In a land shaped by volcanoes, violent seas, and long winters, survival demanded more than strength alone. For centuries, Icelanders turned to galdur, a system of magic woven into daily life and used for protection, guidance, healing, and prosperity. This history is still remembered today, and preserved at historical sites and museums across Iceland.
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Icelandic witchcraft stands apart from the rest of Europe in one striking way: the accused were overwhelmingly men, not women. Literacy, grimoires, and a culture that valued written knowledge created a magical tradition that set Iceland apart.
Areas like the Westfjords, once the heart of Icelandic magic, still preserve traces of these practices and many Westfjords tours introduce visitors to this lesser-known chapter of Iceland’s past. Travelers can see the landscapes where spells were recorded, protective symbols carved, and daily life intertwined with magical tradition.
The sections ahead explore the practical uses of Icelandic magic, the galdrastafir symbols, the 17th-century witch trials, and the legends that continue to capture interest today.
Understanding Icelandic Witchcraft
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Icelandic sorcery was practical technology for survival, offering hope and control when harsh winters and violent seas left little room for error.
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While Europe burned women for consorting with the devil, Iceland’s witch trials accused men of wielding forbidden knowledge through grimoires and literacy.
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Symbols like the Vegvisir and other staves weren't folklore decorations but precision tools carved with ritual belief in their power over life and death.
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Legends like the necropants and Galdra Loftur reveal how desperation pushed people to transgress every boundary, natural and supernatural.
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The magical worldview never disappeared, but transformed into modern Asatru, tattoos, art, and a culture comfortable living between the rational and mysterious.
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Understanding Icelandic witchcraft means understanding who held knowledge, who held power, and what communities do when both are threatened.
The Practicality of Icelandic Magic
Icelandic magic was never about mysterious rituals performed in shadowy forests. It was a science applied to everyday survival.
Farmers used spells to protect livestock from disease and predators. Fishermen carved symbols into their boats to ensure safe passage and abundant catches. Women chanted galdrar (incantations) during childbirth to ease labor.
The spells themselves were practical, born of necessity rather than superstition. It treated the natural and supernatural as intertwined forces that could be influenced through knowledge and ritual.
This practical approach extended to the tools of the trade. Grimoires were passed down through families like heirlooms. Wooden objects, leather pouches, and even pieces of parchment were inscribed with protective symbols and carried as talismans.
The distinction between magic and medicine was blurred. Herbs might be combined with incantations. A healer might prescribe both a poultice and a prayer. In this way, Icelandic witchcraft reflected the harsh reality of life in the North Atlantic.
The Witchmen of Iceland
Iceland's witch trials stand apart from those in Europe for one striking reason: approximately 90% of the accused were men.
This reversal is extraordinary. Across Europe, women bore the brunt of witch hunts, accused of pacts with the devil and consorting with demons. In Iceland, the accused were fishermen, farmers, and scholars who sought knowledge through grimoires and ancient texts.
This difference can be traced to literacy and access to education. In medieval and early modern Iceland, men dominated learning.
The church schools at Holar and Skalholt trained young men in Latin, theology, and classical texts. But these schools also housed ancient manuscripts, including grimoires containing magical knowledge, giving students access to forbidden books.
The Icelandic sagas themselves were filled with sorcerers. Characters like Egill Skallagrímsson, the highlight of the Egils Saga Exhibition at the Settlement Center in Borgarnes, used runes to curse enemies or heal the sick. These tales normalized the idea that educated men could wield magical power.
In a society where literacy was rare and valuable, those who could read and write were seen as possessing special knowledge. This made them both respected and feared.
Men accused of witchcraft were often those who stood out. A farmer who seemed too prosperous might be suspected of using spells to steal his neighbor's luck. A fisherman whose boat always returned full could be accused of summoning fish through magic. The line between admiration and suspicion was thin.
The Source: Grimoires and Sagas
The foundation of Icelandic sorcery lay in written texts. Unlike oral traditions passed down through generations, Icelandic magic was recorded in grimoires, books of spells and rituals that blended Christian prayers with pre-Christian symbolism.
