she comes down the stairs holding the man under her arm with his head hanging down. As for the man who wished to “enjoy” her, Ísafold stomps down the stairs with him under her arm, his trousers around his ankles as he ineffectually screams and curses at her. She strides out of the house with him, down to the sea, and, with a grin, tosses him into the water. The laughter of their audience reportedly “rang around them.” The man manages to wade to land, pulling his trousers up as he goes, loudly cursing the woman who did this to him. After this incident, he was reportedly not seen in public for a long time. At each story’s conclusion, various townspeople thank Ísafold, saying that the men are known for their uncontrolled temper or have “been a bother to other women before her.”

Beyond using her physical strength to protect herself, it was clear that Ísafold, like other seawomen such as Foreman Thurídur, stood up for her rights and voiced her opinions—sometimes in fairly outrageous ways. One week in church, Ísafold found the pastor’s sermon objectionable (the account, sadly, neglects to tell us what he said). After the communion service had concluded, she darted outside ahead of the pastor and squatted by the church door, as if to relieve herself. As the pastor walked by, she said, “I guess this was rather pointless. The sacrament has already passed through.”

Ísafold eventually took over the family farm, and adopted her sister’s child after that sister’s death. Although, sadly, Ísafold’s first love died of illness—after she had braved trekking through deep snow and a blizzard trying to save him—she later married and had one son, whom she named after the Saga hero Úlfar the Strong. In addition to her amazing strength and fishing abilities, Ísafold had great skill for natural medicine, healing wounds, and even surgery; when her adopted son tore off two fingers in an accident, she successfully reattached them. According to a local pastor, Ísafold remained strong, living to be “an old lady,” and was still living on a farm as late as 1901. Another source, while agreeing that she had a long life, recorded that after her father died in 1870, Ísafold left farming and moved to a home by the sea. 

These stories of Ísafold are rollicking and fun, but they remind us that in the rowboats, the ability and strength to row against wind and current could make the difference between a safe homecoming and death. Even in the early Icelandic Sagas, women with such skills were recognized, though not glorified in the way the men were. In the Saga of Gísli Súrsson, Gísli, who is being hunted down by numerous enemies, travels to Breidafjördur to take refuge with his friend Ingjaldur. When his enemies get wind of his whereabouts, fifteen of them board a ship and head across the bay in pursuit. Meanwhile, Gísli has gone out fishing with Ingjaldur and two of his slaves, a man Svartur and a woman Bóthildur. Sighting the enemy ship, Gísli hurriedly changes places and clothes with Svartur, who rows away with Ingjaldur. Gísli, however, joins Bóthildur, pretending to be Ingjaldur’s well-known “half-wit” son. Ingjaldur and Svartur head for a nearby island, while Bóthildur rows toward the enemies. Through cleverly implying doubt as to the identity of Ingjaldur’s companion, she misleads them into pursuing the other men, thereby saving Gísli’s life. By the time the enemies realize they have been fooled, Bóthildur is already far down the channel. With many men rowing, the enemies rapidly gain on them, but Bóthildur rows so fast that the “steam comes off her,” getting Gísli ashore just before the enemies catch up to them. In thanks, Gísli gives Bóthildur gold to take to Ingjaldur and his wife, along with his request that they free not only her but Svartur as well.

Strength in working at sea was always important, and people who were exceptional got noticed. Examples of women dragging the heavy medieval ships ashore do exist in the Sagas, although later it seems not to have been common until the 1707–8 Plague killed a quarter of the population. During that terrible time, the women dragged up the ships and buried the dead. From then until the early 1900s, when boat construction changed, women dragged the boats to shore alongside their crewmates. Even well into the mid-1900s, on seaside farms, people, including women, were still dragging their boats to the sea. Unnur, the seawoman featured on the cover of this book, recalled this from her youth in the 1950s:

One of my first memories of our boat was helping to push it down to the sea in spring using ribs of whales instead of wooden planks for the boat to slide on. There was a drum at the shore from which we would unwind the wire holding the boat. At the same time a flock of people were supporting the boat so it would stay upright. Then as one rib was loose above the boat it was loose above the boat it was carried down below the boat and so on every time the boat moved further down the slope. When the boat reached the water all ribs were taken and put in the shed.

