A Prayer to Niht

O Niht , Swarthy one, Day’s rival, Primordial Goddess
Your cloak is cast over heaven and Earth
Embracing all things equally
Whether baying wolf or men at rest
All know your caress
All know your protection

Hear this prayer, O Niht
O, Nourisher
O, Obscurer
Sleep’s joy
Grant that I might find shelter and safety in your bosom
That I might find respite from the day’s toils
And be provided with dream and fore-token

O Goddess, accept this offering
Humble though it may be
May it reach you
May it please you
May you continue to smile upon us



Wyrtlār: Hemp/Cannabis

Hemp (Cannabis Sativa) is an annual herbaceous plant which was originally endemic to Eastern Asia [1]. In Old English, the plant was referred to as hænep, which comes from Proto-Germanic *hanapiz [2], which, in turn, derives from Ancient Greek, kánnabis [3]. It’s uncertain at what point the word was adopted into the Germanic language, but it was affected by Grimm’s law, shifting *k to *h and *b to *p [4], suggesting a fairly early transmission.

In terms of Old English medicinal usage, the plant is referenced a total of 4 times in the Anglo-Saxon leechdoms in conjunction with other herbs for treatment of a variety of issues.

A mention of hænep occurs in Lacnunga 63, where it is employed alongside a whole host of other herbs and “black snail’s dust” to produce a holy salve with apotropaic properties. Lacnunga 63 also lists the recitation of a so-called snake-charm 9 times.

“acre acre arnem nona ærnem beoþor ærnem nidren arcum cunaþ ele harassan fidine”[5]

This charm follows the typical Germanic pattern of utilizing the number 9, and some scholars have noted similarities between this charm and Gaelic charms found elsewhere – though none have been able to successfully decipher its meaning [6][7].  

In Herbarium 26, hemp is combined with wolf’s comb, raven’s foot and hart clover, pounded into a fine powder and mixed in wine to create a diuretic to treat “watersickness” (wæterseocnysse); an archaic term for dropsy or interstitial edema [8].

In Herbarium 27, we are provided with two uses for hænep in the form of an analgesic. In the first usage, cannabis is recommended to be pounded and laid into an open wound, or “if the wound be very deep then take the sap and wring it into the wound.”  In the second part, the writer suggests cannabis should be drunk to take away “pain of the innards” – a treatment which makes sense considering how effective endocannabinoids and cannabinoids appear to be in treating inflammatory bowel disease (IBD)[9].

In the Hellenic world, cannabis and its medicinal applications were well-known. In his De Materia Medica, Dioscorides provides us with information about two plants; kannabis emeros and kannabis agria. The first plant, emeros, likely refers to cannabis sativa, a plant which was employed for a variety of uses.

“Cannabis is a plant of considerable use in this life for twisting very strong ropes. It bears leaves with a bad scent, similar to the ash; long hollow stalks, and a round seed. Eaten in quantities these quench conception. The herb (juiced while green) is good for earaches. It is also called cannabium, schoenostrophon, or asterion; the Romans call it cannabis.” [10]

The second plant, kannabis agria, may refer to hibiscus cannabinus, datisca cannabina, or cannabis sativa indica, according to Osbaldeston [11]. Cannabis sativa indica seems a rather likely choice when we look at the anti-inflammatory properties presented in the excerpt below.

“Cannabis sylvestris bears little stems similar to those of althea but darker, sharper and smaller. The leaves are similar to the cultivated but sharper and darker. The reddish flowers are similar to lychnis, with the seed and root similar to althea. The root (boiled and applied) is able to lessen inflammation, dissolve oedema, and disperse hardened matter around the joints. The bark of this is suitable for twining ropes. It is also called hydrastina, the Romans call it terminalis, and some, cannabis.” [12]

As in Herbarian 26, cannabis is used here to treat edema (swelling), as well as some sort of unspecified inflammation of the joints – perhaps a reference to gout or pseudogout.

In his Histories (440 BCE), Herodotus gives us a glimpse into the entheogenic usage of cannabis among the Scythians.

They make a booth by fixing in the ground three sticks inclined towards one another, and stretching around them woollen felts, which they arrange so as to fit as close as possible: inside the booth a dish is placed upon the ground, into which they put a number of red-hot stones, and then add some hemp-seed. … The Scythians, as I said, take some of this hemp-seed, and, creeping under the felt coverings, throw it upon the red-hot stones; immediately it smokes, and gives out such a vapour as no Grecian vapour-bath can exceed; the Scyths, delighted, shout for joy, and this vapour serves them instead of a water-bath; for they never by any chance wash their bodies with water” [13]

Herodotus’ account – at least the portion regarding their use of cannabis – is supported by archaeological evidence. In 2013, archaeologist Andrei Belinski unearthed a number of Scythian artifacts from a kurgan found in the Caucasus Mountains of southern Russia. Two golden vessels filled with a black residue were discovered among the grave goods. When Belinski sent samples of the residue in for analysis, he found they contained remnants of opium and cannabis. Belinski believes the vessels originally held an opium-derived concoction which was consumed while cannabis was burned as a form of incense nearby. Archaeologist Anton Gass of the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation supports Belinski’s theory, saying “that both drugs were being used simultaneously is beyond doubt.” [14]

The Thracians and Dacians were also not strangers to cannabis, which is unsurprising given their contact with the Scythians. Herodotus suggests the Thracians were skilled in the weaving of hemp garments, which he claimed closely resembled linen to those unfamiliar with the plant fibres.

