THE TERRIBLE ONE'S HORSE: CHAPTER 25

ON THE MOUND WITH EGGTHER: TOWARDS A VIKING ‘BOOK OF THE DEAD’

There sat on the grave-mound

And struck his harp

The ogress’s [gygiar] herdsman,

Happy Eggther.

Above him crew

In Gallows Wood

The gleaming red cock

That is named Fialarr.

Voluspa 41, Ursula Dronke translation

In her ground-breaking study on Norse afterlife beliefs, THE ROAD TO HEL, H. R. Ellis Davidson remarks that “there are many takes of breaking into howes in the sagas, and all are roughly of the same pattern.”  In comparing these tales to the various tories of journeys to the land of the dead, she concludes:

“We are left, at any rate, with what seem to be two separate conceptions, although there is a certain similarity between them, and although it is common for stories to contain elements from both side by side… The journeys to the land of the dead, then, might be based on such entry as was known to be obtainable into the actual grave.  Another possibility however is that these stories, which seem to belong to a definite literary tradition, may be rationalizations of a more complex and perhaps more mystical conception.  And it is perhaps most probable that both processes have been at work together.”

What I would like to do in this essay is to seek to identify the objects, personages and places that are symbolically described in these accounts of barrow-breakings and underworld journeys. To accomplish this I will be taking a detailed look at some of the stories themselves, as well as what Davidson lists as the shared motifs of these stories. 

The entry into barrow mounds by saga heroes has as its best example that of Grettir the Strong and his encounter with the dead man Kar the Old.  The account begins with a huge fire bursting forth on the headland, where Kar’s barrow is situated.  Grettir exclaims “that the flame came from a buried treasure.”

We are then told:

“The night passed, and when Grettir came back early next morning the digging tools were ready, and the farmer went with him to the mound.  Grettir began to break open the mound, and worked hard without stopping until he reached the rafters [of the earth-house built within the mound], late in the afternoon.  Then he tore them up.  Audun [the farmer] did his best to discourage him from entering the mound.  Grettir told him to watch the rope, ‘for I am going to find out what inhabits the barrow.

Then Grettir went into the mound…”

The battle with the revenant (or draugr)  ensues, and the hero manages to strike off Kar’s head with his sword.  To permanently “inactivate” the revenant, the head is placed between Kar’s buttocks.  From a purely practical standpoint this makes sense, as the revenant cannot walk now, but given the relationship of the Norse draug with the moon (a parallel I’ve mentioned elsewhere when discussing Grettir’s other draug opponent, Glam), one cannot help wonder if lunar symbolism does not apply here, with the head being emblematic of the full moon and the two cheeks of the buttocks standing for the waxing and waning moon.  Audun has fled by this time, so Grettir has to tie the treasure chests to the rope and haul them up out of the mound. 

Davidson emphasizes the motif of fire associated with the barrow mound, something found in several sagas and poems.  She makes a case for the fire being symbolic of the cremation blaze, and I’ve mentioned that the cremation blaze itself would appear to represent the fiery cloud through which heavenly bodies must pass before they can set into the earth.  The fire barrier is encountered in the story of Sigurd’s journey to Hind Fell to awaken the valkyrie in the Volsung story, in Queen Eagle-beak’s journey to undirdjup or ‘Under-deep’ (gulf or abyss in Zoega’s dictionary) in the saga of Egil and Asmund, in the saga of Eirik the Wide-farer, where a dragon’s mouth full of smoke and fire must be leapt through (this perhaps revealing Christian influence, where Satan the Dragon’s mouth is the entrance to Hell), Skirnir passes alone through the ‘fierce fire’ on his way to woo the giantess Gerd for the god Frey, Svipdag must go through the fire surrounding Menglod’s home on the mountain, and most famously, perhaps, in the tale of the heroine Hervor, who must pass through the barrier in order to claim her father’s sword from within the barrow.  From the Saga of King Heidrek the Wise (Christopher Tolkien translation):

“Now Hervor saw where out upon the island burned the fire of the barrows [hauga-eldrinn], and she went towards it without fear, though all the mounds were on her path.  She made her way into these fires as if they were no more than mist, until she came to the barrow of the berserks…

No blaze can you light,

Burning in darkness,

That your funeral fires

Should with fear daunt me;

Unmoved shall remain

The maiden’s spirit,

Though she gaze on a ghost [draug]

In the grave-door standing…

I seemed to myself

To be set between worlds,

When all about me

Burnt the cairn-fires.”

When we turn to the actual journeys to the land of the dead, we encounter some of the same barriers, but also several new ones.  The Lay of Skirnir, already alluded to, can be summarized as follows:

1) Gerd, Gymir’s daughter, is in Jotunheim (‘Giant Home’)

2) Gymir’s courts have ferocious dogs tied up in front of the wooden fence surrounding Gerd’s hall (cf. these dogs to the ones below in the Lay of Svipdag and to the bound lunar wolf Fenrir/Managarm)

3) A herdsman (cf. Eggther in Voluspa) sits on a mound (i.e. the barrow, symbolic of the earth)

4) Gerd asks Skirnir why he has come alone across the fierce flames to seek her company

5) Skirnir has the sun-apples of Idunn with him, as well as Balder’s sun-ring

6) When Gerd refuses the gifts, Skirnir threatens her, the worse threat being to give her to a giant below corpse-gates, under the roots of a tree (= Yggdrasill)

We may hear immediately recognize striking similarities with the barrow-breaking stories.  The wooden fence can be likened to the wood-house inside the barrow of Kar the Old.  In other words, metaphorically speaking, Gerd’s “hall” is the interior of the barrow mound, i.e. the interior of the earth.  The dogs are like the Greek triple-headed lunar dog Cerberus, who guards the entrance to Hades – the ‘grave-door’ of the barrow in the Hervor saga.  The reference to the roots of the tree are ironic in the extreme, as the roots penetrate and reside within the earth – or within the earth mound, should the tree be growing atop the barrow.  And, indeed, in the stanza on Eggther from Voluspa we are specifically told the Gallows Tree (upon which Odin hung) is standing over the herdsman.  

