Names of Oðinn

“By One Name I Have Not Been Known”:

Medieval Understandings and Uses of Odinic Names

Samantha Rideout

05.98.07- Heimildir um norræna goðafræði Marteinn Sigurðsson 21 May 2007 Oðinn has more recorded names than any other “áss” in the corpus of Old Norse- Icelandic literature (Simek 248). Despite their sheer bulk, Odinic names have not inspired the curiosity of very many commentators over the years. In 1924, Hjalmar Falk published Oden- sheite, a work which mainly consists of a list of Óðinn’s names along with references to where they appear in the corpus and their possible etymologies. It also emphasises a noticeable attributes of Odinic names: “De fleste Odensheite forekommer bare some navn på guden. De er laget direkte some betegnelse for ham og angir en av hans egenskaper, handlinger, attributer eller åbenbaringsformer”” (Falk 35). In Myth and Religion of the North, (1964), Turville-Petre echoes the idea that most of Óðinn’s names connote something about Óðinn: his characteristics, his ad- ventures, his shapes, and the heroes he favours. Both of these authors were primarily interested in explaining the origins of individual Odinic names. In doing so, they follow the lead of Snorri Sturluson, who writes: “Óðinn er æðstr ok elztr ásanna... flest heiti hafa verit gefin af þeim atburð, at svá margar sem eru greinir tung- nanna í veröldinni, þá þykkjast allar þjóðir þurfa at breyta nafni hans til sinnar tungu til ákalls ok bæna fyrir sjálfum sér, en sumir atburðir til þessa heita hafa gerzt í ferðum hans, ok er þar fært í frásagnir...” (Edda 37). One can hear echoes of this same hypothesis when Turville-Petre suggests that historically, Óðinn “had taken over the names and functions of other gods... his cult was extending in the Viking Age and before, and many peoples were coming to regard him as the highest of the Gods. He is called Gautr, which may originally have been the name of the epony- mous father of the Gautar... He is also called Skilfingr, and this was perhaps the name of the first ancestor of the Ynglingar...” (Turville-Petre 62). Perhaps the reason that ideas about the etymological origins of Óðinn’s names have not changed much since the thirteenth century is due to a lack of data from the Viking-Age and earlier. Unless and until archeological excavations uncover new relevant data, there is not much more to say on the subject. However, the origins of Óðinn’s names is not the only question that can be asked about them. We can ask, for instance, how they are understood in the data that we do have- that is, medieval literature- and how they may have been used by its authors and audi- ences.

2/13 Medieval Understandings of the Odinic Names Some of Óðinn’s names must have seemed to the thirteenth and fourteenth century audience to be akin to what was known as “kenningarnöfn.” “The kenningarnafn was an additional name given to its referent in celebration of his accidental qualities... [which] usually occurred in conjunction with a person’s primary given name” (Clunies Ross 60). They were used as a way of “characterizing individuals in early West Norse society... The secondary name usually described someone in terms of physical attributes like hair or skin colour, facial peculiarities, special skills, temperament, family connections, social status, famous deeds or possessions and so forth” (Clu- nies Ross 56). “Kenningarnöfn” were not believed to be linked to the essence of the individuals to which they referred; rather, they were imposed on individuals at a given time because of “ex- ternal circumstantial associations and events” (Clunies Ross 56). Examples of “kenningarnöfn” abound in sagas, both those that are supposed to reflect past times and the contemporary sagas: Ragnarr loðbrók, Guðmundr dýra, and Harald hárfagra are well-known saga characters with secondary names. A scene in Hrólfs saga kráka portrays the moment when a man is given a kenningarnafn: “Hún [Queen Ursa] fær til mann at þjóna þeim [her guests, including king Hrólr] ok gera þeim góðan beina. Ok sem þessi maðr kom fyrir Hrólf konung, þá mælti hann: “Þunnleitr er þessi maðr ok nokkur kraki í andlitinu, eða er þetta konungr yðarr?” Hrólf konungr mælti: “Nafn hefir þú gefit mér, þat sem við mik mun festast, eða hvat gefr þú mér at nafnfesti?” Vöggr svaraði “Alls ekki hefi ek til, því at ek em félauss” (Fornaldarsögur 74). This passage suggests that the imposition of a secondary name was marked by ritual gestures such as gift-giving. Snorri apparently understood Óðinn to be the primary name of the god in question and the other names to be like kenningarnöfn; this is evident when Hár insinuates that it is possible to know “hverir atburðir hafa orðit sér til hvers þessa nafns” (Edda 37). Margaret Clunies Ross suggests that a combination of Christian-Latin theory and “Icelandic views about different kinds of secondary names” was the “foundation for his [Snorri’s] conception of the kenning in skaldic poetry” (57).