Historical accounts of strong female rowers also continue throughout the centuries: women rowed record distances—with no helping wind—in record time; seawomen in their seventies exhausted their strong twentysomething-year-old sons; rescues were accomplished due to a woman’s superior rowing; and numerous women rowed in a competitive dare, changing the rhythm to see if the other rowers could keep up. The historical record is full of these women’s adventures, such as those of another seawoman from East Iceland, Helga Sigurdardóttir. Born in 1823, Helga lived to be almost ninety, and, in addition to fishing, she managed her own farm, including the haying and tending the sheep. Like Gudný Sigrídur Magnúsdóttir, Helga ran over mountains, but unless the ground was frozen or it was raining, she ran barefoot. She fished in the spring and autumn, and always wanted someone of equal strength to row with her—something apparently not so easy to find. She was particularly remembered for outrowing everyone in both boats when her boat and a companion boat got caught in a fierce storm together; her strength and encouragement were credited with getting the entire group through the danger safely."

 Seawomen of Iceland: Survival on the edge, Margaret Wilson

[max1461]

i think you posted a youtube video of a celtic(?) grappling style where they hold onto each other's belts/waists like forever ago, do you remember what it's called?

Glíma, it's Icelandic.

[lubotomies]

eddsworld icelandic dub

þannig þetta er helvíti? hvílík sjón!

hvað myndi ég þurfa vini fyrir þegar ég á þessu að halda?

ekki andlitið! 

ekki vera svona kjánalegur, svoleiðis gerist bara í kvikmyndum.

yey! ég er vinsæll!

já, þett’er ég... heyrðu... ég-ég verð líklegast ekki hérna mikið lengur þannig mér fannst ég ætti að heyra í þér. já, akkúrat. já, með auka ansjósum, takk.

ég hata þig, þú hentir mjólkinni minni! mjólkin var útrunnin! ÞÚ ert útrunnin! hvernig dirfistu! veistu hvað? til fjandans með þetta!

ég legg til að við hendum Tomma í það. hljómar vel fyrir mér. eða þá, við gætum ýtt á þennan stóra, rauða takka sem er klárlega merktur ‘ef um er að ræða uppvakningafaraldur, ýttu á þennan takka til að opna hliðið til þess að frelsa alla/eða rauðhærða borgara sem eru fastir hér inni’ ...hendum Tomma! ég hata ykkur öll svo mikið.

en ég hélt að við... ég hélt að við værum vinir?

ekki vera kjánalegur, bara Tommi getur vaxað skegg. ég á við sjúkdóm að glíma!

geimkettirnir munu drepa okkur öll! drepa okkur öll? DREPA OKKUR ÖLL! DREPOKUÖLL?

þú tókst þátt í paintball leik notandi ALVÖRU byssur!

og ÞÚ ást þessa böku!  nei, ég gerði það ekki! jú, þú gerðir það víst. ég gerði það ekki! jú víst. nei ég át þessa böku ekki! sjáðu til, þú heldur á henni... þarna... ó. ó þú ert góður.

af hverju?! af því að ég er vinur þinn, rassgatið þitt! að auki er ég með neyðarkókið. Múhaha!

hvað í nafni þessarar gómsætu skál af Eddsworld morgunkorni varð fyrir bassa minn?!

jæja... þá er kominn tími á því að ég fari. við gleymum þér aldrei, Tord! þér né minningareyðandibyssunni þinni... ah, svo margar minningar! ...ég trúi ekki að Tord sé að fara... já, Edd, ég þarf að fylgja draumnum mínum og búa mér nafn í stóruborginni. hljómar vel fyrir mér! ... hver... er ég...?

[skydinzeal]

🌝God of War and God of Peace, Tiwaz is his name! Tuesday received it's name from this Norse God. The primordial Norse Gods, when they had physical bodies, lived thousands of years, similar for the Giants. The original 12 Gods dwelled in Scandinavia, Ireland, Egypt, India, Greece and beyond. Feat. my Norse shamanic martial arts talisman. Yes there was a Norse empty hand style called Glíma. Choose any gemstone! 💜😇🌠😺🔥🌟 The real #godofwar is Germanic and a son of Odin. So ancient was he that he was half a monster... 🔭🌠💜👽✨🔭🌠💜👽✨ I am still trying to rebuild all my jewelry & art that was stolen when I was assaulted & robbed. I am looking for a quality SPIRITUAL STORE or ART GALLERY to TRULY help with sales/marketing their work & mine! I am a rare, tireless entertainer, salesperson and psychic. I have huge internet reach and can work day and night continuously! I don't even need to eat. I have got by on hard work & skill alone, not cheating & it shows! If you would like to make a connection happen contact me. If it works out I will pay you! 🌟 🔭🌠💜👽✨🔭🌠💜👽✨ I hand-make talismans, paintings/sculptures for you or your loved ones!🌷All of my creations are made of 100s of ancient, powerful symbols! I've tested and taught Spiritual practices via my classes at NYCs Edgar Cayce Center for 10 years. I am likely LIVE right now on http://www.skydin.com & will sense and gift you what you need! 💜💜💜💜💜 . . . . L #pagangods #polytheism eregression #healingart #spiritualart #kratos #norsegods #davidwilcock #Spiritualhealing #Crystalhealing #starseed #Metaphysics #Atlantis #pleiadian #Divination  #magical #Magick #starseed #Stargate #Newageart #ascendedmaster #Pastlives #fantasyart ealart #Lemurian #ascension #consciousness #psychicart #metaphysicalart #spiritualartist ltic #reincarnation #visionaryart (at New York City) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpfhjU4MWm_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ek-vitki]

