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There can be little doubt that the runestaves were used for magic. We know this from the Old Icelandic sources alone, which often make reference to runic spells and runic talismans. At the same time, however, we cannot say that the runestaves were only used for magic nor can we even say the majority of inscriptions were magical in nature. The rune row was not simply a series of magical symbols, but a script useful for communicating even the most mundane messages. The runestaves could then be used to curse a king so that he is deposed or to simply tell one's husband to come home from a long night of drinking.
It is difficult to say how often rune magic or, for that matter, even "casting the runes" or runic divination actually occurred among the Germanic peoples. Several runic artefacts appear in fact to be talismans created for one purpose or another. Similarly, as stated earlier, the Old Icelandic sources (the Poetic Edda and the sagas) often make reference to runic spells. We also know from Tacitus' Germania that the ancient Germanic peoples cast lots with symbols written upon them, although whether these symbols were runes at this point in history we cannot say. Divination using the runes ("casting the runes," so to speak) is mentioned in later Icelandic sources. On the other hand, however, among the surviving Old English charms (or, as they were called in the native tongue, galdors) there is not a one which involves the runes. Similarly, tales of rune spells are difficult to find beyond Scandinavia and Iceland. It is then impossible to say whether the runes were frequently used for magic or whether it was a rare occurrence indeed.
Regardless, it seems clear that the runes were used for both magic and
divination. To learn how magic involving the runes was performed it would be
wise to examine the ancient sources for evidence of such. Only after doing so
can we adequately reconstruct what a magic ritual involving the runes might have
involved.
Know you how to write?
Know you how to read?
Know you how to dye?
Know you how to put through trial?
Know you how to pray?
Know you
how to blót?
Know you how to send?
Know you how to
sacrifice?
The question "Know you how to dye?" is a bit harder to explain. It appears that for a rune spell to work, not only would one have to carve the runes, but they would have to colour them as well. Often this was done with one's own blood. In Egils Saga, when Egil carves runes into a cup to avoid poisoning, he cuts himself and then colours the runestaves with his own blood. Blood was not the only substance used to colour the runestaves, however, as other substances appear to have been used as well. Evidence of this can be seen in the Old Icelandic word taufR "sorcery, charms, talismans" and the German word Zauber "sorcery, magic." Both of these words are cognates to Old English téafor, which meant "red, vermilion, red ochre," ochre often being used to dye various materials. From all appearances both taufR and Zauber originally possessed similar meanings, but because of the practice of dyeing the runes with ochre and other red substances, the words came to denote "magic, sorcery." In addition to blood and ochre, the runestaves also appear to have been coloured by applying fire to them, effectively burning their shapes into the material. It is difficult to say why dyeing the runestaves was important, though it must be kept in mind that most ancient peoples believed that blood possessed metaphysical power. Colouring the runes with blood would then be a means of empowering them, of granting them "magic power." Since the colour of ochre resembles blood to some degree, it was probably assumed that it would similarly empower the runes. Finally, fire was believed to possess metaphysical power (it was often used to drive away evil spirits), so that burning the runes into an object would automatically empower those runes.
The question "Know you how to put through trial" would appear to be a reference to the questions one asks when divining with the runes. First, we know from Tacitus that casting lots among the Germanic peoples followed a specific ritual--indeed, if one asked a question and received a negative answer, he had to end his divination right then and there. To properly cast the runes, then, one would have to know the proper ritual. Second, to learn that which one wishes to learn from the runes, one must first know the proper questions to ask. Obviously if one is wanting to find out about his health, he is not going to ask the runes questions about the weather.
The question "Know you how to pray?" seems fairly obvious. It seems quite likely that runemen when casting the runes or casting a rune spell may have called upon the gods for help. It would then be important for him to know how to properly pray to the gods. From Tacitus' Germania we know that the ancient Germanic peoples offered prayers to the gods when casting lots. This was also done sometimes when casting runic spells. In Egils Saga, when Egil erects a níđstöng against King EirikR and Queen Gunnhild, he called upon FreyR and NjörđR.
The question "Know you how to blót?" is related to the question before it. Blót is the native term in nearly all of the Germanic languages for "sacrifice." It would seem then that if one wished for one's casting of the runes or casting of a runic spell to be efficient, then it would be wise to blót to the gods. Of course, this would necessitate knowing how to properly perform a blót. It could well be that the blood shed to dye the runes could have been considered a blót, as the Icelandic sources rarely, if ever, mention the blót of an animal or other foodstuffs performed in conjunction with casting a rune spell.
"Know you how to send?" could refer to casting the runes. Old Icelandic senda not only meant "to send," but could also mean "to throw." We know from Tacitus that in casting lots the Germanic peoples would toss the lots upon a white cloth and then select three lots from among all of them. The question could then refer to the "tossing" or "throwing" of the lots during divination. Of course, it is also possible that it is a reference to casting a rune spell. That is, one must know how to send a spell towards its target (in the example of Egil from above, he had to know how to send his curse against EirikR and Gunnhild).