Other underworld-journey tales add yet more elements to the picture.  The ride of Hermod to Hel in Snorri Sturluson’s GYLFAGINNING can be outlined thusly:

1) Hermod rides on Odin’s horse, Sleipnir

2) He passes through dark and deep valleys for nine nights (9 being the sacred number of the moon, of course)

3) He must cross over the river Gjoll (‘Echoing’) upon the Gjallar Bridge, which is roofed with shining gold and guarded by Modgud (‘Furious Battle’, a manifestation of the lunar valkyrie goddess)

4) His direction from the bridge is downward and to the north

5) The gate of Hel must be leapt over

6) He enters Hel’s hall

Now, this would, at least superficially, seem to be quite different from the journey taken by Skirnir.  However, in reality we are merely dealing with different  mythopoeic symbols being employed.  Darkness when setting into the earth is to be expected as the nine nights is the same nine nights Odin is supposed to have spent on the world tree: it simply designates the presence of the moon in the myth, or that the myth is especially sacred to the moon.  The river we know from the account preserved in Saxo Grammaticus (see below) is a cloud-river full of lightning-weapons.  It can be compared with streams that burst or flow from various barrow mounds, the best known of which is that of the Beowulf poem’s dragon-barrow:

“… saw a stone arch and a gushing stream

that burst from the barrow, blazing and wafting a deadly heat.”  [Lines 2545-47]

The idea here is simple enough: the cloud is wet, it is a vapor, it sends forth prodigious quantities of water in the form of rain, yet it also contains the heavenly fire.

Modgud takes the place of the lunar dog or wolf.  In Odin’s ride to Hel in the poem “Balder’s Dream”, we once again find a canine acting as guardian, this one with blood on its chest.

The covered bridge does appear to be a new symbol.  We are reminded of the Norse Bifrost or Rainbow Bridge, which Snorri tells us is the bridge from the earth to the sky.  As the path to the world of the dead lies downward and to the north once one passes over the bridge, I would tentatively make a case for it being NOT the rainbow, but the Northern Lights.  For instance, in high Scandinavian latitudes, normally just before midnight and when it is dark enough, a green glow appears in the sky, quite often in the form of an arc across the whole of the heavens and directed from east to west.  I’ve mentioned elsewhere the folk beliefs that connect the Northern Lights with the warriors of the Everlasting Battle, and Modgud comments on the fact that troops of dead men tromp across Gjallar Bridge on the Road to Hel.  The entry point to the land of the dead, as I’ve written about in my chapter on Norse cosmology, was the North Pole. These locations argue for the bridge of the dead being the Northern Lights, not the Rainbow. 

The most detailed of the Eddaic underworld-journey poems is the Lay of Svipdag.  So important is this poem to our study that I’m quoting it here in full, with my own interjected commentary throughout:

THE LAY OF SVIPDAG (“Sudden Day”)

[Translated at Jormungrundr, https://notendur.hi.is//~eybjorn/]

I. GRÓA'S [the  ‘Growing One’] CHANT

which she, dead, sang to her son.

The son said:

Wake up, Gróa,

wake up, good woman,

I rouse you at the doors of the dead,

hoping you remember

that you bid your son

come to the burial mound.

[Journey starts, as always, at the ‘grave-door’ of the barrow mound.]

Gróa said:

now troubles

my only son,

what misfortune ails you,

that you would call upon that mother,

who is dead and buried,

passed away from the world of men?

The son said:

A dangerous task

was given me by the crafty woman,

the one who embraced my father;

she bid me go to a place,

known to be unapproachable,

to meet with Menglöð (the ‘Necklace Glad’, i.e. Freyja with her Brisingamen).

Gróa said:

Long is the journey,

long are the roads,

long last the yearnings of men,

if it comes to pass

that your wish be granted,

then Skuld's decree is at fault.

The son said:

Sing for me magic spells,

which are beneficial,

mother, help your son.

I fear that I will

perish on my journey,

young as I am in years.

Gróa said:

I sing you the first spell,

which is most useful,

the one Rind sang to Ran:

that you throw off all

which you deem to be evil;

be your own master.

I sing you the second spell,

in case you must travel

roads against your will,

then may Urd's bonds

hold you on all sides,

while you are on the way.

[He is given the protection of the Fate goddess.]

I sing you the third spell,

in case mighty rivers

threaten you with death,

then may Horn and Rud

meanwhile revert to Hel,

and ever dwindle for you.

[Protection against the lightning-bearing cloud-rivers/cremation fire.]

I sing you the fourth spell,

in case battle-ready foes

meet you on the gallow-way,

then may they change their minds,

become friends with you,

intent on making peace.

[Protection from hanging, the form of sacrifice deemed especially sacred to Odin. Odin’s Yggdrasill is the ‘Terrible One’s Horse’, and “riding the gallows” was one certain way to travel to the Otherworld.]

I sing you the fifth spell,

in case fetters will

restrain your arms and legs:

then shall Leifnir's flames

be sung over your leg,

and your limbs be liberated,

your feet unfettered.

[Fetters may be symbolic of death itself, or of a state of panic in battle.  In the early Irish sources, warriors could actually die of battle-panic.]

I sing you the sixth spell,

in case you must travel an ocean

greater than men have known:

then may the calm and the sea

join together in the quern,

and ever grant you a peaceful journey.

[The quern here may be a reference to the quern Grotti of Fenja and Menja, which ground the salt that made the sea salty and whose sinking left a great whirlpool. In some journeys to the land of the dead, as in that of Hading in Saxo Grammaticus, the sea must be crossed before one sets into the underworld.]

I sing you the seventh spell,

in case you meet with

frost on a high mountain:

then may not the corpse-cold

destroy your flesh,

and may your body keep its limbs.

I sing you the eighth spell,

in case you are caught outside

by night on a gloomy road:

that you may avoid

being harmed by

a Christian dead woman.

[This is a fascinating stanza.  It would appear that for the pagan on his way to the pagan Otherworld, dead Christian women were a significant danger.  In what way, exactly, they were considered a threat is hard to say.  Even more mysterious is why one would find a dead Christian woman outside, at night, on a gloomy road – presumably the Road to Hel.  One might expect her to be instead in Heaven!]

