How High Was the High One?

The Role of Oðinn in Pre-Christian Icelandic Society

Terry Gunnell
(University of Iceland)

Gro Steinsland’s recent survey of Old Nordic religious belief and custom Norrøn religion
contains a key well-researched chapter entitled ‘Odin: Den mektigiste åsen’ (Óðinn, the most
powerful of the Æsir).1 Similar statements about the overall superiority of Óðinn in a
hierachic Old Nordic pantheon have been made by most other scholars in their overviews of
Old Norse religion, albeit with the slight health warning that this is ‘according to Snorri
Sturluson in his Prose Edda and Ynglinga saga’.2 Their words would be echoed by almost any
child living in the Nordic countries today (including Iceland and Norway) if they were asked
about the pre-Christian ‘religion’ practised by their ancient forefathers. The irony is that the
extant evidence suggests that when Snorri Sturluson wrote the influential defining statement

that Alf†ðr” (i.e. Óðinn) ‘lifir of allar aldir ok stjórnar †llu ríki sínu ok ræðr †llum hlutum
stórum ok smáum’ (lives for all ages, and rules over his entire state and decides all things,
great and small),3 he was living on an island in which Óðinn appears to have hardly ever been
worshipped at all outside the narrow fraternity of knörr-setting poets. Of course, Óðinn’s
name must have been known in Iceland, and there is little question that he was an ‘old’ god,
but there is equally little to indicate that the spiritual worldview of most of the inhabitants of
Iceland before the start of the gradual conversion ever reflected the Óðinic hierarchy
presented in either Snorra Edda or Ynglinga saga.

1
Gro Steinsland, Norrøn religion: Myth, riter, samfunn (Oslo: Pax Forlag A/S, 2005), p. 165.
2
See, for example, Ólafur Briem, Heiðinn siður á Íslandi (Reykjavik: Bókaútgáfa Menningarsjóðs, 1945), p. 62;
E. O. G. Turville-Petre, Myth and Religion of the North (New York: Holt, Reinhart and Winston, 1964), p. 35;
Folke Ström, Nordisk hedendom: Tro och sed i förkristen tid, 3rd ed. (Gothenburg: Akademiförlaget, 1985, p.
106; Rudolf Simek, Hugtök og heiti í norrænni goðafræði, ed. by Heimir Pálsson, trans. by Ingunn Ásdísardóttir
(Reykjavik: Háskólaforlag Máls og menningar, 1993), p.188 (Simek adds the Poetic Edda to the list of sources);
Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson, Under the Cloak: A Ritual Turning Point in the Conversion of Iceland, 2nd extended
edition (Reykjavik: Háskólaútgáfan, Félagsvísindastofnun 1999), p. 45; Andy Orchard, Cassell’s Dictionary of
Old Norse Myth and Legend (London: Cassell, 2001), p. 272; and John Lindow, Handbook of Norse Mythology
(Santa Barbara and Oxford: ABC CLIO, 2001), p. 248.
3
See Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Prologue and Gylfaginning, ed. by Anthony Faulkes, 2nd ed. (London: Viking
Society for Northern Research, 2005), p. 8. The implication in these words is that the “Alf†ðr” is Óðinn,
although it is noteworthy that the name Óðinn does not appear among the twelve names of the Alf†ðr given in
Gylfaginning: see Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Prologue and Gylfaginning, p. 8. While the name Óðinn appears in
the Prologue to the Prose Edda, it does not occur in Gylfaginning until somewhat later: Snorri Sturluson, Edda:
Prologue and Gylfaginning, p. 11. All translations in this article are those of the present author.
 2

The aforementioned idea that Óðinn was never widely worshipped or respected in
Iceland has been previously put forward in a number of books and articles (most particularly
in those dealing with pre-Christian Icelandic religious belief).4 Little, however, has been done
about the important implications of what this statement means for our received understanding
of the nature of Old Nordic mythology and religious practice (which is, to a large extent,
based on Icelandic materials). The implications in question demand a thorough rethinking of a
number of key concepts connected to Old Nordic religious belief, not only with regard to
Óðinn’s generally accepted rulership and possession of various items, but also to other ideas
regarding the general belief in the creation of the world, Valhöll, ragnarök, and Þórr’s
eventual slaying by the Miðgarðsormur. Incidentally, they also help us narrow the field down
when considering exactly who might have preserved some of the mythological Eddic poems
in Iceland, and why they might have been preserved for so long.
It is worth beginning by reviewing the large amount of evidence on pre-Christian
Icelandic beliefs available in other sources than Snorri’s work, some of which, like
Landnámabók, originated from a period before Snorri’s own time. The sources in question
have previously been examined in some detail by Turville Petre, and Ólafur Briem before
him.5 This material nonetheless needs to be re-examined in a new context. A number of
scholars in recent years have been arguing that it is time scholars stopped talking of a near
stable Old Nordic (or even Germanic) ‘religion’ or mythology, thereby comparing it to other
religions like Christianity or Islam which are based around a central written text, and instead
started considering the idea of “systems of belief” which have certain shared features but
different elements and emphases which varied by time, area, and by social and geographical

4
Dag Strömbäck, The Conversion of Iceland: A Survey (London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1975),
p. 52 (‘Óðinn was never the object of a public cult in Iceland’); Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson, Under the Cloak, p.
44 (‘Neither in Landnámabók nor in the Íslendingasögur is it directly mentioned that Óðinn received offerings in
Iceland or that sacrifice was made to him’); Annette Lassen, ‘Odin på kristent pergament: En teksthistorisk studie’
(unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Copenhagen, 2006), p. 125 (‘En del af forklaringen på Odins fravær kan
være, at man har villet undgå at omtale ham på grund af hans funktion som en af hedenskabens fremmeste
repræsentater, hvad oversættelserne af hagiografi vidner om. Med det er også muligt, at man ikke har haft noget
særligt forhold til denne gud på Island’ [Part of the explanation of Óðinn’s absence might be that people wanted
to avoid mentioning him owing to his function as the leading representative of heathendom, as hagiographic
translations demonstrate. But it is also possible that people did not feel any particular attachment to this god in
Iceland]). See also Ólafur Briem, Heiðinn siður á Íslandi, pp. 17-19, 27-28, 54, 62, and 67; Turville Petre, Myth
and Religion of the North, pp. 35, and 65-69; Gabriel Turville Petre, ‘The Cult of Óðinn in Iceland’ in Nine
Norse Studies (London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1992), pp. 1-19 (an earlier version of which was
published in Icelandic in Gabriel Turville Petre, ‘Um Óðins dyrkun á Íslandi’, Studia Islandica, 17 [Reykjavik: H.
F. Leiftur, 1958], pp. 5-25); Ström, Nordisk hedendom, pp. 106 and 120; Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson, ‘Norræn trú’,
in Íslensk þjóðmenning, V: Trúarhættir, ed. by Frosti F. Jóhannsson (Reykjavik: Bókaútgáfan Þjóðsaga 1988), pp.
56-57; Rudolf Simek, Hugtök og heiti, pp. 188-191; and Thomas A. DuBois, Nordic Religions in the Viking Age
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999), pp. 56-59.
5
See Turville Petre, ‘The Cult of Óðinn in Iceland’, ‘Um Óðins dyrkun á Íslandi’, and Myth and Religion of the
North, pp. 35, and 65-69; and Ólafur Briem Heiðinn siður á Íslandi, pp. 17-19, 27-28, 54, 62, and 67.
 3

environment.6 As these scholars have pointed out on the basis of archaeology, place names,
literary sources and folkloristics, there is little question that the cultural vocabularies of
people living in the islands of southern Denmark, the forested areas around Uppsala, the
western fjords of Norway, and the harsh landscape in the north of Scandinavia in close
contact with the Sámi and other Finno-Ugric peoples would have varied at least as much as
the folklore collected in these parts in the mid-nineteenth century, at a time when
communications were much better. Iceland, the source of most vernacular written sources on
Old Nordic mythology is a case in point in this discussion. There is no obvious reason for
why the pre-Christian beliefs and religious practices here should have been uniform (the
settlers came from a wide expanse of family territories), or that they should have been
identical to those known in the military camps of Jylland, the markets of Birka, or the hunting
areas in the northern parts of Norway and Sweden.
A review of the relevant evidence on Icelandic belief must begin with Landnámabók,
the first, now lost, version of which was probably written by Ari and Kolskeggr fróði around
the start of the twelfth century, around a hundred years after the official acceptance of
Christianity.7 Additions and corrections were made by, among others, Snorri’s nephew Sturla
Þórðarson around 1270, just fifty years after Snorri (or one of his scribes) had put together the
Prose Edda, and at the same time that the Codex Regius of the Poetic Edda was being
compiled.8 Landnámabók is essentially a record of orally preserved memories about the
settlement of the country kept by an immigrant community, and the earliest collectors of this
material could have heard from people whose grandparents were alive before time of the