These grimoires were treasured possessions, often hidden and shared only with trusted apprentices.
One of the most famous grimoires was the Galdrabok, a 17th-century manuscript containing 47 spells. It included instructions for everything from curing illness to winning legal disputes.
The spells combined Latin prayers, runic inscriptions, and galdrastafir (magical staves). Some invoked Christian saints while others called upon older Norse gods. This blending of traditions reflects Iceland's unique position between the Christian and pagan worlds.
But the most feared grimoire was the Raudskinna, or Red Skin, a legendary book said to contain the darkest spells ever written. The Raudskinna was rumored to grant its reader power over demons and even death itself.
How Icelandic Witchcraft Differed from European Traditions
Photo from Wikimedia, Creative Commons, by Johann Jakob Wick. No edits made.
The differences between Icelandic and European witchcraft go beyond gender. In Europe, witch hunts were driven by fear of the devil and heresy. Accused witches were said to attend sabbaths, worship Satan, and practice maleficium (harmful magic) to destroy their communities.
Iceland's witch trials were comparatively restrained. Of the 170 people accused between 1625 and 1683, only 21 were executed.
Torture was rare. Confessions were often voluntary, driven by social pressure rather than physical pain. The accused were charged with using magic for personal gain or to harm their neighbors, but accusations of devil worship were uncommon.
The focus was also different. European witches were accused of causing plagues, infanticide, and corrupting entire villages. Icelandic witchmen were charged with more mundane offenses: using spells to make their cows produce more milk, ensuring their fishing nets filled faster than their neighbors', or settling grudges through magical means.
Photo from Wikimedia, Creative Commons, by Abraham Ortelius. No edits made.
Geography played a role in this restraint. Iceland was isolated, with a small population spread across vast distances. Communities were tight-knit in a small, isolated society where anonymity was nearly impossible.
Accusing a neighbor of witchcraft disrupted social bonds and could lead to feuds that lasted generations. This may have tempered the hysteria seen elsewhere in Europe.
Finally, Iceland's relationship with the church was different. The Reformation brought Lutheranism to Iceland, but the transition was gradual. The old Norse gods and Christian saints coexisted in folk belief.
Magic was not seen as purely evil, but as a tool. And like any tool, it could be used for good or ill. This nuance allowed Icelandic society to view witchcraft with suspicion rather than outright terror.
Galdrastafir: The Magical Symbols of Iceland
The galdrastafir (magical staves) are Iceland's most visually distinctive contribution to the history of magic. These intricate, geometric designs were carved into wood, drawn on parchment, or inscribed in the earth. Each stave had a specific purpose: protection, love, victory, or prosperity.
The creation of a stave was both art and ritual. The practitioner would meditate on their intention, then carefully draw the symbol.
Precision mattered. A single misplaced line could render the stave useless or even dangerous.
Some staves required activation through spoken incantations. Others were empowered simply by being placed in the correct location.
Two staves stand above all others in fame: the Vegvisir and the Aegishjalmur.
The Vegvisir, often called the Viking compass, is a symbol of guidance and protection. It was meant to guide not just through physical space but through life's uncertainties.
The Aegishjalmur, or Helm of Awe, is a symbol of protection and invincibility. Unlike the Vegvisir, the Aegishjalmur is explicitly tied to combat and dominance.
But these are just two examples. The grimoires contain dozens of staves, each with its own purpose.
The Lukkustafir (luck staves) brought good fortune. The Thjofastafir (thief staves) prevented theft. The Draumstafir (dream staves) granted prophetic dreams. The variety reflects the breadth of concerns that occupied Icelandic life: survival, prosperity, love, revenge, and spiritual protection.
The Age of Fire: The Witch Trials of Iceland
Photo from Wikimedia, Creative Commons, by Johann Jakob Wick. No edits made.
Iceland experienced its own version of the European witch hunts, a period known as the Brennuöld, or Age of Fire. Though smaller in scale than the continental persecutions, the Icelandic witch trials left a permanent mark on the nation's collective memory.
