Huldufólk

Hello and welcome back to Fab Figmentals!

I’m Lindsey Morse, your guide through the realm of curious creatures, magical monsters, and beautiful beasts. Each week on this podcast, we explore a different legendary creature by looking at its history and folklore. Each episode begins with a story, and then we take a look at the creature’s origins and how it’s been portrayed throughout the ages.

In this episode, we’re going to explore the hidden world of the huldufólk, a race of elves found in Icelandic and Faroese folklore. 

Legends of the huldufólk have been around since the time of the Vikings. These elven creatures are said to live alongside mankind, though they remain invisible to the average person. 

Stories indicate that the huldufólk can range in size. Some are only a few inches tall, while others are almost human-sized. They’re often associated with the natural rock formations and craggy hills of the Icelandic landscape, and - as a result - even to this day people in Iceland sometimes treat some large boulders and hillsides with special respect.

Perhaps surprisingly, the huldufólk are said to lead lives that are remarkably similar to ours. They keep farms, tend cattle, utilize vehicles for transport, and are even sometimes said to attend church. But despite living alongside mankind, humans are usually blind to their existence. But not always. Sometimes, the huldufólk will come out of hiding to interact with humans. And rarely, someone is lucky enough to spend some time in their world. 

Before we dive into today’s story, I have an exciting announcement to share. This week, I’ve invited Kate, host and creator of the Ignorance was Bliss podcast, to step in as guest storyteller for today’s episode. Ignorance was Bliss is a podcast that peers into the world of psychology and true crime, and Kate invited me to be a guest on her show this week. Together, we take a fascinating look at some legendary creatures through the lens of psychology. Please check it out; you’ll find a link in the show notes. Ignorance was Bliss is available wherever you get your podcasts, and you can stay tuned at the end of this episode to hear more about the show. 

Now without further ado, I’m going to turn the show over to Kate, who will read today’s story. It was written by myself and Niall Cooper, and it’s about a young girl who’s called upon to assist an elven couple in their moment of need. It’s called, “The Gift of the Huldufólk.” 

—music— 

It had been over a year since Emma’s father had been thrown from his pony.

His recovery had been steady but slow, and during his recuperation maintenance of the family farm had fallen firmly on Emma’s shoulders. 

Every morning, she rose before the sun and shouldered the work with dutiful efficiency. 

The work was a little lonely, but this day was not to be as quiet as the others. 

As she was milking the goats, Emma’s solitude was broken when her trusty dog, Fafnir, stiffened and let out a warning bark. She looked up to see a strange man waving both arms and running frantically in her direction. 

Outsiders were not a common sight, and this man’s behavior was concerning.

Fafnir growled.

“Who are you?” Emma called out. “What do you want?”

“Please, come,” the man cried, “My wife is in labor. Please, help us.” 

Emma set aside her concerns and rushed after the stranger, Fafnir hurrying along beside her. 

They ran and ran until a huge boulder came into view. The man grabbed Emma’s wrist and, incredibly, pulled her through the face of the rock. When Emma opened her eyes, she found herself standing in a large, well furnished room, warm with candlelight.

In a bed lay the man’s wife, wailing. Emma could see right away it was a breech birth. She leaned in close to the woman and stroked her hair. She reassured the woman that everything would be alright, but she wasn’t so sure… She’d helped deliver kids and lambs on the farm, and a few of the births had been tricky - but never like this.

And yet, a calm took hold of her. She trusted her instinct, and it seemed fortune was on their side that morning. Before long, the two women welcomed a tiny baby girl into the world.

Cleaned and wrapped in a soft, white blanket, mother and child looked peaceful and perfect.

“What is your name?” The mother asked.

“Emma.”

“Then,” the woman kissed her baby. “She is Emma, too.”

The man touched her arm. “One last favor, please, before I must ask you to go.” 

The man produced a small jar, and handed it to Emma. “Dab your finger in this balm and brush it across the child’s eyelids.” 

Emma scrunched up her face with confusion.

“It is our way,” he said with conviction. “It is our blessing. It gives the child the power to see. Not your world, but ours.” 

“You helped to bring her into this world,” the woman said. “She is named for you. It is you who should bless my baby.”

The man held out the little pot.

Reluctantly, Emma took it. The balm was white and smelled harmless enough. Still, she wasn’t sure about putting it on the child’s eyes. She didn’t want to do anything that might harm this fresh and innocent newborn.

Emma dipped her fingers in the jar. Her heart thumped in her chest— how could she know if it was safe? 

The woman nodded and pulled back the blanket to expose the girl’s small, sleeping face. “Just the lightest touch upon her eyelids. That is all.”