Here’s something I’m really excited about: I edited and republished a historical work! Search “Icelandic Wrestling: A Study on Brókartök Glíma: A Viking Martial Art” to find it on Amazon! You can also check out vinlandhema on Instagram if you’re interested in this sort of thing, all the techniques in this manual are detailed on that page (check out the Brókartök highlight).

Brókartök Glíma is a martial art and folkstyle of wrestling, part of the broader umbrella of Glíma brought to Iceland by its Viking settlers. Glima is an authentic viking martial art, still practiced today. Brókartök is the most well known aspect of Glíma, the pants grip variation of Glíma, where both players take and use a fixed grip on the pants throughout the match. There’s a few theories on why, and my afterword for this text explains every theory I’ve come across. Brókartök literally translates to pants-grip from Icelandic.

If you’re interested in Brókartök Glíma, learning more about this exciting and dynamic historical martial art, or just willing to support my work on HEMA (especially Viking HEMA), picking up this book would be a great way to do it. Even just liking and sharing to boost would help a lot !!!

[hatari-translations]

Hello there! Can you explain to me what a "Glíma" is? The boys mentioned it a few times but I still have no clue what it's supposed to mean. Thanks! xx

Glíma is a traditional Icelandic form of wrestling, practiced since Viking times! In it, the contestants stand upright, grip each other’s trousers (nowadays, there’s a specialized belt or harness), step rhythmically clockwise, and try to wrestle their opponent into the ground while maintaining their own balance; you lose if any part of your body above the knee and below the elbow touches the ground. Glíma is about timing and technique rather than force; forcefully pushing your opponent down is banned as unsportsmanlike. In Hatari’s video with the challenge to Netanyahu, you can see two wrestlers engaging in a match of glíma in the background.

All in all, it’s a delightfully low-aggression, almost dancelike form of combat sport, and there’s a rigorous code of honour, fairness and respect for your opponent around it (the drengskapur that Matthías references in the video). There’s a 2007 Icelandic short film about two gay glíma wrestlers who find a form of intimacy in it.

[thorraborinn]

Do you have any info on the Ginfaxi symbol? Seen a heathen who had it tattooed on their throat and immediately had alarms go off in my head.

I'll post what I know about Ginfaxi, but it won't tell you anything more about the person you saw than you already know. I like thinking and writing about this stuff so I wrote a lot but, yeah, none of this is really going to narrow anything down for you. I'm trying to put the rest behind a break but Tumblr doesn't like breaks anymore, and keeps moving this one around, so we'll see what happens.

I assume that what you mean by "ginfaxi" is this:

This isn't the only symbol that gets called that (more on that below) but it is the most common, and it's what comes up when you Google it. I don't really know anything about how modern people are using ginfaxi but here are some off-the-cuff thoughts:

it's probably on its way into popularity because Ægishjálmur and Vegvísir are too well-known to be mysterious and cool anymore

while less common than those, it's been commercialized for just as long. You, anon, probably know this already, because you probably googled it before asking me, and turned up all the same tchotchke shit that every other "Ancient Viking Magic" symbol is slapped onto. That has more determination over how people relate to it than any 18th/19th century black book does.

there's higher-than-average risk of it being made into a symbol of "Viking warriors" or similar because of its actual historical association with glíma even though conceptually it's closer to staves for winning at chess (which do also exist) than it is to actual combat

yeah I do think it has potential to be a "swastika with plausible deniability" but I honestly don't know if people are doing that and if anything its touristification might be the thing that prevents it

it occurs to me that TikTok is probably a serious vector for how people are experiencing this stuff, and it's something I know absolutely nothing about other than that people like to put runes and stuff on their faces. So I dunno, that could be an influence here.