3/13 However, if we leave Snorri and skaldic poetry aside and focus on eddic poetry, we see that- in contrast to saga characters such as Hrólfr kraki who are given secondary names by oth- ers- Óðinn has the capacity to confer names on himself. In Grímnismál, he says that “einu nafni/ hétumk aldregi/ síz ek með folkum fór,” but this doesn’t mean that the people in question are the ones who have assigned him multiple names (Eddukvæði 97). Indeed, in the poetic glimpses that we have of Óðinn’s travels, he is the one who introduces himself with various names, which are then used until it is revealed that he is Oðinn. For instance, in Vafþrúnðismál, he introduces himself with a simple “Gagnráðr ek heiti” (Eddukvæði 69). This is the only occasion on which he goes by this particular name; he is he seems to have assigned to himself on the spot. It is hard to guess what this type of incident might once have meant: is Oðinn’s ability to assign himself names linked to his command of poetry? Is it because of his divinity? Is it a reflection of a time when people could in fact assign themselves multiple names? Is he simply being deceptive? Demonic deception is the way that many medieval texts interpreted Óðinn’s use of additional names for himself. In saint’s lives and sagas, he frequently takes on the role of the devil in disguise (Lassen 94). His names are seen as false; they make up part of his deceptive disguises. For instance, in Óláfs saga in Flateyarbók, there is an episode with a narrative structure similar to that of the Odinic “wisdom contest” poems of the Poetic Edda. Óðinn visits king Óláfr and introduces himself as Gestr. In the course of their conversation, Gestr reveals information that points to his Odinic identity. “St Óláfr realises that he is facing ‘hinn illi Óðinn’... and wants to hit him on the head with his book of hours” (Lassen 96). In this episode, the name Gestr is portrayed as a (rather transparent) way for Óðinn to mislead the saintly man by avoiding telling him who he really is. On the other end of the spectrum, Snorri seems to have seen the many names of Óðinn as a parallel to to the many names of God. In the aim of showing that the natural religion of the Scandinavians had anticipated Christian truths, he emphasises the name “Alföðr”

Odinic Names and Drama Literature is created and consumed for specific purposes. Because of this fact, medieval literature can provide us with clues as to how the names of Óðinn may have been used in ritual,

4/13 magical, and pedagogical contexts. Let us begin by looking at one of our most important sources of information about Óðinn’s names: the eddic poems. These poems are recorded in manuscripts from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, which were likely to have been based on earlier written collections. The poems are generally thought to have been “in existence in the oral tradition [at and] prior to the time that the original manuscripts came to be written” (Gunnell 184). In The Origins of Drama in Scandinavia, Terry Gunnell considers the contents of the poems and thinks about what an oral performance would have to be like in order for the audience to follow what is happening, especially if the prose passages in the Poetic Edda are a scribal addition: “Bearing in mind that from the point of view of the audience listening to an oral performance, immediate understanding of who is speaking and where they are situated is necessary, it must be concluded that any solo performer of Lokasenna... [other poems], Hárbarðsljóð, and probably also Vafþrúðismál would have had to employ various dramatic techniques in performance... If only for practical reasons, the greater likelyhood is that each ‘poem’ was originally performed (at the time of it’s recording and earlier) by more than one person, and that these persons wore cos- tumes and/or masks of some kind, used gesticulation, and moved between various points of the acting area as part of their performance” (Gunnell 281). In a dramatic performance, one way to create suspense is to withhold the identity of a given character. Gunnell notices, for instance, that in Hárbarðsljóð, “if the [prose] introduction was absent, the question of who exactly is speaking to whom would remain a puzzle for a further seven strophes. It is not until strophe 9 that the audience gets to know that the ragged, bare- legged character who eats oats and herring is making all the noise is in fact ‘The son of Óðinn’ [Þórr]... Bearing this in mind, it might be argued that the introduction removes what was originally intended as a shock-factor deliberately designed to provoke laughter” (233). In the same poem, when Óðinn says: “Hárbarðar ek heiti, hylk um nafn sjaldan,” the audience may have laughed again, since they presumably knew of many occasions when Óðinn had tricked someone by concealing his name (Edda 117). Þórr’s reply, “Hvat skaltu of nafn hylja,/nema þú sakar eigir?” would increase the dramatic irony even more, since the audience will by now have guessed who the ferryman is, while the slow-witted Þórr remains completely clueless (Edda 117). Similarly, an audience would have enjoyed the irony of watching poor

