Boar Birch and Bog Prayers To Nerthus PDF

Boar, Birch and
Bog:
Prayers to Nerthus
Nicanthiel Hrafnhild
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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
or by any means without the permission of the author.
© 2009 Nicanthiel Hrafnhild
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Boar, Birch and
Bog:
Prayers to Nerthus
To my Mother, for Whom this book
is written, made in love
and honor.
1
Acknowledgements
Any real acknowledgements must needs start with the person

who started the whole thing. And so, I give all my thanks and blessings
to Svartesól, who is both a friend and a family member, and without
whose writings and companionship none of this could have come about,
at least not in this way, especially as she also edited the manuscript.
What is good as one is better with two, and so I'd like to thank
Eosin for being the foundation of this journey, even though he did it all
in the background, and most likely unknowingly. But then, the best ones
usually do.
Nothing could have gotten done without the love and support of
my heart-companion, who stood by me through all the various struggles
of what this kind of work entails, even as he struggled to understand
what it all means. Dorian Nappo is truly an amazing man, and I am truly
blessed to be a part of his life.
To Ravenari, for the superb awesomeness of the cover, and for
her indirect contributions to my Work through her discussions on and
examples of her own spiritwork and divine relationships, I can give
nothing but effusive thanks that don't nearly do justice to the person she
is, and the help she's been.
And last, but most certainly not least, there are the People behind
this whole thing, those Who called me and set me on this long,
sometimes dark, always interesting path. To the Vanir, all of my love,
and I pray daily that I may live up to the tasks You have called me for.
And to Nerthus, Mother and Mistress – this is all Your fault. I
hope You're happy with the result.
2
3
Table of Contents
Introduction 5
-Holy Lady of the Vanir 7
-Earth's Embrace 9
-Would You Know More? 10
Boar: Lady of Valor 13

-Njörun: Lady of Valor 15
-The Battlehorns of Dawn 18
-Njörun 19
-Warrior Ritual 20
-Valor 24
-Memorial Day Sumble 26
-The Boar Sacrifice: as told by Nerthus 30
-Njörun Speaks 34
Birch: Lady of Fertility and Renewal 37

-Hertha: Lady of Fertility and Renewal 39
-A Prayer, on a Cold Morning in Spring 43
-Charming of the Plow 45
-Motherhood 49
-Earth Day, or What the Fuck Is This? 51
-Eldest: as told by Nerthus by Svartesól 53
-May Day 56
-Hertha Speaks 59
Bog: Lady of Holiness and Sacrifice 61

-Nerthus: Lady of Holiness and Sacrifice 63
-Sacrifice 65
-Knowing Me 67
-Midsummer, by Svartesól 68
-A Mother's Prayer 73
-A Mother's Grief 74
-Lammas 76
4
-What Became on Lammastide: as told by Nerthus 77

-Midwinter Kingship Ritual 82
-On Dying 89
-Nerthus Speaks 91
Epilogue: The Days Gone Down in the West 93

5
Introduction
6
7
Holy Lady of the Vanir
Nerthus is a Goddess Who is rarely talked about in any detailed

manner. Most Heathens who know of Her simply view Her as either the
relative of more important Gods, or as a simple Earth Mother Who can
be appeased at Earth Day, and forgotten about the rest of the time. Few
take the time to really think about Who and What She is in Herself, let
alone form deep and lasting relationships with Her. Among non-
Heathens, She is even less-considered; the majority of non-Heathen
pagans don't even know of Her existence, though they may know and
honor Her family – usually Frey and/or Freya.
The purpose of this book is two-fold – first, to bring knowledge
of Herself into the wider world, and second, to break Her image free
from the limiting stereotypes She currently suffers under. As such, this
book includes sections on two lesser-known aspects of Nerthus, each
with a corresponding heiti, or by-name. The heiti of Odin are well-
known, but other Gods have them too (c.f. Freya's heiti Mardöll, Sýr,
Gefn/Géofon/Gefjon, Hörn, Valfreyja and Vanadís).
The first section is Njörun, the Lady of Valor, Whose battle-
standard is the boar, and to Whom, in my UPG1, warriors dedicated their
lives to in return for valor and strength, a great boar-sacrifice called bár-
lac2. The second is Hertha, the Lady of Fertility, Purification and
Renewal; She is the Earth Mother, and the Birch Goddess, and is also
called Erce and Jörð3. The third is Tacitus' Nerthus, the Mother Goddess
1 UPG, or Unverifiable Personal Gnosis is information about an aspect of

spirituality/spirits that cannot be found in or verified by available academic/literary
evidence, but which has spiritual significance for the holder. Much of modern neo-
paganism and Heathenry depends on various degrees of UPG due to the lack of extant
texts and information from primary or secondary sources. All of the stories in this
book, while based on the lore, are by nature UPG.
2 The Old English word lác has several meanings, all of which are impressively relevant
to the concept I am discussing: play, sport; strife, battle; sacrifice, offering; gift, present;
booty. As can be seen, all of these terms can be used to describe warriors in battle, in
various ways.
3 The conflation of Nerthus with Jörð is a controversial one, as it was previously
proposed by Viktor Rydberg, whose theories on Norse mythology have long been
viewed as fallacies at best by serious scholars; however, I will attempt to show why I
believe this one bit may, in fact, be true, beyond the matter of Her telling me so, in the
8
Who is the personification and essence of wíh, that is sacred holiness –

the holiness of taboo, of inviolable places, the holiness that demands the
life of everyone who seeks to know it further in exchange for that know-
ledge.
I have called this book Boar, Birch and Bog in recognition of these
three Faces of Nerthus, and offer it up as a gift to Herself. The subtitle,
Prayers for Nerthus, I feel is appropriate even though this is more than
just a book of specific prayers: for Her, and for those who serve Her, all
things constitute prayer – a prayer that with everything we do, we may
come closer to the knowledge of Her, and that we may embrace willingly
the fate that is laid out for us in order to catch a glimpse of Her face and
the secrets She has to impart. Such is the appeal of the sacred holiness,
that we ourselves seek to be halig (seeing and living the sacred in
everyday life) that we may approach unto wíh more completely.
Hertha chapter.
9
Earth's Embrace
Earth's embrace | envelops everyone

that seeks solace | surrendering softly
to warm wishes | in winter's woe.
So sadly sends | several seasons
of hopeful heroes, | happily honoring
mother of magic | and mægen-maker,
to outlawed oblivions | and obsequiousness.
Hail holy hag | in hallowed harrows
Bless and bring us | bountiful beauty
of fish and fowl | filling with fullness
the bowls and boards | of boar-battled breasts.
Sea-sister and seer, | send us sustenance
so we will work | and worth your wíh.
10
Would You Know More?
I see you come before me,

trembling in fear and awe.
Do you seek to know me?
To know me is Death.
Would you know more, or what?
I am the daughter of night,

the child of the dreaming.
My mother is darkness,
my father is abundance:
would you know more, or what?
I am sister to the sea,

the ships that sail the fishes' bath
and the trading of goods in safe harbor;
my brother keeps the tides:
I am kin to Courage,
sisters we two, in the heat of battle.
Men call on us to aid them in distress
by the sign of the tusked boar:
I am mother of Battle-queen and Good-life,

Beauty-beloved and Fullness;
when the lightning of swift ecstasy struck me,
then was thunder born:
I was fostered to the Hag,

Spinner of flax and spell,
hedgewitch in the dark woods;
there I learned magic:
11
I am the sacrificer
of men and of gods
blood given, blood taken, blood
all at my own hands:
I am the queen of the lake,

the island where no man may live
unless he first die to me.
I rule supreme over the marshes:
I have no kin, no kindred:

they were snatched from me
by the grasping fingers of the blind one;
I live alone in my halls:
I am the rider in the night,

the squeaking of the wagon wheels
that call all to joy or sorrow
with the times of the year:
I am cousin to the Winter,

the storm-hags of the mountain,
who keep Spring captive
until the coming of the Golden Swan-lord:
Cousin too am I
to the Great Wheel
that spins about the ages of the world
in her silver palaces:
12
I am called by many names:

Earth, and Mother, and Sacred Queen,
Hero-maker, and Happiness, and Holiness,
All these I am, and yet not all:
I am Life.
I am Death.
I am Holy.
I am Forbidden.
Would you know more,
or what?
13
Boar
Lady of Valor
14
15
Njörun: Lady of Valor
Nú skal Ásynjur [Now are called the Ásynjur (Goddesses)

allar nefna: by these names:]4
Frigg ok Freyja Frigga and Freyja
Fulla ok Snotra Fulla and Snotra
Gerðr ok Gefjun Gerða and Gefjon
Gná Lofn Skaði Gná, Lofn, Skaði
Jörð ok Iðunn Jörð and Iðunna
Ilmr Bil Njörun5. Ilm, Bil, Njörun
Skáldskaparmál, 433
After the Langobardi come the Reudigni, Auiones, Angli, Varni, Eudoses, Suarines
and Nuithones, all well guarded by rivers and forests. There is nothing remarkable
about any of these tribes unless it be the common worship of Nerthus, that is Earth
Mother. They believe she is interested in men's affairs and drives among them.
On an island in the ocean sea there is a sacred grove wherein waits a holy wagon
covered by a drape. One priest only is allowed to touch it. He can feel the presence
of the goddess when she is there in her sanctuary and accompanies her with great
reverence as she is pulled along by kine.
It is a time of festive holiday making in whatever place she decides to honour with
her advent and stay. No one goes to war, no one takes up arms, in fact every
weapon is put away, only at that time are peace and quiet known and prized until
the goddess, having had enough of peoples company, is at last restored by the
same priest to her temple. After which the wagon and the drape, and if you like to
believe me, the deity herself is bathed in a mysterious pool.
The rite is performed by slaves who, as soon as it is done, are drowned in the lake.
In this way mystery begets dread and a pious ignorance concerning what that sight
may be which only those who are about to die are allowed to see.
Germania, 40
Upon the right of the Suevian Sea the Aestyan nations reside, who use the same
customs and attire with the Suevians; their language more resembles that of
Britain. They worship the Mother of the Gods. As the characteristic of their national
superstition, they wear the images of wild boars. This alone serves them for arms,
this is the safeguard of all, and by this every worshipper of the Goddess is secured
4 Not being a reader of Old Norse, and not having Faulkes' translation to hand, I took an
educated guess as to the first two lines. The stanza, being part of the Þúlr, does not
appear in most translations of the Edda.
5 The original text reads “Jǫrð” and “Njǫrun”here. The Old Norse ogonek transferred
into Modern Norse and Icelandic as the o-umlaut /ö/.
16
even amidst his foes. Rare amongst them is the use of weapons of iron, but frequent
that of clubs.
6
Germania, 45 :
Nothing more is said of this goddess, save that Her name is

variously used as a kenning for “woman” in the Poetic Edda and several
other poems.
There is a fairly obvious probably connection to Njörð through
the common “Njör-” stem. In fact, this may very well be Nerthus' actual
name, as the name Nerthus as given by Tacitus in Germania has a
masculine ending, very unlikely for a goddess. It has been proposed that
Tacitus' reference to Nerthus was, in fact, referencing Njord as He was
known in Germany, and his account can be taken several ways. The
traditional view is that Nerthus is the name of the Earth Mother (Terra
Mater) as described by Tacitus. However, that still does not explain either
the masculine ending nor the transmutation from Nerþus to Njörðr in the
Norse and Icelandic sources.
If, however, Tacitus was mistaken in his identification, and
attributed the God's name to the Goddess, then the case for Njörun's
identification becomes a compelling one:
•The common Njör- stem fits the naming conventions seen

elsewhere among the Vanir (Frey/Freyja, Ullr/Ullin7,
Njörð/Jörð8).
•The -un (-n) ending is common among the names of the
Ásynjur – c.f. Gefn/Gefjun (also Gefjon), Lofn, Sjöfn, Iðunn
(with a doubling of the final consonant), Sigyn and Syn9.
•There is a possible connection with the Etruscan/Latin
goddess Nerio, Who was the personification of valor. If so, it
would line up with the other references to the Vanir being
able warriors (though non-aggressive).
6 North, Richard. Heathen gods in Old English literature. Cambridge University Press, 1997,
pp. 20-22 used here and elsewhere in the book.
7 The name *Ullin is proposed, but is not attested.
8 Many scholars believe that Njörð and Jörð are not related etymologically, due to the
uncommon Nj- stem in Njörð. I include them here to continue the pattern.
9 Phonetically, the letter /y/ is related to the letter /u/.
17
Taking the last point further, there is an attested battle-formation

that is related to one of the major Vanic symbols, the boar. The
Svinfylking, or Swine Array, was an infantry wedge formation used by
both the Roman Era Germanic tribes and the Vikings. There is also the
account from Tacitus above regarding the “Mother of the Gods” Whose
battle-standard was a boar. Notable, too, is the mention that iron
weapons were rare among those tribes – the Vanir, though present in the
Iron Ages, were held in greater esteem in the Stone, Copper and Bronze
Ages.
It is my belief that Njörun is the original name of Nerthus, and is
one of the three major “faces” of the Goddess, each one relating to a
Vanic theme – valor and protection, fertility and renewal, and sacrifice
and death. For reasons of common understanding, however, I will use
Nerthus elsewhere in this book.
18
The Battlehorns of Dawn
The battlehorns at dawn

ring out across the fjords
calling the boars to battle
battle-swine of valor
proud men of courage
seeking forth Sigyn's glory.
The battlehorns in the dawn-light

call the warrior-band to fight
leaving their hearth and heath
for far-off lands to reap Sif's hair
and the glory of battle strong;
hear the clash and brash of war.
The battlehorns of dawn

sounding to the heaven
all men go forth
as the the bárlác,
sacrificial battle-boars of Njörun
of Whom they ask valor in return.
Oh, grant us valor,