When you're trying to figure out what it means when you see a galdrastafur on someone, it doesn't necessarily do you any good to learn about its background and history if the person who got it inked didn't bother to research that themselves, and I'm disinclined to believe that someone who got a vaguely swastika-like symbol on their throat did that. I have no idea if the symbol has any more frequency among racists than it does among sorta "general population" heathen/viking-interested people who relate to the past basically through the lens of the tourist gift shop, who would have been getting "Celtic" symbols if it were still the 90's, which seems to be the majority of people involved with this stuff at all. A radically different group of people also comes to mind: in my experience in east coast US, some crusty gutter punk types also use symbols like Icelandic galdrastafir and runes, and they're also more likely to get a tattoo on their throat or face or whatever than the average viking enthusiast. I know a guy who used to put runes and stuff on his panhandling signs and claimed they did get him more cash, and whether it was magic or just drawing attention or what didn't really matter to him.

Anyway, the point is, I think that tattoo was a bad idea, makes someone look like a nazi, and you should side-eye them until you know better, but for better or worse there are other possible explanations for how that symbol got there. I'm not making excuses for anyone, just stating the blunt fact that there are non-nazis who attracted to this symbol and decorate itself with it without even thinking about any of this.

It shows up in that annoying graphic of "Norse" symbols with no context that occasionally makes the rounds (that manages not to include a single symbol from the actual Viking age), with an incorrect or at least misleading description:

And as much as this sucks that is probably the main way that people experience symbolism that is related (whether in a historical or a recently-contrived way) to "the Norse."

The version of the symbol I've been talking about is the most well-known because it comes from Íslenzkar þjóðsögur og æfintýri by Jón Árnason, the most important folklore and fairy tale collection from Iceland. I'm not sure where he got that particular image. When he was writing in the mid-19th century, he said that ginfaxi and gapaldur (which often accompanies ginfaxi) were among the most widespread symbols with the most variety of uses, and even mentions them before ægishjálmur. Ginfaxi was probably always used in glíma, and since that's the context it appears in in magic books while other uses seem not to have been recorded, the association with glíma became stronger over time. It was to be written on a piece of paper or wood-chip and put in the toe of the left show, while gapaldur was supposed to be under the heel in the right shoe (there is some variation in the procedure). According to Grunnavíkur-Jón Ólafsson (via Jón Árna) the two symbols together were also used for spookier things like going into hills (i.e. like huldufólk do, I guess, there's no additional context) and repel sendingar (sort of like ghosts raised by hostile wizards to harm someone) but I don't know where Grunnavíkur-Jón wrote about that or anything else about this. Here is a variant gapaldur from Jón Árnason:

According to Jón Árnason (link in Icelandic), it was rumored that the two staves were composed by hiding the names of different æsir in them. To me, that implies either a method of encoding that is totally opaque to me, or that belief pertained to an entirely different set of visual symbols (either of these are highly plausible). It seems the names ginfaxi and gapaldur (or gapandi) were better-known than the actual visual symbols themselves, and there are many variants that look hardly anything like the one in Jón Arna (this is not surprising -- there are also many symbols called ægishjálmur other than the one we all know). Probably many more people suspected others of having used symbols like these to gain advantage over them, than actually used symbols themselves, so that the idea of ginfaxi would precede anyone knowing how to actually draw it, and perhaps there never really was an original or fixed shape.

Jónas Jónasson (another folklore collector) identified this one from Lbs 977 4to as another ginfaxi although I don't know how he knows it's that and not gapaldur:

This one comes with a formula to recite that invokes Óðinn and Frigg and is specifically about winning at glíma.

These two are from the Galdrasýning á Ströndum website (only on the Icelandic version of the page for some reason), not sure where they got them either. With these you're supposed to carve them on a piece of turf when the moon is waxing and drop some of your own blood into them, then put them in your shoes and recite a verse.

I think it's worth showing what glíma is. True, when an Old Icelandic text refers to people doing an action that is uses the verb glíma to describe, it's talking about actual fighting, but this is the stuff that the glímugaldrar ('glíma-magic') that we have is about:

[kathrynalicemc]

The Phoenix Resistance - Epilogue: Kaari Arcano

Skalafell, Norway - December 21st, 2008, 4:45 PM

A flash of fire lit up the dark kitchen as Kaari Arcano stepped out of the fireplace, returning home from Fossan where he worked. He looked around at the various pots bubbling away over the stove but found nobody tending to them. However, his eye did catch the fresh pie cooling by the open window. Tiptoeing over, he stuck a finger into it and then into his mouth.