I sing you the ninth spell,

in case you must exchange words

with the spear-noble giant:

may you then be given,

from the heart of Mímir,

sufficient words and wit.

[Mimir is a hypostasis of Odin.  Gnomic or wisdom-winning stories are common in Norse literature.]

May you never go

where calamity awaits you,

may no harm obstruct your desires.

On an earth-fixed stone

I stood within the doors,

while I chanted spells for you.

Your mother's words

may you carry hence, my son,

and let them dwell in your breast;

for abundant good fortune

you will have throughout life,

while you remember my words.

II. THE LAY OF FJOLSVITH (the “Very Wise” is one on Odin’s names)

Outside the walls

he saw approaching from below

a giant towards the citadel.

Fjolsvith said:

Hasten away from here

along the humid paths;

here is no sanctuary for you!

Svipdag said:

What monster is this,

standing in front of the gates,

moving amid the perilous flame?

[Here with have the earth-mountain-barrow again, covered by the fiery cloud, with Odin himself acting the role of the ‘herdsman’ of other poems.]

Fjolsvith said:

Whom are you seeking?

What is your quest?

What, friendless one, would you learn?

Svipdag said:

What monster is this,

standing in front of the gate,

who offers no hospitality to a traveller?

Fjolsvith said:

No word of honour has ever

been spoken about you,

so go back where you came from!

Fjolsvith is my name,

I possess a wise mind,

but I am not generous with my food;

within these walls

you shall never enter,

so be on your way, you wolf!

Svipdag said:

Once the eye has beheld

a delightful spectacle,

it ever yearns to return;

these gleaming walls

surround golden halls, I think;

here would I gladly dwell.

Fjolsvith said:

Tell me, young one,

what is your parentage,

and which is your tribe?

Svipdag said:

Wind-Cold is my name,

Spring-Cold was my father,

Mighty-Cold was his father.

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

who reigns here

and holds power over

these lands and costly halls?

Fjolsvith said:

Menglod is her name,

her mother begat her

with the son of Svafurthorin;

she reigns here

and holds power over

these lands and costly halls.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what is the name of this gate,

the greatest obstacle seen

by mortals in the land of the gods?

Fjolsvith said:

Thrymgjoll it is called,

and was made by the three

sons of Solblindi (the “Sun-blind”, a dwarf);

a fetter will hold fast

any traveller

who attempts to open it.

[Here is the ‘death-fetter’ made obvious; whoever passes the Gate of Death in the World of Death is “fettered” with Death.]

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what is the name of this wall,

the greatest obstacle seen

by mortals in the land of the gods?

Fjolsvith said:

Gastropnir it is called,

and I constructed it

from Leirbrimir's limbs [a name for Ymir; see Brimir in Voluspa];

I have fortified it

so that it will stand firm

while the world lasts.

[We will meet with a similar wall in the story of Hading below.  Its function is ambiguous, as on the one hand it may be the barrier between the worlds of life and death, but also of the reverse – the boundary between death and rebirth.]

Svipdag said:

tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

who are these greedy hounds,

who pace back and forth,

guarding the tree's foliage?

[Here the lunar hounds guard the World Tree, i.e. the Sky.]

Fjolsvith said:

One is named Gifur,

the other Geri [one of Odin’s wolves],

if you want to know;

the guardians' old-age remedy (Idunn’s sun-apples)

they will ever keep safe

until the gods perish.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

whether any man

may slip inside,

while the fierce ones sleep?

Fjolsvith said:

Opposite sleeping schedules

were strictly imposed on them,

when they were appointed guards;

one sleeps by night,

the other by day;

thus no one can get through.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

whether there is any food

that a man may obtain,

and run in, while they eat?

Fjolsvith said:

Two meaty morsels

lie in Vidofnir's wings,

since you want to know;

no other food

can a man give them,

and run in, while they eat.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what is the name of the tree,

whose branches extend

through all the lands?

Fjolsvith said:

Mimameidur is it's name,

and few are they who know

from what roots it grows;

by what it will fall,

no one knows;

neither fire nor iron can fell it.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what becomes of the fruit

of this renowned tree,

felled by neither fire nor iron?

Fjolsvith said:

Its fruit is taken

and laid upon a fire

for women in labour;

out then will come

that which they carry inside;

thus it metes out fate among men.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what is the name of the cock

who sits in the lofty tree,

all aglow with gold?

[If he is golden and sits in the sky-tree, he is probably a solar cock.  This makes a lot of sense, as he rooster crows to greet the rising sun and thus announces morning.]

Fjolsvith said:

His name is Vidofnir,

and he stands upon Vedurglasir,

the boughs of Mími's tree;

with a single sorrow

he, the immense, is afflicted

by Sinmara's Surt (Sinmara is the wife of the fire giant Surt).

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

if there is any weapon

by which Vidofnir may fall

down to Hel's abode?

Fjolsvith said:

Its name is Lævateinn  [‘Wound-twig’, the mistletoe-lightning used to kill Balder],

made by Loftur (a name for Loki), and robbed from him

below the gates of death;

with Sinmara it lies

in a chest of iron,

secured with nine strong locks.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

whether he shall return,

who seeks this weapon

and wants to possess it?

Fjolsvith said:

He who seeks the sword

and desires to possess it,

shall return,

only if he brings

a rare object

to the goddess of Aurglasir.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

if there is any treasure,

that mortals can obtain,

at which the pale giantess will rejoice?

Fjolsvith said:

The bright sickle [lja = le, ‘scythe’; here for the crescent moon]

which lies in Vidofnir's wings

you must carry to the mill-place,

and give it to Sinmara,

before she agrees to give you

a weapon for the slaying.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what this hall is called,

which is surrounded by

the wise waver-flame?

Fjolsvith said:

It is called Hyr,

and it will long tremble

on the point of a sword;

this rich mansion

forever shall be known to men

only by hearsay.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

who has constructed

that which I saw within

the walls of the Asmegir [= “Sons of the Gods”]?

Fjolsvith said:

Uni and Iri,

Barri and Ori,

Var and Vegdrasil,

Dori and Uri;

Delling is the guardian

of the tower's lock.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

what is the name of the mount,

on which I see

the renowned bride sitting?