The trials began in 1625, influenced heavily by Danish and German authorities who had brought their own witch-hunting fervor to Iceland. Denmark had ruled Iceland since the 14th century, and with that rule came laws and attitudes imported from mainland Europe.
The Lutheran Reformation, which reached Iceland in the 1550s, intensified suspicion of magical practices. What had once been tolerated as folk tradition was now condemned as heresy.
The persecution peaked between 1654 and 1690, when paranoia reached its height. Neighbors accused neighbors. Families turned on one another.
The accusations followed familiar patterns: a cow died unexpectedly, a fishing boat sank, a child fell ill. Someone had to be blamed, and magic provided a convenient explanation.
By the time the trials ended in 1683, 170 people had been formally accused. Of these, 21 were executed by burning.
The First Execution: Jón Rögnvaldsson
The first man executed for witchcraft in Iceland was Jón Rögnvaldsson, burned at the stake in 1625. His crime was using runes to cast spells.
The details of his case are sparse, but his execution set a precedent. It signaled that the authorities were willing to enforce anti-witchcraft laws with lethal force.
Jón's death sent ripples through Icelandic society. Magic had always been part of life, but now it carried the risk of execution.
Those who had openly practiced sorcery went underground. Grimoires were hidden. Staves were no longer carved in public. The Age of Fire had begun.
The Kirkjubol Affair: When Accusations Turned Personal
The most notorious witch trial in Icelandic history began not with evidence, but with a grudge. Between 1655 and 1660, a local priest named Jón Magnússon accused a father and son, both named Jón Jónsson, of tormenting him through sorcery.
The case, often referred to as the Kirkjubol affair, became a spectacle in the area that is now Isafjordur, revealing how easily accusations could spiral into tragedy. Reverend Jón Magnússon would become one of the most infamous Icelanders of his era, remembered not for his piety but for his relentless persecution of his neighbors.
Reverend Jón claimed that strange afflictions had begun after he refused to let the younger Jón Jónsson marry his stepdaughter. He described vivid night terrors: mice crawling on his feet, a dog with red-hot claws pinning him to his bed, unbearable pain that left him unable to speak. He believed the Jónssons were sending demons to torment him.
The elder Jón had a reputation for knowing magic. The younger Jón had openly expressed interest in learning sorcery.
Authorities found a calfskin book filled with magical symbols in their home, but what sealed their fate was their own confession. Under pressure, both men admitted to using magic, though they initially denied harming anyone.
The younger Jón admitted he had used magic to make Reverend Jón's hand burn during a handshake. The elder Jón confessed to sending spirits to torment the priest.
On April 10, 1656, both men were burned at the stake. It took three attempts to light the fire, a detail that witnesses interpreted as a bad omen.
Photo from Wikimedia, Creative Commons, by W.G. Collingwood. No edits made.
But the story did not end there as Reverend Jón's torment continued. Convinced that Þuríður Jónsdóttir, the daughter of the elder Jón, was now responsible, he pursued her relentlessly. For years, he tried to bring her to trial, accusing her of continuing her father and brother's work.
Þuríður fought back. In 1660, she brought Reverend Jón to court, accusing him of slander and emotional cruelty.
She argued that he had destroyed her reputation, denied her religious services, and caused her immense suffering based on accusations that were never proven. The court sided with her, and she was acquitted of all charges and awarded damages.
The Kirkjubol affair is significant because it was one of the few trials where both the accuser and the accused faced consequences. It remains one of the most documented and controversial episodes of the Icelandic witch trials, preserved in court records and in Reverend Jón's own memoir, the Pislarsaga (Passion Story).
The Exception: Þuríður Ólafsdóttir and Her Son
In 1678, Þuríður Ólafsdóttir became one of the very few women executed for witchcraft in Iceland, and the only clearly documented case. She was burned alongside her son, Jón Helgason, accused of causing illness through magic.
