Hyndluljóð - The Lay of Hyndla
When we think of Norse myth, we often picture gods in battle, giants in the mist, and the end of worlds foretold by the seeress of Völuspá. Yet hidden among the pages of the Poetic Edda lies another kind of tale - one of ancestry, memory, and divine intrigue.
This is Hyndluljóð, “The Lay of Hyndla” - a poem of revelation rather than war, where knowledge itself is the treasure sought. It begins not with thunder or prophecy, but with the goddess Freyja riding under the night sky, guiding a mortal hero to the very threshold of wisdom.
Through dialogue, dispute and ancestral memory, the poem unfolds as a descent into the past - tracing bloodlines, uncovering destinies, and revealing how divine and human fates intertwine.
It is one of the most mysterious lays of the Edda: part myth, part genealogy, part sacred riddle.
Forgotten by many, Hyndluljóð is a key that unlocks the deep foundations of Norse myth - the belief that who you are is bound to who came before and that knowledge of your lineage is knowledge of your soul.
About
Hyndluljóð, or “The Lay of Hyndla,” is one of the lesser known poems of the Poetic Edda, but it stands apart as a unique blend of myth, magic and memory. The poem centres on Freyja, the goddess of love, fate and seiðr, and her companion Óttar, a mortal devotee and friend.
Freyja rides her shining boar Hildisvíni (believed by some to be Óttar in disguise) to the cave of Hyndla, a powerful giantess and seeress. There, she demands that Hyndla recite Óttar’s ancestry - from his earliest mortal kin to the gods themselves. Freyja wishes to prove Óttar’s noble and divine lineage, securing his rightful place among heroes.
At first, Hyndla resists, mocking Freyja and her mortal companion. Yet under the goddess’s insistence, she begins the long recitation - a sweeping account of kinship that spans the Nine Worlds. She names ancestors both human and divine, weaving a web of connections between gods, giants, and legendary heroes.
The poem ends with Freyja calling upon her powers to bless Óttar, giving him sacred memory so that he may remember all that was spoken - the entire chain of his heritage, stretching from the mythic age into his own.
History
Like much of the Poetic Edda, Hyndluljóð comes to us through the fragile thread of manuscript tradition - a survivor of centuries of oral memory. The poem was preserved in the great Icelandic compendium known as the Flateyjarbók, compiled in the late 14th century by Christian scribes who, despite living in a changed world, still recognised the power and beauty of the old heathen verses.
Yet the origins of Hyndluljóð reach far deeper - likely to the ‘Viking Age’ (9th–11th centuries) or earlier, when these stories lived not on parchment but in the voices of skalds and seeresses. In those days, myth, memory, and ancestry were part of daily life. Tales were not simply told for entertainment; they were performed, sung and invoked in halls, rituals, and gatherings, carrying both spiritual and social weight.
The Norse placed immense importance on ancestry. To know one’s forebears was to know one’s place in the world - one’s strength, reputation, and destiny. A person without lineage was a person without roots, adrift in the ever turning web of wyrd. Family lines connected mortals not only to their human kin but often to divine or mythic ancestors - giants, gods, or heroes whose blood still pulsed symbolically in their descendants.
In that context, Hyndluljóð served as much more than myth. It was a living record of belonging, a kind of spiritual genealogy that bridged the mortal and divine. Through Hyndla’s recitation of Óttar’s ancestry, the poem mirrors real world practices where families traced their lineages aloud, affirming both social standing and spiritual inheritance. To forget one’s ancestors was to risk losing their blessings - to remember them was to awaken their strength.
Unlike Völuspá, which prophesies the fate of the cosmos, or Helgakviða, which tells of heroic tragedy, Hyndluljóð occupies a space between myth and history. It blends divine revelation with human lineage, seiðr with scholarship, piety with poetry. It shows us that for the Norse, the sacred was never far from the ordinary - that every human life was part of a larger, divine story.
At the time Hyndluljóð was recorded, Christianity had already reshaped much of Scandinavia’s spiritual landscape. Yet the fact that such a poem survived at all is remarkable. It suggests that Icelandic scribes (even those working within Christian frameworks) recognised the cultural and historical worth of their pagan heritage. They copied these poems not simply as curiosities, but as vessels of ancestral memory, carrying echoes of a worldview too profound to be forgotten.