Fjolsvith said:

Lyfjaberg it is named [“Healing Mountain”],

and it has long been

a solace to the sick and sore;

a woman will be cured,

even of the year-malady,

should she climb it.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

who are the maidens,

who peacefully sit

at Menglad's knees?

Fjolsvith said:

One is named Hlif,

the second Hlifþrasa,

Thiodvarta the third,

Bjort and Blid,

Blidur, Frid,

Eir, Aurboda.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

do they protect

those who worship them,

if need must be?

Fjolsvith said:

Some of them protect

those who worship them

at the holy altar;

they will free the sons of men

from any danger,

however great the need.

Svipdag said:

Now tell me, Fjolsvith,

what I will ask you

and what I wish to know:

is there any man,

who may sleep

in Menglad's soft arms?

Fjolsvith said:

There is no man,

who may sleep

in Menglad's soft arms,

except one Svipdag;

this sun-bright maiden

was destined to be his wife.

Svipdag said:

Thrust open the doors,

let the gate swing wide,

here you behold Svipdag;

still go and see

if Menglad is willing

to accept my love.

Fjolsvith said:

Listen, Menglad:

a man has arrived,

go and behold the visitor.

The dogs rejoice,

the house has opened by itself,

I believe it must be Svipdag.

Menglad said:

Wise ravens

shall tear out your eyes

on the high gallows,

if you are lying,

that from afar has arrived

the youth to my halls.

Where have you come from,

where have you journeyed,

what do your family name you?

I must have proof

of your race and your name,

if you are, indeed, my betrothed.

Svipdag said:

Svipdag is my name,

Sun-Bright was my father;

thence I was driven by winds on cold ways.

No one can oppose

Urd's decree,

even though it incurs blame.

Menglad said:

You are most welcome!

My wish has come true,

and I greet you with a kiss;

such a beautiful sight

is a source of delight

to one in love with another.

Long have I sat

on my loved hill,

waiting for you day and night;

now has come to pass

that which I hoped for:

you have returned,

lover, to my hall.

No longer need I wait

for the fulfillment of my desire for you,

nor you for my love;

now it is certain

that we shall be together

for the rest of our lives.

In Book I of Saxo Grammaticus’s HISTORY OF THE DANES, the hero Hading is twice conveyed to the Otherworld by supernatural agencies.  In this first instance a woman bearing stalks of hemlock muffles him in her cloak and vanishes away with him beneath the earth.  He goes with her willingly because he is curious to know in what part of the world fresh plants had sprung up in the winter season. 

They penetrate a smoky veil of darkness and move along a path worn away by long ages of travelers.  Here they glimpse persons in rich robes and nobles dressed in purple.  They come eventually to a sunny region which produced the vegetation the woman had brought away.  They stumble on a river of blue-black water full of weapons.  Crossing it by a bridge they see an Everlasting Battle in progress, fought by men who met their death by the sword. 

Then they reach a wall over which the woman cannot leap.  She wrings the head off a cock and tosses it over to the other side of the wall, where it immediately crows, proving it has been resurrected.  Remarkably, a very similar event was recorded by the Arab Ibn Fadlan, who witnessed a Rus (Eastern Viking) ship funeral:

“… they led the slave girl to a thing that they had made which resembled a door frame.  She placed her feet on the palms of the men and they raised her up to overlook this frame.  She spoke some words and they lowered her again.  A second time they raised her up ans she did again what she had done; they they lowered her.  They raised her a third time and she did as she had done the two times before.  Then they brought her a hen; she cut off the head, which she threw away, and then they took the hen and put it in the ship [which according to the account would appear to be on the opposite side of the ‘door frame’ from the slave girl]. I asked the interpreter what she had done.  He answered, ‘The first time they raised her she said, “Behold, I see my father and mother.”  The second time she said, “I see all my dead relatives seated.”  The third time she said, “I see my master [the subject of the funeral] seated in Paradise and Paradise is beautiful and green; with him are men and boy servants.  He calls me.  Take me to him.” ‘

This slave girl is later killed by an old woman called the ‘Angel of Death’, and her body laid aboard the ship with the dead Rus chieftain. 

It is clear from Saxo’s legendary account and its historical counterpart that the wall or ‘door frame’ is the dividing line – a very definite demarcation – between the worlds of the living and the dead.  However, as I’ve already suggested, this is a myopic view of such a barrier.   Why?  Because the chicken, the slave girl and her master were all dead IN THIS WORLD.  They came to life, as did the rooster in the Hading tale, only when they gained entrance to the Otherworld.  So although the dead WERE dead, they were also very much alive – in fact, more alive than we are, as they enjoyed the same relative immortality as the Norse gods and goddesses they worshipped and whom they lived among in ‘Paradise’.

Hading’s second adventure occurred when Odin wrapped him in a mantle.  The horse passed over the sea and upon arriving at Odin’s domain the hero is given a soothing potion and told his body would become reinvigorated and strong.  The god then prophesizes that Hading must defeat a beast and drink its blood and devour its flesh, and that this will also bring “new force” to his frame and “solid strength” through every sinew.

The presence of the cloak and hemlock (a plant with known hallucinogenic properties) in Hading’s first journey, and the mantle and ‘soothing potion’ in the second suggests that these underworld-journeys were not physical in nature, but were instead shamanistic in the sense that it was the hero’s spirit that made the trip.  In the case of shamans, the cloaks would be of animal hides or bird feathers and would represent the particular animal or avian form or forms assumed by the shaman’s spirit when sent forth on its errand. Trance-induction could and often did involve the ingestion of hallucinogens.  The description of the female seidr-worker in the Saga of Eirik the Red provides her with a cloak, and Odin himself (although seidr was more properly the province of women) was a seidr practitioner.