The mother and son had recently moved to Strandir in the Westfjords from Skagafjordur, and their status as newcomers made them easy targets.
Jón had reportedly boasted that his mother could use runes to cross streams without boats or horses. Both denied using magic, but their unfamiliarity to the community sealed their fate.
Þuríður's execution stands as the rare exception in Iceland's witch trials. Her case illustrates that while literacy and grimoires drove most accusations toward men, women could still be targeted when circumstances aligned: she was an outsider, linked to a male relative's claims, and accused by powerful locals.
With only one confirmed female execution out of 21 victims, Iceland's witch trials stand in stark contrast to Europe's, where roughly 80% of the accused were women.
The Geography of Magic: The Westfjords
The Westfjords, particularly the Strandir region, became the center of Iceland's witch trial activity.
Strandir's reputation as a magical hotspot predates the witch trials. Local legends spoke of powerful sorcerers who lived in the mountains, capable of controlling the weather and summoning spirits.
When the trials began, Strandir bore the brunt of the accusations. Many of the men executed came from this region.
Today, Strandir is home to the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft in Holmavik, which preserves this history. Visitors who travel to the Westfjords can explore the landscapes where these events unfolded, walking the same paths as the accused witchmen and seeing the places where magic was once practiced openly.
Legends of the Dark Arts
Iceland's magical folklore is filled with stories that blur the line between history and myth. These tales reveal a darker side of Icelandic sorcery, one driven by ambition, desperation, and the pursuit of forbidden knowledge.
Three legends stand out: the mystery of the Raudskinna, the story of Galdra Loftur, and the myth of the necropants.
The Raudskinna: The Red Book of Black Magic
The Raudskinna became Iceland's most feared grimoire, a book of black magic said to contain spells powerful enough to control demons and cheat death. Its name means "Red Skin," referring to the belief that it was bound in human skin.
The book was written by Bishop Gottskálk grimmi Nikulásson, a Norwegian bishop who ruled the diocese of Holar from 1498 to 1520. He was also rumored to be a master sorcerer who had learned the darkest arts.
When Gottskálk died, the Raudskinna was buried with him, locked in his coffin to prevent anyone from using its spells. Legends say that anyone who obtains the Raudskinna will gain ultimate power but at a terrible cost.
The book is said to be cursed. Those who seek it are driven mad and those who read it are damned.
Some say the book does not even exist, that it is a myth created to warn against the pursuit of forbidden knowledge. Others believe it remains buried, waiting for someone foolish or desperate enough to claim it.
The Raudskinna represents the ultimate taboo in Icelandic magic: knowledge that offers power but destroys the soul. It is the shadow side of the grimoire tradition, a reminder that not all magic is meant to be used.
Galdra Loftur: The Ambitious Student
One of the most infamous sorcerers in Icelandic folklore was Loftur Þorsteinsson, known as Galdra Loftur (Loftur the Magician). He was a student at the Holar school of priests in the early 18th century, a real person whose life became legend.
Loftur was brilliant but dangerously obsessed. For nine years, he studied forbidden grimoires hidden in the school's library, mastering every banned spell.
His singular ambition was to obtain the Raudskinna, the most powerful grimoire ever written, which had been buried with Bishop Gottskálk grimmi Nikulásson.
On Christmas Eve, Loftur attempted to summon the bishop's ghost and force it to surrender the book. He gathered fellow students to maintain protective wards, then began his ritual in the cathedral's darkness. The bishop's spirit appeared, but Loftur's magic was no match for the dead man's power.
Loftur was found unconscious at dawn, forever changed. Madness consumed him. According to legend, he rowed out to sea, where a black claw emerged from the water and dragged him into the depths.
His story became a cautionary tale: brilliant ambition twisted by obsession with forbidden knowledge leads only to destruction.
The Necropants (Nabrok)
No artifact of Icelandic witchcraft is more famous or unsettling than the nabrok, or necropants. These are trousers made from the skin of a dead man, worn to attract wealth. The ritual for creating them is as macabre as it sounds, and is detailed in the video above.
