Saga Thing Saga Thing

In this episode, Klaufi rescues his friend Karl the Red from a terrible Viking called Atli. But don't get too excited about Klaufi becoming the hero of this saga. He also kills a whole bunch of people, causes general havoc, and even gets married by dubious means. We also get to see him in full berserker mode, which can be fun (if viewed from a distance).
All of this makes one wonder, just how long will the people of Svarfaðardalur continue to put up with Klaufi and his shenanigans?
Along the way, we talk about the tendency of this saga narrative to dip out when it's time for action. We look a little deeper into the question of Gris and his motivations. And we dip our toes briefly into the subject of medieval Icelandic dying herbs and mosses.
If you're interested in learning more about club moss and its uses in medieval Iceland, check out the following:
Viking Age Dyes
Using Clubmoss as an Alum Mordant
And, since Andy mentions it in the episode, grab yourself a copy of the Eyrbyggja Saga graphic novel.
Join in on the conversation about Klaufi, medieval Icelandic textiles, and creative works inspired by the sagas here:
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Music Credits
Intro Music - "Prelude and Action" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Poetry Music - Adapted from "Vanheimr" by Danheim
Outro Music - "Stormfront" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

With the Big Lacuna now behind us, we embark onto a new adventure in what may or may not be (but probably is) a new saga. Is this the same Thorstein we've come to grow and love? Or is it a different man altogether?
In the end, it doesn't matter much because Thorstein shifts into the background as new characters take center stage, like Karl the Red, Gris the Merry, and Klaufi the Mauler. That's a lot of nicknames. But this episode features more than just nicknames. We've got wrestling, murder, intrigue, and runes. That's right, we've got runes!
Join us for Svarfdaela Saga, chapters 10-14a!
Music Credits
Intro Music - "Prelude and Action" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Outro Music - "Stormfront" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

In this episode, we find ourselves navigating the murky depths of the massive gap in Svarfdæla saga that we call "The Big Lacuna." What happened to Thorstein Thorgnirsson when he left Sweden? Why is he feuding with someone named Ljotolf in Iceland? How did he get to Iceland? Is that even the same Thorstein or is it Thorstein's son or maybe his grandson? And what the hell is happening here!?!
But never fear, we successfully steer the Saga Thing ship through the dangerous waters of the Big Lacuna and reach the other side of the saga safely. Along the way, we explore how a lacuna this big happens, what its effects are, and how scholars work to fill the empty space left in the narrative. Good times!
Let us know what you think by getting in on the conversation here:
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Music Credits
Intro Music - "Prelude and Action" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Outro Music - "Stormfront" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

We return to the tale of Thorstein as seeks fame, honor, and a bit of respect from his father. He's already defeated the great Viking known as Ljot the Pale, which is a big feather in his cap. Unfortunately, he lost his brother Thorolf in the battle. Eager to bury his beloved brother in style, Thorstein heads for the shores of Sweden where he'll meet an aging jarl with a problem that only the bravest of men could possibly resolve. This episode features a nice blend of all that good medieval literature has to offer.
Along the way, we navigate around a little lacuna at an important moment in the text and then get sucked into the gaping maw of the big lacuna that separates the two parts of this saga. It's a pretty wild ride.
If you're interested in learning more about the rules of the holmgang as it appears in the Icelandic sagas, check out this old Saga Brief on the subject: Saga Brief 2: Holmgang, or The Icelandic Art of Dueling
Share your thoughts on the saga so far and join in on the conversations here:
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Music Credits
Intro Music - "Prelude and Action" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Outro Music - "Stormfront" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

We begin the new year with a saga that has been compared to the works of Shakespeare himself. Not necessarily in a favorable light, but definitely compared. As we hinted in our 10th Anniversary episode, we're jumping into the sagas of Eyjafjörður in Northern Iceland (including Svarfdæla saga, Valla-Ljóts saga, Víga-Glúms saga, and Ljósvetninga saga).