Queen of Battle,
You Who are the thing
worth fighting for
that we may stand fast
in the honor of Your name.
In this mechanical day

of modern war,
remind us of the use
of valor, properly wielded
in the hands of a true warrior,
that we may be boars for You.
19
Njörun
Behold, the lady rich, with figure strong,

who sends the battle-boars to war again
embolden'd by their sacrifice of song
and blood giv'n freely for the fight to win
Fight! Courage with breath

over their weapons the spell
is cast. Do battle!
Sacrifice for glory and valor!
Empow'r'd thus by spell and song they go

to make a name for them, for her as well
that all may learn of whom they worship, and
behold the lady rich, with figure strong
20
Warrior Ritual
The making of a warrior was a major rite of passage among the

ancient peoples of Europe, up through the medieval era (consider the
vigil and rite of knighthood). It was the defining moment in many
cultures that signified the transition from boy to man.
Today, with the concepts of voluntary service and a standing
army, many young men and women join the military without ever
undergoing a spiritually significant passage – the modern military
purposefully beats down the humanity of its candidates to allow them to
function as a machine, and there is little to no religious or spiritual
component to service, especially for Heathens and other minority
religions.
The following ritual is intended to offer that rite of passage for
Heathens intending to join the service, or for those already in it who
wish for something more fulfilling on a spiritual level. It is ideally done
with the person's family and local community, but may be done alone or
with a small group of like-minded friends.
Preparation:
– There will need to be an image of Nerthus that can stand on its

own or be propped up for lengthy periods of time.
– There will also need to be a weapon, whether that is a modern

firearm or a more traditional weapon; the type of weapon should
be chosen by the person undergoing the ritual according to their
personal significances.
– If the ritual is not done with the person's family, there will need to
be a person willing to act in their place. Either way, the person
acting in the role should be of the same gender as the warrior.
– The person undergoing the ritual should spend several days in

communion with Nerthus, reflecting on the role they are about
21
to take up and preparing themselves for it. The priest should

also spend the several days before the ritual communing with
Nerthus, charging the image as necessary so that it may embody
Her presence when the time comes.
– The priest should be an oathed dedicant of Nerthus or priest of

another Vanir deity with oaths to serve the Vanir at large. In
keeping with Vanic mysteries concerning sex and gender, it is
preferable for the priest to be male, but with a willingness to
wear “womanly” garb.
– The priest should inform those attending to bring food for a pot-
luck; the priest can also bring some things, such as mead, a
drinking horn, and some food such as breads or salads.
– The priest will also need to make or procure a strawman, and have
a bag of diabetic stickers, alcohol pads and latex gloves, because
the ceremony will require a ritual shedding of blood. They will
also need an oath ring for the warrior to swear on. Appropriate
items include torcs (especially those with boar caps) and metal
or wooden rings
Ritual Outline:
1. The priest will bless the weapon and consecrate it for the ritual
the day before. The person undergoing the ritual will spend the
night in vigil in front of the image of Nerthus, praying and
listening for any messages She may have.
2. After the vigil, the warrior will undergo a purifying bath, which
should include some form of birch or juniper essence. For those
who are more comfortable with nudity, a ceremony of striking
the warrior with evergreen or birch twigs to and from the bath
may be conducted. For a more modest cleansing, essential oils or
incense may be used as an anointing by the warrior.
22
3. The warrior will then dress in the appropriate clothing of their

branch of service – if they have a dress uniform, this should be
used – considering each article of clothing as a piece of armor
that is being donned.
4. When the warrior is fully prepared, the priest will lead the people
to the ritual space, where they will form a semicircle facing the
altar. The priest will declare this a holy frithstead in
Nerthus/Njörun's name, and that all unconsecrated weapons
(including cell phones) must be left outside of the circle.
5. The priest will place the image of Nerthus on the altar and sound
for the ritual to begin. If possible, this should be with a trumpet
or similar martial instrument; if not, a bell or chime is sufficient.
The priest will then call forth the family member or substitute
and hand them the consecrated weapon.
6. At the sound of the ritual's beginning, the warrior will enter the
circle and kneel in front of the altar. The priest will speak of the
nature of warriorship, and of the things required of a warrior by
Nerthus/Njörun.
7. The priest will then load a horn and pass it around the circle, each
person speaking of what being a warrior means to them. When
the horn has gone around, the family member will take the horn
and speak of the qualities they wish upon the warrior.
8. When the family member has finished speaking, the priest will
take the horn and give it to the warrior to drink, taking in all the
things that the people have said. The remainder of the drink will
be poured in a blessing bowl and offered to Nerthus.
9. At this time, the priest will raise the warrior to a standing

position, and have them take the oath of the warrior: To defend
with life and limb their kin and land; to give their all in that
defense, neither shirking nor faltering; to not seek violence as an
answer, but only as a last necessity; to pledge their lives and
23
service to Nerthus; and to always consider and defend the weak,

the small and the innocent.
10.As a symbol of the oath, the warrior will hold out their hands
while the priest pricks the middle fingers of both hands and
drips the warrior's blood on the strawman in recognition of the
their dedication to Nerthus.
11.When the oath has been given and received, the family member
will step forward and give the warrior their weapon, speaking of
the importance of having a good relationship with one's
weapons. If the weapon has a name, this should be spoken now.
If not, the warrior should give it a name as they accept it for their
use.
12.The priest will then take the blessing bowl and anoint the warrior
with the mead, speaking the blessing of Nerthus upon them. The
priest should be open to the move of Nerthus for prophecy or a
specific blessing.
13.After the blessing, there should be a communal feast, with the

first portion going to Nerthus and the second to the warrior. The
people should acclaim the warrior in whatever way they deem
appropriate. Toasts in the warrior's name are appropriate.
14.After the feast, the warrior will take their weapon and the
strawman for their personal altar. The rite is over, and people
may leave as they desire.
Solitary Adaptation:
The warrior may act in all roles themselves. They should

make up a list of qualities to be read during the community horn, but
otherwise may adapt as needed. In lieu of the oath ring, the warrior
should pledge on the image of Nerthus, and call as witnesses the
Gods, ancestors and wights.
24
Valor
“I am small
and scared.
What can I do,
against so many?”
said the child,
bullied in school.
His father smiled down
and said:
You are small, but not weak;

unsure, but not unable.
Look in yourself for the answer you seek:
strength stronger than an iron cable.
“I am poor,
without warm home
or warm family.
What can I do,
against the cold
of harsh reality?”
said the woman,
living on the street.
A stranger smiled down
and said:
You are poor, but not impoverished;

alone, but not isolated.
warmth warmer than any hearth.
“I am weak,
and my body
fights daily for life.
What can I do,
25
against the inexorable

approach of death?”
said the patient,
dying of cancer.
The doctor smiled down
and said:
You are weak, but not finished;

damaged, but not broken.
victory and vigor more than you ever knew.
“I am oppressed,
downtrodden
at every turn
by those in authority.
What can I do
against such power?”
said the slave
dwelling in bondage.
Njorun smiled down,
and said:
You are oppressed, but not overcome;

downtrodden, but not defeated.
power greater than any mortal.
For this do I give,

to the small,
the poor,
the weak,
the oppressed:
that changer of fate,
that turner of battles,
My gift is Valor.
26
Memorial Day Sumble10
Ancestor and hero reverence is a big facet of most Heathens'

lives, and moreso when those figures are a part of the oft-vaunted
“warrior” paradigm. Likewise, in the United States, Memorial Day is the
major Day of Remembrance as regards those who have gone before,
particularly those who have risked and even given their lives for our
continued safety and peace.
The ancient Heathens would honor their ancestors, particularly
those who had died in battle; so, too, modern Heathens should
remember those who have died protecting our lands. The sumble was
the highest and holiest form of Anglo-Saxon ritual, and much of the
purpose involves remembering that which has gone before, whether
Gods, heroes or personal accomplishments.
The format of this ritual is going to be notably different from
those elsewhere in this book, due to the nature of sumble. It is to be
noted that sumble is very much a life-affecting ritual, with strong
influences on one's wyrd, and should not be undertaken lightly or with
people of questionable character involved.
This ritual is modeled after the sumble formats on the website of
Normanii Théod, a Theodish kingdom in the northeastern US.11
Preparation:
– There is a cast of “players” in this ritual: the Dryhten, or Lord (this

will either be the owner of the house where the ritual is
performed, or the leader of the group that is performing the
sumble. If no such leader exists, one will be chosen by
acclimation. The Dryhten should be of sound character, and
highly respected by the group and at large); the Thyle, or Wise
Man (this role should be played by the most senior member of
the group); the Scop, or bard (if the group has a recognized bard,
skald or scop, this role goes to them. If not, the Thyle or a priest
10 Due to the nature of sumble, there is unfortunately no way to adapt this ritual for
solitaries.
11 http://www.normannii.org
27
may undertake this role); and the Byrele or Ale Maiden (a

woman closely connected with the Dryhten, or in the nature of
Vanic mysteries, a man willing and able to play a woman's role
who is also close kin to the Dryhten). There will also need to be a
herald of sorts to set up the sumble; this may be played by the
priest.
– The rite must be done indoors, under a roof.
– There needs to be a bowl and ladle, which will be used to hold

and pour the drink into the horn.
– There is no direct connection to Nerthus required in this ritual, so

the people partaking in the sacred roles need not to be devotees,
though it is preferable, and they should have a good relationship
with at least one of the major Vanir or Nehelennia/Ellen (Ellen is
the Old English word for courage and bravery, and may be a
cognate of Nehelennia, thus making Her the personification of
Courage, as Njörun is the personification of Valor).
Ritual Outline:
1. Call to Sumble – a horn or chime is sounded three times, and the

herald calls the assembled folk to the sumble.
2. The Water-Washing – the lady of the house, or equivalent, and

attendants wash the hands of all the people assembled with
water, asking Nerthus to bless the water and cleanse those being
washed. The folk are then seated, with the Dryhten, Scop and
Thyle on a raised platform (if no such platform is obtainable,
these three may sit on chairs while the rest of the folk are on
cushions or low couches) and the rest of the folk arranging
themselves around them in whatever way is proper.
3. Hallowing of the Hall – The Dryhten, Scop or priest hallows the

place in which the people are assembled, in a suitable ritual, and
28
then speaks to set the tone of the sumble
4. Drinks to the Deities of Rulership – The Dryhten leads the folk in a

draught and libation to Nerthus, Nehelennia and Freya as the
Ladies of Sovereignty, and to Njord, Thor and Frey as the Lords
of Wise Ruling. When this is finished, the Byrele should pour the
contents into the bowl and then spoon three ladlefuls back into
the horn.
5. The First Speaking – The Dryhten will give a boast in honor of the
Gods and wights relevant to the proceedings, and then take a
drink. The remaining drink is poured back into the bowl, and
three more spoonfuls are poured into the horn.
6. Sumble: First Round – The first round of Sumble is always to the

Gods and Goddesses. In this particular ritual, the Deities in
question are those associated with defense and protection –
Nerthus/Njorun, Njord, Freya, Frey, Nehelennia and Thor. The
round starts with the Dryhten, and the horn is then born around
by the Bylere with each person speaking or remaining silent as
befits the occasion. Once the horn has gone around, the contents
are poured into the bowl, and three spoonfuls are put back in the
horn
7. Sumble: Second Round – The second round is for the heroes and
ancestors. This is the time to call up the memories of those who
have died to protect the lives and freedoms of the assembled
folk, particularly those within someone's family. Cultural
ancestors and heroes, such as Washington, Susan B. Anthony, or
Martin Luther King, Jr. may also be appropriate. The same
format is followed as the first round.
8. Sumble: Third Round – The third round is for those present. Boasts/
oaths, yelps (recountings of past accomplishments) and other
things in keeping with the theme of the rite are offered now. This
is where the Thyle comes in. The Thyle is responsible for
challenging any boasts that they feel may not be able to be
29
upheld by the boaster. If such a challenge is issued, the boaster

must account for the challenge; the boast is then accepted or
rejected by the ruling of the Dryhten.
9. Sumble: Extra Rounds – The rounds may continue in the vein of the
third round as long as the participants wish.
10.Endspeaking – After the rounds have wound down, the Dryhten

calls the sumble to an end. The participants then process outside,
led by the Bylere and her attendants.
11.Earthing – The contents of the horn and bowl are emptied at an

appropriate altar or grove, with words of thanks and friendship
to the Gods and wights.
30
The Boar Sacrifice