6
See, for example, John McKinnell, Both One and Many: Essays on Change and Variety in Late Norse
Heathenism (with an Appendix by Maria Elena Ruggerini (Rome: Editrice Il Calamo, 1994), pp. 9-10, 20-26;
and Meeting the Other in Norse Myth and Legend (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2005), p. 13; DuBois, Nordic
Religions in the Viking Age pp. 7-8; 10-12, 56-59; Neil S. Price, The Viking Way: Religion and War in Iron Age
Scandinavia, Aun, 31 (Uppsala: Department of Archaeology and Ancient History, 2002), pp. 26 and 54-55;
Anders Andrén, ‘Behind Heathendom: Archaeological Studies of Old Norse Religion, Scottish Archaeological
Journal, 27.2 (2007), 105-38; Stefan Brink, ‘How Uniform was the Old Norse Religion Learning and
Understanding in the Old Norse World’, in Essays in Honour of Margaret Clunies Ross, ed. by Judy Quinn, Kate
Heslop and Tarinn Wells (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), pp. 105-35; Jens Peter Schjødt, Initiation Between Two
Worlds: Structure and Symbolism in Pre-Christian Scandinavian Religion, trans. by Victor Hansen, The Viking
Collection: Studies in Northern Civilisation (Odense: Syddansk Universitetsforlag, 2008), p. 95; and ‘Diversity
and its Consequences for the Study of Old Norse Religion: What Is It We Are Trying To Reconstruct’, in
Between Paganism and Christianity in the North, ed. by Leszek Slupecki and Jakub Morawiec (Rzeszow:
Wydawnictwo Universytetu Rzeszowskiego, 2009), pp. 9-22; and Terry Gunnell, ‘The Season of the Dísir: The
Winter Nights and the Dísarblót in Early Scandinavian Belief’, Cosmos 16 (2000; published 2005), 117-118;
and ‘How Elvish Were the Álfar?’, in Constructing Nations, Reconstructing Myth: Essays in Honour of T. A.
Shippey, ed. by Andrew Wawn, Graham Johnson and John Walter (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), pp. 111-15.
7
See Íslendingabók. Landnámabók, ed. by Jakob Benediktsson, Íslenzk fornrit, I (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka
bókmenntafélag, 1968), pp. cvi-cx.
8
Íslendingabók. Landnámabók, pp. liv-xci.
 4

official conversion.9 Bearing this in mind, it is noteworthy that only one reference in made to
Óðinn in the entire book (including all of its different versions), in a poem by Helgi trausti
Ólafsson.10 On the other hand, Freyr is referred to five times,11 and Þórr six (in more detail):
There is the account of Þórólfr Mostrarskegg from Mostr in Norway who was ‘blótmaðr
mikill ok trúði á Þór’ (made many sacrifices, and believed in Þórr), had the image of Þórr
carved on his öndvegissúlur (high-seat pillars), and ‘mælti svá fyrir, að Þórr skyldi þar á land
koma, sem hann vildi, at Þórólfr byggði; hét hann því að helga Þór allt landnám sitt ok kenna
við hann.’ (stated that Þórr should come to land where he wished Þórólfr to live; he promised
he would dedicate all the land he settled to Þórr and name it after him).12 There is the account
of Þórólfr’s son Hallsteinn, who as part of a sacrifice asked Þórr to send him öndvegissúlur,13
and that of Kráku-Hreiðar who apparently trusted the Þórr carved onto his prow more than his

9
See, for example, R. I. Page, Chronicles of the Vikings: Records, Memorials and Myths (Toronto: University of
Toronto Press, 1995), pp. 60, and 26; Turville Petre, ‘The Cult of Óðinn in Iceland’, p. 3; and Íslendingabók.
Landnámabók, pp. cviii-cvix, and p.xxiii on Ari’s sources. It is likely that the general institution of Christianity
in Iceland would have taken some time: see further Terry Gunnell, ‘Ansgar’s Conversion of Iceland’, Scripta
Islandica: Isländske årsbok, 60 (2009), 115-116; and Orri Vésteinsson, 2000: The Christianisation of Iceland:
Priests, Power and Social Change 1000–1300 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p. 18.
10
See Landnámabók, in Íslendingabók. Landnámabók, ed. by Jakob Benediktsson, Íslenzk fornrit, I (Reykjavik: Hið
íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1968), p. 378 (S [Sturlubók] 377; H [Hauksbók] 332): ‘Ásmóðar gafk Óðni/ arfa þróttar
djarfan,/ guldum galga valdi/ Gauts tafn, en ná hrafni’ (I gave Óðinn the battle-brave of Þórmóðr. We gave the
ruler of the gallows an Óðinn-sacrifice, and the ravens a body); see also http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?
if=default&table=verses&id=3108 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010). It is worth noting, though, that the context
here is battle. Nothing is said here about daily worship of Óðinn comparable to that implied in the accounts of
Ingimundr gamli or Þorólfr Mostrarskegg, for example (see below).
11
Landnámabók, pp. 218 (S 179 [the story of Ingimundr gamli]); 315 (H 268 [the oath in Ulfljótslög]); 320-321
(S 316 and H 276 [Þórðr Freysgoði, great grandson of Heyangrs-Björn of Sogn, and his sister Þuríðr hofgyðja];
336 (S 335 [the Freysgyðlingar]), and 397 (H 354 [the Freysgyðlingar]). Arguably one might add the name of
Ingólfr Árnarson, which offers invites parallels to the story of how Þórólfr Mostrarskegg changed his name from
Hrólfr to Þórólfr (Eyrbyggja saga, in Íslenzk fornrit, IV, ed. by Einar Ólafur Sveinsson and Matthías Þórðarson
[Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1935), p. 6]), thereby implying that Ingólfr was someone who had
connections to Ingvi-Freyr. It is interesting that the above references (like those to Þórr) do not only mention the
name of the god but also refer (if indirectly) to religious practice. Indeed, both Landnámabók and the sagas seem
to refer to a sense of Freyr and the Vanir having been more associated with formalised religious practice
involving goðar (chieftain-priests) and gyðjur (female priestesses) than other gods, something echoed in the text
of Úlfljótslög (see below). In addition to Ingimundr, Þórðr, Þuríðr hofgyðja and the Freysgyðlingar, we have the
account of Freyr’s hof in Hripkelsstaðir, and the nearby Vitazgiafi (Sure-giver) field in Víga-Glúms saga, ed. by
Jónas Kristjánsson, Íslenzk fornrit, IX (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1956), pp. 16, 22, 34, 66, 87-88;
Þorgrímr goði in Gísla saga Súrssonar, in Íslenzk fornrit VI, ed. by Björn K. Þórólfsson and Guðni Jónsson
(Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1943), pp. 50 and 57; Hrafnkell Freysgoði in Hrafnkels saga, ed. by
Jón Jóhannesson, in Íslenzk fornrit, XI (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1950), pp. 99-100; and, of course,
the account of the priestess (‘kona’) of Freyr in Sweden who ‘skyldi... mest ráða með Frey fyrir hofstaðnum ok †llu
því, er þar lá til (with Freyr had control over the temple site and everything that was associated with it) in Ögmundar
þáttr dytts, ed. by Jónas Kristjánsson, in Íslenzk fornrit IX (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1956), pp. 112.
On Ingimundr, see also Vatnsdæla saga, in Íslenzk fornrit VIII, ed. by Einar Ólafur Sveinsson (Reykjavik: Hið
íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1939), pp. 33, and 42. It is noteworthy that we never hear of a ‘Þórsgoði’ or ‘-gyðja’ or
any similar figure directly associated with Óðinn.
12
Landnámabók, pp. 124-125 (S 75; H 73).
13
Landnámabók, pp. 163-164 (S 123; H 95).
 5