Up first is Svarfdæla saga, a surprisingly compelling (but sometimes frustrating) narrative that Jónas Kristjánsson described as "one of the greatest oddities among the sagas of Icelanders" in his book Eddas and Sagas (244). And if that doesn't sell you on it, then how about this fine quote from Fredrik Heinemann from his paper "Svarfdæla saga: The Norwegians and the Swedes," the saga efficiently characterizes minor and major figures with the deft brush strokes of saga writing at its best" (237). We think you'll agree after listening to this episode covering the first six chapters of the saga.
In this episode, we meet two brothers called Thorolf and Thorstein. One is a typical saga golden boy, the other is a kolbítr. But if you know your saga tropes, you know that big things are in store for that lazy coal-eater.
Along the way, we talk about other brothers we've met in the sagas, the sudden appearance of a castle in the narrative, and one of the more unbelievable candidates for Best Bloodshed we've seen in a while. We also get back to the listener runesack to address a question from our Discord page about Viking weddings.
There's all that and more in our first episode of 2024. It's good to be back!
If you're interested in doing your own word usage research, check out The Dictionary of Old Norse Prose.
Join in on the conversation here:
Sagathingpodcast on Facebook
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Saga Thing’s unofficial official Discord
Music Credits
Intro Music - "Prelude and Action" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/
Outro Music - "Stormfront" by Kevin MacLeodLicensed under Creative Commons: By Attribution 4.0 Licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

Gleðileg jól frá Saga Thing! We're back with another exciting holiday discovery for you. This time, we share a bit of backgroundy stuff about the famous Yule Lads of Icelandic tradition before premiering a brand new poem about them. This may or may not be the oldest surviving poem about the Yule Lads, though we have some suspicions about the nature of the manuscript we were working from for the translation. Either way, it's a lot of fun.
Merry Christmas!
If you're interested, here's the original poem (in Icelandic) by Jóhannes úr Kötlum
“Jólasveinarnir” by Jóhannes úr KötlumEnglish translation by Hallberg Hallmundsson
Let me tell the storyof the lads of few charms,who once upon a timeused to visit our farms.
Thirteen altogether,these gents in their primedidn´t want to irk peopleall at one time.
They came from the mountains,as many of you know,in a long single fileto the farmsteads below.
Creeping up, all stealth,they unlocked the door.The kitchen and the pantrythey came looking for.
Grýla was their mother –she gave them ogre milk –and the father Leppalúdi;a loathsome ilk.
They hid where they could, with a cunning look or sneer,ready with their prankswhen people weren´t near.
They were called the Yuletide lads– at Yuletide they were due –and always came one by one,not ever two by two.
And even when they were seen,they weren´t loath to roam and play their tricks – disturbingthe peace of the home.
The first of them was Sheep-Cote Clod.
He came stiff as wood,to pray upon the farmer´ssheep as far as he could.
He wished to suck the ewes,but it was no accidenthe couldn´t; he had stiff knees –not to convenient.
The second was Gully Gawk,gray his head and mien.He snuck into the cow barnfrom his craggy ravine.
Hiding in the stalls,he would steal the milk,while the milkmaid gave the cowherda meaningful smile.
Stubby was the third called,a stunted little man,who watched for every chanceto whisk off a pan.
And scurrying away with it,he scraped off the bitsthat stuck to the bottomand brims – his favorites.
The fourth was Spoon Licker;like spindle he was thin.He felt himself in cloverwhen the cook wasn´t in.
Then stepping up, he grappledthe stirring spoon with glee,holding it with both handsfor it was slippery.
Pot Scraper, the fifth one,was a funny sort of chap.When kids were given scrapings,he´d come to the door and tap.
And they would rush to seeif there really was a guest.Then he hurried to the potand had a scrapingfest.
Bowl Licker, the sixth one,was shockingly ill bred.From underneath the bedsteadshe stuck his ugly head.
And when the bowls were leftto be licked by dog or cat,he snatched them for himself –he was sure good at that!
The seventh was Door Slammer,a sorry, vulgar chap:When people in the twilightwould take a little nap,
he was happy as a larkwith the havoc he could wreak,slamming doors and hearingthe hinges on them sqeak
Skyr Gobbler, the eighth,was an awful stupid bloke.He lambasted the skyr tubtill the lid on it broke.
Then he stood there gobbling– his greed was well known –until, about to burst,he would bleat, howl and groan.
The ninth was Sausage Swiper, a shifty pilferer.He climbed up to the raftersand raided food from there.
Sitting on a crossbeamin soot and in smoke,he fed himselfon sausage fit for gentlefolk.
The tenth was Window Peeper,a weird little twit,who stepped up to the windowand stole a peek through it.
And whatever was insideto which his eye was drawn,he most likely attemptedto take later on.
Eleventh was Door Sniffer,a doltish lad and gross.He never got a cold,yet had a huge, sensitive nose.
He caught the scent of lacebread while leagues away stilland ran toward it weightlessas wind over dale and hill
Meat Hook, the twelfth one,his talent would displayas soon as he arrivedon Saint Thorlak´s Day.
He snagged himself a morselof meet of any sort,although his hook at timeswas a tiny bit short.
The thirteenth was Candle Beggar –´twas cold, I believe,if he was not