Thus, Hyndluljóð stands as both a mythic hymn and a cultural artefact.. a window into an age where identity was bound to ancestry, and where to speak a name was to keep it alive in the great weave of time.
Structure and Themes
Hyndluljóð unfolds as a dialogue poem, a form common in the Poetic Edda where knowledge is not simply given but earned through challenge. Truth, in Norse thought, was often wrestled into the open not passively received.
Here, Freyja, the goddess of love, beauty, and seiðr-magic, confronts Hyndla, a giantess of immense age and wisdom. Their exchange is sharp and layered with rivalry: the goddess demands revelation, the giantess resists, and between them, hidden knowledge is forced to the surface. What begins as a contest of wills becomes a ritual of revelation, with a mortal man’s fate hanging in the balance.
What may appear to modern readers as a mere recitation of names was, in the Norse worldview, a sacred and powerful act. To speak a name aloud was to call it into being, to awaken its memory and its might.
When Hyndla names Óttar’s ancestors, she is not simply listing lineage she is invoking them, pulling the strength of the past into the present. Each name becomes a spell of belonging, binding Óttar to his divine and heroic forebears. In doing so, she restores his place in the cosmic web of wyrd - the living pattern that links gods, mortals, and ancestors alike.
Genealogy here is not dry history; it is magical continuity. Memory becomes an act of power, and remembering one’s roots becomes a form of awakening.
Freyja stands at the heart of the poem, commanding yet compassionate - the divine patron who bridges mortal and divine worlds. She guides Óttar not through brute power but through sacred knowledge and seiðr, the art of transformation and vision.
Her insistence that Hyndla reveal the truth is more than divine pride; it is the voice of initiation. In her, we glimpse the archetype of the initiatory goddess, guiding a mortal through revelation to self knowledge and rebirth.
Some scholars read this as a reflection of ancient Norse ritual - Freyja leading Óttar through a symbolic unveiling of his spiritual identity, where to know one’s ancestors is to know oneself. Her final gift (the blessing of remembrance) seals the bond between devotion and enlightenment.
Hyndla, the giantess, embodies the deep, reluctant wisdom of the earth. She resists Freyja’s command, yet she cannot withhold the truth forever. Like the völva of Völuspá, she is both mortal and mythic - a keeper of knowledge that even the gods must respect.
Her wisdom is ancient, rooted in the primal order that predates the Æsir. Through her, the poem honours a key Norse idea: that wisdom does not belong solely to the gods, but also to the old, chthonic powers of the land and the past. Hyndla’s recitation becomes an act of reluctant cooperation between divine command and elemental truth - a meeting of sky and stone.
Freyja’s shining boar, whose name means “battle swine,” is a potent symbol of fertility, sacrifice and protection. Many scholars interpret it as Óttar himself, transformed through Freyja’s magic - a sign of spiritual disguise or rebirth. If true, his journey is one of metamorphosis: the mortal hidden beneath divine form, journeying toward revelation.
When Freyja blesses Óttar with the power to remember his lineage, she grants him more than knowledge - she grants immortality through remembrance. In Norse belief, to be remembered is to endure beyond death; to be forgotten is to fade into nothing. The act of remembering becomes both devotion and resurrection.
At its core, Hyndluljóð reaffirms the sacred link between gods and mortals. Heroes are not separate from the divine but born from it, their fates echoing the myths of their ancestors. Each generation reflects the next, and in their union, mortal and divine continually renew the world’s living order.
Hyndluljóð is therefore more than a dialogue - it is a mirror of Norse cosmology itself.
Interpretations and Scholarly Debates
Modern scholars continue to debate the meaning and origins of Hyndluljóð, as its layered nature defies simple classification. Some view it primarily as a mythological genealogy, composed in a time when lineage carried both spiritual and political significance. In this reading, the poem may have served to legitimise the ancestry of a noble or ruling family, tracing their bloodline back to gods and heroes in order to affirm divine right and sacred heritage.