As told by Nerthus
Many have heard of the games that my daughter and the hooded one
play with the souls of men; many, too, of the woesome weavings of the Death-
Carriers at their looms made of human remains. But none now know the old
tales, of my days of glory and battle, when the men would swear themselves to
me, those brave boars in battle. Then, truly, was I loved by men and women, and
called upon in the great hours of need.
Valor, they called unto me, twisting the syllables of my name in their
crude tongue – Neorun, Nerun, Northrun. By many names and many cries did
they come to know me. There was a time when I lived fiercely joyous among
throngs of warriors; now my halls are silent, and the choice of the battles go to
other halls.
I tell you now, the tale that the scops remember not, of when the Gods
and Elves went to war for the attainment of the world. It is a dark tale, from the
depths of time, before the coming of the blind one and his seed. Listen you well,
and you will learn how these things came to be:
The chariot of Sun rolled for the last time across the sky, marking
the end of my childhood. On the morrow, I would be initiated into the
Mysteries of my People, the women's craft and power. I had been
deemed sufficiently fertile by my aunt, Sif the prophetess, for the yearly
ritual, when I would lay with one of the men-priests and continue the
rites of fertility that bound our land and ensured its bounty. I saw Sunna
smile down at me, with a knowing glance behind her at the figure who
followed on her heels; I turned and looked at my mother, who had left
me with Frodi my father at my birth – Nott, the dark and glorious night.
I gazed up at her wistfully, wishing that it were she who would be
leading me through tomorrow; that honor had gone to my grandmother
Holda, since the Mysteries were closed to anyone not of Vanir blood, the
blood of Herne the Old.
Sighing, I turned towards home, ready to settle down into my
last night as a girl, not entirely sure if I was prepared to become a
woman. Certainly, my training had been thorough, but there was enough
that I had glimpsed to know that I had barely begun in my learning. The
31
women of our people were powerful witches and seers, and I was to join
the line of my foremothers as Queen someday, when Frodi stepped
down.
As I approached home, I spotted my cousin, who was also to be
initiated tomorrow. I waved as I drew close, and she motioned for me to
duck inside one of the outbuildings with her.
“Are you nervous?” she whispered frantically. “I can barely
contain myself from excitement. It's like my head will pop off, and then
they'll have to enchant it.”
“Don't say such things, silly,” I whispered back. “I saw my
mother again today; she looked sad. I wish she could -”
Our aunt stepped briskly into the doorway, interrupting me.
Standing with her hands on her hips, long golden hair in a braid over
one shoulder, she looked us over. “Are you two ready for the vigil?
Looks like not. Your hair isn't even braided yet,” she scolded.
Embarrassed, we scuttled out, her voice following us all the way
to the great hall. “Remember, you are to be present at my hall at the first
sight of Moon's horses. Lateness will be punished!”
The huge golden doors swung open silently as we slipped into
the hall. Inside, the air was smoky with preparations for the feast
tomorrow after our ordeal. Torches flickered on all the pillars, and my
father's thanes milled about the fire pit, drinking mead and playing dice.
“Ho! There are the two birds,” Frodi shouted as he spotted us.
“Best be getting ready, child; I'll not have my sister after me on your
account. She does that enough without your help,” he said with a
chuckle.
“Ho! Menja!” he called to one of his giantess serving-women.
“Take these girls to their chambers, and draw baths.”
A few hours later, freshly scrubbed and fidgeting nervously, we
awaited our turn in the dark doorway of Sif's hall; the gloom deepened
around us, and the first light rose over the eastern forest before the voice
came.
“Hail, Moon, bright joy to us!” called my grandmother from the
darkness, a chorus of women echoing around her strong alto as they
began the Moonchant. Suddenly, Aunt Sif was behind us, guiding us into
the unlit hall with a firm hand.
The notes of the Moonchant echoed strangely against the vaulted
32
timbers, as I had only heard it in the open air. The effect was unnerving,
adding to my sense of apprehension. What could this ceremony be, that
required no light, and utmost secrecy?
When Moon had shaken free of the horizon, and risen
triumphantly into the sky, the ceremony began. What could I now tell of
what happened that night? I know now that it was not secrecy that held
women's tongues; nay, it is too overwhelming to even speak of. But I was
blooded, and Named Njerun, and bound to my cousin Njelen as heart-
sister that night – Valor and Courage, we were Named, at the insistence
of my aunt, the most powerful Seer of our people.
There came a day, a long time afterwards, after my brother was

born, that our people encountered them – the light ones, shining ones,
weaker than us in vigor and form but strong in magic and enchantment.
They came from the stars, they said, from the worlds beyond ours,
beyond the Tree, and spoke of strange creatures, and an odd dwelling
place – a city, they called it, all made of silver and white – and the terror
and death that had driven them from thence. We welcomed them among
us, and there was much fellowship between us, and much sharing of
knowledge. Much council and many messengers now passed between
our people and the strangers, who had formed a world of magic and
illusion in another part of the Great Tree.
It was one of these messengers that first brought the terrible
news. The giants were on the war march. It had been long since our
people and theirs had clashed, and many of the giants were friends to us,
but the intrusion of the Elfar (or so they viewed it) had incited some of
the more belligerent and irascible giants into a frenzy. They were
ravaging the world of men, and seemed headed towards ours
My father gravely listened to the news, and the wise men
huddled in council all day; the next morning, the spear went out to the
tribes of our people, calling all to war. And so they gathered – the Snake,
the Falcon, the Bear, the Salmon, the Eagle, the Cat, the Wolf... and ours,
the Boar, royal king of the forest, royal line of the People.
My aunt called me to her the night before the warriors marched
out. “You will go with them, child. I have seen it in your threads.” I
looked at her, shocked. “But, Aunt, I am barely fifteen; no warrior I. I
33
have not been trained in weapons yet.”

“This I know, child. But go you shall, for I will not be gainsaid.
And you have other skills; they will need healing, after all.”
In the morning, when the news had spread, I caught my father's
eyes, grave and gray. Sif held my baby brother up for him to kiss one last
time, and we headed out. I held one of the great battle standards with
their delicately woven golden boars, at the front, next to Frodi, with
Njelen holding the other one on his left side, a pleasant surprise but
which had the Sibyl's touch all over it.
It is still hard for me to describe exactly what happened on that

great battlefield. The giants were strong, but our mixed throng, elves and
Vanes, held them off for ten days, with much carnage on both sides.
It was on the eleventh day that the tide broke. I do not know
how it began, but the giants were gaining the upper hand; the elves fell
back along the flanks, and our tribe was cut off from the others.
Surrounded and facing almost certain death, we searched for an opening
in the ranks of the enemy, but found none. Suddenly, an stray stone hit
the king in the neck, and knocked him off his horse; the warriors saw it
and faltered, and the giants strode in, wreaking havoc. I had no choice;
later, I realised that the cold hands of the Sisters had laid hold of my
cousin and me, and were directing our threads that day. I lifted up the
standard, and hurled it with all my might into the eye of the nearest
giant; Njelen used hers as a lance, and plowed into the fray. Seeing us,
the elves raised up the war-chant, and charged, while our people
renewed their attack, and met us in the middle. That day, the giants were
bested, and the world of men saved.
When we returned to the home of our people, my aunt Sif met us
at the gates. When she saw Njelen and me, she called out: “Hail to the
Golden Boar and to the Bronze Sow! Hail to the granters of victory in
battle! Long may you guide the steps of the warriors that call upon you.”
And so, when men went to battle, they sacrificed a boar and a
sow, and pledged their lives to us, and were called the boar-men, and
wore upon their helmets our symbol, and were gathered unto our hall at
their death, the greatest boar-sacrifice of all.
34
Njörun Speaks
So. You think yourself a warrior. You think that just because you
wave around a stick and scream, because you drink yourself into
oblivion, that you are worthy of the men who went a-viking long ago. I
tell you now, you are no warrior.
Look to the hills if you desire to seek the truth of battle. Look to
the skies, that great war between dry and wet, between air and water and
fire. Look to the small creatures who fight every day for the next breath
against odds that are against them. They are warriors.
I can teach you of battle. I can teach you of that moment when it
all hangs upon a spider's thread, and all seems lost. But I cannot teach
you what you think you want, for I do not deal with honorless men, nor
dishonest women. First, you must understand what My gift means,
before any progress may be achieved.
What is valor, you ask? I shall tell.
Valor is the knowing and reading of doom. Valor is the wise man
who sees the weaves, and does his best regardless. Valor is compassion
toward the weaker, honor toward the stronger, justice toward the enemy
and judgment toward the friend. Valor is not learned; it is discovered
when all else is lost. But it must have a foundation, a garden of fore-
earned virtue to bloom in, or it will wither away into the dust.
The coward is not honorable, that much is known. But neither is
the brave fool. Neither can find valor, for neither have the depths in
which to search for its lair. Courage and valor are not weapons to be
waved about; the wise man, the stalwart hero, these know the true
meaning of valor – that it is a force beyond reckoning, beyond control,
beyond biddance. Only a fool vaunts courage; only the wise think
themselves not brave.
My gift is given to the weak; to receive it is to lose control. My
gift is given to the unhinged; to receive it is to taste madness. Would you
still seek Me if you truly understood the price?
Seek you still to be a warrior? Then learn:
Look to the small things. My followers were farmers,
husbandmen, husbands and wives, slaves and children. I scorn the
trappings of the rich, the statused, the vaunted. Come to me, and learn
35
the nobility and valor of the poor, the weak, the mad. Lose yourself, and
you may find Me.
Listen to wisdom. The wise have encountered Me. So too have
the children who face the dark night, the women who face the death of a
child, the father who buries his son or wife or friend. Anywhere the
stakes are high and victory slim, there you will find Me. Learn from
these folk, and teach well the things you find.
Forget the glory of battle. The valorous know that there is not
glory in war for war's sake. Glory and worth come from fighting in
defense of those who cannot defend themselves, of protecting the weak,
the loved, the land. Valor does not come to the belligerent, but to those
for whom battle is just.
Learn the true meanings of justice, mercy, wisdom, and honor.
When you have, and found that you are not just, merciless, a fool, and a
niðthing, come to Me. For no human can truly touch these things alone,
but fumble in the darkness, playing with shadows on the wall.
I am Strength. I am Honor. I am Justice. I am Wisdom. I am Life
and Death, and I am the Decider of Fates, the Giver of Valor in the battles
that do not count yet count too much.
Would you still be a warrior, like the boars of old? Be wise, be
courteous, be compassionate, be fervent in the defense of others, be
steadfast and trustworthy.. There, you will find valor.
36
37
Birch
Lady of Fertility
and renewal
38
39
Hertha: Lady of Fertility and Renewal
In the part of the Island of Rügen named Jasmund, not far from Stubbenkammer,
one can still see remnants--especially the outer wall--of Hertha Castle, which has
stood there for many centuries, ever since the days of heathenism. In this castle the
heathens of Rügen worshipped an idol that they called Hertha, whom they
perceived to be Mother Earth.
Not far from Hertha Castle there is a deep, black lake, surrounded by woods and
hills. The goddess bathed there several times each year. She rode there in a carriage
covered with a mysterious veil and drawn by two cows. Only her consecrated
priest was allowed to accompany her. Slaves were also brought along to lead the
draft animals, but they were drowned in the lake immediately upon completing
their task, because any unconsecrated person who caught sight of the goddess
would have to die. For this reason nothing more is known about the worship of this
goddess.
There are all kinds of stories about uncanny happenings near this lake. Some
believe that these are caused by the devil, who, in the form of the goddess Hertha,
was worshipped by the heathens and who therefore still lays claim to the lake.
Others believe that these happenings are caused by an ancient queen or princess
who had been banished to this place.
Especially when the moon is shining brightly, a beautiful woman is often seen
emerging from the woods adjacent to Hertha Castle. She proceeds to the lake,
where she bathes herself. She is surrounded by many female servants, who
accompany her into the water. Then they all disappear, but they can be heard
splashing about. After a while they all appear again, and they can be seen returning
to the woods dressed in long white veils.
It is very dangerous for a wanderer to observe this, for he will be drawn by force
into the lake where the white woman is bathing, and as soon as he touches the
water, he will be powerless; the water will swallow him up. They say that the
woman has to lure one human into the water every year.
No one is allowed to use boats or nets on this lake. Some time ago some people
dared to bring a boat to the lake. They left it afloat overnight, and when they
returned the next morning, it had disappeared. After a long search, they found it
atop a beech tree on the bank. It was spirits of the lake that had put it up there
during the night, for when the people were getting it back down, they heard a
spiteful voice calling to them from beneath the lake, saying: "My brother Nickel
and I did it!"
J.D.H. Temme, The Folktales of Pomerania and Rügen12
12 J. D. H. Temme, Die Volkssagen von Pommern und Rügen trans. D.L. Ashliman(Berlin, In
der Nicolaischen Buchhandlung, 1840), no. 38, pp. 65-66 used here and elsewhere in
40
When all that is done, then let a man take unknown seed from beggars and give
them twice as much as he took from them, and let him gather all his plough tools
together; then let him bore a hole in the beam [of the plough, putting in] incense
and fennel and hallowed soap and hallowed salt. Take then that seed, set it on the
plough's body, say then:
Erce, Erce, Erce, earth's mother,

May the all-ruler grant you, the eternal lord,
fields growing and flourishing,
propagating and strengthening,
tall shafts, bright crops,
and broad barley crops,
and white wheat crops,
and all earth's crops.
May the eternal lord grant him,
and his holy ones, who are in heaven,
that his produce be guarded against any enemies whatsoever,
and that it be safe against any harm at all,
from poisons sown around the land.
Now I bid the Master, who shaped this world,
that there be no speaking-woman nor artful man
that can overturn these words thus spoken.
Then let a man drive forth the plough and the first furrow cuts, say then:
Whole may you be earth, mother of men!