In his Geography, Strabo makes reference to a people called the Kapnobatai, or “Those who walk among the smoke/clouds.” While it is unknown whether the Kapnobatai were a shamanic cult or an organized priesthood, we are provided with a brief look at their practices.

“Poseidonius goes on to say of the Mysians that in accordance with their religion they abstain from eating any living thing, and therefore from their flocks as well; and that they use as food honey and milk and cheese, living a peaceable life, and for this reason are called both “god-fearing” and “capnobatae”…” [15]

In A Treasury of Hashish, Dr. Alexander Sumach says this of the Kapnobatai:

The sorcerers of these Thracian tribes were known to have burned female cannabis flowers (and other psychoactive plants) as a mystical incense to induce trances. Their special talents were attributed to the “magical heat” produced from burning the cannabis and other herbs, believing that the plants dissolved in the flames, then reassembled themselves inside the person who inhaled the vapors.” [16][17]

Eliade also touches on Thracian cannabis use in his work, Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy.

“Only one document appears to indicate the existence of a Getic shamanism: it is Strabo’s account of the Mysian kapnobatai, a name that has been translated, by analogy with Aristophanes’ aerobates, as ‘those who walk in the clouds,’ but which should be translated ‘those who walk in smoke.’ Presumably the smoke is hemp smoke, a rudimentary means of ecstasy known to both the Thracians and the Scythians. The kapnobatai would seem to be Getic dancers and sorcerers who used hemp smoke for their ecstatic trances.” [18]

The Scythian and Thracian fondness for cannabis may have been transferred to the Goths during their time on the Pontic Steppe. The earliest Greek accounts of the Goths refer to them as Scythian – a blanket identifier which was likely used due to their close proximity and shared nomadic lifestyle [19].

Herwig Wolfram makes mention of this shared affinity in his History of the Goths, where he touches on possible shamanic practices associated with the Goths.

“ We must not, however, see the entire ‘Gothic special vocabulary’ – namely, all words that have no direct corresponding words in Germanic or Indo-European languages – as the ‘genuine remains of the shamanic vocabulary.’ By no means must everything that remains unexplained be a reminder of a shamanic experience. Such a generalization would certainly be greatly exaggerated. But the intoxicating ‘cannabis sauna,’ which Herodotus noted among the Scythians, was not unknown to the Thracians and probably also sent the Gothic shamans on the desired ‘trip’.” [20]

The Egyptians utilized cannabis for various ailments. Cannabis is listed as a medicinal herb on several papyri, the most well-known of which, the Ebers papyrus, was recorded in 1550 BCE [21].  The Ebers papyrus presents cannabis as a remedy for issues associated with the female reproductive system and suggests the herb should be ground and mixed with honey and inserted as a vaginal suppository to alleviate “heat of the uterus.”  While “heat of the uterus” could refer to a fairly extensive list of reproductive issues, Egyptologist Paul Ghalioungui believed the suppository would have been utilized as an obstetric aid. This usage mirrors 19th century treatments which employed cannabis in a similar fashion to treat migraines and gynecological disorders [22].

In the  Ramesseum III Papyrus, dated to 1700 BCE, hemp is ground, mixed with celery and left out overnight to collect dew. This dewy concoction is then rubbed into the eyes the following morning to treat an unspecified eye-related issue [23]. This usage calls to mind one of the earliest modern uses of medical marijuana as treatment for glaucoma [24].

The Berlin Papyrus, dated to 1300 BCE, recommends cannabis be used topically to reduce fever and treat inflammation [25] – a practice we still see today with CBD infused ointments and lotions.

In the Chester-Beatty VI papyrus, cannabis is referenced twice as a component of a suppository to treat colorectal-related issues, such as hemorrhoids [26].  

The Hearst Papyrus, dated to 1550 BCE, provides us with three formulas utilizing cannabis for the treatment of foot-related difficulties. In one of the excerpts, cannabis is employed to treat what appears to be a gangrenous infection of the toenail where maggots have taken hold.

“”If you find a painful finger or a toe, from water having been around them (serosity), their odor being malignant, whereas they have formed maggots [worms], you must say to this patient: “A problem that I can treat”. You must prepare for him treatments to kill the vermin [. . .]. Another for the toenail: honey: 1/4; ochre 1/64; cannabis: 1/32; hedjou resin: 1/32, ibou plant: 1/32. Prepare as for the preceding, and dress with it”. [27]

The use of cannabis as an antibiotic is supported by modern science, since THC, CBD, CBN, CBC and CBG have all been shown to possess antibiotic properties and may be used in place of current medications due to increasing antibiotic resistance [28][29].

Cannabis has a long history in China, being used for both entheogenic and medicinal purposes for thousands of years. Shennong’s  Ben Cao Jing describes the plant as having the ability to induce hallucinations and to cause those who ingest it to “throw themselves about like maniacs.” the author goes on to say that the plant, if taken over a long period, can provide the user with the ability to communicate with spirits and can cause their body to “become light” [30].

In another part of the book, the author gives us a description of the plant itself, which he claims possesses poisonous leaves and fruits.

