Category:Culture

Not everything we do fits neatly into categories like Awards, Events, or Laws.

The Egil Skalligramson Memorial Tourney is hosted each May in An Tir. One might rightfully ask, who was Egil Skalligramson? Here is some information I have compiled, which you might find useful. Egil Skallagrimsson (ca. 910-990) was a successful poet and warrior. We mainly know of Egil through an Icelandic saga bearing his name, Egil's Saga, again one of the very finest of the sagas. His family, like very many described in the sagas, had been forced to emigrate from Norway because of an ongoing feud with the family of Harald Finehair.

A translation of Egil’s story can be found at: http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/egil/ Translated by REV. W. C. GREEN, [1893] Thanks to the Northvegr Foundation, for contributing this text. This text was transcribed by Jess Frazier, and the introduction by Hrappr Normansson.

In the book, AFTER THE JUDGEMENT. THE LOT OF THE BLESSED. THE STORY OF EGIL SKALLAGRIMSSON: BEING An Icelandic Family History of the Ninth and Tenth Centuries, TRANSLATED FROM THE ICELANDIC, BY REV. W. C. GREEN, LATE FELLOW OF KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE; EDITOR OF 'ARISTOPHANES;' AUTHOR OF 'HOMERIC SIMILES,' ETC. is found a story of Egil's years in Iceland, his old age and death, and a brief notice of his descendants. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF THE CHIEF EVENTS IN THE SAGA OR CONNECTED WITH IT.

A.D. 850. Birth of Harold Fairhair.

"      860. Harold Fairhair comes to the throne.
"      870. He becomes sole king of Norway.
"      870 (circa). Thorolf, being about twenty-four years old, goes to Harold. 

[xvii]

"      872. Battle of Hafrsfirth.
"      877. Death of Thorolf.
"      878. Skallagrim emigrates to Iceland.
"      886 (circa). Thorolf Skallagrimson born.
"      898-901 (circa). Egil born.
"      898-902. Bjorn's abduction of Thora, marriage, visit to Iceland.
"      903. Feast at Yngvar's. Thorolf and Bjorn go to Norway.
"      904-14. Thorof's freebootings. Among these is put Eric's
                        expedition to Bjarmaland, but this probably was in 918.
"      906. Bjorn's second marriage.
"      906-15. Egil's childhood and boyhood in Iceland.
"      914. Thorolf returns to Iceland.
"      915. Thorolf goes to Norway with Egil; twelve years pass
                 before Egil returns.
"      916-23. Freebootings of Thorolf and Egil.
"      923. Thorolf marries Asgerdr. Slaying of Bard.
"      924. Fight with Eyvind Skreyja. Thorolf and Egil go to England.
"      925. Battle of Vinheath, where Thorolf falls.
"      926. Egil goes to Norway. Marries Asgerdr next winter.
"      927. Returns to Iceland; is there several years, during which
                 probably his oldest daughter is born.
"      933. He goes to Norway. Harold Fairhair dies. Egil has a suit with
                 Bergonund; returns to Iceland. Skallagrim dies this winter.
"      935. Hacon now king in Norway. Eric is in Northumberland.
                 Egil wrecked there. Höfudlausn. Egil with Athelstan.
"      937. He goes to Norway; fights with Atli; returns to Iceland.
"      938-50. Egil is in Iceland. He has five children in all.
"      940. Death of king Athelstan.
"      950 (circa). Eric falls in battle. Arinbjorn is back in Norway;
                 Egil goes to him. 

[xviii] A.D. 951. They harry eastwards; Arinbjorn then joins

                 Eric's sons. Egil next winter goes to Vermaland.
"      952-60. Marriages of Egil's step-daughter and daughters.
"      960. Bodvar's drowning. Sona-torrek.
"      961. Hacon's death.
"      962. Epic poem on Arinbjorn.
"      967 (circa). Thorstein's marriage.
"      973 (circa). Asgerdr dies. Egil retires to Mossfell. Thorstein lives at Borg.
"      975-8. Dispute between Thorstein and Steinar.
"      975. Earl Hacon becomes king. In his 'early days' Egil is past eighty.
"      983-8. Egil's death. 
"      1000. Grim and Thorstein are baptized.
"      1143. Skapti priest. Egil's bones found.

For a recording of the Sonnatorek recited in Icelandic: http://www.skolavefurinn.is/lok/almennt/ljodskald_man/Egill_Skallagrimsson/Ljod/Sonatorrek/Sonatorrek_ljod.htm

To see a 17th century painting of Egil: http://fathom.lib.uchicago.edu/1/777777122294/3093_egilsidebar.html

Here is a version of the Sonnatorrek: SONA-TORREK (SONS' LOSS).

                                               1.
                               'Much doth it task me
                               My tongue to move,
                               Through my throat to utter
                               The breath of song.
                               Poesy, prize of Odin,
                               Promise now I may not,
                               A draught drawn not lightly
                               From deep thought's dwelling.

                                               2.
                               'Forth it flows but hardly;
                               For within my breast
                               Heaving sobbing stifles
                               Hindered stream of song—
                               Blessed boon to mortals
                               Brought from Odin's kin,
                               Goodly treasure, stolen
                               From Giant-land of yore.