May you be growing in God's embrace,
with food filled for the needs of men.
Æcerbot13
In Asgard is a place called Hlidskjalf, and when Odin seated himself there in the
high-seat, he saw over the whole world, and what every man was doing, and he
knew all things that he saw. His wife hight Frigg, and she was the daughter of
Fjorgvin, and from their offspring are descended the race that we call asas, who
inhabited Asgard the old and the realms that lie about it, and all that race are
known to be gods.
Jord (earth) was his daughter and his wife; with her he begat his first son, and that
this book.
13 ----. Æcerbot: field remedy ritual. MS Cotton Caligula, British Library A. VII, fol.
176a-178a trans. Karen Lousie Jolly, Popular Religion in Late Saxon England: Elf Charms
in Context Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), pp. 6-8
41
is Asa-Thor. To him was given force and strength, whereby he conquers all things
quick.
Norfe, or Narfe, hight a giant, who dwelt in Jotunheim. He had a daughter by

name Night. She was swarthy and dark like the race she belonged to. She was first
married to a man who hight Naglfare. Their son was Aud. Afterward she was
married to Annar. Jord hight their daughter.
Gylfaginning and Skáldskaparmál, The Prose Edda, Anderson trans.
Modern UPG/PCPG14 holds that Hertha/Nerthus is the sister

mentioned by Loki in Lokasenna, in the passage where He talks about the
Vanir marrying Their siblings. Her parentage is completely unknown,
though it is probable that Frodi is Her father, as He is also the father of
Njord. However, there is talk of Njord being half-giant in several places,
as the UPG there is that Frodi begat Him on the Jotuness Nott. I feel that
this may certainly be true, especially as the Nine Undines and Ran seem
to look quite favorably on Njord, which would be self-explanatory if He
were a “relative,” so to speak. Now, obviously, that proposition isn't in
the Eddas. But, if one thinks carefully, one recognises the quite probable
truth, and it would not be the first time that Snorri has confused things
(one look at the conflicting stories of Balder is enough proof of that)
Snorri says of Nott that She bore three children to three different
husbands: two sons – Aud, fathered by Naglfari, and Dægr, fathered by
Delling – and a daughter. This daughter’s name was Jörð (or possibly
Fjörgyn), and Her father was a figure by the name of Annar/Ónar.
Traditionally, this Annar/Ónar is linked with the dwarf of the same name
found in Völuspá. However, the meaning of Annar (“second, another”)
may be a kenning, as is often found in the Icelandic sources. If so,
perhaps Nott had “another” tryst with Frodi (Njord and Nerthus are
commonly portrayed as twins, but there is no reason They necessarily
were), or even that Frodi was just Her second lover. Certainly the names
are similar, though several scholars believe that the Nj- stem in Njord is
not etymologically similar to Jörð.
Another, more solid connection between Nott and Nerthus can
14 PCPG (Peer-Corroborated Personal Gnosis), also known as SPG or Shared Personal

Gnosis, is UPG that has been formulated by separate individuals in unrelated
situations. The identification of Nerthus as Njord's sister is one example of PCPG.
42
be found in the dwarves’ name for “night” that Alvíss tells Thórr in
Álvissmál – Draum-Njörun. The first part is obviously “dream,” but the
second part is where the possible connection lies. Snorri mentions a
goddess by that name (Who is clearly no mere Jotun, as the goddess in
question is in a list of Ásynjur), but tells nothing of Her. Scholarly
opinion links Her to the earth, and etymologically to Njord and Nerio
(an Etruscan/Roman goddess of valor and war). Using this knowledge,
and the experiences of Nerthus I have had, I believe the Njörun Snorri
mentions is Her, though he may not have known it, as can be found in
the previous section.
If Nerthus/Njörun is indeed Jörd, or at least that Jörd/Fjorgyn
Whom Odin sired Thor on, then that would explain several peculiarities
about Thor’s nature – namely, His sole association among the native Æsir
with farming and the prosperity of home and family (Vanic concerns), as
well as His Vanic wife Sif, the only one besides Frigga seemingly not
married to another Vane or a Jotun. Also, several references to Þórrsgoði
(”Thor’s priest”) appear in various sagas, an appellation that is only
elsewhere found attached to the Vanir.
Likewise, there is a particular enmity between Nerthus and Odin
that several people besides myself have encountered. If the above is
correct, there is small wonder of that animosity from Her – Odin is not
well-known for obtaining full consent from his mistresses in the lore
(UPG may sometimes say otherwise). Not to mention Snorri's statement
that Jörð is Frigga's “rival,” possibly alluding to a time when Hertha was
Odin's queen, or at least lover/wife, and the current animosity the result
of resentment from being scorned and supplanted by Frigga (Who may
very well be Her daughter, as Fjorgyn/n is the name given by Snorri of
Frigga's parents)
Erce, the figure from the Acerbot, may be a corruption of the
Germanic Hertha, or from the Anglo-Saxon Eorðe/Erða, the word for the
Earth (and cognate with Hertha, Njörð and Jörð), or the name may
simply be a title, addressing Mother Earth (Eorðan Modor can be “earth's
mother” or just Earth Mother)
43
A Prayer, on a Cold Morning in Spring
Wind whistles among the trees –

oak and ash and yew and birch,
elm and aspen, maple and pine –
I can hear each one's voice,
sweet as a bird, steady as a drum
pliant as the supple sapling,
all singing a song of praise to You
You Who holds them in Your hand;

like a child which has fallen down
and needs comforting,
they come to you for succor.
For long have they been afflicted
under the harsh hand of Man;
brothers and sisters torn away
now adorn the palaces of hubris.
You Who are the Earth,

You Who rules us all
Have mercy for our sins
against our kin, your children.
We have labored long in darkness;
open our eyes to the light of Truth
that we may rejoin the Dance
of Life into Death into Life again.
Holy Mother of the Gods,

and Holy in Yourself as well,
break us when we need breaking
that we may pour forth like seeds into the earth
Teach us the loving embrace of death,
that sacrifice is worthy of You,
that we cannot live apart from the world
because we are the world.
44
Lady of the Wain and Grove,

give us the words to say
when all around us destroy themselves
in the name of progress;
help us show them there is a better way,
a simpler way, though it is not easy,
and let us remember where our roots lie:
in the bosom of You.
45
Charming of the Plow
There is an Anglo-Saxon charm to encourage the fields to

flourish called the Æcerbot, or field remedy. The contents of the charm
are highly influenced by Christianity, but there are still traces of earlier
worship, mostly related to Earth as Mother and Goddess.
The Charming of the Plow (Plough) is an English folk custom,
much as the Morris Dances and Home Harvest. It is only an official feast
in Sweden, but traces can be found elsewhere in the Germanic world,
most notably in England as mentioned above. The English custom
generally involved bringing one's farm tools to the church for the priest
to bless, so that they might serve well in the year to come.
Modern Heathenry uses this festival as a dual occasion,
depending on the focus of the group. Many Asatru groups call this
festival Dísting, on which they celebrate the female ancestors called the
Dísir. Other groups follow the Anglo-Saxon model, and use this time for
the blessing of tools, mostly representative in this age where few farm
for a living – such things as a writer's pens or computer/keyboard, a
potter's wheel, etc. Some groups may do both.
This following ritual is intended as the latter, as well as a
celebration of Nerthus and Her bounty. It is based on the text of the
Æcerbot.
Preparation:

own or be safely propped up for lengthy periods of time. The
priest should also spend the several days before the ritual
communing with Nerthus, charging the image as necessary so
that it may embody Her presence when the time comes.
– There will need to be plenty of the following: incense (an earthy

scent is ideal), fennel seed or sprigs, hallowed soap (if home-
made, all the better) and hallowed salt. Each person taking part
in the ritual should give some of each to the priest, who will
46
prepare and bless the items.
– There will need to be a large bowl to hold the contents of the spell
(listed above) that the priest will anoint the tools with.

– The people participating in the ritual should bring an item, or

couple of items, related to the field of work that brings them the
majority of their income. These items should not be ones that
would be damaged by any ingredient of the spell (such as the
salt)
– If the ritual is taking place outside, and the group has permission
to dig up the earth, there should also be a plow or garden trowel
for steps 4-6.
Ritual Outline:
1. The priest will have spent the days previous charging the image
of Nerthus. The people should prepare their tools the day
before, setting them apart, preferably placing them on an altar.
2. On the day of the ritual, the people will assemble with their tools.
The priest will come with the image of Nerthus and declare the
place a holy frithstead in Nerthus' name. All weapons must be
left outside (including cell phones) unless they are being blessed.
47
3. If the ritual is taking place outside, continue on with the ritual

order. If it is inside, skip to step 6. A modified version of steps
4-5 may be done instead if the group so wishes, changing things
as needed.
4. The priest will step forward and speak of the fertility of the Earth,
and the necessity of bringing that fruitfulness into people's lives.
The priest will then take the ritual mixture and anoint the plow
or trowel with it, saying:
Erce, Erce, Erce, Mother of Earth,

May you be granted, by the Gods' grace,
Fields sprouting and springing up,
Fertile and fruitful,
Bright shafts of shining millet,
And broad crops of barley
And white wheaten crops
And all the crops of earth.
May the Gods grant the owner,
That his land be fortified against all foes
And embattled against all malice,
From ill-wishes sown throughout the land.
Now we pray you, Mother of Gods, Who made this world
That no spiteful woman, nor crafty man,
May weaken the words that are uttered here.
After this, the priest will drive the plow or trowel into the
ground and turn over a bit of sod, saying:
Hail, Earth, Mother of All

Be abundant in the God's15 embrace,
Filled with food for our folk's need.
5. When this has been done, the priest will take the turned-over
earth and place it in a blessing bowl. He will add a bit of the
mead and mix it to form mud. He will then go around the circle
15 Here, seen as Njord, in the ceremonial Vanic sibling-marriage.

48
and anoint the people with the Earth's blessing, in whatever way
or symbol seems appropriate.
6. After this, the people will come forward for the blessing of the
tools. The priest will carefully anoint each tool with the ritual
mixture, speaking words of blessing and fruitfulness, and asking
each tool to serve its owner faithfully and well in the coming
year.
7. When all the tools have been blessed, the priest will load the horn
with mead, and pass it around the circle. Each person should
speak of the things their tools had accomplished in the previous
year and drink or give a libation in thanks.
8. After the horn has gone around, the remainder will be placed in
another blessing bowl and offered to Nerthus in thanks for Her
bounty and favor.
9. There is a sacred feast, with a blessing on the food beforehand,

thanks given to Nerthus. Some food should be selected
beforehand to give specifically to Nerthus, preferably left at the
base of a tree.
10.After the feast, the priest will give a final benediction, and the rite
is over.
49
Motherhood
Grandmother, what is happening to me?

This swelling, this sweating that has come over me?
I feel so strange, and light-headed with rapture
as though the arrows of Sun were in my heart.
My child, it is a sickness that we all must face,

face or die, though to face it means to die.
My dear, it is that plague called Love
that flushes you so, and bears away your heart.
Dear Aunt, what is happening to me?

I feel tingly all over, as I were in a nettle patch.
And my stomach has filled with the fluttering of swans
taking over my senses and washing me over.
My child, it is a sickness we all must bear

unto the day of our death, for to not bear is to die.
My dear, it is the plague called Love
that trembles you so, and flies on swans wings.

My body is rebelling, ravenous and empty,
and my breasts ache with an untold load of milk
and my belly ripens like the rosy apple.

until the day of life, for we will never be free of it.
that has swelled you so, by its caressing touch.