The flowers when they burst (when the pollen is scattered) are called 麻蕡 [mafen] or 麻勃 [mabo]. The best time for gathering is the seventh day of the seventh month. The seeds are gathered in the ninth month. The seeds which have entered the soil are injurious to man. It grows in [Taishan] (in [Shandong] …). The flowers, the fruit (seed) and the leaves are officinal. The leaves and the fruit are said to be poisonous, but not the flowers and the kernels of the seeds.” [31]

The belief that cannabis was a means of communicating with the dead appears to have been widespread in ancient China. T’ao Hung Ching’s Ming-I Pieh Lu describes the plant as being utilized by necromancers in their work and when combined with ginseng, allows the practitioner the ability to fast forward time and peer into the future [32]. The Zhenglei bencao and Shiliao bencao  give a similar use and suggest the plant allows users to perceive spirits if “taken for 100 days” [33][34].

“The use of Cannabis as an hallucinogenic drug by necromancers or magicians is especially notable. It should be pointed out that in ancient China, as in most early cultures, medicine has its origin in magic. Medicine men were practicing magicians. In northeastern Asia, shamanism was widespread from Neolithic down to recent times. In ancient China shamans were known as wu. This vocation was very common down to the Han dynasty. After that it gradually diminished in importance, but the practice persisted in scattered localities and among certain peoples. In the far north, among the nomadic tribes of Mongolia and Siberia, shamanism was widespread and common until rather recent times.” [35]

Apart from its widespread necromantic uses, cannabis was also among the 50 fundamental herbs of traditional Chinese medicine [36]. As medicine, cannabis was used to treat a long list of ailments, including: tapeworm, blot clot, constipation and hair loss.

“Every part of the hemp plant is used in medicine … The flowers are recommended in the 120 different forms of (風 feng) disease, in menstrual disorders, and in wounds. The achenia, which are considered to be poisonous, stimulate the nervous system, and if used in excess, will produce hallucinations and staggering gait. They are prescribed in nervous disorders, especially those marked by local anaesthesia. The seeds … are considered to be tonic, demulcent, alternative [restorative], laxative, emmenagogue, diuretic, anthelmintic, and corrective. … They are prescribed internally in fluxes, post-partum difficulties, aconite poisoning, vermillion poisoning, constipation, and obstinate vomiting. Externally they are used for eruptions, ulcers, favus, wounds, and falling of the hair. The oil is used for falling hair, sulfur poisoning, and dryness of the throat. The leaves are considered to be poisonous, and the freshly expressed juice is used as an anthelmintic, in scorpion stings, to stop the hair from falling out and to prevent it from turning gray. … The stalk, or its bark, is considered to be diuretic … The juice of the root is … thought to have a beneficial action in retained placenta and post-partum hemorrhage. An infusion of hemp … is used as a demulcent drink for quenching thirst and relieving fluxes.” [37]

Like China, India too has a long history of cannabis use stretching back millenia. In Atharvaveda, cannabis – here referred to as bhang – is listed as one of the 5 sacred plants that deliver men from woe.

“To the five kingdoms of the plants which Soma rules as Lord we speak.
Darbha, cannabis, barley, mighty power: may these deliver us from woe.”

The Vedas also speak highly of the plant and refer to it as “liberator,” “joy-giver” and a “source of happiness” and the Raja Vallabha suggests hemp was sent from the heavens to provide humanity with delight, courage and a boost of libido. The use of cannabis as a form of aphrodisiac appears to be legitimate, given recent research by the National Survey of Family Growth (NSFG) into the relationship between sex and cannabis has revealed that people who smoke marijuana appear to have more sex on average than those who abstain.

“The researchers noticed a correlation between how often people smoked marijuana and how often they had sex. More specifically, people who used marijuana had 20 percent more sex than those who did not, and this applied to both genders.

Women who refrained from having marijuana in the past year reported having had sex six times, on average, in the past 4 weeks, while for marijuana users, this number was 7.1.

Men who abstained from marijuana had sex 5.6 times in the past 4 weeks, while men who used marijuana daily reported an average number of 6.9 times.” [38][39]



[1] Florian, Mary-Lou E. Kronkright, Dale Paul. Norton, Ruth E. The Conservation of Artifacts Made from Plant Materials
[5]Pollington, Stephen. Leechcraft
[6]Pollington, Stephen. Leechcraft
[7]Grattan, John H. G. Singer, Charles J. Anglo-Saxon magic and medicine
[9]University of Massachusetts Medical School. “Cannabis link to relieving intestinal inflammation explained.” ScienceDaily. ScienceDaily, 13 August 2018.
[10]Dioscorides, Pedanius. De Materia Medica. Translated and edited by Tess Anne Osbaldeston
[11]Dioscorides, Pedanius. De Materia Medica. Translated and edited by Tess Anne Osbaldeston
[12]Dioscorides, Pedanius. De Materia Medica. Translated and edited by Tess Anne Osbaldeston
[13]Herodotus. Histories 4.75
[15]Strabo. Geography.
[17]Sumach, Alexander. A Treasury of Hashish
[18]Eliade, Mircea. Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy.
[19]Kulikowski, Michael. Rome’s Gothic Wars: From the Third Century to Alaric
[20]Wolfram, Herwig. History of the Goths
[30]Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China
[31]Bretschneider, Emil. Botanicon Sinicum: Notes on Chinese Botany from Native and Western Sources. Part III, Botanical Investigations in the Materia Medica of the Ancient Chinese.
[32]Touw, M. The religious and medicinal uses of Cannabis in China, India and Tibet. Journal of psychoactive drugs
[33]Li Hui-Lin.  The Origin and Use of Cannabis in Eastern Asia: Linguistic-Cultural Implications, Economic Botany
[34]Shiliao bencao
[35]Li Hui-Lin. An Archaeological and Historical Account of Cannabis in China
[36]Wong, Ming. La Médecine chinoise par les plantes.
[37]Smith, Frederick Porter. Chinese Materia Medica: Vegetable Kingdom.[38]https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/319907.php

Bones and Bogs: An Update

Well, it has been well over a month since my last post and I feel it’s about time I write something on here. Y’know, to keep my devoted fans informed (lulz).