Others, however, approach the poem from a more mystical or symbolic perspective. They see Hyndluljóð not as a mere catalogue of names, but as a ritual of revelation - a mythic enactment of ancestral awakening and initiation. Within this framework, Hyndla’s recitation becomes a spiritual rite in which Óttar, guided by Freyja, journeys into the depths of memory and emerges transformed. His task is not to conquer, but to remember to reclaim his place in the cosmic web of being.
Freyja’s central role strengthens this interpretation. As the goddess of seiðr, she represents the magical and psychological processes of transformation: the weaving of fate, the invocation of memory, and the merging of mortal and divine identity. Her granting of minni (sacred remembrance) to Óttar is symbolic of enlightenment or rebirth. In this sense, Hyndluljóð may preserve echoes of initiation rituals, where a seeker is led through revelation, confrontation, and remembrance to spiritual awakening.
There is also an underlying mythic tension between Freyja and Hyndla that reflects one of the oldest themes in Norse cosmology — the relationship between gods and giants. The Æsir and the jötnar are not simple opposites of good and evil, but complementary forces: order and chaos, light and darkness, creation and dissolution. Their cooperation, however uneasy, is essential to the unfolding of truth. Freyja’s insistence and Hyndla’s resistance symbolise that dynamic - wisdom cannot be taken; it must be wrested from the raw, ancient powers of the world.
Some scholars even detect traces of older Indo European mythic patterns - the hero or seeker descending into the realm of hidden knowledge, aided by a divine female figure, to recover something lost: in this case, identity itself. Others link Hyndluljóð to ancestral cult practices hinted at in saga literature, where communication with the dead or the invocation of lineage served as a means of gaining spiritual authority.
Whatever its origins, Hyndluljóð stands as a rare example of a Norse poem that combines religious cosmology with human introspection, transforming genealogy into theology, and memory into magic.
Legacy
Though not as widely celebrated as Völuspá or Hávamál, Hyndluljóð remains a treasure of the Eddic corpus - a quiet yet profound reflection on the power of memory, identity and divine connection. Its verses preserve fragments of lost genealogies, linking legendary heroes, human ancestors, and gods in one seamless thread. It also offers rare insight into the ritual consciousness of the Norse people - how knowledge of one’s roots was not merely social pride but a sacred act of remembrance.
For mythologists, Hyndluljóð is a vital source for reconstructing early Norse ideas of ancestry, initiation, and the relationship between gods and mortals. It provides glimpses into ancient conceptions of spiritual inheritance, where bloodlines were pathways of both fate and power.
For modern Heathens and practitioners of Norse spirituality, the poem holds living meaning. It serves as a model for ancestral veneration - the practice of honouring those who came before as active presences in one’s life and spirit. Through Freyja’s guidance of Óttar, we see a reflection of the seeker’s own journey: learning to listen to the voices of the past, to claim strength from them, and to weave their wisdom into the present.
In Hyndluljóð, memory is not nostalgia. It is sacred continuity - the force that binds gods to mortals, the living to the dead and destiny to its source. The poem reminds us that we do not walk alone: every step echoes with the footsteps of those who walked before, and every name we remember brings the old powers back to life.
Hyndluljóð (The Lay of Hyndla) is one of the more mysterious and lesser known poems in the Poetic Edda. It tells of the goddess Freyja and her devoted follower Óttar, who seek out a powerful giantess named Hyndla to uncover hidden truths of ancestry and fate.
The poem opens with Freyja riding beneath the stars on her shining boar Hildisvíni. At her side (or perhaps disguised as her mount) is Óttar, a mortal man devoted to her. Their destination is the cave of Hyndla, a wise and ancient giantess who guards the secrets of bloodlines and forgotten history.
Freyja demands that Hyndla reveal Óttar’s lineage, reciting the long chain of his ancestors so that he may claim his rightful inheritance and honour. Hyndla resists at first, mocking Freyja and her mortal companion, but the goddess’s will is strong. Reluctantly, Hyndla begins to speak - unfolding an immense genealogical recitation that reaches deep into the mythic past, linking Óttar’s mortal line to gods, heroes, and legendary kings.
