Nornir [1] the word conjures, usually and stereotypically, the image of three old women sitting together and spinning. A cliché born from the influence exercised by the image of the Moirai, the goddesses of fate in Greek mythology? Maybe. Or maybe the image of the spinning Nornir is rooted into something so deeply ingrained in human thought that the simple mentioning of fate and destiny brings to mind the act of spinning. Like their Greek counterparts, the Norns influence fate, albeit differently:
“Urð one is called, Verðandi another –
they carved on a wooden slip – Skuld is the third;
they laid down laws, they chose lives
for the sons of men, the fates of men.”
(Voluspa, Poetic Edda, Carolyn Larrington translation, Oxford University Press, UK, 2014, p.6)
While the Greek Goddesses of Fate spin, measure and cut the thread allotted for a person’s lifespan, the Norns lay out fate by “spinning” words. The words the Norns speak are laden with power. Speaking words of power is spinning magic with words. The Norns spin and string words into sentences which are then woven into the fabric of events.
The three Nornir’ names are indicative of their roles. Urð, Verðandi and Skuld are usually translated as Past, Present and Future which is simplistic. More accurately,
Nornir lay out the various premises for things to happen. They call into being the protagonists who will engender the fates crafted by them. And as the Norse myth tells, protagonists actions lay the foundation for future events to unfold, which is, according to the myths, a new layer of fate sunk into Urðabrunnr, the Well of Urð. The name Urð has the additional meaning fate, which means that Urðabrunnr is not any mythical well but a repository of fate with its multiple layers of causality and projected futures.
The Old Norse word for fate is ørlog, although linguistically, the Old English/Anglo-Saxon wyrd is closer. The Nornir lay into the well slips of wood on which they inscribed people’s fates. In the utterances of the Norns, words are the pieces of fibers to be spun and woven into what becomes yet another layer of ørlog into the Well.
While Urð, Verðandi, and Skuld are the best-known ones, they are not the only Norns in Norse myth. In the Prose Edda, Snorri Sturluson mentions two categories: the greater Norns whose actions reverberate at a cosmic level, and the lesser Norns who apparently visit every child when it is born and speak its destiny. There is great diversity among Nornir:
“Which are those norns who get to help those in need
And bring forth children from their mothers?”
“From very different tribes I think the norns come,
They are not of the same kin;
Some come from the Æsir, some from the elves,
Some are daughters of Dvalin”
(Fafnismál, Poetic Edda, Carolyn Larrington translation, Oxford University Press, UK, 2014, p.155)
When determining the fate of warriors on battlefields, the Valkyries act in the capacity of Norns. Darraðarljoð, a poem included in Njál saga gives us a glimpse of how Valkyries act to shape the outcome of a battle, by weaving the fate of combatants. Darraðarljoð tells about Valkyries deciding the outcome in the battle of Clontarf which took place in 1014 near Dublin, Ireland.
"See! warp is stretched
For warriors' fall,
Lo! weft in loom
'Tis wet with blood;
Now fight foreboding, '
Neath friends' swift fingers,
Our grey woof waxeth
With war's alarms,
Our warp bloodred,
Our weft corpseblue.
"This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.
[…]
"Now mount we our horses,
Now bare we our brands,
Now haste we hard, maidens,
Hence far, far, away."
Then they plucked down the Woof and tore it asunder, and each kept what she had hold of.”
(Darraðarljoð, Njál saga, Ch 157, Magnus Magnusson and Herman Palsson translation, Penguin Classics, 1960)
It is largely agreed that the Norns decide upon the circumstances of one’s birth and death and to a certain extent about milestones on one’s life path. However, the human protagonists are not helpless marionettes at the hands of invisible powers pulling strings. Individuals have agency and they must play to the best of their abilities the hand dealt them by the Norns. Norse myth, and the Heathen ethos rooted in it, encourage people to make the most out of life in Midgard. Even for the incapacitated, life is worth living: an industrious man is appreciated and can make an honorable living.
“A lame man rides a horse, a handless man drives a herd,
a deaf man fights effectively;
a blind man is better than a burned one would be;
no one has use for a corpse.”
(Havámál 71, “Havámál: A New Translation” Ben Waggoner, Troth Publications, 2017)
One’s fate being laid out by Norns does not prompt a fatalistic outlook on life. It is rather an invitation to live fearlessly and build a good reputation to be remembered by. Reputation is the direct result of one’s deeds. Warriors, for example, would oftentimes go to extremes to earn a reputation because good reputation
“Cattle die, relatives die,
you yourself die likewise;
but glorious reputation never dies
for anyone who gets a good one for himself.”
(Havámál 76, “Havámál: A New Translation” Ben Waggoner, Troth Publications, 2017)
The deeds that make a persons’ reputation also contribute to the shaping of ørlog and so, in the greater scheme of things, one does not leave footprints only through the immediate outcome of their actions. Such a footprint makes a person a direct contributor to the sacred Well whose waters feed and nourish Yggdrasill. The future of the Worlds, all ecosystems aggregating around Yggdrasill, depend on what kind of layers are laid in the Well’s waters: footprints feed into ørlog. Based on their quality, such footprints will foster growth and healing or fuel conflict and destruction.
Norns’ action touch upon all levels of reality across all the planes of existence. They measure the length and also decide upon the quality and type of thread for everyone’s destiny, including the gods’ destinies. Worried about a recurring dream that troubles his son, Baldr, Oðinn goes to the gates of Helheim where an ancient völva is buried. Oðinn uses his magic to awaken the woman from her long sleep and questions her about the past, the future and about Baldr’s fate. Oðinn finds out that his beloved son is destined to die.