                                               3.
                               'He, who so blameless
                               Bore him in life,
                               O'erborne by billows
                               With boat was whelmed.
                               Sea-waves—flood that whilom
                               Welled from giant's wound—
                               Smite upon the grave-gate
                               Of my sire and son.

                                               4.
                               'Dwindling now my kindred
                               Draw near to their end,
                               Ev'n as forest-saplings
                               Felled or tempest-strown.
                               Not gay or gladsome
                               Goes he who beareth
                               Body of kinsman
                               On funeral bier.
                                               5.
                               'Of father fallen
                               First I may tell;
                               Of much-loved mother
                               Must mourn the loss.
                               Sad store hath memory
                               For minstrel skill,
                               A wood to bloom leafy
                               With words of song.

                                               6.
                               'Most woful the breach,
                               Where the wave in-brake
                               On the fenced hold
                               Of my father's kin.
                               Unfilled, as I wot,
                               And open doth stand
                               The gap of son rent
                               By the greedy surge.

                                               7.
                               'Me Ran, the sea-queen,
                               Roughly hath shaken:
                               I stand of beloved ones
                               Stript and all bare.
                               Cut hath the billow
                               The cord of my kin,
                               Strand of mine own twisting
                               So stout and strong.

                                               8.
                               'Sure, if sword could venge
                               Such cruel wrong,
                               Evil times would wait
                               Ægir, ocean-god.
                               That wind-giant's brother
                               Were I strong to slay,
                               'Gainst him and his sea-brood
                               Battling would I go.

                                               9.
                               'But I in no wise
                               Boast, as I ween,
                               Strength that may strive
                               With the stout ships' Bane.
                               For to eyes of all
                               Easy now 'tis seen
                               How the old man's lot
                               Helpless is and lone.

                                               10.
                               'Me hath the main
                               Of much bereaved;
                               Dire is the tale,
                               The deaths of kin:
                               Since he the shelter
                               And shield of my house
                               Hied him from life
                               To heaven's glad realm.

                                               11.
                               'Full surely I know,
                               In my son was waxing
                               The stuff and the strength
                               Of a stout-limbed wight:
                               Had he reached but ripeness
                               To raise his shield,
                               And Odin laid hand
                               On his liegeman true.

                                               12.
                               'Willing he followed
                               His father's word,
                               Though all opposing
                               Should thwart my rede:
                               He in mine household
                               Mine honour upheld,
                               Of my power and rule
                               The prop and the stay.
                                               13.
                               'Oft to my mind
                               My loss doth come,
                               How I brotherless bide
                               Bereaved and lone.
                               Thereon I bethink me,
                               When thickens the fight
                               Thereon with much searching
                               My soul doth muse:

                                               14.
                               'Who staunch stands by me
                               In stress of fight,
                               Shoulder to shoulder,
                               Side by side?
                               Such want doth weaken
                               In war's dread hour;
                               Weak-winged I fly,
                               Whom friends all fail.

                                               15.
                               'Son's place to his sire
                               (Saith a proverb true)
                               Another son born
                               Alone can fill.
                               Of kinsmen none
                               (Though ne'er so kind)
                               To brother can stand
                               In brother's stead.

                                               16.
                               'O'er all our ice-fields,
                               Our northern snows,
                               Few now I find
                               Faithful and true.
                               Dark deeds men love,
                               Doom death to their kin,
                               A brother's body
                               Barter for gold.

                                               17.
                               'Unpleasing to me
                               Our people's mood,
                               Each seeking his own
                               In selfish peace.
                               To the happier bees' home
                               Hath passed my son,
                               My good wife's child
                               To his glorious kin.

                                               18.
                               'Odin, mighty monarch,
                               Of minstrel mead the lord,
                               On me a heavy hand
                               Harmful doth lay.
                               Gloomy in unrest
                               Ever I grieve,
                               Sinks my drooping brow,
                               Seat of sight and thought.

                                               19.
                               'Fierce fire of sickness
                               First from my home
                               Swept off a son
                               With savage blow:
                               One who was heedful,
                               Harmless, I wot,
                               In deeds unblemished,
                               In words unblamed.

                                               20.
                               'Still do I mind me,
                               When the Friend of men
                               High uplifted
                               To the home of gods
                               That sapling stout
                               Of his father's stem,
                               Of my true wife born
                               A branch so fair.

                                               21.
                               'Once bare I goodwill
                               To the great spear-lord,
                               Him trusty and true
                               I trowed for friend:
                               Ere the giver of conquest,
                               The car-borne god,
                               Broke faith and friendship
                               False in my need.

                                               22.
                               'Now victim and worship
                               To Vilir's brother,
                               The god once honoured,
                               I give no more.
                               Yet the friend of Mimir
                               On me hath bestowed
                               Some boot for bale,
                               If all boons I tell.

                                               23.
                               'Yea he, the wolf-tamer,
                               The war-god skilful,
                               Gave poesy faultless
                               To fill my soul:
                               Gave wit to know well
                               Each wily trickster,
                               And force him to face me
                               As foeman in fight.

                                               24.
                               'Hard am I beset;
                               Whom Hela, the sister
                               Of Odin's fell captive,
                               On Digra-ness waits.
                               Yet shall I gladly
                               With right good welcome
                               Dauntless in bearing
                               Her death-blow bide.'