öndvegissúlur to show him the way to land.14 There is Helgi enn magri who ‘trúði á Krist, en
hét á Þór til sjófara og harðræða’ (believed in Christ, but made pledges to Þórr for sea
voyages and in difficult times), and intended to follow the fréttir (oracular messages) sent by
Þórr about where he should land (presumably after another divinatory sacrifice).15 There is
Kollr who calls on Þórr for help in a storm (thereby offering a parallel to the previous
account);16 and Ásbjörn Reyrketilsson who “helgaði landnám sitt Þór ok kallaði Þórsmörk”
(consecrated his settlement in the name of Þórr and called it Þórsmörk).17 In this context, it is
also worth remembering Þórhaddr (whose name suggests connections to Þórr at some level),
the hofgoði (‘temple’ priest) from Mæri near Trondheim who brought both his öndvegissúlur
and the earth beneath them to Iceland with him.18 Considering the above evidence as a whole,
it is interesting to note how often it points to associations between Þórr and trees (in the form
of öndvegissúlur), sea travel and protection in storms; to the fact that fréttir can be received
from him (something not mentioned in the Eddic poems); and that sacrifices are made to him.
In short, these accounts are not limited to mentions of Þórr’s name but also point to a range of
religious activities being connected to him, and clear connections to the living environment.19
In addition to this, there are roughly thirteen pages of references to names and place names
involving the Þórr prefix in the index of the Íslensk fornrit edition of Landnámabók and
Íslendingabók.20
It might be argued that the various authors/ editors of Landnámabók, that is Ari,
Kolskeggr, Sturla, Haukr and the anonymous compiler of Melabók were all engaged in a
Christian conspiracy that was designed to wipe Óðinn’s name from the settlement record
(while maintaining mentions of Þórr and Freyr), but that seems rather unlikely considering the
fact that Snorri gives Óðinn precisely the opposite treatment in his Prose Edda, written at
around the same period.21 Indeed, as noted above, all the other evidence that is available to us
14
Landnámabók, pp. 232-233 (S 197; H 164). On the idea of images of Þórr being carved on ships for
protection, see also the account of Eiríkr jarl who ‘kastaði Þórr í brottu, en setti róðukross í staðinn í miðjan stafn
á Járnbarðanum’ (threw away Þórr, and replaced him with a cross on the middle of the prow of [his ship]
Járnbarðinn) according to Flateyjarbók in Flateyjarbók I-IV (1944-1945), ed. by Sigurður Nordal (Akranes:
Flateyjarútgáfan, 1944-1945), I, pp. 543.
15
Landnámabók, pp. 250-253 (S 218; H 184).
16
Landnámabók, p. 55 (H 15).
17
Landnámabók, p. 346 (S 344; H 303).
18
Landnámabók, p. 307 (S 297; H 258).
19
Regarding the öndvégissúlur (also mentioned in Landnámabók, pp. 42-45, 124, and 302 [SH 8-9; 85; and
289); see further Terry Gunnell, ‘Ansgar’s Conversion of Iceland’, 109; and ‘Hof, Halls, Goðar and Dwarves:
An Examination of the Ritual Space in the Pagan Icelandic Hall,’ Cosmos 17 (2001; published in 2005), 14-17.
20
Íslendingabók. Landnámabók, pp. 510-522.
21
Indeed, as Sturlunga saga shows, Snorri’s choice of the name ‘Valhöll’ for his búð (tented headquarters) at
Þingvellir demonstrates that he had few qualms at associating himself personally with the figure of Óðinn at this
time: see Sturlunga saga, ed. by Jón Jóhannesson, Magnús Finnbogason and Kristján Eldjárn (Reykjavik:
Sturlunguútgáfan, 1946), I, pp. 319, 344, and 564. I am grateful to John Lindow for reminding me of this fact.
 6

suggests that the material in Landnámabók gives a pretty fair reflection of the legendary
memories of Icelanders in the eleventh, twelfth (and thirteenth) centuries about the religious
beliefs and practices of their forefathers. While it may not be the factual truth, it is probably
the way these people had heard about their family past, and has obvious parallels in form and
nature to the short settlement legends about family ancestors that Americans, Canadians, New
Zealanders and Australians still tell today.
It is also important to remember that the evidence of Landnámabók does not stand
alone. It is firmly supported by other prose accounts in the Icelandic family sagas where, once
again, outside the accounts of poets like Egill Skallagrímsson and Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld,
hardly any mention is made of Óðinn; and certainly nothing to compare with the accounts of
religious activities connected with Þórr in Eyrbyggja saga,22 and Freyr in Víga-Glúms saga,
Vatnsdæla saga, Gísla saga and Hrafnkels saga (which combined cover a large area of
Icelandic territory).23 The same balance of family interest is reflected by the range of Icelandic
personal names involving the Þórr prefix or suffix which make up roughly 25% of the names
mentioned in Landnámabók,24 and recur throughout the sagas, and even present-day Iceland.
Once again, these are closely followed by names with obvious Freyr prefixes such as
Freysteinn; Freygerðr; and Freyviðr, and then, as noted above (see note 11*), all the other
names beginning with Ing- such as Ingólfr, Ingunn, Ingimundr, Ingiríðr and Ingibjörg. Of
course, it is questionable how much belief was involved in the naming of children at the time
of the settlement and during the century that followed, but the range of names still underlines
the extent to which these gods’ names echoed in daily life, and must say something about the
cultural background and active beliefs earlier held by these people’s ancestors.25
Furthermore, both Landnámabók and the sagas imply that these were people who,
when they settled in Iceland, still dedicated their possessions to the gods (at least in name):
this applied in particular to the landscape that provided their livelihood, and required both
help and protection if it was to bring forth crops annually.26 As Svavar Sigmundsson has most

22
See Eyrbyggja saga, pp. 6-10.
23
See note 11* above.
24
According to Ólafur Briem, in Heiðinn siður á Íslandi, pp. 18-19, Landnámabók mentions 40 different names
involving the Þór- prefix or suffix which are said to have been borne by around 1000 people.
25
See Eyrbyggja saga, pp. 6-10 and Landnámabók, p. 163-164 and 346. Snorri also writes in Ynglinga saga (ch.
VII): ‘Eftir Óðins nafni var kallaðr Auðun, ok hétu menn svá sonu sína, en af Þórs nafni er kallaðr Þórir eða
Þórarinn eða dregið af öðrum heitum til, svo sem Steinþórr eða Hafþórr, eða enn breytt á fleiri vega’ (The name
Auðun came from Óðinn, and people gave their sons that name; but from the name of Þórr come the names Þórir
or Þórarinn, or other names such as Steinþórr or Hafþórr, or names changed in other ways): see Snorri Sturluson,
Heimskringla, ed. by Bjarni Aðalbjarnarson, Íslenzk fornrit XXVI, 3 vols (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag,
1941-51), I, p. 20.
26
See, for example, the accounts in Víga-Glúms saga, pp. 22; and Eyrbyggja saga, pp. 6-10.
 7