This Summer has been something of an interesting, albeit arduous journey for me with regard to my somewhat poor physical health. I have been dealing with autoimmune issues in the form of Celiac disease for the better part of a decade and had finally gotten comfortable(ish) with my gluten-free lifestyle, when some fun, new things started to rear their ugly heads. What began as mild hand stiffness and pain soon became fairly severe and spread to my lower back and ankles. At first I assumed the pain was the byproduct of physical exertion at my job, but as the pain progressed and new bits and pieces of me got involved in the pain-party, I knew something was up.

Several doctor’s appointments, blood tests, x-rays and specialist visits later and I’m inching closer to a diagnosis. The rheumatologist thinks I have a form of spondylitic arthritis – likely psoriatic or one related to an irritable bowel disease. I won’t know until my MRIs are completed and he’s had a chance to look over the imaging. So much fun!

In the meantime, I’m trying to make the best of a decidedly shit situation, stay somewhat positive and eat as healthily as I can. I made a massive change to my diet after doing some serious Google spelunking, and have adopted the paleo/primal diet for the time being, leaving behind an array of gluten-free foods I had grown accustomed to in the past 10-ish years.

It hasn’t been all negative, mind you. We Sundorwīcians went on a camping trip earlier this month to Algonquin Park – a place I hadn’t been to in nearly 15 years. The weather was perfect, we camped with family, I felt really well and I could feel the numinous in every nook and cranny of the place.

On our last day at the park, we went on a hike – one I had been on numerous times as a kid and loved. It’s called the Spruce Bog Trail and is basically a boardwalk built through two bogs-the Sunday Creek Bog and the Small Kettle Bog – both of which are home to some really fascinating flora and a plethora of blood-hungry insects. As is fairly standard with bogs, the water’s acid content is high, slowing the decomposition of organic matter, creating this sort of spooky, “fallen tree graveyard” vibe with the Sunday Creek Bog. The Small Kettle Bog, in contrast, had a thick carpeting of moss and other nondescript boggy plants growing over it and obscuring the water. According to the handy dandy trail brochure, these bogs were formed at the tail end of the Pleistocene (approx.11,000 years ago) when a massive glacier melted – an ancientness you could really feel while walking through the trail.

This ancient, numinous presence was so pronounced and tangible, I felt this overwhelming need to leave an impromptu propitiatory offering – something I often do when I am out in nature and floored by the inherent power of a place. I said some quick words of humble praise to the Wight/Wights of the waters and then I did something that multitudes of Germanic polytheists have done before me – I dropped my offering (two coins to be exact) into the dark, sunless waters of a bog.

The feeling of doing something like that, something that connects you in action to your ancestors and to the Gods, is profound. It left me feeling euphoric for the remainder of the day – something I feel whenever an offering goes well and feels well-received.

Anyway, that’s enough rambling for today. I am currently working on another comparative piece, so I expect that should be completed sometime in the next couple weeks, if I’m not too busy with work and doctor’s appointments, that is. Stay tuned, kids.



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A Prayer to Wada



Lo! Witness how the Earth shakes and trembles before you
Oh lord of the in-between places
You who treads unseen in shadow
Bringer of dreams and deluge
You who heals wound and ailment
You who lifts the veils

Now at my supplication, O Wada,
Apportioner of wealth and of mægen, grant that the fortunes of our hearth and household be firmly established,
so that those who desire peace and plenty may behold it

Please accept this gift, O Hellegod,
A gift for a gift
I dedicate and I give
May it please you
May you receive it well

Some Divinatory terms and Magical Vocations in Old English

Despite its questionable origin, “rune magic” has become the de facto form of divination associated with modern heathendom. While any writing or symbological system could, in theory,  be employed for the purpose of augury, for the purposes of Fyrnsidu, it may be beneficial to look at the Old English corpus for clues as to the divinatory practices and magical vocations of the Ur-Saxon Heathen.

Wīglere (m.) : A diviner / augur, derived from wīg/wēoh (m.), meaning ‘idol/image’, descending from Proto-Germanic *wīhą, meaning ‘sacred place or thing’

Steorwīglere (m.): An astrologer, derived from steorra (m.), meaning ‘star’

Wīgbedwīglere (m.): One who divines from sacrifices. Possibly one who interprets whether an offering was well-received by reading the organs (haruspicy) or bones of a sacrificed animal.

Fugelweohlere/Fugelhǣlsere/Fugelhwata (m.): A diviner by birds. Bosworth and Toller provide the Latin gloss of auspex, derived from the Latin/Proto-Italic word *avispex (m.), made up of avis, meaning ‘bird’ and speciō, meaning ‘to watch or observe’.

Dægmǣlscēawere (m.): An observer of the times and seasons, an astrologer. Dægmǣl essentially means ‘day-mark’ and relates to an instrument for telling time – perhaps a sundial.

Gebyrdwīglere (m.): A birth-diviner. Presumably one who divines a unborn or newborn child’s future.

Galdere (m.): An enchanter. Galdere is an agent noun derived from galdor/gealdor (n.), meaning a ‘charm,’ ‘incantation,’ or ‘enchantment,’ which suggests a verbal, spell-casting component.