Emma decide that she had to test the balm on herself first. It was the only way to know that it wouldn’t hurt the baby.

She pretended to stumble. With her back turned slightly, she touched her own eyes before standing back upright. 

She waited for some sign of discomfort. But all seemed fine. 

So, gingerly, Emma stepped over to the child and applied the balm, more delicately than she might lift a snowflake from her own eyelash. The baby did not flinch, but smiled and let out a little giggle. “It is done,” the mother said. “Thank you.”

The man beamed at her. “You have helped us, and we owe you a debt.” He pressed a small, folded piece of fabric into her hand. “This is to say thank you. Keep it by your side, and it will bring you luck.” 

Emma was touched by this small gesture, and she felt a little guilty for mistrusting them. She tucked the scrap of cloth into her pocket. 

“You must go now.” 

Before she could say goodbye, the man clapped his hands and - bam! She was outside, standing on the other side of the large boulder. Fafnir bolted upright, confused but very glad to see her.

She touched the rough grey granite that she had hurtled through not long before - it was solid… as rock should be.

She looked at Fafnir, and he blinked back at her. 

Little voices chattered from a spinney of low bushes, and two curious faces popped up. A pair of ruddy-cheeked little boys.

“Hello there,” Emma called over. They stared back. “Do you… live here?”

Fafnir cocked his head to one side and squinted at Emma with confusion.

The little boys ran out from the cover of the shrubbery, ducking under Fafnir, and plowing straight through the boulder.

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Emma, jumping back. But Fafnir stood firm, seeming not to have noticed them. 

Months passed. Emma busied herself with her chores, and with each passing day she thought less about the impossible boulder house and the baby she’d helped bring into the world. 

Yet, through it all, she kept that piece of material with her, tucking it each morning into her pocket. And, as the man had promised, good fortune did follow. With time, her father made a complete recovery. Her garden flourished. The goats and chickens produced more milk and eggs than ever before.

And then one day, another stranger stumbled upon the farm. A very tall and handsome stranger. And before long, Emma was engaged to be married. 

A small wedding was planned, but as the day approached her father’s mood seemed to change. “The farm has done well, but I’m still a poor man and I cannot give you money for a pretty dress for your wedding.” 

“That doesn’t matter,” said Emma. “We’re poor, but I have wanted for nothing that truly matters in life.”

“You are sweet, child.” He pulled from his pocket a handful of small copper coins and placed them on the rough wooden table. “Can you buy something with this?”

Emma’s heart broke a little. She couldn’t purchase more than a handkerchief for so meagre a sum. “Don’t worry, Father. No pretty dress could make my wedding day sweeter.”

Downhearted, he turned and headed out to work the fields. 

He returned at dusk, bursting through the door, and smiling from ear to ear.

“Look! I found it glinting in the pasture!” He held out his hand, showing off a large silver coin. “A miracle! Tomorrow, go to the market and buy the finest material you can find.” 

Emma felt like the happiest girl in the world.

The following morning, she wrapped the silver coin in her lucky piece of fabric, and went off to the market. 

She headed straight to the merchant who sold fine cloth. As she browsed, Emma recognized a familiar face in the crowd: it was the mother she’d helped not so long ago. The woman held her child in her arms. Emma made her way towards them. But, instead of looking pleased to see her, the woman’s face dropped into a frightened scowl. She rushed to Emma’s side and yanked her into a quiet corner behind one of the stalls. 

Uncertain, Emma offered a greeting. “It’s so nice to see…” 

“PSSSHHHT!” The woman cut her off. “You can see me?”

Emma was confused. “Of course,” she wavered.

Realization dawned. “You touched your eyes with the balm,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “This can not be.”

Before Emma had time to reply, the woman stuck her thumb deep into her mouth and then brought the wet finger to Emma’s face— lightly brushing it across each of her eyes. 

And then … both mother and child were gone.

Stumbling backwards, she bumped into the table piled high with brightly dyed linens and fine lace.

“Watch out, wretched girl!” 

Emma spun around and steadied herself. The merchant scowled.

“Oh, no. No, you see - I am here to buy material for my wedding dress!”

“A likely story,” the fabric seller sneered, eyeballing her tattered dress from top to bottom.

Emma put her hand in her pocket, and dug around for her money.

“No, look. See -” 

She extended her hand. But instead of the silver coin and lucky fabric, in her open palm lay a smooth river stone and a scrap of crumbling paper.