Jenny Blain in her book NINE WORLDS OF SEID MAGIC: ECSTASY AND NEO-SHAMANISM IN NORTH-EUROPEAN PAGANISM (Routledge, 2002), talks about going ‘under the cloak’ in the context of seidr:

“I find convincing Jón Adalsteinsson’s[*] arguments that the account of Porgeirr is comparable with descriptions of others who clearly go ‘under the cloak’, and stay there for extended times, for magical or divinatory purposes. Sometimes they are described as ‘muttering’, ‘mumbling’ or ‘murmuring’ into the cloak. Adalsteinsson points out that:

‘To mutter or murmur or mumble into one’s cloak thus means, as far as one can tell, to rehearse some kind of soothsaying. Those who practised this seemed by their conduct to be able to see what was hidden to others and to gain information in a supernatural way. They appear to have pulled their cloaks over their heads merely to concentrate better on their task. (Adalsteinsson 1978: 113)’

Adalsteinsson sees Porgeir’s behaviour as more intense and longerlasting: paralleling descriptions from Ireland and Scotland of the seer who would lie wrapped in a bull’s hide, for knowledge, other accounts from Iceland of those who lie still while their spirits travel and cause events to occur, and indeed the Heimskringla description of Ódinn who lay as if ‘asleep or dead’ while his spirit journeyed….”

[Jón Hnefill Aðalsteinsson. 1978. Under the cloak: the acceptance of Christianity in Iceland with particular reference to the religious attitudes prevailing at the time. Studia Etnologica Upsaliensia 4. University of Uppsala, Uppsala; 1998. A piece of horse liver: myth, ritual and folklore in Old Icelandic sources. University of Iceland, Reykjaví]

If these journeys by Hading to the land of the dead are shamanistic in nature, then that means it was believed there were three ways such a journey could be made.  First, one could break into a barrow mound, itself merely symbolic of the Otherworld.  Second, one could himself die.  Or third, one could send his spirit forth to the very real and very dangerous world of the dead and, hopefully, return to one’s still living body.  In the latter case a divine or experienced spirit guide was, apparently, necessary to assure a safe and successful journey home.  

The following Website –

http://www.germanicmythology.com/FORNALDARSAGAS/GudmundofGlasisvellir.html

- has assembled the materials on Gudmund (‘God of Protection’) of Glaesisvellir (the ‘shining fields’), Geirrod the Giant as well as Odainsakr, the ‘field of the undead/living’ (or Undersakre/Undensakr, ‘the field below’), all also discussed by Davidson in her chapter on ‘Journey to the Land of the Dead’.  While the stories featuring these Otherworlds and their rulers are entertaining, none of them serve to cast any new light on Norse afterlife beliefs.  And, indeed, they represent late Christian medieval adaptations of earlier pagan myth. 

I will offer only one such account here from Saxo Grammaticus, so that the reader may compare the portraits drawn of Geirrod and Utgard-Loki with their Eddaic counterparts.      

THE JOURNEY OF THORKILL from THE HISTORY OF THE DANES, Book VIII (translated by Oliver Elton):

“Harald's son Gorm won no mean place of honour among the ancient generals of the Danes by his record of doughty deeds. For he ventured into fresh fields, preferring to practise his inherited valour, not in war, but in searching the secrets of nature; and, just as other kings are stirred by warlike ardour, so his heart thirsted to look into marvels; either what he could experience himself, or what were merely matters of report. And being desirous to go and see all things foreign and extraordinary, he thought that he must above all test a report which he had heard from the men of Thule concerning the abode of a certain Geirrod. For they boasted past belief of the mighty piles of treasure in that country, but said that the way was beset with peril, and hardly passable by mortal man. For those who had tried it declared that it was needful to sail over the ocean that goes round the lands, to leave the sun and stars behind, to journey down into chaos, and at last to pass into a land where no light was and where darkness reigned eternally.

But the warrior trampled down in his soul all fear of the dangers that beset him. Not that he desired booty, but glory; for he hoped for a great increase of renown if he ventured on a wholly unattempted quest. Three hundred men announced that they had the same desire as the king; and he resolved that Thorkill, who had brought the news, should be chosen to guide them on the journey, as he knew the ground and was versed in the approaches to that country. Thorkill did not refuse the task, and advised that, to meet the extraordinary fury of the sea they had to cross, strongly-made vessels should be built, fitted with many knotted cords and close-set nails, filled with great store of provision, and covered above with ox-hides to protect the inner spaces of the ships from the spray of the waves breaking in. Then they sailed off in only three galleys, each containing a hundred chosen men.

Now when they had come to Halogaland (Helgeland), they lost their favouring breezes, and were driven and tossed divers ways over the seas in perilous voyage. At last, in extreme want of food, and lacking even bread, they staved off hunger with a little pottage. Some days passed, and they heard the thunder of a storm brawling in the distance, as if it were deluging the rocks. By this perceiving that land was near, they bade a youth of great nimbleness climb to the masthead and look out; and he reported that a precipitous island was in sight. All were overjoyed, and gazed with thirsty eyes at the country at which he pointed, eagerly awaiting the refuge of the promised shore. At last they managed to reach it, and made their way out over the heights that blocked their way, along very steep paths, into the higher ground. Then Thorkill told them to take no more of the herds that were running about in numbers on the coast, than would serve once to appease their hunger. If they disobeyed, the guardian gods of the spot would not let them depart. But the seamen, more anxious to go on filling their bellies than to obey orders, postponed counsels of safety to the temptations of gluttony, and loaded the now emptied holds of their ships with the carcases of slaughtered cattle. These beasts were very easy to capture, because they gathered in amazement at the unwonted sight of men, their fears being made bold. On the following night monsters dashed down upon the shore, filled the forest with clamour, and beleaguered and beset the ships. One of them, huger than the rest, strode over the waters, armed with a mighty club. Coming close up to them, he bellowed out that they should never sail away till they had atoned for the crime they had committed in slaughtering the flock, and had made good the losses of the herd of the gods by giving up one man for each of their ships. Thorkill yielded to these threats; and, in order to preserve the safety of all by imperilling a few, singled out three men by lot and gave them up.

This done, a favouring wind took them, and they sailed to further Permland. It is a region of eternal cold, covered with very deep snows, and not sensible to the force even of the summer heats; full of pathless forests, not fertile in grain and haunted by beasts uncommon elsewhere. Its many rivers pour onwards in a hissing, foaming flood, because of the reefs imbedded in their channels.

