Tales From The Viking Isles
Viking Folk & Fairy Tales, Legends, Myths & Sagas
Stories from northern lands, this volume concentrates on Sagas from Viking isles; Iceland and The Faroe Isles. These forms are known as family sagas, & were often told by the “skald” bards. For the most part these sagas take the form of prose narratives & are mostly based on historical events that took place in the 9th, 10th, & 11th centuries.
Please note -you may find some books that are not available with some bookstores. It takes time for books to filter through distribution channels, and/or some bookstores may choose to stock a more limited range of specific titles and genres.
You can also order these books from any reputable bookseller using the following ISBN's:
Table of Contents
The Tháttr Of Nornagest
Smund And Signy
The Tooth Thrall
Geirlaug The King"S Daughter
Hermod And Hadvor
Olaf’s Fight With Havard
How Geirald The Coward Was Punished
Kisa The Cat
Harald Is King
The Cottager And His Cat
Gyda’s Saucy Message
The Horse Gullfaxi And The Sword Gunnfjoder
The Sea Fight
The Rogue And The Herdsman
King Harald’s Wedding
The Three Robes
King Harald Goes West-Over-Seas
The Witch In The Stone Boat
Homes In Iceland
Which Was The Foolishest
Eric The Red
The Ballad Of Nornagest
Leif And His New Land
The Ballad Of Hildina
Wineland The Good
The Saga Of Hromund Greipsson
The Tháttr Of Sörli
About The Editor
THE TOOTH THRALL
Adapted from ”skald” sagas as told by Jennie Hall in Viking Tales, 1902
WHEN HARALD WAS SEVEN MONTHS OLD he cut his first tooth. Then his father said, "All the young of my herds, lambs and calves and colts, that have been born since this baby was born I this day give to him. I also give to him this thrall, Olaf. These are my tooth-gifts to my son."
The boy grew fast, for as soon as he could walk about he was out of doors most of the time. He ran in the woods and climbed the hills and waded in the creek. He was much with his tooth thrall, for the king had said to Olaf: "Be ever at his call."
Now this Olaf was full of stories, and Harald liked to hear them.
"Come out to Aegir’s Rock, Olaf, and tell me stories," he said almost every day.
So they started off across the hills. The man wore a long, loose coat of white wool, belted at the waist with a strap. He had on coarse shoes and leather leggings. Around his neck was an iron collar welded together so that it could not come off. On it were strange marks, called runes, that said, "Olaf, thrall of Halfdan."
But Harald’s clothes were gay. A cape of grey velvet hung from his shoulders. It was fastened over his breast with great gold buckles. When it waved in the wind, a scarlet lining flashed out, and the bottom of a little scarlet jacket showed. His feet and legs were covered with grey woollen tights. Gold lacings wound around his legs from his shoes to his knees. A band of gold held down his long, yellow hair.
It was a wild country that these two were walking over. They were climbing steep, rough hills. Some of them seemed made all of rock, with a little earth lying in spots. Great rocks hung out from them, with trees growing in their cracks. Some big pieces had broken off and rolled down the hill.
"Thor broke them," Olaf said. "He rides through the sky and hurls his hammer at clouds and at mountains. That makes the thunder and the lightning and cracks the hills. His hammer never misses its aim, and it always comes back to his hand and is eager to go again."
When they reached the top of the hill they looked back. Far below was a soft, green valley. In front of it the sea came up into the land and made a fiord. On each side of the fiord high walls of rock stood up and made the water black with shadow. All around the valley were high hills with dark pines on them. Far off were the mountains. In the valley were Halfdan’s houses around their square yard.
"How little our houses look down there!" Harald said. "But I can almost - yes, I can see the red dragon on the roof of the feast hall. Do you remember when I climbed up and sat on his head, Olaf?"
He laughed and kicked his heels and ran on.
At last they came to Aegir’s Rock and walked up on its flat top. Harald went to the edge and looked over. A ragged wall of rock reached down, and two hundred feet below was the black water of the fiord. Olaf watched him for a while, then he said, "No whitening of your cheek, Harald? Good! A boy that can face the fall of Aegir’s Rock will not be afraid to face the war flash when he is a man."
"Ho, I am not afraid of the war flash now," cried Harald.
He threw back his cape and drew a little dagger from his belt.
"See!" he cried; "does this not flash like a sword? And I am not afraid. But after all, this is a baby thing! When I am eight years old I will have a sword, a sharp tooth of war."
He swung his dagger as though it were a long sword. Then he ran and sat on a rock by Olaf.
"Why is this Aegir’s Rock?" he asked.
"You know that Asgard is up in the sky," Olaf said. "It is a wonderful city where the golden houses of the gods are in the golden grove. A high wall runs all around it. In the house of Odin, the All-father, there is a great feast hall larger than the whole earth. Its name is Valhalla. It has five hundred doors. The rafters are spears. The roof is thatched with shields. Armor lies on the benches. In the high seat sits Odin, a golden helmet on his head, a spear in his hand. Two wolves lie at his feet. At his right hand and his left sit all the gods and goddesses, and around the hall sit thousands and thousands of men, all the brave ones that have ever died.
"Now it is good to be in Valhalla; for there is mead there better than men can brew, and it never runs out. And there are skalds that sing wonderful songs that men never heard. And before the doors of Valhalla is a great meadow where the warriors fight every day and get glorious and sweet wounds and give many. And all night they feast, and their wounds heal. But none may go to Valhalla except warriors that have died bravely in battle. Men who die from sickness go with women and children and cowards to Niflheim. There Hela, who is queen, always sneers at them, and a terrible cold takes hold of their bones, and they sit down and freeze.
"Years ago Aegir was a great warrior. Aegir the Big-handed, they called him. In many a battle his sword had sung, and he had sent many warriors to Valhalla. Many swords had bit into his flesh and left marks there, but never a one had struck him to death. So his hair grew white and his arms thin. There was peace in that country then, and Aegir sorrowed, saying, ‘I am old. Battles are still. Must I die in bed like a woman? Shall I not see Valhalla?’
"Now thus did Odin say long ago, ‘If a man is old and is come near death and cannot die in fight, let him find death in some brave way and he shall feast with me in Valhalla.’
"So one day Aegir came to this rock. ‘A deed to win Valhalla!’ he cried. Then he drew his sword and flashed it over his head and held his shield high above him, and leaped out into the air and died in the water of the fiord."
"Ho!" cried Harald, jumping to his feet. "I think that Odin stood up before his high seat and welcomed that man gladly when he walked through the door of Valhalla."
"So the songs say," replied Olaf, "for skalds still sing of that deed all over Norway."