For the Norse, genealogy was not just history - it was sacred magic. To name one’s ancestors was to invoke them, to awaken their power and to anchor oneself in the divine order of the cosmos. By tracing Óttar’s lineage, Hyndla is not merely telling him who he is; she is binding him to the web of fate, reminding him that identity and ancestry are one and the same.
At the end of the poem, Freyja blesses Óttar with sacred memory (minni), ensuring he remembers every name, every story, and every ancestor spoken in the ritual. To forget would be to lose connection - but to remember is to live in the strength of those who came before.
Thus, Hyndluljóð is a poem not of war or prophecy, but of remembrance, lineage, and revelation - where knowledge itself becomes the bridge between mortal and divine.
Below, you’ll find my modern English translation of the poem, written to make it easier to follow. For those interested in the source, I’ve also included the original Old Norse text.
Hyndluljóð – Modern English Translation
Freyja spoke:
Wake, maiden - wake, my friend!
Rise, my sister Hyndla, from your hollow cave.
Night is falling, and we must ride together
To Valhalla, to seek the sacred hall.
We go to ask a favour from Allfather -
For he is generous with his gifts to his followers.
He gave Hermóðr a shining helm and mail-coat,
And to Sigmund he granted a mighty sword.
To some he gives victory, to others treasure;
To many he gives wisdom and skill in speech.
To the sailor he grants fair winds,
To the poet his art, and to heroes brave hearts.
I will honour Thor as well, and ask his blessing -
That you may always have his favour.
(Though it’s true, he has little love
For the brides of the giants.)
Now bring out one of your wolves from the pen,
And let him run beside my boar.
For my boar is slow upon the gods’ road,
And I would not tire my faithful steed.
Hyndla spoke:
You ask falsely, Freyja - I see through your words.
There’s deceit in the gleam of your eyes.
You do not ride alone on the road of the slain -
With you goes your lover, Óttar the Young,
Son of Innstein.
Freyja spoke:
You dream wildly, Hyndla, to speak so!
My lover is not with me on the path to the dead.
What you see beside me is my shining boar,
Hildisvíni, whose golden bristles gleam.
He was forged by Dáin and Nábbí -
The most skilled of all the dwarves.
Come then, let us dismount from our saddles
And speak together of the lines of heroes -
Of men whose blood was born from the gods above,
And whose names still live in song.
For a wager has been made,
A bet sealed in foreign silver,
Between Óttar the Young and Angantýr.
And I must help my faithful follower
Claim his father’s heritage and his rightful fortune.
For me, he built a shrine of stones -
And now the very rock glows like glass from devotion.
Often it was reddened with the blood of sacrifice,
For Óttar always placed his trust
In the goddesses’ favour.
Tell me now, Hyndla, the ancient names -
The old lineages of those born long ago.
Who are of the Skjoldungs,
Who belong to the Skilfings,
Who spring from the Öðlings, and who from the Ylfings?
Tell me who among men are free-born and high-born,
The noblest in all Midgard’s halls.
Hyndla spoke:
Óttar, you are the son of Innstein,
And Innstein was the son of Álf the Old.
Álf was born of Úlfr,
Úlfr of Sæfari,
And Sæfari’s father was Svan the Red -
A man of renown in the days long past.
Your mother - bright-armed and adorned with jewels -
Was called Hleiðis, a priestess of wisdom and honour.
Her father was Fróði, her mother Fríaut,
And from that line came some of the mightiest of men.
In the old days, Áli was the noblest of all,
But before him came Halfdan,
Foremost among the Skjoldungs.
His battles were famed across the worlds,
And his deeds were sung to the farthest corners of heaven.
Halfdan’s strength was unmatched,
Aided by his ally Eymund the Strong.
With an ice-cold blade, he slew Sigtryggr,
And his bride was Almveig, the finest of women.
Together they had eighteen sons,
All heroes born of her courage and his might.
From this line come the Skjoldungs,
From this line come the Skilfings,
From here the Öðlings, from here the Ynglings -
The free-born and the high-born alike,
The noblest of men who dwell in Midgard.
And all of them are your kin, Óttar -
You foolish man, do you not see it?
Your mother’s mother was Hildigunn,
Daughter of Sváva and Sækonungr the king.
They too are your kin, Óttar,
You foolish one - your blood runs deep!