5/13 Vafþrúðnir question his guest “Gagnráðr.” One possible function of Óðinn’s many names, then, is that they hid his primary identity from other characters in dramatic performances, at the same time as their connotations suggested Óðinn to the audience. In this way, dramatic irony was pro- duced and the performances were made more engaging to the audience. When the stories of Óðinn took on literary forms such as prose narrative, a lot of the drama resulting from the fluid- ity of his name was lost1.

Odinic Names and Magic At the end of Grímnismál, Óðinn lists off dozens of his names in quick succession. The verses which contain the list of names are considered by Larrington to be the climax of Óðinn’s gradual revelation of his divine identity (“Poetic” 50). The problem with this interpretation is that Óðinn has already more or less explicitly identified himself back in the third strophe. Presuma- bly, the cosmological knowledge which Óðinn has recited throughout the poem will play some role in helping the young Agnarr to assume the kingship (Larrington 50, Fleck 65). The list of names might therefore be included, not to reveal that the speaker is Óðinn, but rather because they are part of the knowledge that makes up Agnarr’s reward for giving Grímnir a drink. Some commentators have pointed out that Grímnismál has a rather different meaning if the narrative frame is left out, and conclude that this frame was added to the poem after it became literature (ie. Schröder). This is quite possible, but even so, the poem as we have it now, with the prose introduction and conclusion, was crafted by someone who was communicating something about how he understood the poem and the traditions behind it. If we grant that, in the mind of this person, knowing the layout of the divine cosmos and the names of Óðinn is going to help Agnarr in his rise to power, then how exactly they will do so is still unclear. One example of an answer to this problem is that of Jere Fleck, who proposed that “numinous knowledge... was a criterion for succession to the Germanic sacred kingship...” and that Grímnismál represents a ritual during which this knowledge was ritually transmitted (10). The notion of “Germanic sacred

1 See, for instance, Snorri’s account of Óðinn’s acquisition of the mead of poetry in Skáldskaparmál. The fact that Óðinn introduces himself to Baugi as Bölverkr does not result in any humour, irony, or suspense. The same is true of his appearance as Rauðgrani in Bárðar saga Snæfelláss.

6/13 kingship” stems from Fleck’s Indo-European approach, and his ideas are based partly on ques- tionable parallels with various Indo-European myths and rituals. I am more inclined to think that the knowledge which Óðinn imparts to Agnarr can be put to some practical magical use. The prose introduction to Grímnismál reminds the reader of Óðinn’s reputation as a magician when Frigg’s handmaid warns Geirröðr to beware so that “eigi fyrirgerði honum fjölkunnigr maðr, sá er þar kominn í land” (Eddukvæði 84). Óðinn’s magical abilities are also described in other works. In the last section of Hávamál, for example, it is em- phasised that Óðinn’s knowledge of “rúnar” allows him to perform magic for practical purposes. Some of these“rúnar” have results that would be especially useful to a king or nobleman, results such as protecting soldiers in battle and mediating a settlement between enemies. In Ynglinga saga, Óðinn is in fact portrayed as a king who relies on his magical powers in order to win and preserve his kingship: “Óðinn kunni svá gera, at í orrostu urðu óvinir hans blindir eða daufir eða óttafullir, en vápn þeira bitu eigi heldr en vendir, en hans menn fóru bryn- julausir ok váru galnir sem hundar eða vargar, bitu í skjöldu sína, váru sterkir sem birnir eða griðungar.... Óðinn vissi um allt jarðfé, hvar fólgit var, ok hann kunni þau ljóð, er upp laukst fyrir honum jörðin ok björg ok steinar ok haugarnir... Af þessum kröftum varð hann mjög frægr. Óv- inir hans óttuðust hann, en vinir hans treystust honum... En hann kenndi flestar íþróttir sínar blótgoðunum... Margir aðrir námu þó mikit af, ok hefir þaðan af dreifzt fjölkynngin víða ok haldizt lengi” (Heimskringla 9). This last statement shows that magical practices known as “galdrar” were known in the 13th century. Later Icelandic manuscripts such as Galdrabók (c. 1550- 1680) show that “galdrar” were used throughout the middle ages and beyond. In Ynglinga saga, the teachings of Óðinn are portrayed as the ultimate source of this craft. The prose introduction to Grímnismál implies that Geirröðr himself gained the kingdom from his older brother by reciting a magic spell that Óðinn had taught him: “En er þau kerling leiddu þá til strandar, þá mælti karl [Óðinn] einmæli við Geirröð. Þeir [Geirröð and his older brother] fengu byr ok kómu til stöðva föður sins. Geirröðr var fram í skipi. Hann hljóp upp á land, en hratt út skipinu ok mælti: ‘Farðu nú, þar er smyl hafi þik.’ Skipit rak í haf út... var þá Geirröðr til konungs tekinn...” (Eddukvæði 83). Since Óðinn is well-known for possessing magi-