“Kaari Arcano, you get your dirty hands out of that pie!” came the sudden voice of his mother Else from behind him.

His shoulders tensed up and he gave a quiet curse under his breath. Of course she would walk in at that exact moment. He couldn’t get away with anything. At least he found out that it was an apple pie and, like everything his mother made, was delicious.

“That pie is for the Yuletide feast tonight,” Else hit a dishrag against Kaari’s shoulder to shoo him away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how my day was?” he teased, recoiling from her attacks.

“Sorry, min kjære. How was your day?”

“It was fine, Ma,” he chuckled, squeezing her to his side in a quick hug.

“Where is everyone? Usually the house is swarming with screaming Vikings.”

“Dafne brought some friends home with her for Christmas break. They are all out back playing knattleikr.”

“Mmmm,” Kaari murmured. “I bet they are,” he said sarcastically, knowing well enough that Dafne hated to play such a rough and dangerous game.

Pulling his fur cloak tighter, he stepped out of the door and into the deep snow as he made his way to the clearing behind the Arcano house. As he got closer he could hear the yells of combat. It seemed they had ditched knattleikr, the balls and sticks thrown aside into a snowbank, and now were in favor of glíma.

Dayamanti, the oldest of his nieces at fourteen years old, threw Siv’s small eight year old form down into the snow and pinned her down, a small wooden practice dagger poised above the girl’s neck.

“Ha! I won again, Siv!” Dayamanti taunted downward, her long dark hair cascaded down and the white ends of it brushed Siv’s face.

“No fair!” Siv, Kaari’s own daughter, cried back indignantly.

“What did you expect, Siv? Da outweighs you twice over,” Dafne, his second niece, called out annoyed from her seat on a fallen log to the side.

“UNCLE KAARI!” “DADDY!” came the cries of Dielle, his youngest niece, and his own son Mikael as they saw him approach. They were the same age as they were both six years old.

“Hey kiddos! Have you won any games yet?”

“Nah, Da says we are too young to play glíma,” Dielle pouted.

“I wanted to play quidditch,” said Mikael, also joining the pout.

“Well that’s no fun!” Kaari winked. “How about we get a game going tonight at the feast?”

“YEAA!” Dielle and Mikael both cheered and then ran off together, most likely to go find some brooms.

The wrestling match had stopped by the time Kaari approached, Siv and Dayamanti now sitting on a second log. On the first log next to Dafne sat two of her new friends, both catching Kaari off guard.

One of them was incredibly tall and lanky, so much so that he thought she might not be in first year after all. The girl's skin was a sort of tanned olive while her long tangled hair was a vibrant sea green.

The second girl, however, was almost the opposite. She was even smaller than Mikael and Dielle. Kaari wondered how she was old enough to attend Hogwarts. It wasn’t until he saw her long droopy elvish ears that a shock of recognition traveled up his spine.

It had been ten years since he looked into that kitchen window and saw that small elf baby sleeping in a pile of rags. He remembered the frustration and anger on Devon’s face when she had lost the trial on Neira Wilson. After that, neither of them had any contact with Lenwin or his daughter. They never knew what happened to them. Looking at the girl, Kaari couldn’t help but smile. It had to be fate that Dafne would bring her home. He’d have to send Devon an owl later. She would be happy to know about this.

“What do we have here?” Kaari mused as he stopped in front of them.

Dafne rolled her eyes in annoyance while the small elf girl turned a deep red and shrunk down, embarrassed at the sudden attention brought to her. However, the green haired girl didn’t share that sentiment and instantly jumped up, extending her hand with a large pointed toothed smile.

“Hi! I’m Nessi Lucerne! Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

“I’m Kaari, Dafne’s totally awesome and fun uncle,” he joked with a wink at Dafne who returned a scolding glare back at him.

“And you. You’re Kiri Wilson, right?”

The girl's head shot up at the mention of her name, her eyes peeking out from between her fingers. She looked around at all the people who were now staring at her and burst into tears, running off into the forest behind them.

“Ah, sorry about that. Kiri is really shy and hates being put on the spot. Especially with strangers,” Dafne grimaced.

“Why don’t you kids go to the Longhouse? The feast will be starting soon. I’ll go find her. She really shouldn’t be in the forest alone, especially since she could freeze out there,” Kaari offered.