recently pointed out, at least 25 place names in Iceland involve the Þórr suffix (many of them
referred to in Landnámabók and/ or the sagas, and thus having early roots). These place
names almost all refer to key parts of the landscape, and include five Þórshöfns;27 five
Þórsneses, one Þórsmörk, one Þórsá and one Þórseyri. Meanwhile there are just three
placenames involving the name of Freyr (two Freysnes, and one Freyshólar), and two
placenames involving Njörðr.28 Meanwhile, as Svavar says, ‘Ekkert örnefni er kennt við Óðin
hér á landi svo vitað sé, og er það væntanlega merki þess að hann hafi ekki verið tignaður hér
að neinu marki’ (To the best of our knowledge, no place name in this country [Iceland] is
associated with Óðinn, and this is probably evidence of the fact that he was not worshipped
here to any degree).29 As noted at the start of this article, similar statements have earlier been
made by a number of other scholars.30
Certainly, one can argue, as Guðrún Nordal attempted to do in 1999, that in Iceland,
religious belief in Óðinn was hidden behind in other personal names like Grímr and Gizzr,
and prefixes like Úlf-, Hest-, Örn- and Hrafn-.31 While this is feasible (at least with the Úlf-
and Hrafn- names), it raises the question of like why obvious Óðinn-supporters like Egill
Skallagrímsson and Hallfreðr vandræðaskáld did not choose such names for their children;
and why Hrafnkell should have been (seen as) a Freysgoði.32 One also wonders why Hest-
names should be related to Óðinn rather than Freyr (who is often connected to horses33), and
then, if animal names are connected to gods, which gods do names like Björn and Refr refer
to? In general, my feeling is that such an argument pushes things a little too far and too hard,
not least when there seems to have been little fear about the direct use of Óðinn’s name in
dedicatory place names in Denmark, southern Sweden, and England.34

27
Once again, the stress on the safety from the sea represented by a harbour is of interest here.
28
Svavar Sigmundsson, ‘Átrúnaður og örnefni’, in Snorrastefna, 25.-27. júli 1990, ed. by Úlfar Bragason, Rit
Stofnunnar Sigurðar Nordals, 1 (Reykjavík: Stofnun Sigurðar Nordals, 1992), pp. 241-44.
29
Svavar Sigmundsson, ‘Átrúnaður og örnefni’, p. 244*.
30
See note 4* above.
31
See Guðrún Nordal, ‘Odinsdyrkelse på Island: Arkæologien og kilderne’, in Religion och samhälle i det
förkristna Norden, ed. by Ulf Drobin, with Jens Peter Schjødt, Gro Steinsland and Preben Meulengracht
Sørensen (Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag, 1999), pp. 145-148. This idea might have been based on Snorri´s
statement about names in Ynglinga saga: see note 25* above.
32
Egill’s children were named Böðvar, Gunnar, Þorgerðr, Bera, and Þorsteinn; Hallfreðr’s son was named after
Hallfreðr himself: see Egils saga Skalla-Grímssonar, ed. by Sigurður Nordal, Íslenzk fornrit, II (Reykjavik: Hið
íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1933), p. 211; and Hallfreðar saga, in Íslenzk fornrit VIII, ed. by Einar Ólafur Sveinsson
(Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1939), p. 178.
33
See Hrafnkels saga, p. 100; Vatnsdæla saga, p. 90; see also Þáttr Rauðs hins ramma, in Flateyjarbók, I, p.
446.
34
See Stefan Brink, ‘How Uniform was the Old Norse Religion’, p. 111-113; and David Wilson, Anglo-Saxon
Paganism (London and New York: Routledge, 1992), pp. 5-21 (see map on p. 12).
 8

The other support offered given by Guðrún Nordal for a cult of Óðinn having been
widespread in pre-Christian Iceland include the mention of shape-shifting in the sagas, and
the fact that people are buried with spears and horses in Icelandic graves.35 Both of these
arguments are similarly questionable. Shape-shifting has a very wide range of associations in
the pre-Christian cultures of the time (not least in the Sámi and Celtic cultures).36 In the Old
Nordic world, it is as much associated with the figures of Loki and Freyja as it is to Óðinn,
and the berserkir and úlfheðnar. The same applies to the use of (and burial with) spears and
horses. Surely the ownership of a spear and a horse does not classify one as an Óðinn
worshipper more than a believer in any other god. The burial (and implied sacrifice) of these
objects was probably more related to the personal (and near magical) link between a man and
his weapons and horse (comparable to the folk beliefs that the tools of a craftsman lose their
artistry if they are used by someone else).
In general, the evidence of Landnámabók, the family sagas and the Icelandic place
names about the importance of Þórr (and Freyr) and the general lack of interest in Óðinn
seems to be comparatively unquestionable. Indeed, it is backed up still further by the wording
of the ring oath contained in the apparently early law, Úlfljótslög, which indicates the
importance of a triad of gods: ‘ek vinn eið at baugi, lögeið; hjálp mér svá Freyr ok Njörðr ok
hinn almáttki áss’ (‘I make an oath on the ring, a legal oath; may Freyr, Njörðr and the
almighty Ás help me’).37 As Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson has noted, ‘hinn almáttki áss’ here
could the diplomatic equivalent of ‘NN’ or ‘John Doe’ in modern legal texts, but most likely
refers with particular respect to Þórr (his name being implied rather than referred to directly
here).38 Certainly power in the sense of ‘máttr’ (might) is not one of Óðinn’s usual qualities.
In short, in spite of the possible associations within Úlfljótr’s personal name, Óðinn also
seems to be missing from legal and ritualistic activities in Iceland (even though he appears in
similar contexts in Norway and Germany39).
35
Guðrún Nordal, ‘Odinsdyrkelse på Island’, pp. 141-143, and 148-150.
36
See any work on Sámi and Celtic mythology.
37
Landnámabók, p. 315 (H 268). Ulfljótslög, believed by many to be the earliest Icelandic law (possibly going
back, in part, to around 930) is also contained in Þorsteins þáttr uxafóts (in Flateyjarbók, I, pp. 274-275; and
Brot af Þórðar sögu hreðu in the Vatnshyrna manuscript (see Íslendingasögur og þættir, ed. by Bragi
Halldórsson et al (Reykjavík: Svart á hvítu, 1998), p. 2004. On the dating of Úlfljótslög, see further Jón Hnefill
Aðalsteinsson, ‘Blót and þing: The Function of the Tenth-Century Goði’, in Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson, A Piece
of Horse Liver: Myth, Ritual and Folklore in Old Icelandic Sources (Reykavík: Háskólaútgáfan, 1998), pp. 44-
50.
38
See Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson, Under the Cloak, pp. 35-36.
39
See, for example, the ninth-century Old Saxon baptismal vow (the Abernuntartio) stating ‘Ec forsacho alum
dioboles uuercum and uuordum thunaer ende uuoden ende saxnote ende allêm them unholdum the hira genotas
sint’ (I renounce all the words and works of the devils Thunaer, UUoden and Saxnote): see Althochdeutsche
Literatur: Eine Textauswahl mit Übertragungen, ed. by Horst Dieter Schlosser (Berlin: Erich
Schmidt, 1998), pp. 40-41; and the toasts said to be made as part of a winter sacrifice (‘til árs ok friðar’: for
 9

Yet further support for the implications of Landnámabók comes from archaeological
finds in Iceland. While hardly any pre-Christian runic inscriptions have been found in Iceland
(and none mentioning any of the gods), it is noteworthy that while no obviously Óðinn-related
finds have been made, a total of three ‘Þórr’s hammers’ have been found.40 These can be
placed alongside the famous image statuette from Eyrarland, Eyjafjörður, which is regularly
said to represent Þórr, but might just as easily be a chess piece (although if it is, one wonders
what happened to the rest of the set).41
In this context, it should also be borne in mind that, unlike in many of the
neighbouring countries, cremation seems to have hardly ever taken place in Iceland.42 While
this is not so surprising in itself (considering the ever-decreasing amount of available wood),
it is nonetheless worth placing alongside the statement made by Snorri (who had a wide
knowledge of Icelandic tradition) in Ynglingasaga that:

Óðinn setti l†g í landi sínu, þau er gengit h†fðu fyrr með Ásum. Svá setti hann, at alla
dauða menn skyldi brenna ok bera á bál með þeim eign þeira. Sagði hann svá, at með
þvílíkum auðæfum skyldi hverr koma til Valhallar sem hann hafði á bál, þess skyldi
hann ok njóta, er hann sjálfr hafði í jörð grafit.43

(In his country, Óðinn set those laws that had previously been followed by the Æsir. He
thus set [the law] that all dead men [people?] should be burnt and placed on a pyre with
their possessions. He then said that everyone who came to Valhöll would have with him
those riches that he had on his pyre, and should also enjoy those things he had
previously buried in the earth.)