7/13 cal knowledge, and since he has used it before to make a king, it seems reasonable to think that the poetry he recites to Agnarr can be put to magical use. Although it was written hundreds of years after the Poetic Edda, Galdrabók contains some elaborate pictorial runes which have the same powers that Óðinn describes in Hávamál (ie. securing the love of a woman, protection at sea)2. These may have developed from similar runes that existed in the thirteenth century. If runes represented and were magically linked to the different aspects of the cosmos, then it follows that in order to understand the meanings of the pic- tures that the runes make and the meanings of the various components of the runes, a knowledge of the cosmos was required. Óðinn’s exposition of Yggdrasil and the various dwelling places of the Æsir can be understood in this light. The very first section of Galdrabók recommends reciting a long list of the names of God (ie. Jesus Kristus Emanuel, pater et Domine, Deus meus Zeboth, Adonaij, Unitas, Trinitas, Redemtor, Deus Abraham, etc.) for “protection against all kinds of dangers” (Flowers 59). In a similar way, reciting a list of Odinic names the way Grímnir does in the poem may have been seen as a magical practice in the middle ages.

Odinic Names and Memory Since Eddic poems started off in a non-literate context, they would have had to have been memorised. In “Myth and the Psychology of Memory,” Larrington wonders how a reciter would have been able to remember the list of more than fifty Odinic names in Grímnismál. Naturally, non-literate traditions contain a lot of mnemonic devices: “Visual cueing, the employment of vivid images to act as memory primes, is a widespread mnemonic device. The names of Óðinn in Grímnismál may well be meaningful to the reciter in this way. In addition to their alliterative associations, they trigger distinctive visual images: the Masked One (Grímr), the Dangling One (Váfuðr), the Army-Rejoicer (Herteitr)... Imagery is more durable as a coding system than a simple verbal tag, although it works for gist rather than exact wording. Suggestive in this regard is the observation that the Codex Regius text of Grímnismál... contains 52 different names for Óðinn... The list also occurs in AM 748 4to and much of it is transmitted in the 4 major mss. of Snorra Edda and some of its fragments. The 52 Codex Regius names yield only 14 variants