This agonising pain, this treachery against me
that my body hurls with each second
like the waves of the sea crashing to shore?
50

until that blessed day, when it is over, but never truly.
that brings you such terrible pain.

A thing placed in my arms, ugly and wrinkled
like the dried grapes of summer's end, yet beautiful;
it causes such a swelling of painful joy, fierce and gentle.
My child, it is a sickness we all must bear,

for we are never free from that first breath of life.
that brings you such sorrowful ecstasy.

Why do my eyes fill with tears, in a happy moment?
The baby has grown, and is his own man, but
I still see the raisin-babe in my arms and weep.
My child, it is a sickness we all must bear,

even when they are grown, with children of their own.
My dear, it is the plague called Love,
and Motherhood is both its curse and reward.
51
Earth Day, or What the Fuck Is This?
Minding My business, tending My garden...

Hark! I hear a voice
calling Me, by holy names.
Who is this person, these people
who invoke Me so?
Gladdened, I reach forth

to embrace these long-lost folk,
for surely, they are
the followers of old
come again to worth My name.
And then I see.

Oh.
It's them.
Again.
Well... at least they're... consistent.
I listen to their oaths –

Same as last year,
most likely the same again next.
And not one speck of proof
that they have fulfilled any.
She, for example, littered

on the way to this ritual.
He beats his dog, and I know
for a fact
that he never recycles his beer cans.
This third one, now there's a glimmer

of potential use and devotion,
if he weren't the person who voted down
a proposition to clean up the local rivers
52
this past week.
The fourth is just as bad:

A mother, with a gas guzzling SUV,
who only cares that the meat at the super
is cheaper than getting it humanely,
even though she knows the real cost.
And then, something catches My ear,

and I listen closer:
what is this?
They're boasting of their “good” deeds,
anticipating My great pleasure.
Disgusted, I turn away

from their empty service,
hollow offerings,
hardened hearts and lives.
There is no reason to stay.
What the fuck is this?

I gave up human sacrifices for this?
I, who made men tremble and women awe,
am reduced to backhanded devotion
from those who think Me unimportant.
So be it.
I will not bless them,
nor will I cast favor upon their lands;
my wagon will turn aside at their roads
and choose a different path.
And so it shall be,

until that day, when with open hearts
and knowing minds,
they give me the honor I am due,
and respect their world.
53
Eldest16
as told by Nerthus
Everyone knows of my golden children, Ing-Frey and Gefion-

Freya. Yet few know of my others, the one dearest to my heart. The
reason why I hide myself with a veil, and my words are few.
I was told from my earliest days I would be a queen, I had a very
sacred task to do my entire life, and I must train for it. I was not allowed
to play like other Vanir children. My entire world was work. Seeing.
Farseeing. Faring forth. Chanting. Working the threads, in the soil to
the grass, and beneath the skin of men.
He came after my first blood. He was different from the others.
Dark. Quiet. We are quiet in our own way, but he was silent. Like a
shadow, waiting. I was drawn to him, and he was kind to me. He didn't
demand I work as everyone else expected of me.
He let me play. He walked with me. He didn't talk much, and
that was fine. He let me talk. I was used to talking less than he did,
every day, and I needed to talk, back then.
He was the first I lay with, in secret. I knew I was not supposed
to give him my maidenhead, that I was breaking taboo, that I was
violating the law of my people, the duty I would have as queen. But that
was in the future, and this was what I had at the time, before me. It was
good.
He became lighter, then. I saw him laugh for the first time. He
talked more. We lay together more times, until my aunt Sif caught us in
the woods. She told him to leave Vanaheim and never come back, and
she would not speak of this act to others. She admonished me severely.
But she did not tell.
My blood stopped, some time afterwards. When I missed two
bloodtides, Sif came again and offered me an herbal concoction, telling
me I was with life in my womb and it was not right. I was angry. This
was all I had of him, the first one to be kind to me. He gave me a reason
to live, and now I had life within me. I refused her potion, and swore at
her. Sif decided to take me to her home, in the woods at the far edge of
16 “Eldest” originally appeared in Vanirbok: Tales of the Vanagods by Svartesól (Gullinbursti
Press, 2009); used here with permission.
54
Vanaheim, to keep me safe from my parents' wrath, and bear the child in
secret.
I stayed there for some months, and was allowed to rest from my
work. Sif told me I must, or the child would be in grave danger from the
power raised. Sif was kind to me, and indulged me in good food to eat,
things to make and do. Things that did not revolve around the sacred
work.
The pain came, during a winter storm. Sif sang charms over me,
and she and her handmaidens helped me to breathe, helped me to push.
There was blood, and stabbing pain. There were visions of the land
splitting apart, and fire crashing from the sky. Wild winds whipping
branches. Goats, a snake thrown into the sea, and a large fist wielding
the thunder itself.
“It is a male,” Sif said as she pulled out the baby, cutting the cord
between us.
As she held up the crying baby, a strange look came over her
face, and her eyes went black.
She quickly put down the child, and left the room.
I was confused. But the handmaidens came to tend the child,
while I slept.
For nine days, I played with the baby. I gave him my milk. I
held him, sang to him, rocked him. He had twinkling blue eyes, and a
tuft of red hair on his head, little pink cheeks and toes. He was a big
baby, bigger than the young I had seen before. And I felt love, for the
man who gave him to me, and the promise of life... the little face in my
arms, and all the ways I would play with him, teach him, help him grow
to be a good man.
And then he came back, my first lover. He came through the
winter snow, to find me in hiding, to take the boy in his arms.
He smiled, faintly. And I looked at him, full of hope that we
could be a family. That I could escape a life of hard work, and this
would be my life.
Without looking at me, without saying a word, he walked out of
Sif's home with the boy in his arms.
He kept walking.
I tried to stand, but was too weak yet. I called after him. I yelled.
I screamed. I thought he would come back, maybe he was just blessing
55
the boy with the snow. When hours passed and there was no return, my
heart sank. I knew he was gone, he had taken our son – my child – and
he would never return. They were both lost to me forever.
I wept.
I was returned to my parents not long after, to complete my
training. I was given to my brother Njord in marriage when we came of
age. At this time, I began wearing a veil, so no man could deceive my
body and heart ever again, so no one could ever look at me unless I,
Queen of the Vanir, saw fit. The work that had previously been
drudgery to me was now power. I would never be wronged like I was,
loving and losing again. I would be feared and awed, and lives would be
given to me to replace what I lost. Nobody would ever steal from me
again, if they valued their soul.
I had other children, of course, but with my brother, as is our
way. Only two were chosen to carry on the sacred duty as queen and
king. I had two other daughters, Prija and Volla, who I gave to strangers
to raise as sisters. But my heart was already hardened, then.
The man came back, many years later. He seduced my daughter,
as he had once seduced me. And hate him as I did for twice betraying
me, there was still a feeling of love for him, and the knowledge that all
these things would work together, in their time. I give and preserve life,
and these bonds would give and preserve worlds.
Would you know more, or what? I speak to you of my pain.
When my victims drown for the bliss of the love I rarely give, they are
drowning in the tears I cannot shed.
56
May Day
May Day is generally thought of as Frey and Freya's holiday, or

possibly Frey and Gerda. But there is no reason not to celebrate Nerthus-
as-Mother on this day, either. Given the holiday's themes of renewal,
fertility/sexuality, and magic (which can also be found in the equivalent
Celtic holiday of Beltane), it is almost natural to include Her on this
joyous occasion.
Indeed, the period between May Day and Midsummer (Litha, in
the Anglo-Saxon) can be seen as Nerthus' outpouring of power and
blessing on the land, as the crops thrive and the summer rains bring a
fresh greenness to the world before the heat of July and August.
The following ritual is designed to praise and give honor to the
nurturing side of Nerthus, that is not often seen against the aura of
sacredness and power that She wears otherwise.
Preparation:

own or be safely propped up for lengthy periods of time. The
priest should also spend the several days before the ritual
communing with Nerthus, charging the image as necessary so
that it may embody Her presence when the time comes.

– There should be a maypole, or similar object for dancing around.

If no such thing can be obtained, the participants may dance
around the image of Nerthus, provided the image will not be
knocked over.
57
– There will also need to be slips of paper and writing utensils, for
people to write things that they wish to get rid of in the coming
year, and blessings they wish to receive.
– This ritual will involve fire, so all necessary precautions should be

taken beforehand and during. Matches and fire extinguishers
should be available.
Ritual Outline:
1. The maypole should be set up earlier in the day so as not to

interfere with the ritual itself. Before the actual start of the ritual,
each person should write on two slips of paper, one with the
things they wish to be rid of, and the other with the things they
wish to gain.
2. The priest will carry the image of Nerthus into the ritual space,
and call the people to gather and celebrate the life of the earth,
and the bounty of fruitfulness that Nerthus offers. The priest will
declare the space a holy frithstead in Nerthus' name, and that all
weapons must be left outside (including cell phones)
3. The priest will then load the horn and take it around the circle,
along with a blessing bowl. Each person will receive the horn,
and speak of the things they wish to give up, and drop the
relevant slip into the bowl. When all the people present have
done so, the priest will pour the horn into the bowl.
4. Speaking of the renewing powers of fire, the priest will light the
contents of the bowl with all due caution, and pray to Nerthus
that She would receive the “compost” that has been offered and
turn it into fertiliser for the good things that the people desire.
58
5. When the fire has died down, the priest will reload the horn and
take it and the bowl around the circle. This time, the people will
speak of the things they wish to gain and nurture in their lives,
dropping the other slip of paper into the bowl. When all the
people have done so, the priest will pour the horn into the bowl.
6. Then, the priest will mix together the ashes, drink and paper and
lead the people in a chant of praise for Nerthus and Her bounty
as they dance around the maypole.
7. After this, there is a sacred feast, with a blessing on the food

beforehand, and thanks given to Nerthus. Some food should be
selected beforehand to give specifically to Nerthus, preferably
left at the base of a tree. During the feast, praise and toasts to
Nerthus should be given.
8. At the end of the ritual, the priest will take the bowl and pour
more mead into it. Then, taking an asperger, the priest will go
around and bless the participants with the mixture, sprinkling
them head-heart-shoulder-shoulder, and speaking Nerthus'
blessing on them. The priest should be open to the move of
Nerthus for prophecy or a specific blessing.
9. After all have been blessed, the rite is over. The priest should take
the remainder of the bowl's contents and bury them in an
appropriate place to “grow.”
This rite is rather easily adapted to solitary practice. Simply do

everything for one person; the maypole dancing may be left out or
modified as needed.
59
Hertha Speaks
Earth.
It all begins with Earth. It all ends with Earth. And all the in-
between is filled with Earth.
And yet, and yet.
In the beginning, there was nothing. Then, there was the Tree.
And then, the Earth. And now, there is nothing on the Earth, because all
is being destroyed.
You call Me Mother. You pay Me lip service on the day that
people have named Mine, with cheap alcohol and cheaper oaths,
thinking Me the soft mother that you knew in childhood.
What thought have you, My middle children, to your siblings?
What of the little ones, the pawed-folk and the winged-folk and the fin-
folk? What of the voiceless ones, the tree-folk and the stone-folk and
their many cousins? You worth My Elder Children, the golden and
shining ones, and some of you even acknowledge My adopted children,
the fairy folk who take refuge in My presence. But what thought have
you to the ones you trample in hubris?
You make Me sick. I am sick, sick with rage and sick with
pollution. You have defiled My holy places, desecrated My sacred
shrines, filled My blessed places with refuse and trash, destroyed My
groves and not restored them. You, My middle children, are killing your
Mother, and what then will be left when you have accomplished that?
I weep for My children, lost and powerless against the crush. I
have lost so many, so many have been plucked from My protecting hand
by your greed and arrogance. What now of the passenger pigeon? The
wolves hang on by frayed threads; the lions and tigers cry to Me for
deliverance.
And yet, you wonder how, when My wrath is brought against
you, how you could be guilty. In your pride, you think that you are
exempt from the Great Cycle, that you may do as you please without
consequences. And despite the floods and fires and great sea-storms,
despite the daily deaths of thousands and millions from the results of
your actions, you still have the hubris to think that you are not
60
responsible, that you are free from shame, that the blood of the trees and
wolves and children does not coat your hands redder than the bear-rage.
I am not a comforting Mother. I am a vengeful Mother. I am the
Decreer of Life and Death, the Birther and the Destroyer. What I have
given, I can take away. Be warned, My children. There will come a day
when there is no turning back, and then it will be too late. Already that
day approaches, and I weep for you as I whet My scythe.
61
Bog
LADY of holiness
and sacrifice
62
63
Nerthus: Lady of Holiness and Sacrifice
After the Langobardi come the Reudigni, Auiones, Angli, Varni, Eudoses, Suarines
and Nuithones, all well guarded by rivers and forests. There is nothing remarkable
about any of these tribes unless it be the common worship of Nerthus, that is Earth
Mother. They believe she is interested in men's affairs and drives among them.
On an island in the ocean sea there is a sacred grove wherein waits a holy wagon
covered by a drape. One priest only is allowed to touch it. He can feel the presence
of the goddess when she is there in her sanctuary and accompanies her with great
reverence as she is pulled along by kine.
It is a time of festive holiday making in whatever place she decides to honour with
her advent and stay. No one goes to war, no one takes up arms, in fact every
weapon is put away, only at that time are peace and quiet known and prized until
the goddess, having had enough of peoples company, is at last restored by the
same priest to her temple. After which the wagon and the drape, and if you like to
believe me, the deity herself is bathed in a mysterious pool.
The rite is performed by slaves who, as soon as it is done, are drowned in the lake.
In this way mystery begets dread and a pious ignorance concerning what that sight
may be which only those who are about to die are allowed to see.
Tacitius, Germania
Not far from Hertha Castle there is a deep, black lake, surrounded by woods and
hills. The goddess bathed there several times each year. She rode there in a carriage
covered with a mysterious veil and drawn by two cows. Only her consecrated
priest was allowed to accompany her. Slaves were also brought along to lead the
draft animals, but they were drowned in the lake immediately upon completing
their task, because any unconsecrated person who caught sight of the goddess
would have to die. For this reason nothing more is known about the worship of this
goddess.
[…]
Especially when the moon is shining brightly, a beautiful woman is often seen
emerging from the woods adjacent to Hertha Castle. She proceeds to the lake,
where she bathes herself. She is surrounded by many female servants, who
accompany her into the water. Then they all disappear, but they can be heard
splashing about. After a while they all appear again, and they can be seen returning
to the woods dressed in long white veils.
It is very dangerous for a wanderer to observe this, for he will be drawn by force
into the lake where the white woman is bathing, and as soon as he touches the
water, he will be powerless; the water will swallow him up. They say that the
64
woman has to lure one human into the water every year.
J.D.H. Temme, The Folktales of Pomerania and Rügen
The face of this Goddess generally known as Nerthus that is the