It is much to know -
Will you hear still more?
The wife of Dagr was a mother of warriors -
Þóra, who bore him the bravest of men:
Fróðmar and Gyrðr, and the fierce Frekis twins,
Ámr, Jöfurrmar, and Álf the Old.
It is much to know -
Will you hear still more?
Her husband was Ketill, heir of Klyppr,
Who was your mother’s own mother’s father.
Before the time of Kári, there was Fróði,
And before the horn of Hildr, there was Hǫlfr.
Next came Nanna, daughter of Nǫkkvi,
Whose son became your father’s kinsman.
Old indeed is this lineage - and longer still!
And all of them, Óttar, are your kin,
You fool who knew it not!
Ísólfr and Ósólfr, sons of Ólmóð,
Whose wife was Skurhildr, daughter of Skekkill -
Count them among the greatest of heroes.
And all of them are your kin, Óttar -
You foolish man, can you not see it?
Gunnarr the Bulwark, Grímr the Hardy,
Þórir the Iron-Shield, and Úlfr the Howler;
Broddr and Hǫrvir, both I knew well -
They served in the household of Hrólfr the Old,
The famed king whose name endures in song.
Hervarðr, Hjörvarðr, Hrani, Angantýr,
Búi and Brami, Barri and Reifnir,
Tindr and Tyrfingr, and the twin Haddings -
All were mighty in battle and fierce in fame,
And all are your kin, Óttar,
You fool who rides not knowing his blood.
In the east, in Bólm, were born long ago
The sons of Arngrímr and Eyfura.
They swept through the world in berserker fury,
With fire and sword across land and sea -
And they too are your kinsmen, Óttar,
You foolish one, bound to heroes by blood.
The sons of Jǫrmunrekkr, long ago,
Were given to the gods in death as offerings.
He was kin to Sigurðr the Dragonslayer,
The slayer of Fáfnir, breaker of hosts -
And yes, Óttar, he too is of your line.
So remember well, for greatness sleeps in your name.
From the seed of Völsung the hero was born,
And Hjörðís came from the line of Hrauðung.
Eylimi, too, descended from the noble Öðlings -
And all of them are your kin, Óttar,
You foolish man who knows not your blood.
Gunnarr and Hǫgni, the sons of Gjǫki,
And their sister Guðrún, wise and sorrowful;
But Gotthormr, though their brother,
Was not of Gjǫki’s own bloodline.
Yet still, all are your kinsmen, Óttar -
You fool who rides not knowing your worth.
Of Hveðna’s sons, Haki was the greatest,
And Hjörvarðr was the father of Hveðna -
Their line too flows in your veins, Óttar,
And still you doubt what I speak!
Haraldr Battle-Tooth was born of Auðr the Deep-Minded,
And her husband was Hrœrekr the Ring-Giver.
Auðr herself was daughter to Ívarr,
And Ráðbarðr was father to Randvér.
Yes - all these noble ones are your kin, Óttar,
You foolish man, bound to greatness unawares!
Freyja spoke:
Now bring to my boar the mead of memory,
That he may remember every word you’ve spoken.
Three nights hence, when Óttar speaks
Of his race before Angantýr,
Let every name, every truth you’ve told,
Be bright within his mind.
Hyndla spoke:
Be gone now, Freyja - I would sleep.
From me you’ll get no further favours tonight.
My proud goddess, off you leap into the dark,
Like the goat Heiðrún that wanders among her herd.
You ran to Óðr, who ever loved you,
Though many have crept beneath your apron’s fold!
My proud goddess, again you leap into the night,
Like Heiðrún roaming among the goats.
Freyja spoke:
Then flames shall I call up around you, giantess,
So that you shall not leave this place unscathed.
You will feel the fire’s bite before you flee.
Hyndla spoke:
I see the flames rising - the earth itself burns!
Soon every soul will pay for its life.
Then bring to Óttar his draught of beer -
Let it be venom, and his fate a curse!
Freyja spoke:
Your poison, giantess, shall harm no one.
Your bitter curses shall fall to dust.
For Óttar shall drink a fair and holy brew,
So long as I hold the favour of the gods.