2 It also contains runes for far more humble aims such as curing a headache or making an enemy’s belly full of gas.

8/13 across the other manuscripts; of these 14 only five are semantically distinct. The list of names shows a striking stability across the tradition because, I [Larrington] suggest, the list combines the usual listing techniques of alliteration, rhythm, rhyme, with a high number of visual imagery cues” (Larrington “Myth” 274). As the reciters remembered the list of names in this way, they would have also, in doing so, remembered the myths and poems associated with the names. Many Odinic names evoke a particular narrative: according to the poem itself, “Grímnir mik hétu/ at Geirröðr/ en Jalk at Ás- mundr/ en þá Kjalar/ er ek kjalka dró... Svíðurr ok Sviðrir/ er ek hét at Sökkmímis,/ ok dulðak þann inn aldna jötun,/ þá er ek Miðvitnis vark/ ins mæra burar/ orðinn einbani” (Eddukvæði 97- 98). Of course, we are not familiar with all of the Odinic narratives that once existed. Perhaps each name on the list conjured up a narrative. Even those which obviously refer to some aspect of Óðinn’s appearance or personality could well have had narrative associations too, since although Bölverkr and Hárbarðr mean “mischief maker” and “grey-bearded” respectively, they also remind us of when Óðinn acquired the mead of poetry and when he tricked Þórr. In mnemonics, “chunking” is a device wherein the information that needs to be memorised is grouped into a single familiar unit of information. The amount of data that makes up a chunk depends on what is familiar to the person remembering (Miller 92). To illustrate, “A man just beginning to learn radiotelegraphic code hears each dit and dah as a separate chunk. Soon he is able to organize these sounds into letters and then he can deal with the letters as chunks. Then the letters organize themselves as words, which are still larger chunks, and he begins to hear whole phrases” (Miller 92). Since it is generally believed that it is easier to remember few chunks than many chunks, packing a lot of data into one chunk is advantageous to someone who has a lot to remember. In the case of eddic poetry, it could be that as reciters became familiar with the material, they were able to chunk an entire story under the heading of an Odinic name. If this was so, then lists of Odinic names would have helped them to recall stories.

Odinic Names and Skaldic Poetry While eddic poetry became a conservative tradition during the middle ages, skaldic poetry remained a reasonably dynamic one: “The poet had enjoyed, it would seem, a respected and

9/13 important position in pagan society, and this privilege was translated into Christian society. In the Christian culture skaldic verse was not confined to the secular community, but became a popular art form among the clergy. Learning was the privilege of affluent people, chiefly men, who be- longed to the affluent and powerful section of society, and it is my hypothesis that the ease with which skaldic verse was adopted by the Christian community at large suggests a well-defined stuff of the medium in an educational context, inside and outside the church, by the twelfth century” (Nordal 22). Because of the myth of the mead of poetry, poets frequently referred to Óðinn in kennings for poetry (ie. hrostabrim Alföður, helgu fulli Hrafnásar) (Edda 107). Because of his role as the host of the slain, he is also a popular component of kennings for war and weaponry (ie. Viðris veðr, Óðins eldr) (Edda 187). The large catalogue of Odinic names, beginning and ending with various sounds and containing various numbers of syllables, would obviously have been very useful to skaldic poets, who had to adhere to a metre, a rhyming scheme, and an alliterative scheme in their stanzas. In fact, the needs of skaldic poetry alone would be sufficient cause for the fact that so many names for Óðinn arose. Additionally, the specific connotations of Odinic names opened the possibility of adding another layer of meaning to the kennings. An example of this is that in the twelfth century poem “Plácitus drápa,” where a fight that Plácitus starts is referred to as a “Yggjar leik” (Lassen 102). Yggr, meaning “terror,” colours our impression of what the fight was like, in a way that the purely denotative name Óðinn would not. If, as Guðrún Nordal believes, skaldic poetry was studied in monasteries and schools in Iceland as part of the discipline of grammatica, then students may have had to memorise names of Óðinn alongside other parts of poetic vocabulary. Memorising lists of names was not uncom- mon at this time; in Boncompagno’s Rhetorica novissima, a popular rhetoric manual published in 1235, Boncompagno describes mnemonic techniques which, he boasts, allow his students “to remember all the names of animals, birds, various craft implements, and so on” (Carruthers 248). If the literate class learned lists of names for Óðinn without learning all of the mythic lore that was once associated with them, that would explain why so many Odinic names survived whose meanings and mythic background are now mysterious to us.