- end music- 

Variations of this story Kate just read for us have been told throughout Iceland for centuries, and I came across several different versions during my research. The motif— where a young girl is called upon to help an elven woman give birth and in the process gains the ability to see into their world— first appeared in the 14th century, and grew in popularity over the next two centuries. It’s now considered a common example of Huldufolk lore, and can be found in modern Icelandic folklore anthologies. 

For me, one of the most interesting things about this story is the existence of the balm, which allows Emma to see the Huldufolk family long after she’s done assisting them. In my research, I came across balms and potions like this again and again— tonics that seem to allow humans to see into the Huldufolk world. But these substances are also used on the Huldufolk people themselves, which raises an interesting question— can the Huldufolk not see their own kind without the help of some kind of medicine or magic?

It’s a curious thing to consider. 

There are plenty of stories where people see and interact with the Huldufolk for short periods of time without the help of an applied substance. Even in this story (and the ones that inspired it), the protagonist is able to see and assist the elves before the balm enters the story. But the balm seems required for long term sight. It’s almost as if the Huldufolk can choose when to be seen and when to be invisible— unless there’s balm in play. 

An interesting detail, I think. 

But, anyway, let’s turn our attention to the history of the Huldufolk.

So, where did these stories come from? 

Well, there’s evidence that similar stories were told by the Vikings as early as 1000 AD. The Vikings came to Iceland with Celtic slaves in tow, and both of these groups would have brought with them folklore about elven races. The Vikings have a long history with elves called álfar, and Celtic lore tells of hill fairies and “Good People,” who are likewise hidden supernatural beings that live side by side with the human world. It’s likely that huldufólk legends grew from these beliefs. 

Over time, the Icelandic elves branched away from their foreign ancestors, and the huldufólk developed their own unique attributes and lore. For one: the Icelandic landscape became an integral part of the mythology, and the huldufólk became closely associated with themes of childbirth and fertility.  

But perhaps what’s most interesting about the huldufólk is that they still have a solid foothold in Icelandic culture today. 

In 2007, Terry Gunnell, a professor of Folkloristics at the University of Iceland, conducted a survey to gauge elf-related beliefs across the country. Over 80% of respondents refused to deny the existence of elves, while 8% said they were certain such magic creatures do exist.

While this might seem surprisingly high, elves clearly still have a place in the collective Icelandic consciousness. 

Today, there are several holidays associated with the huldufólk, and at Christmas time it’s customary to leave food out for them. There are also plenty of stories about the hidden people invading farmhouses around the holiday and throwing wild elf parties.

Road and construction projects are sometimes altered to preserve and avoid rocks where the elves are believed to live, and it’s not unusual to see a road snake to avoid a large boulder (and possible elf home) that’s been allowed to keep its inconvenient spot in the middle of a road. 

And these detours exist for good reason: to this day, rumors persist about machines breaking down and workers getting sick when someone dares to try and move or destroy “elf rocks.”  

Bryndís Björgvinsdóttir, a writer and folklorist who teaches at the Iceland Academy of Arts in Reykjavik warns, “the elves are seen as friendly, beautiful creatures, but you have to respect them, or they will take their revenge.”

I’d like to end this episode with a quote from Terry Gunnell, whose team at the University of Iceland conducted the poll about the existence of elves we looked at previously. 

When asked how elves might fit into modern day Icelandic society, he said: 

“Our image of the hidden people is stuck in the sepia photographs of folktale collections, but I reckon they’re now living between our floors, like in Being John Malkovich, watching their own little satellite televisions.”

———————

Thank you so much for tuning in to Fab Figmentals!

Research, writing, and sound editing were done by me, Lindsey Morse. Niall Cooper assists with writing and editing. Our theme music was created by the incredible Graeme Ronald. 

New episodes drop every Wednesday. Make sure to subscribe to the show to get new episodes as soon as they’re available.

If you’re enjoying the show, please consider supporting us on Patreon, at patreon.com/fabfigmentals. Supporters have access to bonus content and stories, and you can support the show for as little as a $1. 

If you’d like to learn more about Iceland’s hidden people, I recommend checking out Eventful Globe, which covers events and festivals around the world. The jet-setting, globe-trotters at Eventful Globe recently traveled to Iceland to learn more about Þrettándinn, an annual holiday celebrating elves, and they even attended Reykjavík’s Elf School, where they learned all about the creatures we talked about in this week’s episode. Check our show notes for a link to this video, and check out eventfulglobe.com for coverage of more unique events from all over the world. 

Thanks again for listening, and I hope you’ll join me next week, when we’ll grab a mirror to sneak an indirect peek at the snake-haired Medusa. One of the most famous— and deadly— women from classical mythology.

We’ll see you next time.

(Promo for Ignorance was Bliss.)