"Know you how to sacrifice?" is essentially the same question as "Know you how to blót?"
From the Hávamál verse 144 it would then seem that for a man to be proficient in the runes he must know how to write them, know how to read them, know how to dye them, know how to conduct an enquiry of them, know how to pray to the gods, know how to cast the lots or cast runic spells, and know how to sacrifice to the gods. Not surprisingly, most of these things play an important role when rune spells are cast in the elder sources.
While Óđinn boasts of various galdors which he knows in the Hávamál, many of which might not involve the runes, in Sigrdrífumál, Sigrdrífa teaches SigurđR various wisdom involving the runes. Among these bits of wisdom (each of which is a description of a runic spell) are one of which could possibly refer to a specific runestave and the other which most definitely does. The first appears in verse 6:
Verse 7 actually mentions a specific rune:
Ale runes you should know, if another's wife
betrays your faith, whom you had trusted,
on a drinking horn
write it and on the back of your hand,
and mark on your
nails the rune nauđR.
By far the most elaborate and poetic rune spell appearing in the Poetic Edda is the one in Skírnismál. In the poem FreyR fell in love with the ettinwife GerđR and sent his man Skírnir to woo her. GerđR persistently rejects Skírnir's offers of marriage to his liege until at last he resorts to rune magic. Wielding a magic wand Skírnir recites a galdor which will make GerđR undesirable to men, diseased and lame, and yet filled with lust, among other things. The curse climaxes in verse 36 with Skírnir carving runes, apparently upon the wand:
Ţurs ríst eg ţér
og ţrjá stafi,
ergi og ćđi
og óţola;
svo eg
ţađ af ríst
sem eg ţađ á reist,
ef gerast ţarfar ţess.
A ţurs rune I write for thee
and three more staves,
lust and
rage
and loathing;
I shall carve them off
just as I wrote them
on,
if I find a need thereof.
Regardless, the spell in Skírnismál gives us an idea of a rune spell in progress. Skírnir sings a galdor outlining his curse, then carves runes upon a wand. It also tells us that runic spells can be undone. Skírnir states that he can carve away the staves that he has written if he needs to. We then know that both galdor and the actual writing of the runes may have been central to use of the runes in magic.
Considering the intricacy of Skírnir's curse, it should come as no surprise that GerđR accepted FreyR's proposal.
Perhaps the most important saga for any student of the runes to read is Egils Saga. Egils Saga details the life of Egil Skalla-Grímsson, a skald, warrior, and runeman living in Iceland in the 10th century. It also details a few of the rune spells which Egil cast in his long career as a warrior and runester. Egil could also be irascible and this sometimes made enemies for him.
Among those enemies were King EirikR Bloodaxe and Queen Gunnhild of Norway. Egil first met them when he was travelling abroad and stopped at their home to rest. Unfortunately, EirikR's hospitality was somewhat lacking, giving Egil and his party but little food and nothing to drink (the king's thegn, a man named Bard, claimed they had no ale). The truth was revealed later that evening when EirikR and Gunnhild held a feast and the Dísablót (a sacrifice to the Dísir or tutelary goddesses), to which they invited Egil and his fellow travellers. Angry that they had been denied food and drink earlier, Egil became very drunk and composed a scathing poem against the king's thegn, Bard, and his lack of hospitality. Insulted, Bard forced more drink upon Egil and then complained about him to Queen Gunnhild. The two poisoned a horn of ale and took it to Egil with the goal of silencing the skald forever. Fortunately, Egil was not so drunk that he did not realise his life was in eminent danger. He cut his palm with a knife from his belt, then carved runestaves around the top of the horn. These staves he dyed with his blood before singing a galdor. The horn shattered so that the drink splattered harmlessly upon the floor. Egil then slew Bard and fled into the night. Thereafter Egil and EirikR were more or less at odds.
EirikR's father, Harald Finehair, had made it a standing practice to confiscate the hereditary lands of families. This EirikR continued, so it should come as no surprise that eventually he confiscated land that rightfully belonged to Egil. When Egil opposed this, EirikR rather unfairly outlawed the skald. This was perhaps EirikR's mistake. Egil performed what is probably the most powerful curse in rune magic, that of the níđstöng or the "pole of scorn." Egil fixed a horse's head upon a pole of hazel wood and then recited a galdor in which he called upon NjörđR, FreyR, and the landvćttir (the spirits of the land) to drive King EirikR and Queen Gunnhild form Norway. He then inscribed his curse upon the pole. If one believes in the power of curses, then he could possibly conclude that it was Egil's curse which eventually resulted in EirikR and Gunnhild being driven from Norway.