Swefenreccere (m.): An interpreter of dreams/oneiromancer. The craft of dream divining is recorded as swefenracu (f.)

Tānhlyta/Tanhlytere (m.): One who divines by casting lots/ cleromancy. The casting of lots appears as gehlot (n.) in Old English. Tacitus records a similar form of divination in his Germania, where it is listed alongside divination by way of birds.

“Augury and divination by lot no people practise more diligently. The use of the lots is simple. A little bough is lopped off a fruit-bearing tree, and cut into small pieces; these are distinguished by certain marks, and thrown carelessly and at random over a white garment. In public questions the priest of the particular state, in private the father of the family, invokes the gods, and, with his eyes towards heaven, takes up each piece three times, and finds in them a meaning according to the mark previously impressed on them. If they prove unfavourable, there is no further consultation that day about the matter; if they sanction it, the confirmation of augury is still required. For they are also familiar with the practice of consulting the notes and the flight of birds.”

Hellrūn/Hellerūne (f.), Hellrūna (m.): One who is versed in the mysteries of Hell / Underworld. A necromancer. Possible allusions to conjuring and communing with the dead. The Latin gloss, pythonissa (f.), is used for comparison.

Burgrūne (f.): A sorceress. Bosworth and Toller provide the glosses parcæ, furiæ, oreades, suggesting some association with Wyrd, or Wælcyrian (ON: valkyrjur). The plural form is listed as burh/burgrūnan (f.). 

Heagorūn (f.):  A mystery where magic is involved/ necromancy.

 Lēodrūne (f.): Witch or wise-woman/cunning-woman. Derived from lēod, meaning ‘man,’ ‘country,’ ‘people.’ Possibly synonymous with burh/burgrūne.

Wyrtgælestre (f.): A woman who uses herbs or plants for charms.

 Wammfreht (n.): Divination using stains or impurities, with wamm meaning ‘stain,’ or ‘spot.’ Bosworth and Toller doesn’t give a precise definition, so it’s uncertain whether the stains mentioned might be related to sacrifice (blood), or some other form of stain/impurity.

Hǣlsung/Hālsung (f.): Divination/augury.

Wīgle (n.): Divination / Heathen praxis

Wītgegung (f.): Prophecy. The word also appears in the compound wītegungbōc, or ‘book of prophecies.’

Wītegestre (f.): Prophetess. The Latin gloss prophetissa is provided for comparative purposes.

Unlybwyrhta (m.): A poison-maker, one who prepares poisons for witchcraft. Comes from unlybba (m.), meaning ‘poison’.

Wiccecræft/Wiccedōm (m.): Witchcraft/sorcery.

Wicce (f.), Wicca (m.): A witch, sorcerer/sorceress

Wiccian (verb.): To practice witchcraft.

Wiccung (f.): Literally ‘witching’/ witchcraft.

Hægtesse (f.): A witch, hag, or Fury. The Latin gloss Furia is provided for comparison and may suggest some affinity with both hellerūne and burgrūne. An Old High German equivalent is recorded as hagzissa, from which modern German hexe is derived. Seolfor Cwylla Heorþ recently published a short article on burgrūnan and Hægtessan, which might be of interest in relation to this topic.

Drȳ/ Drȳman/ Drȳmann (m.): A magician or sorcerer, which is etymologically linked to Proto-Celtic *druwits (druid). The word might represent a shared concept with analogous words having been lost in other Germanic languages, or may represent a Brythonic influence on Anglo-Saxon culture. The plural form of the word is recorded as drȳmen (f.). 

Drȳcræft (m.): Sorcery or magic related to the term drȳ, related above.

Scīnlāc (n.): Magic, necromancy, sorcery, stemming from scīn, referring to ‘a deceptive appearance,’ ‘a phantasm,’ or a ‘spectre.’ This is suggestive of some form of illusory magic.

Līcwiglung (f.): Necromancy. Likely associated with the use of corpses or bodies, via the word, līc.



A Short Analysis of Neorxnawang



Neorxnawang is an interesting subject, considering the absolute confusion the word has elicited among scholars. While the second element of the compound, –wang (field, plain country, place) [1] is fairly straightforward in its meaning, the first element, Neorxna- , presents a serious problem. In his translation of Genesis, Ælfric uses Neorxnawang as a gloss for Latin Paradisum, the biblical Heaven, which has lead academics, such as McKinnell, to suggest the translation “Field of Contentment” [2]. This translation doesn’t seem a considerable leap if one looks at the context which it is used in other works, such as the Blickling Homilies and the Anglo-Saxon translation of Gregory’s Dialogues – the latter of which uses the adjective, Neorxnawanglic (of paradise) [3].

Jacob Grimm was the first to really tackle the etymology of the word. In his own musings, he mentioned a contemporary belief that the word was related in some way to the Norns, but that it posed too many issues to be suitably substantiated.

“The A. gen. pl. neorxana, which only occurs in ‘neorxena wong’ = paradisus, has been proposed, but the abbreviation would be something unheard of, and even the nom. sing. neorxe or neorxu at variance with norn; besides, the Parcae are nowhere found connected with paradise.” [4]

More recently, Rudolf Simek suggested Neorxnawang may have acted as a pre-Migration Period analogue for “Asgard”- an idea which he asserted might be proven by the existence of an earlier etymological equivalent in Gothic waggs (meadow, paradise) [5] and by how obscure and confusing the term had become even by Ælfric’s time.