On the other hand, Ynglinga saga makes it very clear that Freyr is buried in a grave
mound (ch. 10).44 Once again, Snorri seems to be denying himself – if, that is, he is seriously
suggesting that Óðinn was seen as the highest of gods throughout the Nordic world (including

a good year/ good crops and peace) by Sigurðr Hlaðajarl (to Óðinn) and King Hákon (apparently to Þórr) in
Hákonar saga góða in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla (ch. XVII), I, pp. 170-171. Elsewhere in the same saga (I,
pp. 167-168: ch. XIV), other sacrificial toasts are said to be made by Sigurðr, first to Óðinn, and then to Njörðr
and Freyr, again ‘til árs ok friðar’.
40
Kristján Eldjárn, Kuml og haugfé úr heiðnum sið á Íslandi, 2nd ed., ed. by Adolf Friðriksson (Reykjavík: Mál og
menning, 2000), pp. 383-385 and 604 (on the hammers found in Vatnsdalur, Mývatn [Hofstaðir], and
Hrunamannahreppur).
41
See further, Richard Perkins, Thor the Wind-raiser and the Eyrarland Image (London, Viking Society
for Northern Research , 2001).
42
Kristján Eldjárn, Kuml og haugfé, p. 594.
43
See Ynglinga saga (ch. VIII), in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, I, p. 20. The following chapter (ch. IX)
describes how both Óðinn and Njörðr are cremated, the latter ‘marked for’ Óðinn almost as a sacrifice, even
though he dies of illness (pp. 22-23).
44
See Ynglinga saga (ch. X) in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, I, pp. 24-25: ‘... er Freyr var dauðr, báru þeir
hann leyniliga í hauginn’ (… when Freyr was dead, they secretly carried him into the mound).
 10

his home surroundings) rather than merely presenting the world view held by the pre-
Christian ancestors of the Norwegian kings with whom he was trying to gain favour.
In short, the oral legends, place names, personal names and archaeological evidence of
Iceland all seem to suggest that Óðinn was not widely worshipped by the original settlers of
Iceland (and would thus hardly have been seen as the head of the pantheon, if such a concept
of a mythical hierarchy existed). Interestingly enough, the legendary evidence concerning the
time of the official conversion over a hundred years later suggests that even then, little had
changed. In spite of his role in the Prose Edda as the alleged highest of gods and leader of the
Æsir at ragnarök, Óðinn is still notoriously absent in both legends and poetry related to the
struggle for power between pagans and Christians in Iceland. Certainly, Kristni saga (from
the mid thirteenth century) contains a couple of poetic references to the æsir (in general)
having power over nature, and thereby being able to hinder the work of the missionaries. The
first is contained in the following words apparently composed by a heathen poet in c. 996
after a storm in which the missionary Stefnir Þorgilsson’s ship was wrecked: ‘… valdi,/ vesa

munu b†nd í landi,//… ásríki gný slíkum’ (the powerful gods caused these natural disasters;
the gods must still be in the land).45 The same idea of æsir wrath being associated with natural
disaster was supposedly given as an explanation of the volcanic eruption which broke out in
Ölfus, south of Þingvellir, at the time when discussions were taking place on the acceptance

of Christianity: ‘Eigi er undr í at guðin reiðisk t†lum slíkum’ (No wonder the gods are
angered at such talk).46 However, were the speakers noted above talking about the wrath of
Óðinn, or even a group of gods led by Óðinn?
Here it is worth consider the words attributed to Vetrliði Sumarlíðason, which, if
genuine, were apparently composed in around the same period as those lines quoted above
(since Vetrlíði was apparently killed by the missionary Þangbrandr for lampooning him):

‘Leggi brauzt Leiknar,/ lamðir Þrívalda,/ steypðir Starkeði,/ stétt of Gj†lp dauða’ (You broke

Leikn’s bones, you struck Þrívaldi; you threw down Starkaðr; you stood over dead Gj†lp’).47
The idea that Vetrlíði is describing essentially the actions of an angry Þórr is implied by the

45
See http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?table=verses&id=1288 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010). See also
Kristni saga (ch. 6), in Biskupa sögur, I, ed. by Sigurgeir Steingrímsson, Ólafur Halldórsson and Peter Foote, Íslenzk
fornrit XVa (Reykjavík: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 2003), p. 16.
46
Kristni saga (ch. 12), p. 33.
47
See http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?if=default&table=verses&id=4695 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010);
and Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Skáldskaparmál 1: Introduction, Text and Notes, ed. by Anthony Faulkes (London:
Viking Society for Northern Research, 1998), p. 17.
 11

objects of his anger (giantesses, a giant and Starkaðr). Furthermore, the form of the verse and
the actions described are closely echoed a similar verse from the same period composed by
Þorbjörn Dísarskáld, a poet who refers directly to Þórr’s protective powers:

Ball í Keilu kolli,/ Kjallandi brauzt alla,/ áðr drapt Lút ok Leiða,/ lézt dreyra Búseyru,/
heptuð Hengikj†ptu,/ Hyrrokkin dó fyrri,/ þó vas snemr en sáma/ Svív†r numin lífi

(You battered the head of Keila, totally broke Kjallandi, before you killed Lútr and
Leiði, you spilled the blood of Búseyri, fettered Hengikjapti, Hyrrokkin died first,
though early, in a similar way, life was taken from Svívör).48

Almost certainly, both verses are a form of magical curse, somewhat like an opposite to the
Merseburg Charm in which a myth is referred to as a means of curing a broken bone.49 Here
the intention is for the wrath of the god to come down on the object of the curse.
A similar approach is seen in those verses composed by Steinunn, mother of Skáld-
Refr, which underline in no uncertain terms that Þórr was viewed as the principle opponent to
both Þangbrandr and Christ – and also a ‘máttugr’ (physically powerful) creator of storms (as
in the first verse quoted above):

Þórr brá Þvinnils dýri/ Þangbrands ór stað l†ngu,/ hristi búss ok beysti/ barðs ok laust
við j†rðu;/ munat skíð of sæ síðan/ sundfœrt Atals grundar,/ hregg þvít hart tók leggja /
hônum kent í spônu.50

(Þórr moved Thangbrand’s ship from its place; he shook it and smashed it and struck it
against the land; the ship will not be fit to sail the sea after that, for the storm which he
[Þórr] is said to have made, broke it to splinters.)

Another stanza by Steinunn runs as follows:

48
See http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?table=poems&id=427 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010). See also
Skáldskaparmál, in Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Skáldskaparmál 1, p. 17. Þorbjörn refers directly to Þórr’s defensive
powers in elsewhere in another verse: ‘Þórr hefr Yggs með ôrum/ Ásgarð af þrek varðan’ (Þórr with Yggr’s
servants has defended Ásgarðr with endurance). See the same website, and Skáldskaparmál, in Snorri Sturluson,
Edda: Skáldskaparmál 1, p. 16.
49
See Lindow, Handbook of Norse Mythology, pp. 227-228.
50
See http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?if=default&table=verses&id=4084 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010).
See also Kristni saga (ch. 9), p. 24; and the longer account of Þangbrandr’s encounter with Steinunn in Brennu-
Njáls saga, ed. by Einar Ólafur Sveinsson, Íslenzk fornrit, XII (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1954), pp.
265-267.
 12

Braut fyr bj†llu gæti/ (b†nd rôku Val Strandar)/ m†gfellandi mellu/ môstalls visund
allan;/ hlífðit Kristr, þás kneyfði/ kn†rr, malmfeta varrar;/ lítt hykk at goð gætti/ Gylfa
hreins at einu.51

(The slayer of the son of the giantess [Þórr] wrecked the ship of the keeper of the bell
[Þangbrandr]; the gods moved the ship. Christ was unable to protect the ship from
disaster; he (goð) did not look after it properly.)