Hyndluljóð – Old Norse Translation
Freyja kvað:
1. "Vaki mær meyja, vaki mín vina,
Hyndla systir, er í helli býr;
nú er rökkr rökkra, ríða vit skulum
til Valhallar ok til vés heilags.
2. Biðjum Herjaföðr í hugum sitja,
hann geldr ok gefr gull verðungu;
gaf hann Hermóði hjalm ok brynju,
en Sigmundi sverð at þiggja.
3. Gefr hann sigr sumum, en sumum aura,
mælsku mörgum ok mannvit firum;
byri gefr hann brögnum, en brag skaldum,
gefr hann mannsemi mörgum rekki.
4. Þórr mun hon blóta, þess mun hon biðja,
at hann æ við þik einart láti;
þó er hánum ótítt við jötuns brúðir.
5. Nú taktu ulf þinn einn af stalli,
lát hann renna með runa mínum."
Hyndla kvað:
"Seinn er göltr þinn goðveg troða,
vilk-at ek mar minn mætan hlæða.
6. Flá ertu, Freyja, er þú freistar mín,
vísar þú augum á oss þannig,
er þú hefir ver þinn í valsinni
Óttar unga Innsteins bur."
Freyja kvað:
7. "Dulin ertu, Hyndla, draums ætlak þér,
er þú kveðr ver minn í valsinni,
þar er göltr glóar Gullinbursti,
Hildisvíni, er mér hagir gerðu,
dvergar tveir, Dáinn ok Nabbi.
8. Senn vit ór söðlum sitja vit skulum
ok um jöfra ættir dæma,
gumna þeira, er frá goðum kvámu.
9. Þeir hafa veðjat Vala malmi
Óttarr ungi ok Angantýr;
skylt er at veita, svá at skati inn ungi
föðurleifð hafi eftir frændr sína.
10. Hörg hann mér gerði hlaðinn steinum,
- nú er grjót þat at gleri orðit; -
rauð hann í nýju nauta blóði;
æ trúði Óttarr á ásynjur."
Freyja kvað:
11. "Nú láttu forna niðja talða
ok upp bornar ættir manna:
Hvat ek Skjöldunga, hvat ek Skilfinga,
hvat er Öðlinga, hvat er Ylfinga,
hvat er höldborit, hvat er hersborit
mest manna val und Miðgarði?"
Hyndla kvað:
12. "Þú ert, Óttarr, borinn Innsteini,
en Innsteinn var Alfi inum gamla,
Alfr var Ulfi, Ulfr Sæfara,
en Sæfari Svan inum rauða.
13. Móður átti faðir þinn menjum göfga,
hygg ek, at hon héti Hlédís gyðja;
Fróði var faðir þeirar, en Fríund móðir;
öll þótti ætt sú með yfirmönnum.
14. Auði var áðr öflgastr manna,
Halfdan fyrri hæstr Skjöldunga;
fræg váru folkvíg, þau er framir gerðu,
hvarfla þóttu hans verk með himins skautum.
15. Eflðisk hann við Eymund æðstan manna,
en hann vá Sigtrygg með svölum eggjum,
eiga gekk Almveig, æðsta kvinna,
ólu þau ok áttu átján sonu."
Hyndla kvað:
16. "Þaðan eru Skjöldungar, þaðan Skilfingar,
þaðan Öðlingar, þaðan Ynglingar,
þaðan höldborit, þaðan hersborit,
mest manna val und Miðgarði;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
17. Var Hildigunnr hennar móðir,
Sváfu barn ok sækonungs;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
Varðar, at viti svá. Viltu enn lengra?
18. Dagr átti Þóru drengja móður,
ólusk í ætt þar æðstir kappar:
Fraðmarr ok Gyrðr ok Frekar báðir,
Ámr ok Jösurmarr, Alfr inn gamli.
Varðar, at viti svá. Viltu enn lengra?
19. Ketill hét vinr þeira, Klypps arfþegi,
var hann móðurfaðir móður þinnar;
þar var Fróði fyrr en Kári,
inn eldri var Alfr of getinn.
20. Nanna var næst þar Nökkva dóttir,
var mögr hennar mágr þíns föður;
fyrnð er sú mægð, fram tel ek lengra;
kunna ek báða Brodd ok Hörvi;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski."