Here Thorkill drew up his ships ashore, and bade them pitch their tents on the beach, declaring that they had come to a spot whence the passage to Geirrod would be short. Moreover, he forbade them to exchange any speech with those that came up to them, declaring that nothing enabled the monsters to injure strangers so much as uncivil words on their part: it would be therefore safer for his companions to keep silence; none but he, who had seen all the manners and customs of this nation before, could speak safely. As twilight approached, a man of extraordinary bigness greeted the sailors by their names, and came among them. All were aghast, but Thorkill told them to greet his arrival cheerfully, telling them that this was Gudmund, the brother of Geirrod, and the most faithful guardian in perils of all men who landed in that spot. When the man asked why all the rest thus kept silence, he answered that they were very unskilled in his language, and were ashamed to use a speech they did not know. Then Gudmund invited them to be his guests, and took them up in carriages. As they went forward, they saw a river which could be crossed by a bridge of gold. They wished to go over it, but Gudmund restrained them, telling them that by this channel nature had divided the world of men from the world of monsters, and that no mortal track might go further. Then they reached the dwelling of their guide; and here Thorkill took his companions apart and warned them to behave like men of good counsel amidst the divers temptations chance might throw in their way; to abstain from the food of the stranger, and nourish their bodies only on their own; and to seek a seat apart from the natives, and have no contact with any of them as they lay at meat. For if they partook of that food they would lose recollection of all things, and must live for ever in filthy intercourse amongst ghastly hordes of monsters. Likewise he told them that they must keep their hands off the servants and the cups of the people.

Round the table stood twelve noble sons of Gudmund, and as many daughters of notable beauty. When Gudmund saw that the king barely tasted what his servants brought, he reproached him with repulsing his kindness, and complained that it was a slight on the host. But Thorkill was not at a loss for a fitting excuse. He reminded him that men who took unaccustomed food often suffered from it seriously, and that the king was not ungrateful for the service rendered by another, but was merely taking care of his health, when he refreshed himself as he was wont, and furnished his supper with his own viands. An act, therefore, that was only done in the healthy desire to escape some bane, ought in no wise to be put down to scorn. Now when Gudmund saw that the temperance of his guest had baffled his treacherous preparations, he determined to sap their chastity, if he could not weaken their abstinence, and eagerly strained every nerve of his wit to enfeeble their self-control. For he offered the king his daughter in marriage, and promised the rest that they should have whatever women of his household they desired. Most of them inclined to his offer: but Thorkill by his healthy admonitions prevented them, as he had done before, from falling into temptation.

With wonderful management Thorkill divided his heed between the suspicious host and the delighted guests. Four of the Danes, to whom lust was more than their salvation, accepted the offer; the infection maddened them, distraught their wits, and blotted out their recollection: for they are said never to have been in their right mind after this. If these men had kept themselves within the rightful bounds of temperance, they would have equalled the glories of Hercules, surpassed with their spirit the bravery of giants, and been ennobled for ever by their wondrous services to their country.

Gudmund, stubborn to his purpose, and still spreading his nets, extolled the delights of his garden, and tried to lure the king thither to gather fruits, desiring to break down his constant wariness by the lust of the eye and the baits of the palate. The king, as before, was strengthened against these treacheries by Thorkill, and rejected this feint of kindly service; he excused himself from accepting it on the plea that he must hasten on his journey. Gudmund perceived that Thorkill was shrewder than he at every point; so, despairing to accomplish his treachery, he carried them all across the further side of the river, and let them finish their journey.

They went on; and saw, not far off, a gloomy, neglected town, looking more like a cloud exhaling vapour. Stakes interspersed among the battlements showed the severed heads of warriors and dogs of great ferocity were seen watching before the doors to guard the entrance. Thorkill threw them a horn smeared with fat to lick, and so, at slight cost, appeased their most furious rage. High up the gates lay open to enter, and they climbed to their level with ladders, entering with difficulty. Inside the town was crowded with murky and misshapen phantoms, and it was hard to say whether their shrieking figures were more ghastly to the eye or to the ear; everything was foul, and the reeking mire afflicted the nostrils of the visitors with its unbearable stench. Then they found the rocky dwelling which Geirrod was rumoured to inhabit for his palace. They resolved to visit its narrow and horrible ledge, but stayed their steps and halted in panic at the very entrance. Then Thorkill, seeing that they were of two minds, dispelled their hesitation to enter by manful encouragement, counselling them, to restrain themselves, and not to touch any piece of gear in the house they were about to enter, albeit it seemed delightful to have or pleasant to behold; to keep their hearts as far from all covetousness as from fear; neither to desire what was pleasant to take, nor dread what was awful to look upon, though they should find themselves amidst abundance of both these things. If they did, their greedy hands would suddenly be bound fast, unable to tear themselves away from the thing they touched, and knotted up with it as by inextricable bonds. Moreover, they should enter in order, four by four.

Broder and Buchi (Buk?) were the first to show courage to attempt to enter the vile palace; Thorkill with the king followed them, and the rest advanced behind these in ordered ranks.

Inside, the house was seen to be ruinous throughout, and filled with a violent and abominable reek. And it also teemed with everything that could disgust the eye or the mind: the door-posts were begrimed with the soot of ages, the wall was plastered with filth, the roof was made up of spear-heads, the flooring was covered with snakes and bespattered with all manner of uncleanliness. Such an unwonted sight struck terror into the strangers, and, over all, the acrid and incessant stench assailed their afflicted nostrils. Also bloodless phantasmal monsters huddled on the iron seats, and the places for sitting were railed off by leaden trellises; and hideous doorkeepers stood at watch on the thresholds. Some of these, armed with clubs lashed together, yelled, while others played a gruesome game, tossing a goat's hide from one to the other with mutual motion of goatish backs.

Here Thorkill again warned the men, and forbade them to stretch forth their covetous hands rashly to the forbidden things. Going on through the breach in the crag, they beheld an old man with his body pierced through, sitting not far off, on a lofty seat facing the side of the rock that had been rent away. Moreover, three women, whose bodies were covered with tumours, and who seemed to have lost the strength of their back-bones, filled adjoining seats. Thorkill's companions were very curious; and he, who well knew the reason of the matter, told them that long ago the god Thor had been provoked by the insolence of the giants to drive red-hot irons through the vitals of Geirrod, who strove with him, and that the iron had slid further, torn up the mountain, and battered through its side; while the women had been stricken by the might of his thunderbolts, and had been punished (so he declared) for their attempt on the same deity, by having their bodies broken.

