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larryhammerBecause it looks like we won't manage a trip abroad this year (darn exchange rates), I've been thinking about our last trip, to Iceland. If you should go (and you should) and you have enough time to visit more than Reykjavík and the Golden Triangle (and you should), consider a stop in Hólmavík. This is a small fishing village (pop. 500) in the Westfjords. Admittedly there's not much to see there except the usual stunning landscape (all of Iceland is stunning) and a Sorcery and Witchcraft Museum.
But oh, that museum. The upper room is devoted to the Burning Times of the 17th century. The lower room has exhibits illustrating various spells, as documented in grimoires of the time. It's clear, even to casual observation, that this is a different magical tradition from mainland Europe -- just from the manner of spellcasting (lots of sigils, called "staves" by the translator; my icon is one, the Ægishjálmur [AY-is-hyowl-mur], used for protection), and what they do (almost all to do either with sex or with gaining or protecting wealth), and the continuity (the curator had documented the continuity in grimoires from the 13th through 20th centuries). And that's before you get to the necropants.
Yes, that's what they're called in English. Necropants look just as bad (NSFW) as they sound. It's magic only men can do (Icelandic magic was/is mostly done by men: there's only one known spell done only by women). Start by digging up a dead man (get his permission for this before he dies) and flaying him from the waist down. Then steal the last silver coin of a poor widow (a lot of spells involve stealing from poor widows -- I wondered if the Poor Widow's Collective had a scam going) on Christmas, Easter, or Ascension Day (other spellthefts were less time-specific). Draw this sigil (second one down) on a scrap of vellum. Put coin and sigil in the scrotum of the necropants, then put them on while reciting a spell. If you've done it right, the necropants will be indistinguishable from your own skin, and money will be drawn to you (more coins appear in the scrotum, and you have to dig them out without removing the seed money).
Now, apart from the obvious ickiness, there are some drawbacks to necropants. Apparently, if you die while wearing them, something very, very bad (unspecified) happens to your soul -- and you can't take them off directly. You can, however, give them to another man -- take off one leg, and he gets into that, then take off the other, and he pulls them on all the way.
Was this for real? There's no evidence any necropants were ever made. But the curator claimed he found the spell in grimoires from a couple centuries apart, so it was at least an authentic tradition.
Obviously, this is way cool stuff, even if you don't write fantasy -- and if you do (and you should) it's worth studying as another way to put together a magic system. And if you can't visit, there's always the exhibition book (about US$38 with shipping). As to why the museum is in Hólmavík, most witchcraft prosecutions were in the Westfjords (traditionally the most uncanny part of Iceland).
Assuming you don't just pass through (on the way to Ísafjörður, perhaps), for places to stay while there, the nearby Hótel Laugarhóll is run by a French chef who used to work for his embassy until he emigrated. He does cuisine interpretations of traditional Icelandic cooking which are to Yum! for (his wine cellar is good, too, as![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lrcutter can attest). It's not for travelers on the cheap, tho' -- for us, there's camping (almost every town has a public campground, as well as a heated public pool) in Hólmavík itself.
---L.
But oh, that museum. The upper room is devoted to the Burning Times of the 17th century. The lower room has exhibits illustrating various spells, as documented in grimoires of the time. It's clear, even to casual observation, that this is a different magical tradition from mainland Europe -- just from the manner of spellcasting (lots of sigils, called "staves" by the translator; my icon is one, the Ægishjálmur [AY-is-hyowl-mur], used for protection), and what they do (almost all to do either with sex or with gaining or protecting wealth), and the continuity (the curator had documented the continuity in grimoires from the 13th through 20th centuries). And that's before you get to the necropants.
Yes, that's what they're called in English. Necropants look just as bad (NSFW) as they sound. It's magic only men can do (Icelandic magic was/is mostly done by men: there's only one known spell done only by women). Start by digging up a dead man (get his permission for this before he dies) and flaying him from the waist down. Then steal the last silver coin of a poor widow (a lot of spells involve stealing from poor widows -- I wondered if the Poor Widow's Collective had a scam going) on Christmas, Easter, or Ascension Day (other spellthefts were less time-specific). Draw this sigil (second one down) on a scrap of vellum. Put coin and sigil in the scrotum of the necropants, then put them on while reciting a spell. If you've done it right, the necropants will be indistinguishable from your own skin, and money will be drawn to you (more coins appear in the scrotum, and you have to dig them out without removing the seed money).
Now, apart from the obvious ickiness, there are some drawbacks to necropants. Apparently, if you die while wearing them, something very, very bad (unspecified) happens to your soul -- and you can't take them off directly. You can, however, give them to another man -- take off one leg, and he gets into that, then take off the other, and he pulls them on all the way.
Was this for real? There's no evidence any necropants were ever made. But the curator claimed he found the spell in grimoires from a couple centuries apart, so it was at least an authentic tradition.
Obviously, this is way cool stuff, even if you don't write fantasy -- and if you do (and you should) it's worth studying as another way to put together a magic system. And if you can't visit, there's always the exhibition book (about US$38 with shipping). As to why the museum is in Hólmavík, most witchcraft prosecutions were in the Westfjords (traditionally the most uncanny part of Iceland).
Assuming you don't just pass through (on the way to Ísafjörður, perhaps), for places to stay while there, the nearby Hótel Laugarhóll is run by a French chef who used to work for his embassy until he emigrated. He does cuisine interpretations of traditional Icelandic cooking which are to Yum! for (his wine cellar is good, too, as
lrcutter can attest). It's not for travelers on the cheap, tho' -- for us, there's camping (almost every town has a public campground, as well as a heated public pool) in Hólmavík itself.---L.
no subject
Date: 25 March 2005 03:39 am (UTC)You'd probably also be interested in what the curator found about the prosecutors during the Burning Times. All were either a) newly appointed sheriffs, fresh off the boat from Copenhagen and needing to make a name for themselves, or b) related (son or son-in-law) of an Icelandic sheriff raised in Hamburg, who imported the paranoia.
You've heard about the milk-stealing worm that women supposedly could make, yes?
---L.
no subject
Date: 25 March 2005 04:41 am (UTC)And no, I don't know about the milk worms. Please tell me!
no subject
Date: 25 March 2005 02:27 pm (UTC)This was cited as the only magic that could be done only by women. By using some blood from her nipple(s?), a hank of wool, and some other material, she could supposedly create a double-headed worm, which she nursed on a nipple on her thigh (that's the b&w photo above). When it grew large enough, it could be sent, say, over the hill to her neighbor's cow to suckle milk and bring it back to her. When it got large enough, it could wrap over the top of the cow and use both mouths. By which point it was so large, it would be drinking the cow dry. If one of your hieffers stopped milking inexplicably, this was one possible reason why.
There's another "one woman" I thought you were talking about -- the only one burned (20 men, 1 woman, over a century). Which was an interesting case: she was prosecuted along with a male relative (son? brother? memory hazy) for healing. Which, as a form of magic, was form of blastphemy for altering Nature i.e. God's ordering of things. But while healing magics were punished, rarely by burning. The difference in this case seems to have been there was an inheritance involved. "Seems" because the complete trial records, which were supposed to be submitted to Copenhagen, got lost. Or possibly, got "lost."
I did say I had many more of these. I can start rattling off these things at the drop of a hat.
---L.