“I saw for Baldr, for the bloody god,
Odin’s child, his fate in store;”
(Poetic Edda, Völúspa 32 Carolyne Larrington translation p.8)
But the prophecy also talks about a younger brother of Baldr avenging him. The prophecy appears to be set it stone while at the same time it isn't. If Oðinn wants the death of Baldr avenged, he must father another son.
“Baldr’s brother was born quickly;
Odin’s son started killing at one night old.
He never washed his hands not combed his hair,
until he brought Baldr’s adversary to the funeral pyre;”
(Poetic Edda, Völúspa 33-34 Carolyne Larrington translation p.8)
A tale in Flateyjarbók mentions the itinerant seeresses known as spækonnur and völur. The involvement with prophesying fate casts spækonnur as the Nornir’s human counterpart.
“In those days, seeresses travelled through the land, who were called spækonnur [spæ-wives] and prophesized about the lives of men.” (Flateyjarbók, vol 1, pp.345-359, translated by Ben Waggoner, “Our Troth”, The Troth, 2021 p.516)
In Midgard, seeresses can foretell what lays ahead while also being able to influence the outcome to a larger or lesser extent. Völur and spækonnur are Midgard reflections of the Norns. They speak the word-thread of what is, of what has been already spun by the Norns while also having the capabilities to weave additional fate-fabric when speaking their prophecies. The thread that is already spun by the Greater Norns cannot be changed, but there are several patterns to choose amongst, for weaving. Spækonnur and völur embody the Nornir by masterfully weaving new patterns through ritualized action, speaking and chanting words of power. In the act of prophesying spækonnur and völur can actively contribute to the shaping of fate.
Beyond acknowledging what is already predetermined, seeresses are expected to propitiate positive outcomes. They are expected to ritually and/or magically support people in a community to overcome adversity. Failing to do so made völur and spækonnur subject to threats and harsh action against them from the people they prophesied for.
In the Flateyjarbók, a man tells his own story involving seeresses. When the storyteller was born, his father invited three spæ-wives to both foretell and favorably influence the baby’s future. Two among the spæ-wives predict the baby will become a handsome, brave and lucky man, a very pleasing prophecy. The third seeress, probably envious that she was not invited to speak, prophesies that the baby will only live as long as the candle burning by his cradle lasts. This seeress gets pushed out of her seat and the older among the three mitigates the outcome by snuffing out the candle and giving it to the mother to preserve it carefully and never light it again. The parallel between the spæ-wives and Norns is explicit in the conclusion of the story.
“After that the seeresses went away and tied up the youngest Norn and took her away, and my father gave them good gifts when they left.” (Flateyjarbók, vol 1, pp.345-359, text translated by Ben Waggoner, “Our Troth”, Troth Publications, 2021 p.516)
But fate-shaping, adding layers to the ørlog inside Urðabrunnr, is a co-creative process. Nornir, gods, spækonnur, and the very humans for whom the fate is being laid out through prophecies, all play active roles. In the “Saga of Erik the Red”, Little Volva, a ritual specialist, is invited to prophesize for a Greenlandic community. But, for the endeavor to be successful, Little Völva needs support. It is a collective effort in which everyone contributes from setting up the special high-seat to preparing the ritual meal and singing the sacred songs. Little Völva, the members of the household and indirectly the animals sacrificed to prepare the feast, all contribute to bring forth the best possible outcome: a prophecy that besides hope, yields tangible outcomes for those present. The ritual and the völva’s words shape destinies, the equivalent of the Norns weaving new layers that go into the Well of Urð. This passage in the Saga of Erik the Red illustrates how in her own way, Little Völva acts in ways not dissimilar to those of Norns as described in the Eddaic material.
Spækonnur emulate the Nornir in that they can act upon fate by both predicting outcomes and influencing them, at least to some extent. Whether made by Nornir or spækonnur, prophecies fulfillment involves collective effort. Oðinn must father a son, who in turn, must commit to avenge Baldr. The Nornir weaving the fate of a battle can only work that out if the opponents will actually do battle. Little Völva can consult the spirits and assist the people who asked for her help, only if someone in the audience can sing the varðlokkur, the sacred songs.
Fate laid out by Nornir is not a life, or death, sentence to be accepted with passivity. This holds true at both cosmic level and here in Midgard. At a cosmic level, gods must do their part to either fulfill or mitigate the outcome of Nornir’s decisions. Here, in Midgard, people known as spækonnur, völur, and by many other names, engage in the dynamic process of foretelling and shaping of fate by prompting people to take concrete action. In molding ørlog, spækonnur emulate the Nornir’s actions and make the Nornir relatable to a modern Heathen population. Without them, the spækonnur, völur, and the many other kinds of seers, the Nornir would be nothing but abstract and mysterious powers. Spækonnur act as bridges between this World and the Other, connecting cosmic and mundane levels. Though speaking fate into being and by prompting others to act, seeresses perpetuate the cycles of ørlog-making, as a balancing act, while acting between what is fated and the free will of the individual.
Bibliography and Resources:
Poetic Edda, Carolyn Larrington translation, Oxford University Press, UK, 2014
Ben Waggoner, “Our Troth: Volume 2”, Troth Publications, 2021
Karen Bek-Pedersen, “The Norns in Old Norse Mythology”, Edinburgh: Dunedin, 2011
Njál saga, Magnus Magnusson and Herman Palsson translation, Penguin Classics, 1960
Flateyjarbók, vol 1, pp.345-359, text translated by Ben Waggoner, “Our Troth: Vol. 2”,Troth Publications, 2021
Link to presentation recording:
https://youtu.be/_gd2nYkRwp4
[1] Old Norse: Norn (s), Nornir (pl). Anglicized: Norn (s), Norns(pl) I prefer the Old Norse form but I use Norns and Nornir interchangeably to stay consistent with the way the word is spelled in the source material.
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