As the men were about to depart thence, there were disclosed to them seven butts hooped round with belts of gold; and from these hung circlets of silver entwined with them in manifold links. Near these was found the tusk of a strange beast, tipped at both ends with gold. Close by was a vast stag-horn, laboriously decked with choice and flashing gems, and this also did not lack chasing. Hard by was to be seen a very heavy bracelet. One man was kindled with an inordinate desire for this bracelet, and laid covetous hands upon the gold, not knowing that the glorious metal covered deadly mischief, and that a fatal bane lay hid under the shining spoil. A second also, unable to restrain his covetousness, reached out his quivering hands to the horn. A third, matching the confidence of the others, and having no control over his fingers, ventured to shoulder the tusk. The spoil seemed alike lovely to look upon and desirable to enjoy, for all that met the eye was fair and tempting to behold. But the bracelet suddenly took the form of a snake, and attacked him who was carrying it with its poisoned tooth; the horn lengthened out into a serpent, and took the life of the man who bore it; the tusk wrought itself into a sword, and plunged into the vitals of its bearer.

The rest dreaded the fate of perishing with their friends, and thought that the guiltless would be destroyed like the guilty; they durst not hope that even innocence would be safe. Then the side-door of another room showed them a narrow alcove: and a privy chamber with a yet richer treasure was revealed, wherein arms were laid out too great for those of human stature. Among these were seen a royal mantle, a handsome hat, and a belt marvellously wrought. Thorkill, struck with amazement at these things, gave rein to his covetousness, and cast off all his purposed self-restraint. He who so oft had trained others could not so much as conquer his own cravings. For he laid his hand upon the mantle, and his rash example tempted the rest to join in his enterprise of plunder. Thereupon the recess shook from its lowest foundations, and began suddenly to reel and totter. Straightway the women raised a shriek that the wicked robbers were being endured too long. Then they, who were before supposed to be half-dead or lifeless phantoms, seemed to obey the cries of the women, and, leaping suddenly up from their seats, attacked the strangers with furious onset. The other creatures bellowed hoarsely.

But Broder and Buchi fell to their old and familiar arts, and attacked the witches, who ran at them, with a shower of spears from every side; and with the missiles from their bows and slings they crushed the array of monsters. There could be no stronger or more successful way to repulse them; but only twenty men out of all the king's company were rescued by the intervention of this archery; the rest were torn in pieces by the monsters. The survivors returned to the river, and were ferried over by Gudmund, who entertained them at his house. Long and often as he besought them, he could not keep them back; so at last he gave them presents and let them go.

Buchi relaxed his watch upon himself; his self-control became unstrung, and he forsook the virtue in which he hitherto rejoiced. For he conceived an incurable love for one of the daughters of Gudmund, and embraced her; but he obtained a bride to his undoing, for soon his brain suddenly began to whirl, and he lost his recollection. Thus the hero who had subdued all the monsters and overcome all the perils was mastered by passion for one girl; his soul strayed far from temperance, and he lay under a wretched sensual yoke. For the sake of respect, he started to accompany the departing king; but as he was about to ford the river in his carriage, his wheels sank deep, he was caught up in the violent eddies and destroyed.

The king bewailed his friend's disaster and departed hastening on his voyage. This was at first prosperous, but afterwards he was tossed by bad weather; his men perished of hunger, and but few survived, so that he began to feel awe in his heart, and fell to making vows to heaven, thinking the gods alone could help him in his extreme need. At last the others besought sundry powers among the gods, and thought they ought to sacrifice to the majesty of divers deities; but the king, offering both vows and peace-offerings to Utgarda-Loki, obtained that fair season of weather for which he prayed.

Coming home, and feeling that he had passed through all these seas and toils, he thought it was time for his spirit, wearied with calamities, to withdraw from his labours. So he took a queen from Sweden, and exchanged his old pursuits for meditative leisure. His life was prolonged in the utmost peace and quietness; but when he had almost come to the end of his days, certain men persuaded him by likely arguments that souls were immortal; so that he was constantly turning over in his mind the questions, to what abode he was to fare when the breath left his limbs, or what reward was earned by zealous adoration of the gods.

While he was thus inclined, certain men who wished ill to Thorkill came and told Gorm that it was needful to consult the gods, and that assurance about so great a matter must be sought of the oracles of heaven, since it was too deep for human wit and hard for mortals to discover.

Therefore, they said, Utgarda-Loki must be appeased, and no man would accomplish this more fitly than Thorkill. Others, again, laid information against him as guilty of treachery and an enemy of the king's life. Thorkill, seeing himself doomed to extreme peril, demanded that his accusers should share his journey. Then they who had aspersed an innocent man saw that the peril they had designed against the life of another had recoiled upon themselves, and tried to take back their plan. But vainly did they pester the ears of the king; he forced them to sail under the command of Thorkill, and even upbraided them with cowardice. Thus, when a mischief is designed against another, it is commonly sure to strike home to its author. And when these men saw that they were constrained, and could not possibly avoid the peril, they covered their ship with ox-hides, and filled it with abundant store of provision.

In this ship they sailed away, and came to a sunless land, which knew not the stars, was void of daylight, and seemed to overshadow them with eternal night. Long they sailed under this strange sky; at last their timber fell short, and they lacked fuel; and, having no place to boil their meat in, they staved off their hunger with raw viands. But most of those who ate contracted extreme disease, being glutted with undigested food. For the unusual diet first made a faintness steal gradually upon their stomachs; then the infection spread further, and the malady reached the vital parts. Thus there was danger in either extreme, which made it hurtful not to eat, and perilous to indulge; for it was found both unsafe to feed and bad for them to abstain. Then, when they were beginning to be in utter despair, a gleam of unexpected help relieved them, even as the string breaks most easily when it is stretched tightest. For suddenly the weary men saw the twinkle of a fire at no great distance, and conceived a hope of prolonging their lives. Thorkill thought this fire a heaven-sent relief, and resolved to go and take some of it.

