Reykjavík Grapevine - 19.07.2013, Blaðsíða 14

Before the festival, I met up with
the earl of Einherjar, Gunnar Vík-
ing Ólafsson. Sitting down in one
of Hressingarskálinn’s booths, the
broad shouldered, two-metre tall
giant looks like he would be more
comfortable with a sword by his
side and a drinking horn in his hands
than a glass of coke. Sitting next to
him is his cousin, Tryggvi Þorleifur
Laurum, who is equally blond and
bearded, and we converse in great
depth about the culture of Vikings
and the upcoming festival. If they
wouldn’t have their hands full with
Einherjar, I would have thought
them to fit in with another band of
bearded men who routinely say:
“winter is coming.”
Gunnar and Tryggvi quickly
identify themselves as storytellers,
teachers and Viking enthusiasts, but
do not claim to be academic schol-
ars. Gunnar’s interest in the culture
came from growing up close to the
statue of Viking explorer Ingólfur Ar-
nason. Feeling that Icelanders were
not connecting with their cultural
roots, he wanted to give the City of
Reykjavík something to be proud of,
promoting this ancient shared heri-
tage.
The birth of Ingólfshátíð
To this end, Gunnar organised the
Ingólfshátíð festival in Hljómskál-
agarður public park. It is named
after Ingólfur Arnason, but the first
festival honours their friend Ingól-
fur Júlíusson. The city of Reykjavík
was supportive and eager to make
the festival happen, and most of
the Einherjar team volunteered their
work. Gunnar gathered artisans and
woodcarvers and a horse master to
bring steeds to parade through the
park with fully armoured riders. He
even managed to get a British medi-
eval society to join in and help them
out.
Gunnar and Tryggvi were beam-
ing with enthusiasm as we finished
our drinks. They spent a lot of their
resources travelling and research-
ing the subject in order to paint a
more complete picture for others to
enjoy. They may have been overly
optimistic about the historical ac-
curacy and completeness of said vi-
sion, but I was excited to see what
would happen.
Kids losing their shit,
Viking style
Checking out the second and less
rainy day of the festival, I was imme-
diately astonished with how much
they managed to get done with so
little, and how buzzing with activ-
ity the festival was. Nested on the
East side of the park, there were six
tents with large and heavy wooden
beams, one memorial tent, and an
area sectioned off for the horses and
mock fights.
By one tent, children could have a
go at each other with wooden weap-
ons and shields. A costumed man
was acting as judge, teacher and
commentator, explaining the rules
briefly before spurring those who
lost to let out a good death cry.
There was also an old Viking
game of Kubb laid out, which in-
volves hurling sticks at targets. De-
spite today’s children being raised
on video games, they absolutely lost
their shit when their turn ended, en-
amoured with old-school analogue
entertainment.
A longboat
in the pond
Another tent had helmets, shields
and swords on display for people
who wanted to see what they’d look
like dressed up as Vikings. Several
of the other tents had market stalls
with memorabilia and jewellery, but
there was unfortunately no food or
drink to be found.
The final tent, sitting apart from
the rest, was a shrine to the afore-
mentioned Ingólfur Júlíusson. Its
wooden beams were darkened, al-
most charcoal, and members of Ein-
herjar took turns as honour guards
outside it with a spear in hand. In-
side rested a black and white picture
of Ingólfur, as well as his sword and
helmet.
The whole festival was booming
with potential, but Tryggvi told me it
was “held together with duct tape.”
Einherjar, and the people I spoke to,
all want the festival to be bigger next
year. The organisers had learned a
lot from the experience, and even
talked about getting a longboat into
the pond! And I don’t know about
you, but I would love to see that!
Honouring The Fallen
Reykjavík’s very first Viking festival
By Tómas Gabríel Benjamin
For the last few years, the only full sized Viking festival has been held in Hafnafjörður by Rimmugýgur society, but now their
Reykjavík counterparts, Einherjar, have stepped up their game. They had planned to host their first festival in 2014, but after los-
ing one of their dear friends Ingólfur Júlíusson to leukaemia earlier in the year, they decided to speed up preparations and stage an
inaugural festival this year.
The festival is named
after Ingólfur Ar-
narson, but the first
edition honours
their friend Ingólfur
Ingólfur Júlíusson must have been a great man for his friends to go to
such lengths to honour his memory. Guess what: we knew him, and he was.
Photos by Axel Sigurðarson
14The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 10 — 2013