The girls agreed and started to make their way down the pathway to the village. Kaari approached the edge of the forest, the pines covered in thick snow. Luckily, he was very skilled in the art of tracking thanks to his father Alatar. With a combination of footsteps in the snow and the faint distant sounds of sniffling, he spotted the small frame of Kiri half hidden behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, I’m sorry I scared you,” he spoke as gently as he could.

A few seconds passed but she didn’t respond. Only the quiet sobs permeated the air. Suddenly, he got an idea.

“Do you want to see something cool?” Kaari asked, reaching into his coat pocket.

The sobs stopped and a tiny hand and eye peeked out from around the tree, watching Kaari curiously.

“This is one of my best friends,” he said as a bright blue dragon resting in his palms yawned and blinked sleepily, having just been woken up. “His name is Nym and he’s very friendly.”

Nym’s head cocked to the side and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he looked at the small elf girl now slowly approaching, her hands tucked up to her chest nervously. She hesitated for a moment but then kept going, stopping right in front of Kaari who was now crouching down low.

Nym’s tongue flicked up and licked his eyeball, scanning the girl for treats. When he didn’t find any in her hands, he gave a small chirp. Kiri’s mouth pulled upwards in a smile.

“Go ahead, you can pet him. He won’t bite.”

Her small hand shook slightly as she slowly reached out towards Nym. As soon as it got close enough, Nym stretched upwards and nuzzled his head against her hand, giving out even more excited chirps. Kaari smiled as a laugh erupted from Kiri.

“Here, you can hold him,” Kaari chuckled and carefully placed the dragon in her arms.

Kiri’s hands were too small to hold him in her palms so she cradled him in her arms. Holding him tight to her chest, she gave him a kiss on the top of his head.

“Wilson isn’t my name,” Kiri suddenly spoke up, her voice quiet and soft. “It was my mother’s name.”

“You can’t use it?”

“House elves can’t have last names.”

“Who told you they can’t have last names?”

“My aunt.”

“Well she’s an arse,” he replied instinctively but then winced, “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I won’t,” Kiri giggled.

“You know, I knew your mother. We were good friends. She was one of the kindest and most selfless people I’ve ever known.”

Kiri was quiet for a moment. “My dad has told me about her. I wish I could have known her.”

“I was there when she died. She sacrificed herself to save so many people. I hope you know she loved you more than anything in the world. She never wanted to leave you.”

Tears started to well up in Kiri’s large eyes as she hugged Nym tight.

“You have her hair,” Kaari remarked, “and her smile. You should use it more, it suits you.”

“T-thank you,” Kiri managed to stutter between sobs as she cried again, this time not out of embarrassment or fear.

“C’mon, we should be getting back. The feast has probably started and you’ll catch your death out here in the cold.”

“Can I play with Nym more?” Kiri asked, wiping away tears.

“Whenever you like, kiddo,” Kaari answered and playfully mussed her hair as they made their way out of the forest and down to the Longhouse where a large bonfire and hot cider greeted them warmly.

[landhoe-norris]

unamerican ask: 10, 15, 16, 20

10. most enjoyable sweat word in your native language?

djöfullinn or mannfýla

15. favorite native writer/poet?

davíð stefánsson frá fagraskógi and halldór laxnes

16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?

that we’re cold and that it’s difficult to get to know us. we’re def nordic but I don’t think as people that we’re distant and offhand. i agree that we’re probably a bit too laid back. “þetta reddast” (e: it’ll work out) is our motto and believe me, things don’t always work out. it’s often been said that we’re the italians of the north. idk man 🥴

20. which sport is The Sport in your country?

football or handball, football is more popular but handball is in our blood. but glíma (e: wrestling) is our national sport but it’s not as popular as the other two.

[rperboni]

Axe-wielding dwarf warriors are an already classic of RPG and almost all fantasy narratives - thank you Tolkien, you handsome beast. But, frankly, my original idea for Grumpy was that he was a barbarian, a berserk, but I ended up going to a fighter-like character to blend it more with the more "urban" scenery of the dwarf capital, where all these characters live. Grumpy, in fact, is called Holgrag Angrybeard, one of the most skilled warriors of his clan, famous for its very specific rites linked to Gorum, the god of battle, including large hunts for the primal beasts in the woods surrounding the mountains of Silvermine, raids against goblinoid and trolls and fighting competitions, without weapons or armor, similar to the Viking's Glíma. Although temperamental, Holgrag is loyal to his friends and his people, but he doesn't think twice about going into combat - almost like a "dwarf Wolverine" so to speak.