Simek is not the only scholar to attempt to connect Neorxnawang to more well-known Norse cosmology. In The Ship in the Field, Haukur Þorgeirsson and Joseph S. Hopkins suggested a possible connection between Folkvangr and Neorxnawang, going as far as suggesting (via de Vries) that, while Folkvangr is Freyja’s field, Neorxnawang might similarly belong to Njord, or a Njord-like deity known to Anglo-Saxons.

“Neorxnawang and Folkvangr may have a relation besides cognate second elements. While the root of Njörðr and the apparent first root of Neorxnawang are both elusive subjects, it has been theorized that the two may be one and the same, perhaps rendering Neorxnawang as an Old English ‘Njörðr’s field’ or as the field of a deity sharing this root (de Vries 1957: 410-411). This approach has difficulties, but if the roots are connected, a father-daughter relationship may be demonstrated between the afterlife fields of Njörðr and Freyja.” [6]

While the Njörðr connection is fanciful and something of a leap in my opinion, I do believe they are correct in assuming Neorxnawang may have been a sort of pre-Christian, godly paradise not unlike Folkvangr. Earlier scholars were quick to dismiss the idea of Neorxnawang being in any way a pagan concept – a dismissal which was likely due to ingrained notions of heavenly paradise being limited to Abrahamic religions. This dismissal would also seemingly discount similar paradise realms, such as Greek Elysium, the Asphodel Meadows (a particular part of Hades where average people go upon death) and Egyptian Sekhet-Aaru (The Reed Fields) – all of which predate Christianity.

to the Elysian plain…where life is easiest for men. No snow is there, nor heavy storm, nor ever rain, but ever does Ocean send up blasts of the shrill-blowing West Wind that they may give cooling to men.” [7]

In the end, it’s impossible to know for certain what Neorxnawang truly is – at least with our current information. It’s up to the contemporary practitioner to decide if and how Neorxnawang might be approached and how it might incorporated into belief system of their respective hearths.


[1]Bosworth, Joseph. “An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online.” Wang. Ed. Thomas Northcote Toller and Others. Comp. Sean Christ and Ondřej Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. Web. 14 Apr. 2018.
[2]McKinnell, John. Meeting the Other in Norse Myth and Legend
[3]Bosworth, Joseph. “An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online.” Neorxnawang-lic. Ed. Thomas Northcote Toller and Others. Comp. Sean Christ and Ondřej Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. Web. 14 Apr. 2018.
[4]Grimm, Jacob (James Steven Stallybrass Trans.)  Teutonic Mythology: Translated from the Fourth Edition with Notes and Appendix Vol. I.
[5]Lehmann, Winfred Philipp. A Gothic Etymological Dictionary. W1-W4
[6]Hopkins, Joseph S. Þorgeirsson, Hauker. The Ship in the Field. pp 17 (in notes)[7]Homer, Odyssey (4.560–565)

Wada: Uncovering an Anglo-Saxon Water God


Being an island nation, water has long had an intrinsic connection to Britain and her peoples. In the following article I will attempt to extrapolate an Anglo-Saxon deity associated with the sea and inland bodies of water by comparing and contrasting like-deities found in other Indo-European sister religions.

Poseidon and Neptune

In ancient Greek religion, we are provided a nearly inexhaustible list of aquatic deities- a fact which is unsurprising given the Greek proximity to and reliance on the Mediterranean Sea. Plato makes mention of this association in his Phaedo, where he compares the Greek people to “frogs around a pond” [1]. For simplicity’s sake, we will limit our examination to the Olympian God, Poseidon, who is the most well-known and venerated of the classical and Hellenic water deities.

Poseidon has a long history in the Greek islands, with the earliest attestations being found in the Linear B tablets, where His name is recorded as po-se-da-wo-ne. A feminine version of this name is also recorded as po-se-de-ia, indicating a Mycenaean consort akin to Amphitrite [2]. This Mycenaean Poseidon is frequently provided the epithet of Wanax (wa-na-ka), which posits Him as a Chthonic King of the Underworld [3]. This Chthonic aspect is further corroborated via His associations with earthquakes, where He is named Enosichthon/ Ennosigaios/ Ennosidas ‘Earth-Shaker’, Gaieokhos ‘Earth-Holder’ and Asphaleios ‘Protector From Earthquakes’ [4][5].

Although we are provided po-se-de-ia as a potential consort for Poseidon, there is also some suggestion that Demeter and or Persephone may have filled that role during the late Bronze Age. In Linear B inscriptions uncovered at Pylos, E-ne-si-da-o-ne ‘Earth-Shaker’ is found alongside Si-to Po-tini-ja ‘Lady-of-the-Grain’, which, according to Mylas, may be indicative of a proto-Demeter/Persephone [6]. The tablets found at Pylos also speak of sacrificial goods destined for wa-na-soi, wa-na-ka-te, or ‘Two Queens and The King (Poseidon),’ lending further credence to this theory [7]. In an early Arcadian myth, Poseidon, here depicted as a Chthonic river deity, takes the form of a stallion and pursues an equine Demeter, who bears a daughter, Despoina, a Goddess closely associated with springs and animals.  According to Kerenyi, as consort of Poseidon, Demeter ” was Earth, who bears plants and beasts, and could therefore assume the shape of an ear of grain or a mare.” [8]

Poseidon was also closely associated with the horse, a role which can be distinguished by His epithet, Hippios – Tamer and Father of Horses [9]. This odd equine association, coupled with a seeming scarcity of sea-related epithets during the Mycenaean period has lead some scholars to surmise that Poseidon, or at least His Indo-European ancestor, was a horse deity or a God of fresh water who gradually became a sea deity as Indo-Europeans moved into the Mediterranean Basin [10]. Both Hesiod and Homer buttress this theory, claiming that Poseidon only became Lord of the Sea following His father, Kronos’ defeat [11].