Hyndla kvað:
21. "Ísolfr ok Ásolfr Ölmóðs synir
ok Skúrhildar Skekkils dóttur;
skaltu til telja skatna margra;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
22. Gunnarr balkr, Grímr arðskafi,
járnskjöldr Þórir, Ulfr gínandi.
23. [Hervarðr, Hjörvarðr, Hrani, Angantýr],
Búi ok Brámi, Barri ok Reifnir,
Tindr ok Tyrfingr, ok tveir Haddingjar;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
24. Austr í Bolm váru bornir
Arngríms synir ok Eyfuru,
brökun var berserkja, böl margs konar,
um lönd ok um lög sem logi færi;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
25. Kunnak báða Brodd ok Hörvi;
váru þeir í hirð Hrolfs ins gamla.
Allir bornir frá Jörmunreki,
Sigurðar mági, - hlýð þú sögu minni, -
folkum grimms, þess er Fáfni vá.
Hyndla kvað:
26. Sá var vísir frá Völsungi
ok Hjördís frá Hrauðungi,
en Fylimi frá Öðlingum;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
27. Gunnarr ok Högni, Gjúka arfar,
ok it sama Guðrún, systir þeira;
eigi var Gutþormr Gjúka ættar,
þó var hann bróðir beggja þeira;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
28. Haraldr hilditönn borinn Hræreki
slöngvanbauga, sonr var hann Auðar,
Auðr djúpúðga Ívars dóttir,
en Ráðbarðr var Randvers faðir;
þeir váru gumnar goðum signaðir;
allt er þat ætt þín, Óttarr heimski.
Freyja kvað:
29. "Ber þú minnisöl mínum gesti,
svá hann öll muni orð at tína
þessar ræðu á þriðja morgni,
þá er þeir Angantýr ættir rekja.
Hyndla kvað:
30. "Snúðu braut heðan, sofa lystir mik,
fær þú fátt af mér fríðra kosta;
hleypr þú, Óðs vina, úti á náttum,
sem með höfrum Heiðrún fari.
Hyndla kvað:
31. Rannt at Óði ey þreyjandi,
skutusk þér fleiri und fyrirskyrtu;
hleypr þú, Óðs vina, úti á náttum,
sem með höfrum Heiðrún fari."
Freyja kvað:
32. "Ek slæ eldi of íviðju,
svá at þú eigi kemsk á braut heðan."
Hyndla kvað:
33. Hyr sé ek brenna, en hauðr loga,
verða flestir fjörlausn þola;
ber þú Óttari bjór at hendi
eitri blandinn mjök, illu heilli."
Freyja kvað:
34. "Orðheill þín skal engu ráða,
þóttú, brúðr jötuns, bölvi heitir;
hann skal drekka dýrar veigar;
bið ek Óttari öll goð duga."
Hyndluljóð is not a poem of war, conquest, or vengeance. It is a hymn to memory - to the quiet power that flows through lineage and story, through the whispered names of those long gone but never truly lost. Its strength does not thunder from the sky; it rises softly from the earth, from the blood, from the breath of remembrance.
When Freyja rides beneath the cold stars, her boar shining like bronze in the moonlight, she rides not only for Óttar, but for every soul who has ever sought to remember where they come from. Her journey to Hyndla’s cave is our own descent - into the hidden places of memory, where the past waits patiently, ready to be called forth again through word, song, and reverence.
The poem reminds us that the past is not dead. It sleeps, coiled beneath the surface of the world, beneath the surface of ourselves - waiting for the courage to be spoken aloud once more. Every name recalled, every story retold, is an act of resurrection.
Like Freyja and Hyndla, we too stand at the threshold between knowing and forgetting, between the living and the lost. And in that space, memory becomes a bridge - a shining thread that connects us to the divine, to our ancestors, and to the endless cycle of becoming.
To remember, then, is not merely to look back. It is to awaken the gods within us, to breathe life into what was, and to carry that sacred fire forward. For the power of Hyndluljóð endures wherever the old names are spoken, and wherever hearts still honour the deep magic of belonging.