[honestsycrets]

Would you please do a happy, fluffy Hvitserk with no. 5 from the prompt list, please? 😁

Cracked || [Hvitserk x Reader]

Give my Hvitty some love with prompt 39!

5: Well, that wasn’t what I expected…

39: Would you just kiss me, already?

You didn’t have high hopes for this.

Hvitserk was a skinny, lanky thing. He wasn’t the big hulking Viking that was Bjorn Ironside, nor as toned as Ubbe. So when he joined in on glíma after a warm belly of fish stew and heavy bread, you had little hopes that he would win. Only that he would wear his fangastakkur, a wrestling jacket, so you wouldn’t be caring for broken bones that night.

Maybe it was your presence that night, but after three near failings, you expected him to be lifted and chucked like a hen across the farm. To your shock that time, your skinny Viking latched his hands around the fluffy bearded man’s side, lurching and fighting, until he finally managed to flick him into a raised bench just to the side of the crowd where a pregnant woman recently left. There’s a loud crack, a pop of something in his back, decimating his spine. The crowd erupted in jovial laughter, even in the face of the young man who groaned that something was broken.

“Well, that wasn’t what I expected…” you mutter out loud as Hvitserk bounced around the arena, laughing and hopping like a happy rabbit, stripping himself of his jacket, until he spots you from the corner of his eyes. He grasps your elbow, swirling you about like it was one big show. Even as you shrill in surprise.

“Hvitserk! You– is he dead?!”

“I won! You said you would kiss me if I won.” He says pointedly, flicking off the fact that yeah– the other man wasn’t getting up. Your arms slip from your chest, dropping from the long braid of your chest. “Would you kiss me, already?”

“But– he’s dead!”

A side effect, really, Hvitserk snatches your waist, slipping his hands around your waist for a sneaky little squeeze. When you shriek, his lips snatch the opportunity to take his prize– one sweet, hungry kiss. Gentle as his full lips press against yours, hungry when his tongue begs for more of your taste. It’s just like him– Your hungry, sweet Viking.

Only tonight, the sweet part was highly debatable. 

@tephi101​ @alicedopey​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @tootie-fruity​ @titty-teetee​ @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla​ @ethereallysimple​ @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit​ @readsalot73​ @natalie-rdr​ @lol-haha-joke​ @lisinfleur​ @hissouthernprincess​ @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol​ @vikingsmania​ @wish-i-was-a-mermaid​ @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @gruffle1​ @cris101071​ @gold-dragon-slayer​ @babypink224221​ @wonderwoman292​ @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @generic-fangirl​ @chinduda​ @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope​ @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117​ @unassumingviking​ @ladyofsoa, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13​ @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @tgrrose​ @cookies186​ @learninglemni-blog  @beyond-the-ashes @queenmissfit @x-valhalla @hissouthernprincess @tierneygonzalez @alicedopey @rekdreams-fandom @athroatfullofglass @supernaturalvikingwhore @laughinglikenialler @ilvebeenabad @mblaqgi @neeadinghugs @gruffle1 @p8tn0lish @lol-haha-joke @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @lovelynerdytraveler @winchesterwife27 @tephi101 @therealmrshale @vikingsmania @igetcarriedawaywithyou @the-geeky-engineer @whatamood13 @strangunddurm @thethyri @peachesnpisces @ms-allenbrown @tempt-ress @isthat-tyra98 @unacceptabletatertots @deathbyarabbit @therealcalicali

[likeappletrees]

hatari challenge brazilian president j**r b*ls*nar* to a glíma match challenge

[viskumal]

Ginfaxi: A Norse-Germanic Swastika Hypothesis

In this post I will put forth a hypothesis on the stave Ginfaxi. In short, I’ve come to believe that this symbol is more than just a “ good luck stave for Icelandic wrestling (glíma) ” specifically and is actually a Norse-Germanic variant of the swastika that has been misrepresented in current times.

I will not be going into comparative details about all of the world swastika designs, a quick Google search on ‘world swastikas’ will do that for you. You will see that this ancient four-legged revolving symbol is so widespread on a global scale that it is impossible to ignore:

Image link

Glíma and Luck

As far as I can tell, Ginfaxi (pronounced Gin- i.e. Beginning or Gín- i.e. bee) has only one common description nowadays. On the Wikipedia article about ‘Icelandic Magical Staves’ you will see two symbols described as being used in the Icelandic wrestling act of glíma; Gapaldur and Ginfaxi.