To be surer of getting back to his friends, Thorkill fastened a jewel upon the mast-head, to mark it by the gleam. When he got to the shore, his eyes fell on a cavern in a close defile, to which a narrow way led. Telling his companions to await him outside, he went in, and saw two men, swart and very huge, with horny noses, feeding their fire with any chance-given fuel. Moreover, the entrance was hideous, the door-posts were decayed, the walls grimy with mould, the roof filthy, and the floor swarming with snakes; all of which disgusted the eye as much as the mind. Then one of the giants greeted him, and said that he had begun a most difficult venture in his burning desire to visit a strange god, and his attempt to explore with curious search an untrodden region beyond the world. Yet he promised to tell Thorkill the paths of the journey he proposed to make, if he would deliver three true judgments in the form of as many sayings. Then said Thorkill: "In good truth, I do not remember ever to have seen a household with more uncomely noses; nor have I ever come to a spot where I had less mind to live." Also he said: "That, I think, is my best foot which can get out of this foremost."

The giant was pleased with the shrewdness of Thorkill, and praised his sayings, telling him that he must first travel to a grassless land which was veiled in deep darkness; but he must first voyage for four days, rowing incessantly, before he could reach his goal. There he could visit Utgarda-Loki, who had chosen hideous and grisly caves for his filthy dwelling. Thorkill was much aghast at being bidden to go on a voyage so long and hazardous; but his doubtful hopes prevailed over his present fears, and he asked for some live fuel. Then said the giant: "If thou needest fire, thou must deliver three more judgments in like sayings." Then said Thorkill: "Good counsel is to be obeyed, though a mean fellow gave it." Likewise: "I have gone so far in rashness, that if I can get back I shall owe my safety to none but my own legs." And again: "Were I free to retreat this moment, I would take good care never to come back."

Thereupon Thorkill took the fire along to his companions; and finding a kindly wind, landed on the fourth day at the appointed harbour. With his crew he entered a land where an aspect of unbroken night checked the vicissitude of light and darkness. He could hardly see before him, but beheld a rock of enormous size. Wishing to explore it, he told his companions, who were standing posted at the door, to strike a fire from flints as a timely safeguard against demons, and kindle it in the entrance. Then he made others bear a light before him, and stooped his body through the narrow jaws of the cavern, where he beheld a number of iron seats among a swarm of gliding serpents. Next there met his eye a sluggish mass of water gently flowing over a sandy bottom. He crossed this, and approached a cavern which sloped somewhat more steeply. Again, after this, a foul and gloomy room was disclosed to the visitors, wherein they saw Utgarda-Loki, laden hand and foot with enormous chains. Each of his reeking hairs was as large and stiff as a spear of cornel. Thorkill (his companions lending a hand), in order that his deeds might gain more credit, plucked one of these from the chin of Utgarda-Loki, who suffered it. Straightway such a noisome smell reached the bystanders, that they could not breathe without stopping their noses with their mantles. They could scarcely make their way out, and were bespattered by the snakes which darted at them on every side.

Only five of Thorkill's company embarked with their captain: the poison killed the rest. The demons hung furiously over them, and cast their poisonous slaver from every side upon the men below them. But the sailors sheltered themselves with their hides, and cast back the venom that fell upon them. One man by chance at this point wished to peep out; the poison touched his head, which was taken off his neck as if it had been severed with a sword. Another put his eyes out of their shelter, and when he brought them back under it they were blinded. Another thrust forth his hand while unfolding his covering, and, when he withdrew his arm, it was withered by the virulence of the same slaver. They besought their deities to be kinder to them; vainly, until Thorkill prayed to the god of the universe, and poured forth unto him libations as well as prayers; and thus, presently finding the sky even as before and the elements clear, he made a fair voyage.

And now they seemed to behold another world, and the way towards the life of man. At last Thorkill landed in Germany, which had then been admitted to Christianity; and among its people he began to learn how to worship God. His band of men were almost destroyed, because of the dreadful air they had breathed, and he returned to his country accompanied by two men only, who had escaped the worst. But the corrupt matter which smeared his face so disguised his person and original features that not even his friends knew him. But when he wiped off the filth, he made himself recognizable by those who saw him, and inspired the king with the greatest eagerness to hear about his quest. But the detraction of his rivals was not yet silenced; and some pretended that the king would die suddenly if he learnt Thorkill's tidings. The king was the more disposed to credit this saying, because he was already credulous by reason of a dream which falsely prophesied the same thing. Men were therefore hired by the king's command to slay Thorkill in the night. But somehow he got wind of it, left his bed unknown to all, and put a heavy log in his place. By this he baffled the treacherous device of the king, for the hirelings smote only the stock.

On the morrow Thorkill went up to the king as he sat at meat, and said: "I forgive thy cruelty and pardon thy error, in that thou hast decreed punishment, and not thanks, to him who brings good tidings of his errand. For thy sake I have devoted my life to all these afflictions, and battered it in all these perils; I hoped that thou wouldst requite my services with much gratitude; and behold! I have found thee, and thee alone, punish my valour sharpliest. But I forbear all vengeance, and am satisfied with the shame within thy heart -- if, after all, any shame visits the thankless -- as expiation for this wrongdoing towards me. I have a right to surmise that thou art worse than all demons in fury, and all beasts in cruelty, if, after escaping the snares of all these monsters, I have failed to be safe from thine."

The king desired to learn everything from Thorkill's own lips; and, thinking it hard to escape destiny, bade him relate what had happened in due order. He listened eagerly to his recital of everything, till at last, when his own god was named, he could not endure him to be unfavourably judged. For he could not bear to hear Utgarda-Loki reproached with filthiness, and so resented his shameful misfortunes, that his very life could not brook such words, and he yielded it up in the midst of Thorkill's narrative. Thus, whilst he was so zealous in the worship of a false god, he came to find where the true prison of sorrows really was. Moreover, the reek of the hair, which Thorkill plucked from the locks of the giant to testify to the greatness of his own deeds, was exhaled upon the bystanders, so that many perished of it.”