focus of this section is perhaps one of the least personable aspects of any
Deity in the Germanic realm, not much more approachable and intimate
than Hel Herself. The Nerthus that others speak of and worship is
generally the Hertha-aspect – the fierce Earth Mother. Certainly, there are
bits and pieces of the Nerthus-aspect in most people's minds, but I do not
think most people fully grasp what that face of Herself actually means.
This face is the Death-face. Pure and simple. If one were to
borrow an analogy from British Traditional Wicca and its derivatives, She
would be the Crone of the triad, with Njörun as Maiden and Hertha as
Mother.
Freya is known as Chooser of the Slain. In a way, She is a small
representation of Her Mother, the paramount Slayer. There is a version of
the Norns in the lore in which each race of being had their own Norns; if
that were the case, She would be one of the Vanir's Norns, specifically
that one who, like Atropos of the Greeks, cuts the cords of men's dooms.
I myself have only encountered this face twice. Once, it was as
though I were hanging in the void of Ginunngagap, while She towered
over me, filling the void with Her presence, and I was in mortal terror of
Her. The second time, She killed me, in a version of what the Celts call
the Triple Death – hanging or stabbing, burning, and drowning.
It is hard to really discuss this aspect of Herself, bound by ritual
and taboo as She is. So I will just leave it at this:
She is Death.
She is Terror.
She is worth every moment of it.
But be careful, for once you start going down Her path, each step
makes it harder to leave.
65
Sacrifice
Water and mist

mud and clay
peat mixing
between Your toes
I can hear the cries
of joy and pain
from Your willing sacrifices
who strive to be chosen
year after year
for one glimpse of Your face
For the honor of serving
submitting
en-thralled by You
to the very end.
I too am a victim
willingly taken:
I die with each year,
reborn in Your arms
like the Phoenix of the East.
And for my sacrifice
willingly given
I am Yours
Show me Your secrets
of bog and mist
the power of seiðr
the reading of Wyrd
the joining of elements
and the spaces between.
Nerþus Erce Erde Hertha

Njörun of the Fair Hair
Queen of Water
Lady of the Peat Bog
66
You Who inspires Valor

among men
Keeper of the wíh of Holiness
sacrosanct in all Your doings
so that no man dare raise weapon to another
while You ride abroad.
Take me, use me, fill me
replace my blood with the peatwater
make my heart of birch
that I may be halig
in Your service.
67
Knowing Me
My name
is one of awe,
terrible and sacred.
Do you dare to speak it, O man?
Holy.
My face
is beautiful,
rich in feeling and strength.
Do you dare to see it, woman?
See Death.
My eyes
are like two wells,
seductive, seducing.
Do you dare swim in them, child?
Drowning.
My call
is not for weak
nor for the self-serving
Do you dare to answer, human?
Rapture.
My path
leads many ways
to death, rot, sacrifice.
Do you dare to follow me now?
Then live.
68
Midsummer
By Svartesól17
The most explicit mention of Nerthus and Her cult is the account
of Tacitus in 98 CE: apparently, Nerthus was worshiped by several
Germanic tribes and Her yearly festival was held among them. We
unfortunately do not have mention of the time of this festival; however, I
am inclined to believe it would be sometime in the summer, for ease of
travel, as well as the lakes not being too frozen to receive sacrifices.
So, while there is nothing in the primary sources to indicate that
Nerthus' feast is on Midsummer, I do think the Summer Solstice is as
good a time as any to observe Her wain procession, particularly as it is
the direct polarity of Mother's Night on Yule and on the Summer
Solstice, the Earth is blooming in full glory.
This is a rite I composed for my Kindred and friends of the
Kindred, to honor Nerthus' procession at Midsummer.
Preparation:
– There will need to be a wain. As an oxen-drawn wain transporting

attendants is not going to be practical, an acceptable substitute is
a small handcart, perhaps a modified wheelbarrow. It should
have four wheels and high sides, should be decorated somewhat
elaborately so it doesn't look like “just an ordinary
wheelbarrow,” and should have a pole to draw it. The wagon in
the Oseburg ship burial is an example of this. The wain should
be able to fit into a car as well as be able to be drawn along a
sidewalk or into a field.
– There will need to be an image of Nerthus, particularly as it will

be cleansed afterward by Her attendants. I personally connect
Venus of Willendorf with Nerthus – whether of not the image
was actually representing Her in those times, it is very Her,
17 “Midsummer” originally appeared in Visions of Vanaheim, by Svartesól (Gullinbursti
Press, 2009). Used here with permission.
69
between the body shape and the lack of facial features (as
Nerthus is veiled or wearing a mask, so most people do not have
to be killed for looking upon Her).
– While many Heathen rituals are led by a Goði or Gyðja who may
not have a strong personal connection to the Deity involved, for
this ritual, I feel the rite must be overseen by an oathed dedicant
of Nerthus or someone who is a priest of another Vanic deity
with oaths to serve all the Vanir by extension. In keeping with
Vanic mysteries of having the Nerthusgoði pull the wain in Her
procession, and the Freysgyðja, it is preferable for the priest in
this rite to be male, but not mandatory, and it should be a male
who is willing to wear more “womanly” garb.
– There are some Godfolk who may be able to bring the wain to
every Kindred in their area, both with regards to being
welcomed by the Kindreds as well as being able to set aside a
week or so to travel around. In a place where compatible
Heathenfolk are few and far between, it may be more practical to
invite one's Kindred and/or some chosen and respectful friends
to a select area to meet the wain is it arrives. This would be
preferable, and in any case, the rite must be held by an inland
body of water such as a lake, creek, river or pond.
– The wain will be prepared by the priest with a secret rite. Because
the procession was done at the will of Nerthus, Who informed
Her priest it was time, the Nerthus image should be carried by
the priest somewhere on their person for three days prior to the
rite, even if it means bringing the statue or framed print to work
with them and sitting it on the desk or putting it in their purse or
briefcase. The priest should also take Nerthus to bed with them,
placing the image on the nightstand or under the bed if the
statue/print cannot be slept with. This serves to heighten the
connection with Nerthus sufficiently that the image will be
charges enough to fill the wain with Her power.
70
– The priest will need to select four people willing to help cleanse
Nerthus after the rite. The priest should make up a bag with a
vial of salt water, a vial of essential oil, a candle in a safe holder,
and an herbal smudge stick for the cleansing of Nerthus after the
rite. The priest will also need to make or procure a strawman,
and have a bag of diabetic stickers, alcohol pads and latex gloves
because a blooded strawman will be sacrificed to Nerthus, in
lieu of human sacrifice, which is illegal.
Ritual Outline:
1. The priest will have spent three days charging Nerthus' image,
and hallows the wain by placing the image inside whilst
chanting Her name. The priest should be sensitive to the move
of her Presence, filling the wain with Her power.
2. The priest loads the wain with food items brought to share
among the folk, as well as the drink and drinking horn. The
priest will pray over the food and drink to bless people with
Nerthus' might.
3. The priest goes to the ritual site, singing to Nerthus on the way
there. Presumably, the priest will get there by car, at which
point, the car should be parked enough of a ways off that the
priest can pull the wain a bit to the site, singing and chanting
while the wain is pulled.
4. The wain arrives at the ritual site, and the priest proclaims this
place a holy frithstead in Nerthus' name. Weapons must be laid
down (including cell phones).
5. The priest invokes Nerthus into the stead, and loads the horn
with drink to share in Her blessings. As the horn is passed
71
around the circle, each participant should speak words of praise

to Nerthus and Her kin. The remainder of the drink will be
poured into a blessing bowl.
6. There is a sacred feast, with a blessing on the food beforehand,

base of a tree. The priest also pours out some mead from the
blessing bowl, with thanks to Nerthus. Some of the drink is
deliberately left in the bowl.
7. After the feast, the priest will go around the circle with the
blessing bowl and an asperger. Each person will ask Nerthus for
a boon, and the priest will sprinkle the person head-heart-
shoulder-shoulder, speaking Nerthus' blessing upon them. The
priest should be open to the move of Nerthus for prophecy or a
specific blessing.
8. At this time, the priest gives a final benediction, and all but the
four attendants should depart from the ritual site.
9. The four attendants accompany the priest in removing Nerthus

from the wain and setting Her on a rock to be cleansed. This is a
time when there must absolutely be privacy, for it is a holy
occasion. The attendants should be filled with reverence and
awe in directly feeling Nerthus' presence among them. One
attendant will be given the salt water to rub onto the image. The
next will hallow the image by passing the lit candle around it in
a circle nine times. The next will anoint the image with essential
oil. The last will hallow with smoke from the smudge stick.
10.The priest will then take out the strawman and speak of it being a
sacrifice, put the strawman down on the rock and don latex
gloves. Each attendant will present their hands. The priest will
prick the middle fingers of both hands of each attendant, for
them to drip blood onto the strawman. The strawman is them
dropped into the body of water as Nerthus is hailed by the priest
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and attendants.
11.The priest will then address the attendants that a holy thing was
done, and as the Earth is in Her fullness of glory, so Nerthus'
glory was witnessed, and beauty and terror are inextricably
entwined. The priest and attendants should spend the next few
days being mindful of their relationship with nature and the
Earth, and those who live upon it.
If the solitary is able to procure a wagon and make it into a

“Vanic Wain,” they may want do this and draw Nerthus' image
around the neighborhood or backyard, to bless the land. The solitary
will then feast and share with Nerthus. The blooded strawman can be
omitted; what may serve as an acceptable substitute is the solitary
blooding some herbal tea of a calming or mildly ethenogenic nature
(such as mugwort), giving half to Nerthus and using the other half
for útiseta (sitting outdoors, preferably overnight) in private
communion with Her.
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A Mother's Prayer
You are so beautiful,

my golden boy,
that all the stars in the sky
grow envious,
thinking themselves cheated
of splendor.
And I see you laugh,

and play with your sister,
and my cold, broken heart
is gladdened,
for I have a family again.
And the sun shines the brighter for it.
Let no darkness haunt your path,

I would not wish it upon you;
indeed, would protect you, my child
from the harsh world of Duty,
if I only could protect you from Life
we might live like this forever.
My Golden Boy, child of my heart,

son to replace the Stolen Child,
be kind to your mother.
For she has had much of grief;
be for me a happiness
beyond sorrow.
And I will love you,

my Ingui, my Elf-love,
with the love of a sow,
with the strength of the oak
and I will again know joy
in your soft child eyes.
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A Mother's Grief
Ingui!
Ah, Ingui!
My golden child is dead!
Cruel is the mistress of the dark halls,
cruel to take my joy from me!
Oh, my sweet babe!
I held you in my arms,

watched you play,
helped you become a man.
My child!
My child is dead!
Cruel Wyrd is this!
My Ingui,
the Light of my world,
now dark and desolate,
for I have sent him to the halls
whence none return!
Cruel world, to take my children from me!
No mother should live to see

her child dead in her arms,
yet I have been fated
to be the instrument of his passing:
Ingui, oh my dear Ingui!
Forgive your mother for her duty.
I prayed for safety, I prayed for peace