10/13 Summary According to the philosopher J.S. Mill, proper names are “meaningless markers” which “attach to objects, not their attributes... objects thus ticketed with proper names resemble, until we know something more about them, men and women in masks. We can distinguish them, but can conjecture nothing with respect to their real features” (Bodenhorn and Vom Bruck 6). Argua- bly, Mill’s description was true when applied to proper names in nineteenth century England. It is certainly not true, however, of proper names in medieval Iceland. “Kenningarnöfn” were spe- cifically intended to describe the attributes of their referents. Similarly, Odinic names are rich in connotations. Since “kenningarnöfn” were understood as secondary, non-essential, and coinci- dental names, so too the many Odinic names were thought, in the Snorra Edda, to be secondary names which had arisen from particular circumstances. In eddic poetry, on the other hand, it is unclear whether or not Óðinn’s names are thought to be analogous to the “kenningarnafn.” This much is clear: that Óðinn had the power to assign names to himself and that he used this power in order to trick people. This was one of the reasons that saint’s lives and sagas sometimes portrayed Óðinn as a deceitful demon. Óðinn’s trickery would have been a source of amusement during performances of eddic poems, so one function of his many names could have been preventing other characters from knowing that he is Óðinn. In this context, the connotations of Óðinn’s names were potentially ironic. Consider for instance the fact that “Grímnir” means “mask,” and that masks can be used to cover up one’s true identity; Geirröðr should have caught on. Comparing Grímnismál to Ice- landic “galdrar” manuals such as Galdrabók highlights another possibility: that Odinic names had magical powers which could produce practical results if they were recited. Óðinn’s names, with their rich connotations, could also have functioned as mnemonic cues for mythical information. Finally, Óðinn’s names were of great use to composers of skaldic poetry, because the flexi- bility of having many names from which to choose would have made it easier to fit references to Óðinn into the complex structures of skaldic poetry and to generate additional meaning. The fact that Óðinn’s names, as Falk pointed out, do not only denote him but also carry various connotations, is what potentially made them useful in all of these contexts.

11/13 Works Cited

Bodenhorn, Barbara and Gabriele vom Bruck. “Entangled in Histories: An Introduction to the Anthropology of Names and Naming.” The Anthropology of Names and Naming. Ed. Gabriele vom Bruck and Barbra Bodenhorn. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006.

Carruthers, Mary. “Late Antique Rhetoric, Early Monasticism, and the Revival of School Rheto- ric.” Latin Grammar and Rhetoric: From Classical Theory to Medieval Practice. Ed. Carol Dana Lanham. London: Continuum, 2002. 239- 257.

Clunies Ross, Margaret. Skáldskaparmál: Snorri Sturluson’s Ars Poetica and Medieval Theories of Language. Odense: Odense University Press, 1987.

Edda. Ed. Guðni Jónsson. Reykjavík: Íslendingasagnaútgáfan, 1985.

Eddukvæði. Ed. Guðni Jónsson. Reykjavík: Íslendingasagnaútgáfan, 1985.

Falk, Hjalmar. Odensheite. Kristiania: Fridthof Nansens Fond, 1924.

Fleck, Jere. “The Knowledge-Criterion in the Grímnismál: the Case Against ‘Shamanism.’” Arkiv för nordisk filiogi 86 (1971): 49-65.

Flowers, Stephen. The Galdrabók: An Icelandic Grimoire. York Beach, Maine: Samuel Weiser, 1989.

Fornaldarsögur Norðurlanda. Ed. Guðni Jónsson and Bjarni Vilhjálmsson. Reykjavík: Bókaút- gáfan Forni, 1944.

Gunnell, Terry. The Origins of Drama in Scandinavia. Cambridge: Boydel and Brew, 1995.

Heimskringla. Ed. Steingrímur Pálsson. Reykjavík: Víkingsprent, 1944.

Larrington, Carolyne. “Myth and the Psychology of Memory.” Old Norse Religion in Long-Term Perspectives: Origins, Changes, and Interactions. Ed. Anders Andrén et al. Lund: Nordic Aca- demic Press, 2006. 272-275.

Lassen, Annette. “Óðinn in Old Norse Texts Other than the Elder Edda, Snorra Edda, and Ynglinga Saga.” Viking and Medieval Scandinavia 1 (2005): 91-108.

Miller, George A. “The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two: Some Limits on our Capac- ity for Processing Information.” Psychological Review 63: 81-97.

12/13 Nordal, Guðrún. Tools of Literacy: the Role of Skaldic Verse in Icelandic Textual Culture of the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001.

The Poetic Edda. Trans. Carolyne Larrington. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.

Schröder, Franz Rolf. “Grímnismál.” Beiträge zur Geschichte der deutschen Sprache und Litera- tur 80 (1958): 341-378.

Simek, Rudolf. Dictionary of Northern Mythology. Trans. Angela Hall. Cambridge: DS Brewer, 1993.

Turville-Petre, Gabriel. Myth and Religion of the North: the Religion of Ancient Scandinavia. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1975.

13/13