The final spell related in Egils Saga took place many years later. Egil was travelling in Sweden and stopped to rest at a farmhouse. The farmer fed Egil and his party breakfast and, as they were eating, the skald noticed an ill girl lying in the hall. The farmer told Egil that the girl was his daughter and that she had fallen ill--she could not sleep and was often in a delirium. His neighbour's son had written runes to try to cure her, but it only seemed to have worsened the condition. Egil decided he would try to cure her. He told the others to move her, to change her bedclothes, and to put her old ones out to air. While looking through the mattress of her bed Egil found a piece of bone with runes written upon it. Egil read the runes, then carved them off into a fire and burned the bone. He then sang a galdor, part of which was to undo rune writing done by someone who did not know the runes well, and carved new runes which he placed under the girl's pillow. Shortly thereafter the girl revived. She expressed the thought that it was as if she was awaking from a long sleep and that she felt well again.
The spells detailed in Egils Saga can tell us something about rune magic. From Egil's spell to avoid being poisoned, we know that the recitation of a galdor, the carving of the runes, and the dyeing of the runes all played a part in the casting of a rune spell. While dyeing the runes is not mentioned in the other two spells, it seems likely that it took place given the importance placed upon it in other sources. From the final spell we know that it takes a prerequisite amount of knowledge to cast rune spells and that mistakes can be dangerous. This is perhaps important to know. It does not appear that runecraft was a folk magic known to most everyone. Instead, it appears to have been a speciality requiring quite a bit of knowledge before one could practise it adequately. Only educated men such as Egil, trained in their use, would ever be masters of the runes.
Egils Saga is not the only saga with a detailed portrayal of rune spells. Grettirs Saga portrays a curse directed at the hero of the saga, Grettir himself. Among Grettir's enemies numbered Ţorbjorn Angle. Ţorbjorn's foster mother was an old woman named Ţurid, who was very skilled in the use of spells. As Ţorbjorn was unable to destroy Grettir, he turned to Ţurid for help. Ţurid decided they should confront Grettir once more, this time with her in their company. When they did Grettir not only refused Ţorbjorn's demands, but insulted Ţurid and threw a rock that broke her thigh. Ţurid then decided that she must have her revenge.
Months later Ţurid asked to be taken to the shore. There she found a large tree stump. She bade Ţorbjorn and his fellows to turn it over for her. Once the stump had been turned over, Ţurid carved runes upon the stump's base, then cut herself and dyed the staves with her own blood. She then walked backwards around the stump and sang a galdor. Finally, Ţurid had Ţorbjorn and his men push the stump out to sea. Ţurid said that the stump would go to Drangey where Grettir would receive harm from it. The stump drifted against the wind and much more swiftly than one would think it would.
Eventually the stump washed upon the shore of Drangey. One of Grettir's men found it and decided it would make good fuel for the fire. Grettir disagreed, however, saying that it was "An ill tree and ill sent." He had it pushed back out to sea. The stump washed upon the shore the next day and once again it was pushed out to sea. Finally, it washed upon the shore again. Grettir's thrall found it and took it to the house to be split for firewood. The thrall was having a poor time of splitting it, so Grettir took the axe himself, not recognising the stump this time. He swung the axe at the stump, only to have it bounce off the stump and sink into his right leg through to the bone. The leg swelled and Grettir grew ill. Eventually it started to rot. At any rate, Grettir was left at the mercy of his enemies.
The spell which Ţurid cast is similar in most respects to those cast by Egil.
She carves runes into the stump, then dyes the runes with her own blood, and
then recites a galdor. It cannot be said for certain why she walks backwards
around the stump while singing her galdor. It is perhaps a symbolic act--since
walking backwards is difficult, perhaps it is meant to symbolise the difficulty
Grettir will have getting around when he is injured in the leg. Regardless, it
is unusual and no other rune spells portrayed in the old sources involve walking
backwards.
Second would appear to be dyeing the runestaves. In most sources this appears to be with one's own blood. In Egil's spell to defend himself from poisoning, he cuts his palm and then dyes the runestaves with his blood. When Ţurid cursed Grettir she also cut herself and used her blood to dye the runestaves. Of course, we know from other sources that blood was not the only thing used to dye the runes. Red ochre was also used and fire was used as well. Similarly, it must be pointed out that the act of dyeing the runestaves is not always mentioned when a runic spell is performed. In Skírnismál we are never told that Skírnir dyes the runestaves he has carved (although as he may have been bluffing GerđR, he may have had no intention of doing so). Similarly, neither when Egil erected his níđstöng nor when he cured the farmer's daughter are we told he dyed the runes. It could well be that the author failed to mention it or it is not absolutely necessary to dye the runestaves every time that one carves them. At any rate, the reference to dyeing the runes in the Hávamál and the instances in which it is mentioned would appear to make it an important procedure performed in most rune spells.