I prayed that no harm would befall him:
what irony the Sisters have
to turn thus my prayers upon me!
They have taken my Golden Boy
to feed the world's living.
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How cruel that one must die

to make all the rest live.
Crueler still the hand that did it,
though it be done in duty.
How then, can I find joy
in the darkness of my Ingui's death?
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Lammas
Golden grain | growing heavy

with seeds strong | in season
Heat off the heath | hardens hearts
long lies summer's | last lengths
upon the fields | full and fruited.
Fears of famine | fade away,

feasts and fellowship | fill men's hearts.
Because blood | of Berchta's Beloved
poured forth, | empowering people
with hale and hope | for hearths' Hallows
Death lies down | on Dís' dolmen,

Ing lays empty | in Eorðe's embrace
Life and love | lost for life,
given as gift | by the Golden God.
Praise his power, | people of Middangeard!
Seas of sorrows | surround Sea's sister

for through her tears, | today he lies dead:
Her child, king, | cruelly captured
Death's dear | deemed and doomed.
Pray her peace, | people of the land!
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What Became on Lammastide

As told by Nerthus
I will tell you now the story of that fateful day, the day I killed my son
so that others might live:
Sunna's arrows rained down among the golden fields, baking the
already dry earth. I was surprised that any grain still lived after the
scorching drought that this summer had brought to the worlds. But then
again, this was our Home, the most fertile lands in all the Nine Worlds,
and then some. If grain didn't grow here, there was no chance for any
others, and the famine would worsen even more than it already had.
My father had stepped down from his Kingship a long time ago,
shortly after my golden son Ingui was born, and my brother Njord and I
co-ruled the people, with the Council of the Wise advising us. Things
had been running very smoothly in the years since then. Until now.
The omens from the winter sacrifice had been bleak, but none of
us had expected what was to come. When spring arrived, it was to
torrential downpours, washing away any flowers and seeds that people
planted. When the rains stopped, they left. And didn't come again. The
farmers in Midgard were struggling to make crops grow in earth that
was now dry as sand; the animals grew thin as the grasses dried out and
withered. Even the fish seemed to suffer, as their numbers grew fewer
and harder to catch.
The crops in Vanaheim were doing a little better – some had
sprouted, and we had a series of irrigation systems that served better
than the ones in Midgard. But even those crops would not be enough to
feed our people this coming winter, let alone anyone else. We had much
food stored away, but that was quickly dwindling with no hope of
replenishment.
Sif had been in the high seat on and off for weeks now, trying to
find a cause or solution for the massive famine and drought, so far to no
avail. All she kept saying was “Oh, darkness, darkness. All I see is
darkness.”
As the summer days lengthened, the people of Midgard began to
break down. Theft and murder abounded, and they called out for
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deliverance, sacrificing animals they could not afford to spare, in a

desperate attempt to stay the death that loomed before them.
Finally, my grandmother came down from her cottage in the the
high forests, and consulted with the Council. It was all we could do to
keep the life from flowing out of the soil, and it was taxing every last bit
of power we had. If the drought continued, we would lose the fight, and
everything would die. She listened gravely as the various council-
members listed all the things that were going wrong, and what we were
trying to do to alleviate the burden. Then, she got up and went to where
Sif was sitting on the high seat, frantically trying to pierce the veil of
darkness that was blocking her Sight. Holda went up to her, laid her
hands on the seeress and closed her eyes.
We waited for what seemed an eternity, until Sif screamed and
wrenched away from Holda's grasp, almost falling out of the high seat.
My brother caught her before she fell, and gently lowered her to the
ground, where she went into a fit. When it gradually subsided, she was
carried off to the healing place.
Later that night, Holda came to me. “We Saw, my child, what
must be done,” she told me sadly. “Your boy, Ingui. He carries the life of
the world in his blood. It must be shed, or we will all die.”
I stared at her in shock. “But, he will never agree to that. I won't
let you!” I screamed at her, defiantly, images of my other lost children in
my mind. “He's mine, my replacement, my golden son!”
“He will die, child. And you will be the one to do it. I will not
have you slaughter all the worlds through your wanton foolishness!”
Holda snapped, looking angrier than I ever remembered seeing before.
We stared at each other, tension flying, before I broke down crying.
Holda held me as the tears flowed, her presence solid and sure,
but silent. When I had finished drying my eyes, she stood up and helped
me to my feet. “You will tell him tomorrow, child. It must be done as
soon as possible.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” I whispered, my throat swelling up with
emotion.
The next day, I confronted Ingui as he was setting off on a walk. I

told him what Holda had told me, and he laughed.
“Is it as simple as that, Mother? Then let them have my blood!”
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he said, cutting his arm with his knife.

“It is not as simple as that, Ingui. This is no mere food shortage.
The world needs all of your blood; it needs your life.”
He stared at me in shock and horror. “Never! I could not do such
a thing!” he yelled at me, running down the path. I watched him go, my
heart heavy in my chest, knowing that I had failed. “If you will not do it,
my son, then who will save us?” I whispered to his shadow.
I do not know what my son saw that day, or what voice called
out to him, but the next morning, he was outside my door weeping. I
opened the door, and there he was, beating on the ground, while storm
clouds gathered overhead.
“What is it, my son? What ails you so?” I asked, dreading his
answer.
“I have Seen, Mother. I know what I must do. I will die for them.
To live while everything around me dies, that is not life, especially when
I would know that I could have saved them. May Hel have mercy upon
me.”
I hugged him close to me. “May she, indeed, my Ingui.”
Three days later, all the tribes of the People gathered in the
fields. I and Ingui were last to arrive, carried to the place by a great
wagon. In my sorrow, I was wearing the veil I had adopted after the loss
of my first son, and had vowed in the secrecy of my heart never to go
without it again among the living, no matter the circumstance; the pain
was too great, and my heart, broken long before, could now never be
healed.
Ingui was dressed all in green and scarlet and gold, a veritable
king in splendor, and he wore a crown of grain upon his head, the last of
the stored supplies. If this were to fail, we would all join him in Hel.
There was much singing, all of it somber and melancholic, dirges
and keenings. Ingui and I dismounted from the wagon and I led him to
the sacrificial rock. As I held my sickle to his throat, I looked him in the
eye and whispered the words I had been repeating in my heart for the
past three days: “I love you.” Then, tears streaming down my face, I
slashed his throat, and he fell, pouring away his life and mine into the
soil.
I watched him bleed, feeling distant and cold, the world fading
from my awareness. When he was dead, I turned and left, my heart
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feeling as though the Void itself were squeezing down upon it. I locked
myself into my chambers and vowed to starve myself until I joined him,
even as I heard the patter of raindrops beginning on the parched earth.
Three long, terrible days passed. And I wept and raged and
swore oaths against all things living and dead, and wept again, knowing
I could not fulfill them. My body, once strong, began to waste away from
the lack of nourishment. And still I wept, until I felt as though I would
surely drown in my tears.
On the third day, there came a knocking at my door. “Open up,
child, and stop carrying on like a toddler. I have news for you.” It was
Holda.
I reluctantly opened the door, and she swept into the room, Sif
close behind her. Seeing the prophetess, I flew into a rage.
“What? Have you come to tell me that more blood must be shed?
Whose? My daughter's? My brother's? Mine? Take it, take it all! I am
done with living,” I screamed at them. Holda's sharp slap stunned me
into silence.
“Quiet your mouth, girl! You are being petulant and foolish. No
more blood must be shed. What was done is done, and all the worlds live
again. No, our news is happier. Sif has seen again. Tell her, child.”
Sif looked sympathetically at me as she spoke. “I was in the high
seat this morning, looking at the Worlds, seeing the life that grew. And I
saw a wonder – on the path from which no man returns, I saw him
coming. Your son is coming home again.”
I stared at her, unbelieving. Then, before they could say any
more, I shoved past them and ran into the fields, now bursting with
grain, to the place where my son had fallen. And there he was, slowly
staggering to his feet, looking worn and tired, but alive!
He told me what Hel had said to him, and I wept at her mercy.
He then told me the rest. And I wept again – how could I bear this pain,
year after year, not knowing if this might be the year that her mercy is
gone?
And so, in the celebration that followed, I remained distant. And
when the feasting was over, I left the main village, and headed back to
the island of my youth, where I remain to this day, never leaving except
to bless the land and kill my son. The pain is too great otherwise. Better
81
he be dead to me than I see him live, knowing that his death is in my

hands.
And that is what became that fateful and fatal Lammastide.
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Midwinter Kingship Ritual
Midwinter is an odd time, halfway between the faded life of

autumn and the blossoming life of spring, and yet it is not completely
dead, for the solstice, the return of the Unconquered Sun, lies at the heart
of almost all midwinter celebrations, whether Heathen, Pagan, or
monotheistic. There is another concept that is linked to this time, from
the earliest days of ancient paganism – that of sacral kingship.
The idea that the king or chief ruled at the grace of the
goddess(es) of sovereignty is a powerful one that still touches hearts and
minds today. The term of the oldest kingships often was fixed, often at
the period of a year. And when that period was finished, the King would
rejoin the Goddess, almost always through human sacrifice, giving his
life for the people and lands. Traces of this concept can be found all
across the early European mythic world, from the Irish to the Rus to the
Minoans, and there are traces of it in Heathenry as well.
Nerthus, in many ways, plays the part of the Sovereignty
Goddess – in the mythic cycle of Lammas, She is the one who presides
over the death of the King, Her golden son Frey. She is also referenced by
Tacitus as the supreme Goddess for several continental Germanic tribes,
and the goddesses of sovereignty are traditionally also goddesses of the
land on which the tribe resides, as Nerthus is the Earth Mother,
especially those parts of it which reside in Denmark and northern and
eastern Germany.
This ritual is a symbolic rite of sacral kingship (not to be
assumed as providing actual legal or non-ritual authority), beginning
and ending in sacrifice. Be warned that the person chosen for the
kingship most likely will be required to make active sacrifices in his or
her life during the rest of the year, because Nerthus does not take no for
an answer, and an attempt to hold onto something that has been asked
for may very well lead to serious illness or possible death (She has no
qualms about human sacrifice, unlike we moderns, and will take what
She views as rightfully Hers if provoked).
Preparation:
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– There will need to be an image of Nerthus (for ideas, see the

Midsummer ritual) that can stand on its own or be propped up
for lengthy periods of time.
– There will need to be some sort of throne or similar-type chair on

which the image will be placed, a symbol of Her role as the
keeper of sovereignty. If tapestries and drapes may be obtained
to place on the throne, so much the better. Appropriate symbols
(if you are carving or making your own throne for repeated
usage, or for embroidering drapes) are boars, birch and bog
myrtle leaves, sickles and/or scythes, and wagons.
– There will need to be a crown, preferably of wood. A circlet of

birch and/or bog myrtle twigs and leaves would be ideal, but
any tree associated with kingship or purification is an acceptable
alternative (e.g., oak or hazel for kingship and sage, juniper or
other evergreens for purification)

another Vanir deity with oaths to serve the Vanir at large, and
ideally will have a close relationship to the person undergoing
the ritual of kingship. If the priest is not close to the person, one
who is may also partake in the actions of the ritual in that role. In
– The candidate for kingship must be chosen by lot several weeks in

advance, to ensure adequate time for communion and
preparation on their part. If the chosen candidate is unable or
unwilling to undergo the rite, another will be chosen by lot.
– The person undergoing the rite of kingship should spend several

days in communion with Nerthus, reflecting on the role they are
about to take up and preparing themselves for what sacrifices
may be asked of them. The priest should also spend the several
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days before the ritual communing with Nerthus, charging the

image as necessary so that it may embody Her presence when
the time comes.
– The priest should select four people (if possible) to act as

attendants to the newly-crowned “king,” fulfilling his or her
wishes as best they can.
– The priest will need to put together a “coronation kit,” for the
purposes of hallowing and consecrating the would-be king – this
will need to include a generous amount of salt water for
cleansing; essential oils for anointing (suggestions are birch,
juniper, cedar, cinnamon, frankincense and/or dragon's blood or
similar strong resin); locally-obtained earth, stones or other
object to represent the Kindred's “tribal lands”; a candle; and a
knife or other weapon and/or shield. The priest will also need to
make or procure a strawman, and have a bag of diabetic stickers,
alcohol pads and latex gloves, because the ceremony will require
a ritual shedding of blood in lieu of human sacrifice, which is
illegal.
– Some form of “kingly” garb should be obtained, even if it is just a