In His more typical role as Lord-of-the-Sea, Poseidon was a tempermental deity, prone to bouts of destruction as well as acts of extrication.  When angered, Poseidon could use His trident to cause all manner of calamity, including; shipwrecks, drownings,earthquakes, floods and storms [12] – Poseidon’s wrathfulness is particularly apparent in His actions toward Odysseus and in His hatred of the Trojans [13].

“But just as great Odysseus thrashed things out, Poseidon god of the earthquake launched a colossal wave, terrible, murderous, arching over him, pounding down on him, hard as a windstorm blasting piles of dry parched chaff, scattering flying husks — so the long planks of his boat were scattered far and wide. But Odysseus leapt aboard one timber and riding it like a plunging racehorse stripped away his clothes, divine Calypso’s gifts,and quickly tying the scarf around his waist he dove headfirst in the sea, stretched his arms and stroked for life itself.” [14]

On the flipside of the coin, Poseidon was petitioned as Soter, or ‘Saviour,’ by sailors who wished for protection while at sea. It was this particular aspect of Poseidon to which the Greeks made an celebratory offering when a sea-storm swept away a large portion of the Persian fleet off the coast of Thessaly in 480 BCE [15].

Poseidon’s sacred animals were the bull, the horse (as was previously mentioned), the dolphin and the mythic hippokampoi, or ‘fish-tailed horses,’ which pulled His chariot [16]. In The Odyssey, bulls, particularly black and white bulls, are employed a total of 8 times as offering to the Sea-God – an association which calls to mind His epithet, Taureos, relating to the bull [17]. The cult of the Bull-God was of particular import in Thessaly where a festival called the Tavreia was observed.

“As Poseidon Ταύρειος (Preller, Gr. Myth. i. 446) games were held in his honour in which the youth of Thessaly exhibited their skill in seizing wild bulls by the horns… These peculiarly national religious festivals were called Ταύρεια (Preller, l.c. note 1) and Tαύροκαθάψια and their prevalence throughout the land is amply proved by the coins, on which we see a Thessalian youth pulling down a raging bull, while on the reverse is usually the horse of Poseidon.” [18]

Neptune (Latin: Neptūnus) was the Roman God of both salt and freshwater [19] and shared many attributes with His Greek counterpart, Poseidon. While Poseidon’s direct associations with freshwater are largely speculative, Neptune’s appear more definite. Neptune was God of springs, lakes and rivers prior to his transformation into a full-blown sea deity as evidenced by multiple inscriptions found adjacent to those locations and by Servius in his commentary of Virgil’s Ad Georgicas, who identifies Neptune as responsible for all waters [20][21].

Neptune also possessed a fertility aspect illustrated by way of His consorts, Salacia and Venilia, and His role as divine progenitor of the Faliscan people. In earlier Roman religion, consorts were typically the manifestation of specific powers attributed to a deity, but in the later, more hellenized period, consorts became distinct deities in their own right [22]. According to Dumézil, Wissowa and von Domaszewski, Salacia represented the gushing, overwhelming nature of water in its unbridled form and Venilia represented more calm and tranquil waters. Preller, Fowler, Petersmann and Takács , instead, interpret Neptune’s consorts as representing His fertility aspect, with particular emphasis on human reproduction and agrarianism. Ludwig Preller makes reference to Venilia being listed among the Indigitamenta as a Goddess associated with lust and desire – a feature which supports Her name being derived from Latin venia, which is, in turn, derived from the Proto-Indo-European root, wenh₁-, ‘to love’ or ‘to wish’ [23]. Salacia’s name stems from salax, which means ‘lustful,’ ‘lecherous,’ ‘provocative,’ or ‘ lascivious[24]. According to Petersmann, Neptune’s name comes from Indo-European nebh-, meaning ‘cloud,’ ‘mist,’ or ‘moisture’ [25] and based on this assumption, suggests Neptune was initially associated with cloudy, overcast sky and rainfall.

“What, why have so many clouds enringed the sky? What are you preparing, father Neptune?” [26]

Expanding on this theory, Salacia becomes Neptune’s fertilizing aspect, manifest through rainfall which impregnates the earth in hieros gamos and Venilia, in turn, becomes clear sky and fair weather. This interpretation receives support from a Hittite parallel in the form of the theonym, nepišaš (D)Tarhunnaš, or ‘The Lord of Sky Wet’, which suggests a possible widespread cult linked to the “heavenly damp”, as Petersmann sees it [27].


In terms of water deities native to the British Isles, we are presented with several deities for comparative study. In this section we will limit our examination to one deity – Nodens.

Nodens was a British deity, about whom only fragmentary information is known. There are several competing theories as to the etymology of His name. Tolkien suggests Nodens’ name stems from Celtic noudent- or noudont-, related to Proto-Germanic neutaną, ‘to acquire, have use of, to catch’ and nautą, ‘benefit, possession, foredeal, profit, cattle, livestock’ [28][29]. Conversely, the Celticist Ranko Matasović has suggested Nodens derives from Proto-Celtic snoudo, meaning ‘clouds,’ or ‘mist’ – a theory which relies on the shift from ‘sn-’ to ‘*n-’ common in P-Celtic (Gaulish, Brythonic) languages [30].