Once again, no mention is made of Óðinn being involved in the defence of the pagan
Icelanders against Christian encroachments. While Þórr may well have been seen as the key
defender of Ásgarðr in the Óðinic view of the world presented in the Prose Edda, it is worth
noting that for a prospective ruler of gods and an army of warriors, Óðinn is highly inactive at
such a time of need for the old religion.52
All in all, as has been stressed above, there seems little question that Óðinn had very
little importance for most Icelanders, either at the time of the settlement or around the time of
the official conversion. Apart from Snorri (and the Eddic poems), the only people to stress his
power are the court poets, many of whom, as Turville-Petre noted in the past, were far from
being typical Icelandic farmers, having assumed particular international identities while
working for royal foreign clientele in other countries, and most particularly the new Nordic
ruling classes which were most definitely associating themselves with Óðinn (and in
Denmark, at least, had been doing this for some time).53 Apart from this, one must also
remember that most poets seem to have believed that their art was drawn from Óðinn, and that
their art was maintained by their affiliation with him. They were, nonetheless, a
comparatively small group. Furthermore, it must be remembered that even though they are
used alongside each other as source material by the later medieval historians, the local legends
and skaldic poems represent two very different types of oral tradition. While looser in form,
and perhaps less trustworthy, the legends (like folk legends in later times) were probably more
widely known by the average people in each area. The poems, on the other hand, were not
presented as history but were essentially individual works of art and skill.
Furthermore, is seems clear that the idea of Þórr’s dominance (and Óðinn’s
comparative unimportance) was clearly far from limited to Iceland. Scholars have previously
noted that comparative scarcity of Óðinn place names and comparative commonness of Þórr
51
See http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?if=default&table=verses&id=4085&val= (last viewed March 23rd,
2010). See also Kristni saga (ch. 9), pp.24.
52
Also worth noting is that, according to Kristni saga (ch. 7), p. 18, Þangbrandr seems to place some emphasis
on the image of the warrior-like archangel Michael as an opposition to the pagan representatives, in other words
a figure that might be seen as a parallel to Þórr.
53
See Turville Petre, ‘The Cult of Óðinn in Iceland’, p. 9.
 13

place names also existed in western and northern Norway (where a large number of the
Icelandic settlers originated).54 Similar emphases are also reflected by the Irish annals which
refer to their mainly Norwegian invaders as belonging to ‘muinter Tomair’ (the tribe of Þórr),
and mention a ‘Coill Tomair’ (grove of Þórr).55 It seems apparent that these people, too,
associated themselves and their beliefs with Þórr rather than Óðinn. The same idea is reflected
in Snorri’s own description of the temple in Þrándheimr in Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar in

Heimskringla, in which ‘Þór […] var mest tignaðr af †llum goðum, búinn með gulli ok silfri’
(Þórr was the most revered of all the gods [holy images], decorated with gold and silver).56
This naturally echoes the situation Adam of Bremen describes as having existed at Gamla
Uppsala around the middle of the eleventh century (after the time of the Icelandic
conversion), in which “the mightiest of them, Thor, occupies a throne in the middle of the
chamber; Wotan and Frikko have places on either side.”57 Further parallels can be seen in
Snorri’s accounts in Ólafs saga helga of how the people in Dalir worshipped a statue of Þórr
(described as having ‘hamar í hendi’ (a hammer in the hand) and being:

… mikill vexti ok holr innan ok g†rr undir honum sem hjallr sé, ok stendr hann þar á
ofan, er hann er úti. Eigi skortir hann gull og silfr á sér. Fjórir hleifar brauðs eru honum
færðir hvern dag ok þar slátr við.58

(of great size, and hollow within, and under him is made something like a platform
which he stands on when he is outside. He does not lack gold or silver. He is given four
loaves of bread each day, and also meat).

It is also hard to ignore the fact that after the Norwegian conversion, the church in
Norway seems to have found it diplomatically and tactically necessary to replace the red-
haired hammer-wielding, giant-fighting Þórr with the popular image of a red-haired axe-
wielding giant-killing god-like St Ólafr;59or that the image of Þórr lived on until the

54
See further Stefan Brink, ‘How Uniform was the Old Norse Religion’, pp. 111-116.
55
See Turville-Petre, Myth and Religion of the North, p. 94.
56
See Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar (ch. LXIX) in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, I, p. 317; see also the longer,
more detailed description in Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta in Flateyjarbók, I, pp.354-355, in which the
central image of Þórr is described as being in a moveable wagon or chariot drawn by goats.
57
Adam of Bremen, Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiæ pontificum, ed. by Bernhard Schmeidler, in Scriptores
rerum Germanicarum, 3rd ed. (Hanover: Hahnsche, 1917), pp. 259-260; Adam of Bremen, The History of the
Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen, trans. by Francis J. Tschan (New York: Columbia University Press, 1959),
pp. 208.
58
Ólafs saga Helga (ch. CXII), in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, II, p. 187.
59
See further Olav Bø, Heilag-Olav i Norsk folketradisjon (Oslo: Det Norske Samlaget, 1955). On Þórr’s red-
bearded appearance, see, for example, Þáttr Rauðs hins ramma in Flateyjarbók, I, p. 441.
 14

nineteenth century in various forms in Norwegian and Swedish folk legends and folk beliefs.60
It seems evident that the figure of Þórr (already in the process of becoming a wonder tale hero
in myths like that of Útgarðarloki), was almost as difficult to eradicate from the popular mind
in these parts as the old nature spirits. There thus seems to be little question that Þórr also had
very deep popular roots in Norway (and many parts of Sweden). Óðinn, however, is a very
different question. After the conversion, one side of him seems to have been blended with
Christ (the element of self-sacrifice, and the connections with an afterlife and movement
between the worlds of death and life). The other becomes a demon, even in folklore. Óðinn
never takes the form of a folk hero.
Þórr, however, was clearly not the only contender for the role of ‘high one’ amongst
the people of Iceland, Norway and Sweden. Alongside the common accounts of Þórr worship
(direct accounts of worship of Óðinn are rarely given), are accounts in Ólafs saga
Tryggvasonar en mesta telling of prominent images of Freyr being worshipped in both
Uppsala and Þrandheimr, the image in Þrandheimr having been originally sent from Uppsala
(according to legend).61 As noted above, other legends reflected in the Icelandic sagas suggest
that Freyr was also worshipped there.62 Indeed, Freyr’s name alone (meaning ‘Lord’) indicates
that for many he must have been the ruling god, something reflected still further in earlier
tribal names like the Ynglingar and Ingvaeones, and the fact that many ruling families in
Sweden, Norway and English clearly went out of their way to trace themselves back to him.63
A similar idea is supported by the fact that in Ynglinga saga, Snorri states that Freyr was
referred to by some as ‘veraldargoð’ (an expression possibly reflected in the Sámi expression
‘Waralden-olmay’ for a fertility god).64 One wonders whether those who referred to Freyr by
such a name would ever have seen him as an underling of Óðinn’s, or told myths in which he
had such a role. Indeed, one even starts wondering whether there is not a possibility that in
some (unrecorded) Nordic mythologies, he might have himself owned a throne like