length of velvet or satin in appropriate colors, to dress the king
at his coronation.
Ritual Outline:
1. The priest and candidate will have spent several days prior to the
ritual communing with Nerthus. The attendants and other
participants should also prepare themselves for the ritual,
cleansing and purifying themselves to partake in the holiness of
85
Herself.
2. The priest will cleanse and bless the items to be used in the
coronation, imbuing them with prayers and petitions of strength
and service. The priest will then pray and ask if there is any
spirit who would be willing to enter the weapon and/or shield,
making it a living and holy thing. If and when assent is received,
the priest should then divine for the name of the weapon and/or
shield so as to strengthen the bond of the indwelling spirit(s).
3. The priest will enter the ritual site alone, to prepare it for the rite.
After cleansing and purifying the space, the priest will set up the
throne and any necessary accessories, and place the image on the
throne to preside over the rite. If the ritual is taking place outside
(if weather and temperature permit, this is preferable), this
cleansing should be no more than an hour before the start of the
ritual; if inside, the cleansing and preparation may be done the
night before or earlier in the day, as long as no one else enters the
space until the proper time.
4. At the time of the ritual, the priest will lead the participants to the
ritual space. The candidate for kingship will remain outside until
called in by the priest.
5. The priest will proclaim that the ritual space is a holy frithstead in
Nerthus' name, and that all unconsecrated weapons must be left
outside (including cell phones). The participants and priest then
enter the space and form a semicircle facing the throne.
6. The priest then invokes Nerthus into the space, and loads the
horn with mead or other drink, blessing it in the name of
Nerthus. He will then pass around the horn to the participants,
urging them to partake in the bonds of community and frith. As
each person drinks, they should speak words of praise to
Nerthus and Her kin, and voice their hopes and wishes for the
coming year regarding the Kindred, hearth or ritual group. After
the horn has been passed around, the remainder of the drink is
86
poured into a blessing bowl.
7. The reigning king will then step forward (if this is the first time
your group is performing the rite, this part will be played by the
priest or most senior member), and speak of their actions in the
previous year, how things have progressed for the group, etc.
The priest will then reload the horn and offer it to the king, who
will take it and drink, speaking words of praise and love to
Nerthus and the Kindred. The remainder of the drink will
remain in the horn.
8. The priest will then bless him or her in the name of Nerthus,
anointing them with the oil(s). After that, the reigning king will
put forth their hands and the priest will don latex gloves and
prick the middle finger of both hands so that the blood flows
somewhat freely. The blood should be dripped onto the
strawman, and the priest will speak of the symbolic shedding of
the king's blood and life for the good of the tribe. When the
bleeding has stopped, the remainder of the drink in the horn will
be poured over the strawman, symbolising the full flow of life.
At this point, the reigning king is “dead,” and their reign over.
9. After a short period of silence, the priest will call the candidate
into the space. The attendants and the person close to the
candidate (if this is not the priest) will also step forward. The
priest will question the candidate on their intentions for
leadership, on their goals for the group and on their willingness
to submit to the sacrifice and the end of their reign. If the
answers to any of these questions do not meet the approval of
the group, the candidate will be turned away and another
chosen.
10.If the answers are found acceptable, the priest will light the
candle and take up the container of salt water. The candidate
should remove as much clothing as remains within the group's
standards of decency. Using a cloth or other material, the priest
will then wash the arms, legs, hands, feet and face of the
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candidate, speaking of the connection between Nerthus and the

sea. The priest will then take the lit candle, and pass it around
the candidate, invoking the purification of fire. After purifying
the king, the priest will proclaim that there was no blemish
found in the candidate, making them worthy of the kingship.
11.The priest will take up the representation of the land. The king
will then swear to uphold the land of the Kindred, watching over
the wights and spirits that may inhabit it, and pledging their life
to the protection and enrichment of the community's land and
resource. The person close to the king will then take up the
weapon and/or shield, and present them to the king with their
names. The king will receive them and swear to use them in the
defense of the people, to be a wise judge and fearless protector.
12.The priest will then take the crown and anoint it with oil, and
speak the blessing of Nerthus upon the king. The priest should
be open to the move of Nerthus for prophecy or a specific
blessing. The priest will then crown the king, and proclaim their
reign to the assembled people. After this, the attendants will
anoint the king with the oils and dress them in the king's garb.
13.There is a sacred feast, with a blessing on the food beforehand,

base of a tree. The priest also pours out some mead from the
blessing bowl, with thanks to Nerthus. Some of the drink is
deliberately left in the bowl. The king presides at the feast, and is
offered the second choice after Nerthus.
14.After the feast, the newly-crowned king will go around the circle
with a loaded horn, and offer it to each of the people assembled.
They may at this time ask for a boon of the king, which he is
obligated to grant if at all possible. The remainder of the horn is
poured into the blessing bowl
15. The priest will then go around the group with the blessing bowl
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and an asperger. Each person will ask Nerthus for a boon, and
the priest will sprinkle the person head-heart-shoulder-shoulder,
speaking Nerthus' blessing upon them. The priest should be
open to the move of Nerthus for prophecy or a specific blessing.
16. The priest will speak a final benediction and the rite is over. The
king and attendants should be the last to leave, just before the
priest and image of Nerthus, and should help clean up the ritual
space. The strawman should be disposed of in a body of water,
given to Nerthus.
17. Depending on the predilections of the group, the king should

preside over any rituals, blóts, fainings and/or sumbles in the
coming year as they are able, acting as the priest's assistant. In a
sumble, the king should take the place of the priest, who may
guide him as to proper actions and sayings. The king should also
mediate any conflicts that arise between Kindred members to the
best of their ability.
Solitary Adaptation
This ritual will be especially hard to perform for a solitary, but if

they desire, they may act in the role of a priest-king, similar to those of
ancient Egypt. The role of king will be naturally fore-shortened, as there
will be no kindred to be king of, but the ceremony of land and arms
should still be undertaken, particularly if the solitary is the owner of
their own piece of land and/or has a family or household. Solitaries are
advised that the pressures, both psychic and physical, that fall on them
after this rite will be just as potent as those for the king of a group, and
should prepare accordingly.
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On Dying
Death, dreary and dark

life snuffed out of the living
blackness descending from below.
Mighty warriors forgotten,
Powerful kings scorned,
Holy fathers impiously mocked
because Death is the Great Leveler.
Time flows quickly on

contemptuous
of the struggles of humankind
to slow its mad rush
Keeper of Time,
Counter of Days,
Send my plea to She
Who waits at the end for me,
that willingness be not forsaken,
that devotion be honored,
that my sacrifices be received
even unto the Final.
Holy Earth, Devourer

Lady of drowning,
the deep tar-pits
that smoke and bubble,
and the tricking marsh
that seems so shallow and solid
until you set foot on it,
be not fickle unto me
like the will-o-wisps
that lead the unwary to destruction.
But remember me
in the time of reckoning
at the end of my days,
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and take me unto Your bosom

where the sedge-grasses grow.
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Nerthus Speaks
All who see Me die. All who serve Me die, for to serve Me is to
see Me for Who I am. Are you prepared to pay that price for the
knowledge you seek?
I have killed My own children. I kill my golden Ingui year after
year; I killed my daughters by sending them off, never to know their
mother. Do not think yourself special. I will kill you too.
You have heard Me speak before. I have spoken about your
relationship with each other, and your relationship to the world around
you. Now I will speak of your relationship with Me.
You will not know Me. You cannot know me, for I am
unknowable by the Living. Only those who have tasted My scythe can
see Me in the shadows; only those who visit the halls of Hel can hear My
voice.
The shamans of old knew Me. The mystics and the walking dead
saw My face everywhere they went. That is the price I ask for the request
of My presence. Will you offer yourself to My blade?
My children know that I am Death, as they are Life. If you would
be a human, be a father or mother or friend, go to them. If you would
have a job, or live a normal life, or embrace commercialism and
modernism, go to them. I will not take you.
But if you are unhappy, if you are unfulfilled, if life as you know
it does not seem the way it should, come to Me. There may be a place for
you. But it will cost you everything you are. The wise do not pay that
price easily; the foolish cannot pay it at all.
These shamans whom you have now, these purveyors of lies and
safety, who say there is no worry, no danger in what they do – they do
not know Me. Few do, for my path is deadly. There is no comfort, no
softness, no sanctuary where My feet trod. There is danger, there is
death, there is battle where My hands work. If you survive the process
bodily, you will still be dead – no longer the person you were, never the
person you could have been, always the person I made you. You may
still breathe, and eat, and fuck, but you will be dead, and you will walk
the paths of the dead.
Some know that truth. Some have seen Me. Some walk the paths
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of the dead while still breathing. Some. Will you be one of those few?
I am Death. Die to me, and you shall live. Live, and you will not
die. But you will never know Me. You can never know Me as long as you
live.
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Epilogue
Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harp-string, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
Where is the horse gone? Where is the rider?

Where is the giver of treasure?
Where are the seats at the feast?
]Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup!
Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendor of the prince!
How that time has passed away,
dark under the cover of night,
as if it had never been!
The Wanderer, Old English poem
The Days Gone Down in the West

The days are gone down in the West -

old days, yore-days, lore-days -
never to be brought again.
Yet one thing remains in this barren world:
You, my Lady of the Veil and Grove.
You beckon us along the fairy-roads

to paths we have not yet taken
among the hedges and the fields,
through the haunted moors
94
and tricksome marshes.
Bless us, Lady, in this our hour

when all our doom is called upon us;
teach us again the old ways
that we forgot in hubris and ignorance;
lead us back to Thee.
Long gone are the kings of old,

long ruined their golden halls.
Long have we suffered usurpers
in the holy places.
Give unto us Your courage
That we may stand fast

and regain the honor of Your name,
worth You and weal You;
as You once were, so be again,
Lady of our hearts and hearths.
Queen of the Vanir,

Purify us that we may again
be worthy of Your affection
and live again the times that once were,
delivered from the shadow.
For in shadow we are,

in the long, dark night
our souls sleep the long sleep:
awaken us with the terror
and awe of Your presence
O Holy One, accept our praise,

and what offerings such as us can give,
and look on us with kindness,
that we may save these days
and use them well.
95
Nicanthiel Hrafnhild is a Vanic-oriented Anglo-Saxon Heathen and

Celtic Revivalist, fulltrui to both the Germanic Goddess Nerthus and the
Irish God Óengus Mac ind Óg, with ties to several other Vanic deities,
including Freya/Geofon-Fréo. He is a part of the Vanaheim Fellowship,
and a member of Wessex Folc, an Anglo-Saxon tribalist community
based out of Southern California.
He is a life-long resident of the Northeastern United States. When not

writing or doing other religious work, he enjoys reading, playing and
listening to music, and the general fullness of life.
Hearth of the Vanir, his website focusing on the Vanir, Vanic living, and
Heathen mysticism can be found at http://vanirhearth.weebly.com
96

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Boar, Birch and

© 2009 Nicanthiel Hrafnhild

Cover Art © 2009 Ravenari

Printed in cooperation with

Any real acknowledgements must needs start with the person

Boar: Lady of Valor 13

Birch: Lady of Fertility and Renewal 37

Bog: Lady of Holiness and Sacrifice 61

-What Became on Lammastide: as told by Nerthus 77

Epilogue: The Days Gone Down in the West 93

Holy Lady of the Vanir

Nerthus is a Goddess Who is rarely talked about in any detailed

1 UPG, or Unverifiable Personal Gnosis is information about an aspect of

Who is the personification and essence of wíh, that is sacred holiness –

Earth's embrace | envelops everyone

Would You Know More?

I see you come before me,

I am the daughter of night,

I am sister to the sea,

I am mother of Battle-queen and Good-life,

I was fostered to the Hag,

would you know more, or what?

I am the queen of the lake,

I have no kin, no kindred:

I am the rider in the night,

I am cousin to the Winter,

I am called by many names:

Njörun: Lady of Valor

Nú skal Ásynjur [Now are called the Ásynjur (Goddesses)

Nothing more is said of this goddess, save that Her name is

•The common Njör- stem fits the naming conventions seen

Taking the last point further, there is an attested battle-formation

The Battlehorns of Dawn

The battlehorns at dawn

The battlehorns in the dawn-light

The battlehorns of dawn

Oh, grant us valor,

In this mechanical day

Behold, the lady rich, with figure strong,

Fight! Courage with breath

Empow'r'd thus by spell and song they go

The making of a warrior was a major rite of passage among the

– There will need to be an image of Nerthus that can stand on its

– There will also need to be a weapon, whether that is a modern

– The person undergoing the ritual should spend several days in

to take up and preparing themselves for it. The priest should

– The priest should be an oathed dedicant of Nerthus or priest of

3. The warrior will then dress in the appropriate clothing of their

9. At this time, the priest will raise the warrior to a standing

service to Nerthus; and to always consider and defend the weak,

13.After the blessing, there should be a communal feast, with the

The warrior may act in all roles themselves. They should

You are small, but not weak;

You are poor, but not impoverished;

against the inexorable

You are weak, but not finished;

You are oppressed, but not overcome;

For this do I give,

Memorial Day Sumble10

Ancestor and hero reverence is a big facet of most Heathens'

– There is a cast of “players” in this ritual: the Dryhten, or Lord (this

may undertake this role); and the Byrele or Ale Maiden (a

– The rite must be done indoors, under a roof.