According to legend, once you wore the necropants and placed a coin stolen from a poor widow into the scrotum along with a magical stave, money would continuously appear. You would never run out.
But there was a catch: the nabrok could not be removed. They became part of you. When death approached, you had to find someone willing to take them, transferring the pants while you were still alive to ensure the magic continued.
The legend of the nabrok is likely more myth than reality. No historical evidence suggests anyone actually created or wore them. But the story endures because it captures something essential about Icelandic sorcery: the willingness to transgress moral and physical boundaries in the pursuit of survival and prosperity.
Visiting the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft
For those who want to see Icelandic witchcraft brought to life, the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft in Holmavik is essential. The museum is small but comprehensive, offering a deep dive into the history, practices, and legends of Icelandic magic.
Exhibits include replicas of grimoires, original manuscripts from the 17th century, and reconstructions of magical tools. The centerpiece is the replica of the nabrok, which draws visitors from around the world.
The museum also features displays on the galdrastafir, explaining their meanings and uses. Visitors can also watch a short documentary that explores the social and economic conditions that made magic necessary, the influence of European witch hunts, and the lasting impact of the Age of Fire on Icelandic society.
Holmavik itself is worth exploring. The town sits on the edge of Steingrimsfjordur, surrounded by dramatic landscapes.
A visit to the museum can be easily fit into a road trip through the Ring Road and the Westfjords, one of Iceland's most remote and stunning regions. The drive through steep fjords and coastal cliffs offers a glimpse of the harsh environment that made magic necessary for survival.
Plan to spend at least an hour exploring the exhibits. Consider combining your visit with a hike to Hornstrandir Nature Reserve or a stop at one of the region's geothermal pools.
Modern Magic and Paganism in Iceland
Photo from Wikimedia, Creative Commons, by Lenka Kovářová. No edits made.
Icelandic witchcraft is not just history. Its influence persists in modern culture, from religious revival to contemporary art.
In 1972, Asatruarfelagid (the Asatru Association) was officially recognized by the Icelandic government, marking the revival of Old Norse paganism as a legal religion.
Asatru, which means "faith in the Aesir" (the Norse gods), seeks to reconnect with pre-Christian Icelandic spirituality. Followers honor gods like Odin, Thor, and Freyja through rituals, festivals, and community gatherings.
While Asatru is distinct from historical witchcraft, the two share common roots. Both draw on the sagas, the runes, and the symbols that defined ancient Icelandic culture.
Many Asatru practitioners incorporate elements of galdur into their spiritual practice, using staves and incantations as tools for meditation and ritual.
The movement has grown steadily. Today, thousands of Icelanders identify as Asatru, making it one of the larger non-Christian religious movements in the country.
The first Asatru temple in modern times is currently under construction in Reykjavik, a symbol of the enduring connection between Iceland's past and present.
The Legacy of Icelandic Witchcraft
Beyond organized religion, Icelandic witchcraft influences art, music, literature, and fashion. The galdrastafir appear in tattoos, jewelry, and graphic design.
Musicians incorporate themes of magic and folklore into their work. Writers draw on the sagas and grimoires to create stories that blend history with fantasy.
This cultural legacy is visible throughout Iceland. Shops sell stave replicas as souvenirs. Restaurants and cafes use names and imagery drawn from Icelandic folklore. The witch trials, once a source of shame, are now acknowledged as part of the nation's complex history.
For visitors, this means that Icelandic magic is not confined to museums. It lives in the landscape, the Icelandic language, and the creative spirit of the people.
Exploring Iceland offers countless opportunities to encounter this legacy, from the remote fjords of Strandir to the bustling streets of Reykjavik.
Were there witch trials in Iceland?
Why were men accused of witchcraft in Iceland?
How was Icelandic witchcraft different from European witchcraft?
What is the Vegvisir symbol?
Where is the Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft?
Do Icelanders still believe in magic today?
What surprised you most about Icelandic witchcraft? Would you wear a magical stave for protection? Share your thoughts and questions in the comments below!
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