60
See, for example, Olav Bø, Ronald Grambo, Bjarne Hodne and Ørnulf Hodne (eds), Norske segner (Oslo:
Norske samlaget, 1981), p. 89-90, and 265-266. It is noteworthy that Óðinn appears more often in Danish and
Swedish legends (in the role of a hunter). See, for example, Bengt af Klintberg, Svenska folksägner (Stockholm:
Bokförlaget Pan, 1972), pp. 82-83.
61
On these statues, see further Þáttr Rauðs hins ramma, in Flateyjarbók, I, p. 445-449. See also Ögmundar þáttr
dytts (Gunnars þáttr helmings), p. 112.
62
See the references in note 11*, above.
63
See further Olof Sundqvist, Freyr's Offspring: Rulers and Religion in Ancient Svea Society (Uppsala: Uppsala
University 2002).
64
See Ynglinga saga (ch. X) in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, I, p. 25. See also Johan Fritzner, ‘Lappernes
Hedenskab og Trolddomskunst Sammenholdt med Andre Folks, Især Nordmændens, Tro og Overtro,’ in
Historisk Tidsskrift, 4 (1877), 135-217; and Axel Olrik, ‘Nordisk og Lappisk Gudsdyrkelse’, Danske Studier
(1904), 39-57. (My thanks to Triin Laidoner for helping me with these references.)
 15

Hliðskjálf, which Snorri accuses him of usurping in the Prose Edda.65 It is certainly
noteworthy how in Ynglinga saga Óðinn is said to be the owner of Skíðblaðnir, which Snorri
elsewhere, more logically, ascribes to Freyr.66 One also notes the way in which Snorri
attributes a bird costume/ shape (‘valfall’/ ‘valsham’) to both Freyja and Óðinn’s wife Frigg,
even though Frigg rarely does any travelling, and, unlike Freyja, would seem to have little
connection with regal hunting birds that feed on dead flesh.67
The overall impression is that ‘all-powerful’ ruling figure of Óðinn presented both in
Ynglinga saga and the Prose Edda has started gathering to himself a number of qualities
usually attributed to other gods, no mean achievement for the god of the new nation builders
(who had themselves been taking over lands earlier belonging to other local rulers) and their
associated warrior class (for whom the image of a Valhöll presided over by Óðinn reflected
the image of the large warrior camps established by these new rulers, such as Trelleborg and
Fyrkat).68 Nonetheless, the evidence presented above also suggests that Snorri’s images of the
hierarchy of gods in the Prose Edda and Ynglinga saga deserve more than a little distrust,
especially if they are taken to apply to the overall world view of people in the Nordic
countries, including Norway and Snorri’s own homeland of Iceland from the time of the
Icelandic settlement (if not before) up until the time of the official conversion. It seems clear
that both works, rather than representing any objective attempt to present a historically
accurate image of the world view held by the majority of people in the Nordic countries (of
which Snorri must have known if he had heard the oral legends that lie behind many of the
prose sagas), were actually aimed at a specific limited readership who had their own Óðinn-
rooted view of the world: In the case of Heimskringla, this would have been the upper
echelons of the Norwegian aristocracy (or the Sturlungar themselves). In the case of the Prose
Edda, it would have been the somewhat limited brotherhood of nostalgic thirteenth-century
Icelandic poets who wished to trace their art back to the work of their pagan forebears, who
had served the aforesaid foreign ruling classes and felt an affiliation to Óðinn, from whom
their skills where said to come. Quite possibly, Snorri also had yet another agenda of

65
See Gylfaginning (Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Prologue and Gylfaginning, p. 31 (and 13). Indeed one notes the
number of throned figures (and thrones/ chairs) that have been found in archaeological finds in Sweden and
elsewhere: see further Price, The Viking Way, pp. 163-167. Again, one wonders whether we should trust Snorri
and interpret all of these figures as having been Óðinn.
66
Ynglinga saga (ch. VII), in Snorri Sturluson, Heimskringla, I, p. 18
67
See Skáldskaparmál, in Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Skáldskaparmál 1, pp. 24 and 30 (Frigg: valsham), 30 (Freyja:
valfall).
68
See Else Roesdahl, ‘The Emergence of Denmark and the Reign of Harald Bluetooth’, and Niels Lund, ‘Knut
the Great and his Empire’ in The Viking World, ed. by Stefan Brink in collaboration with Neil Price (Abingdon:
Routledge, 2008), pp. 652-667; and Richard Hall, The World of the Vikings (New York: Thames and Hudson,
2007), pp. 186-187.
 16

deliberately altering ‘historical’69 information on behalf of the ruling classes in both Norway
and Iceland, or that of the world view of his own family (which had genealogical connections
reaching back to the poet Egill Skallagrímsson).70 In many ways, it might be said what he
does here with history and religious belief reflects the way Christianity was knowingly
transforming resilient popular pagan traditions and beliefs, allowing them to continue by
giving them new Christian flavour (as seems to have occurred with Þórr and St Ólafr, as noted
above).
Certainly some of the earlier-noted accounts in the kings’ sagas (and Icelandic sagas)
about the destruction of pagan images may be, at heart, hagiographic borrowings (I have
noted elsewhere that Landnámabók, interestingly, enough makes no mention of the settlers
bringing large images of gods with them),71 but even so, it is interesting that the authors of the
historical accounts should only choose to tell of one statue of Óðinn having stood in Norway,
Sweden and Iceland, in spite of Óðinn’s apparent pre-eminence in pre-Christian times
(according to Snorri): in other words, the statue mentioned by Adam of Bremen as being in a
secondary position to that of Þórr in Gamla Uppsala.72 Once again, Óðinn’s recurring absence
from the prose accounts (which must have some connection to oral legend and belief, at least
in terms of which gods writers chose to mention even in their fictional accounts) is hard to
ignore.
As noted above several times, I am far from the first scholar to reach the conclusion
that Óðinn seems to have had little importance in Iceland outside the ranks of the court poets
(and some of the later Sturlungar who were trying to emulate the mainland kings). However,
when one considers the type of people who came to settle in Iceland, there is no good reason
for why Óðinn should have been revered. As a god of death, magic, and war, he had little to
offer farmers or sailors. Few Icelanders ever belonged to the great armies of the Danish (and
Norwegian) kings for whom Óðinn clearly had a logical function, and an image worth
emulating. They had need of a moveable ecstatic god who offered another better life after

69
I use the word ‘historical’ here in the sense that Ari fróði uses it in Íslendingabók, i.e. a history based on oral
memories. Oral legends were, of course, all that was available before the advent of writing.
70
See further note 21* above, on Snorri’s use of the name Valhöll for his búð at the Alþingi.
71
See Gunnell, ‘Hof, Halls, Goðar and Dwarves’, 14-15.
72
Adam of Bremen, Gesta Hammaburgensis ecclesiæ pontificum, pp. 259-260; Adam of Bremen, The History of
the Archbishops of Hamburg-Bremen, p. 208. Certainly, Saxo Grammaticus in Book One of his Gesta Danorum
mentions a richly adorned statue of Óðinn having stood in Denmark (albeit a mythical statue made by Othinus
himself, who is seen here as ‘chief of the gods’): see Saxo Grammaticus, Saxonis Grammatici Gesta Danorum,
ed. by Alfred Holder (Strassburg: Verlag von Karl J. Trübner, 1886), pp. 25 and 78; The History of the Danes, I:
Text, trans. by Peter Fisher, ed. by Hilda Ellis Davidson (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 1979), pp. 25-26 and 76).
Whether this was based on any degree of truth or not, it would come as little surprise to hear of images here,
considering the place name evidence from Denmark (see references on place names given in note 34* above).
 17