“ Two staves, kept in the shoes, gapaldur under the heel of the right foot and ginfaxi under the toes of the left foot, to magically ensure victory in bouts of Icelandic wrestling (glíma). ”

Using luck symbols during most anything is commonplace. And using it under the feet while participating in something like wrestling, where footwork is key, is logical. As a side note, the Buddha is sometimes depicted as having swastikas under his toes as well.

I think the stave being used to give luck in glíma might be correct, just how the swastika represents good luck in most other cultures, but I don’t believe that this is it’s original origin.

Etymology and Comet Tail

The comparative etymology that led me to changing my perspective on Ginfaxi were the names Gullfaxi, Hrimfaxi and Skinfaxi. All of these are horse characters that have their faxi, i.e. manes, in their name to describe them. 

Gullfaxi = Golden Mane, Hrimfaxi = Frost Mane (The horse that pulls the moon), Skinfaxi = Bright Mane (The horse that pulls the sun).

I haven’t yet found any textual lead as to what the ‘Gin-’ portion of the name might mean, but the second ‘-faxi’ is obviously ‘mane’. Which leads me to the hypothesis of a comet. An excerpt from Wikipedia explains the following:

Carl Sagan in his book Comet (1985) reproduces a Han-dynasty Chinese manuscript (the Book of Silk, 2nd century BCE) that shows comet tail varieties: most are variations on simple comet tails, but the last shows the comet nucleus with four bent arms extending from it, recalling a swastika. Sagan suggests that in antiquity a comet could have approached so close to Earth that the jets of gas streaming from it, bent by the comet's rotation, became visible, leading to the adoption of the swastika as a symbol across the world.

* Detail of Astrology Manuscript, ink on silk, BCE 2th century, Han, unearthed from Mawangdui tomb 3rd, Chansha, Hunan Province, China. *

In this context one could see how this symbol is given a -faxi name as the comet tails could represent the waving manes of a horse. In a comparative sense to Skinfaxi (Shining Mane), Gin- could possibly mean Light- or Bright-, concluding the derivative meaning as Light Mane or Bright Mane, describing the light emmiting from the comet.

You have to think of the rarity of a comet flying through the sky and making this exact shape, even though it must’ve been very impactfull in ancient times. I do think it is a possible explanation, but I'd argue there’s a better and more continuously visible one: Ursa Major

The Big Dipper and the North Star

It is a known astronomical fact that The Big Dipper (Ursa Major) continuously revolves around the North Star (Polaris). When visually sequenced with the seasons it gives the origin of the swastika shape:

The sky has always been there and people have been viewing it for thousands upon thousands of years. There is little doubt in my mind that this is not the catalyst for the four-legged swastika symbol.

Modern usage and Stigma

I will make this brief. Just because someone uses a symbol does not mean they fully know and understand the origins of it and/or what it stands for. Same as when people attribute evil to a symbol that has been tattered in very recent history does not change the ancient meaning of it. We cannot accept ignorance to overrule truth. Open your eyes, view without blindness and think for yourself.

Conclusion

I think we should start seeing and using Ginfaxi as an ancient astronomical symbol that depicts the seasons and therefore life itself.

Let go of the stigma that keeps feeding poison to us and the symbols. Let go of the notions of people who refuse to let go of the recent past. Strike down the ignorance that takes everything at face value. The swastika is a tremendously ancient and well-spirited symbol and it should be recognized as such.

Extra references

Find the Dipper and the North Star - http://www.physics.ucla.edu/~huffman/finddip.html

Live Encounters “Who’s Swastika is it Anyway?” - https://liveencounters.net/2013-2/08-august-2013/whose-swastika-is-it-anway/

The Big Dipper | 4 Heavenly Beasts | Swastika/Manji - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agX-Rkuvn6s

[historicalfightingguide]

“ Glíma Master Josefsson (1883-1968) opposing a western boxer, from 'Illustrated Newspaper' (1909). [Image Source: Bavarian State library.] “

The text in the image says: "The Glima fighter Josephson demonstrates an attack with the legs as a means of defense against boxing"

Found via  HEMA pugilists here.

[fotoflingscotland]

Glíma - Paul Craig & Max Freyne (Scotland) by FotoFling Scotland Via Flickr: Glíma Competition (named Bikarglíma Íslands) hosted by The Icelandic Glíma Association held in Íþróttahús Kennaraháskólans, Laugardalur, Reykjavik, Iceland - January 2017