Finally, the runeman performing the spell would sing a galdor. Galdors were always composed in poetic metre; this we know from the surviving Old English charms and the Merseburg charms. Despite this they were more or less simple expressions of the desired effects of the spell. When Skírnir composes his galdor against GerđR in Skírnismál, he details the various foul things which will befall her if she does not marry FreyR, although in very eloquent Old Norse. Galdors could also incorporate prayers to or requests to the gods and even spirits. When Egil set his níđstöng against EirikR and Gunnhild, he called upon FreyR and NjörđR as well as the landvćttir. There appears to have been no set length for galdors. The one in Skírnismál is rather long, though most of Egil's galdors tend to only be a few lines.
The basic ritual to cast a runic spell in ancient times may have then looked
something like this:
1. The runes are carved upon an object.
2. The
runes are dyed.
3. A galdor stating the purpose of casting the rune spell is
sung.
It must be kept in mind that this order is not a hard and fast rule.
As pointed out above, there are exceptions. In some instances the galdor is sung
before or during the carving of the runes. In other cases dyeing the runes is
not mentioned, although we cannot say with any certainty that it did not take
place. Finally, it appears that sometimes symbolic acts may have accompanied the
singing of the galdor, as in Grettirs Saga. This was perhaps the
exception to the rule, appearing as it does only in one source, though it cannot
be discounted.
Perhaps the earliest description of a ritual involving divination by lot among the Germanic peoples occurs in Tacitus' Germania. Tacitus explains how the ancient Germans would cut off a branch from a nut bearing tree and cut it into strips. They would then mark these strips with different signs and throw them onto a white cloth. The high priest, if it was a public divination, or the father of the family, if it was a private one, would then offer prayers to the gods. Looking up at the sky, he would then pick up three strips, each one at a time, and interpret their meaning from the signs written upon them. If the answer was negative regarding the matter at hand, no further enquiry was made of that matter for that day. If it was positive, further divination would take place.
It is impossible to know for certain if at the time that Tacitus wrote that the signs which were scored on these strips of wood were indeed runestaves. Given the fact that we do not know the precise date that the runestaves were invented, however, it is quite possible. Even if they were not, they were most likely the pre-runic symbols found in rock carvings, some of which may have lent their shapes to runestaves.
Later Icelandic sources confirm that the ritual described in Tacitus could have survived, performed with lots with the runestaves inscribed upon them. The Fornmanna Sögur make reference to lots being cut and borne on a sheet. From various sources we also know that sacrificial blood was sometimes used to dye the runestaves on lots used in casting the runes. In the Poetic Edda, Hymisviđa verse 1 could refer to this:
veiđar námu,
ok sumblsamir
áđr sađir yrđi,
hristu teina
ok á
hlaut sáu,
fundu ţeir at Ćgis
örkost hvera.
In days of yore
the gods of the slain
had game aplenty
and
symbeling,
ere they were
sated
they spoke,
they wrote on twigs
and sacrificial blood sacrificed,
they found at Ćgir's hall,
abundance.
From all appearances casting the runes were used to answer a variety of questions. The Icelandic Landnámabók or the "Book of Settlements" refers to two instances of the runes being cast. In the first Onund cast the runes to discover when his rival EirikR would try to take possession of a contested valley. His divination was apparently successful, as he was able to get to the valley first and claim it. Landnámabók mentions that the Swedes cast lots to figure out how to end a famine. In these cases the runes were used to discover when a rival might try to lay claim and to find out how to end a famine. And from the Hymisviđa it would appear the gods used them to decide where to hold symbel.
Using the rite from Tacitus' Germania and what we know from later sources, we can perhaps reconstruct the ancient Germanic rite of casting the runes. First, strips of wood would be cut from a nut bearing tree. Second, these strips of wood would be marked with the runestaves, which would perhaps be dyed with blood from a sacrificed animal. Third, the rune lots would be cast upon a white sheet. Fourth, the high priest or head of the family would then look to the sky and offer a prayer to the gods. It is quite possible that this prayer would include the question which casting the runes was expected to answer. Fifth, the high priest or head of the family would choose three lots, one at a time. Sixth, based on the runestaves inscribed upon them, he would then interpret their meaning.
The one thing we cannot say is the significance of the three runes chosen. Various theories have been advanced, some better than others, but ultimately we do not know. It does seem unlikely that they symbolised the "past, present, and future," as the Germanic peoples viewed time as binary in nature--they had a past and a present, but no future (read Paul Bauschtatz's The Well and the Tree). We are then left to wonder why three runes were chosen. As the ancient Germanic peoples left behind no handbooks on runic divination, we will probably never know.