death, a life worth dying bravely for. Farmers, traders and sailors were more interested in
battling the elements and surviving in the present.
In short, the evidence presented above adds strong support for the idea that we should
be wary of any idea of a unified Old Nordic religion like that given in Snorri’s works. It
underlines that fact that like the Nordic folk beliefs of later times, religious beliefs and
practices in pre-Christian times clearly varied by area, class, society and time (even though
they may have shared certain basic structures, names and concepts). Nonetheless, this
evidence has even more important implications. It has been argued that for most people in
Iceland and western Norway, Þórr was the preeminent god (and noted that this is far from the
case in Snorri’s works). The implication is that while a collection of mythology written by the
average pre-Christian Icelander (had they been able to write) might have contained many of
the same myths, they body of the material would have almost certainly had very different
emphases. In such a collection of ‘genuinely’ Icelandic myths, would Þórr have been
relegated to the more subordinate position of being Óðinn’s son?73 Would Óðinn, rather than
Þórr, have been the main figure that created the world and human beings? Would the world
tree have been more associated with Óðinn than Þórr (considering that other sources like
those concerning the öndvegissúlur imply close connections between Þórr and central trees.74)
Furthermore, there is also good reason to wonder whether most people in Iceland would have
believed that the male dead went to a Valhöll, not least because, as noted above, very few pre-
Christians seem to have been cremated, and certain accounts in Landnámabók suggest a belief
that the dead lived on in mountains or hills.75 Indeed, can we take it for granted that most
Icelanders (or Norwegians) really believed in a ragnarök in which Þórr was defeated (rather
than some sort of circular concept of the year in which Þórr became inactive for a period,
perhaps by losing his hammer?)76 Furthermore, how did most Icelanders understand the role
73
Indeed, Snorri’s Prologue, in Snorri Sturluson, Edda: Prologue and Gylfaginning, pp. 4-5, seems to imply that
there were stories which suggested the existence of a Þórr (if not three if we include Loriði and Vingeþórr) who
preceded Óðinn.
74
The obvious example is Willibald’s reference to the revered ‘Oak of Jupiter’ which Boniface cut down at
Gaesmere, according to Viti Bonifatii auctore Willibaldo (ch. 6), written in the late eighth century (see
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/willibald-boniface.html [last viewed March 23rd, 2010]). See also Turville
Petre, ‘Thurstable’ in Nine Norse Studies, pp. 19-29, on apparent Þórr’s pillars in England. Both offer a parallels
to the Saxon ‘Irminsul’/ ‘Ermensul’ cut down by Charlemagne in 772, according to Einhardi Annales and
Annales Laurissenses: see Monumenta Germaniae historica ... auspiciis Societatis aperiendis fontibus rerum
germanicarum medii aevi. Scriptorum, vol. I (Hannover: Hahn, 1826), pp. 150-151.
75
See Landnámabók, pp. 98 (S 68: Sel- Þórir: Þórisbjörg), 140 (S 97: the relations of Auðr djúpúðga:
Krosshólar), 125 (S 85: Þórólfr Mostrarskegg: Helgafell), and 233 (S 197 and H 164: Kráku-Hreiðarr: Mælifell).
76
As John McKinnell has stressed in Both One and Many, p. 24, Úlfr Uggason’s Húsdrápa, describing a carving
in an Icelandic hall (which ought to reflect local Icelandic beliefs), suggests in sts 2-4 that the carving depicted
Þórr beheading the Miðgarmsormr after his fishing trip, something which would rule out the idea of a return
battle at ragnarök (in spite of Baldr’s funeral being depicted in another scene): see further
http://skaldic.arts.usyd.edu.au/db.php?table=poems&id=492 (last viewed March 23rd, 2010), and Snorri
 18

of Óðinn within such a religious world view? The conflict between the ideas of the skálds and
Snorri and that expressed in the Icelandic (and Norwegian) prose legends might be
particularly obvious, but one might naturally continue and ask similar questions about the
mythology and world views held by other people living in Sweden, perhaps a pre-Christian
man living in Härjedalen. Who did he believe created the world?
There are yet more implications that need considering. The fact that most people in
Iceland and western Norway appear to have had a more Þórr-centred world view should also
leads us to raise central questions about the background, provenance, preservation,
distribution and role of the extant Eddic poems. As is well known, many of these poems
(especially Völuspá, Grímnismál and Vafþrúðnismál which Snorri appears to have had
transcripts of when he composing his Prose Edda) centre on the figure of Óðinn, and the
Codex Regius manuscript clearly reflects the Prose Edda by placing Óðinn at the forefront.
There are some that argue that these works recorded in the thirteenth century should be seen
as essentially Christian.77 If that is so, there is no problem: on that basis, everything written
about pre-Christian religion by Christian writers can be regarded as a fiction. If, however, one
accepts that the roots of most of these works are pre-Christian (as Snorri himself seemed to
have believed) and that they were recorded in Iceland or western Norway where Þórr was
dominant, we need to reconsider who might have created them, why they were preserved for
so long, and who passed them on. Exactly how well known would Óðinn-based works like
Grímnismál, Vafþrúðnismál, Völuspá and much of Hávamál have been on an island where
people placed most trust in Þórr? What would their function have been in such a society? Can
it be argued that they collected abroad? My own guess is that if they survived in Iceland, they
belonged essentially to the limited community of poets who would have had good reason to
learn them, preserve them and pass them on as background knowledge for their poetic art
(something that Snorri’s Prose Edda reflects). Perhaps works like Grímnismál and
Vafþrúðnismál reflected a kind of poetic initiation which had originally roots within the
warrior communities the poets had encountered abroad. That would certainly explain why
Grímnismal and Vafþrúðnismál were more easily accessible to Snorri. Works like Skírnismál,
Alvíssmál and Þrymskviða in which Óðinn figures would logically have roots in a different

Sturluson, Skáldskaparmál, in Edda: Skáldskaparmál 1, pp. 17, 65, and 86-87. Such a pattern of the hero killing
the monster reflects the similar outcomes of such battles recounted in other mythologies: see further Joseph
Fontenrose, Python, A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origins (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press, 1959).
77
See, for example, Karl G. Johannsson, ‘Vǫluspá, the Tiburtine Sibyl and the Apocalypse in The North’,
forthcoming.
 19

environment. The same could apply to the roots of many of the myths concerning Þórr (like
the accounts of his trips to Útgarðarloki and Geirröðr).
Some may argue that putting aside Snorri’s works and the evidence of skáldic and
Eddic verse and concentrating on the prose accounts (which would have altered more easily in
the oral tradition) for an account of religious history is somewhat hazardous. One might
answer that the same applies to ignoring all the evidence presented above (and in other
articles that that composed by Turville Petre and Ólafur Briem fifty years ago). As has been
noted above, the prose accounts (reflecting a wider range of voices) are not only backed up by
archaeology but also place name studies (and some local occasional verse). The court poets,
on the other hand, were a very particular group of artists with foreign connections and good
reason for allying themselves to Óðinn. Trusting their personal, internationally-based views
and ignoring those of the local ‘historians’ is a little like writing a history of 1960s Britain
based on the lyrics of Lennon and McCartney or Richards and Jagger alone. The same applies
to blindly trusting Snorri, who clearly has his own political and cultural agenda and his own
clientele, who had good reason to wish for a more Óðinn-based hierachic view of the world
(not least because of its closer parallels to Christianity and the system of kingship that had
been established in the western world). It should be stressed that the intention here is certainly
not to belittle or deny the information about religious mythology and beliefs provided by
either Snorri or the poets. Indeed, both must be considered to have been ‘genuine’ for certain
people, certain classes, and even certain nations at certain periods of time in Scandinavia (and
especially in Denmark). However the information provided here does stress that we need to be
very wary before using this material as a reflection of the majority belief in western Norway
and Iceland (and even most of Sweden), where Þórr (and Freyr) seem to have been much
more central than Snorri suggests. Of course Snorri’s material can be used, but it must be used
with great caution, and with the realisation that it was written for a minority of people and
with a particular agenda in mind. Indeed, it is high time we began considering Old Nordic
religious systems from some new viewpoints that do not begin with Snorri, and realise that
Óðinn was far from being the high one everywhere, and least of all in Snorri’s own country.