Nodens’ most impressive site of worship was found on the banks of the Severn at Lydney Park in Gloucestershire. The temple itself housed several healing sites, as well as a dormitory [31], while the North-West of the building was split into three 7-foot-deep rooms, which may suggest a tripartite cult [32]. According to Lewis, the material goods found at the site are indicative of the tripartite structure of Nodens’ cult.

“The small finds are numerous indeed. Over 8,000 coins … prove a very rich occupation extending certainly into the fifth century. Nine representations of dogs in stone or bronze, a bronze plaque of a woman, a bronze arm, an oculist’s stamp, 320-odd pins and nearly 300 bracelets quite definitely indicate a healing cult. There is some indication, from the inscriptions and philology, of a hunting aspect. Sea-monsters and fish on the cella mosaic, and bronze reliefs depicting a sea deity, fishermen and tritons suggest some connexion of Nodens with the sea. A bronze object (headdress or vessel?) also shows a sea-god driving a chariot between torch-bearing putti and tritons. Thus a picture emerges of a complex deity, combining the diverse aspects of healing, hunting and the sea. …” [33]

The image of the dog was commonly associated with healing via the belief that their saliva could heal wounds and it is possible dogs may have been kept on-site for this very purpose [34]. This belief finds parallels throughout the classical world. In Gaul, reliefs/statues of deities and pilgrims found near healing springs were often shown holding dogs, and sacred dogs were also kept at the temple of Asclepius, the Greek God of medicine, at Epidaurus in the Peloponnese [35]. At Llys Awel, Abergele, Conwy, Wales, a fourth-century hoard of some 500 coins, a copper statuette of Mercury, two copper figurines of seated dogs, a third copper figurine of a running dog, a twisted wire bracelet and three votive plaques, two of which depicted dogs, were found. The Mercury depicted at this site was likely petitioned as a healer. This cult of “Healing-Mercury” appears to have been popular in Britain, given a similar, subsidiary role was also ascribed to the Mercury worshipped at the Uley Park complex in Gloucestershire [36].

Nodens’ second aspect, at least as Lewis sees it, is that of the Hunter. While the canid statuettes can be closely associated with healing, as mentioned above, they may also be suggestive of a cult involved with the hunt. Britannia was famous for its dogs, which were exported and used throughout the empire for both hunting and for warfare. Many Roman writers make mention of the superior quality of the British dog, which Tacitus lists among the province’s primary exports and which Claudian claims can “break the backs of mighty bulls.” [37].

“There is a strong breed of hunting dog, small in size but no less worthy of great praise. These the wild tribes of Britons with their tattooed backs rear and call by the name of Agassian. Their size is like that of worthless and greedy domestic table dogs; squat, emaciated, shaggy, dull of eye, but endowed with feet armed with powerful claws and a mouth sharp with close-set venomous tearing teeth. It is by virtue of its nose, however, that the Agassian is most exalted, and for tracking it is the best there is; for it is very adept at discovering the tracks of things that walk upon the ground, and skilled too at marking the airborne scent.” [38]

Nodens’ hunting aspect is also alluded to via His conflation with Silvanus. While Silvanus’ primary attribute may not have been as that of a hunter, he did possess a hunting aspect, especially prominent among the later Roman aristocracy. Both Hadrian and Trajan were devoted hunters and as such, were really the first Roman emperors to elevate Silvanus to a position of aristocratic importance. This cult saw Silvanus in the guise of “the hunting emperor,” which directly contrasted the popular, humble image of the God [39].

Nodens’ third function and arguably the one most relevant to this research, is that of a water deity.

The water-healing combination is very common in Celtic religions, as evidenced by the nearby cult of Sulis-Minerva. With that in mind, it makes sense that Nodens could have acted as a healing divinity and a water divinity simultaneously.

Our strongest evidence for a water cult comes by way of the temple’s location on the banks of the river Severn and by the imagery found at the site. A mosaic was discovered on the floor of the temple – the only of its kind found at a Romano-British temple. The mosaic has worn away significantly with age, but fish, sea-creatures with intertwined necks and wave-like spirals can still be identified alongside an inscription which reads, ‘To the God Mars Nodens, Titus Flavius Senilis, superintendent of the cult, had (this mosaic) laid from the offerings with assistance from Victorinus the interpreter’ [40].  The Senilis mentioned in the inscription is believed to have been the resident temple priest, while Victorinus is likely in reference to a dream diviner, who, according to la Bédoyère, likely acted in tandem with Sinilis.

Njord and Ægir

Norse mythology provides us with two sea deities for comparative study – Njord and Ægir.

In Eddic lore, Njord is of the Vanir – a somewhat nebulous grouping of deities distinct from the Æsir. Here he is a portrayed as father to Freyja and Freyr, via his incestous relationship with an unnamed sister-wife, alluded to in Lokasenna

“Give heed now, Njorth, | nor boast too high,

No longer I hold it hid;

With thy sister hadst thou | so fair a son,

Thus hadst thou no worse a hope.” [41]

While the identity of this sister-wife cannot be definitively confirmed, there has been some speculation, based on the etymological similarities in their names, that Nerthuz may be the Goddess referenced here, suggesting a divine coupling similar to that of Freyja and Freyr [42].

Njord’s hall was known as Noatun, or ‘Shiptown,’ which speaks to his role as deity of both the sea and of seafaring [43]. This particular aspect of his personality survived in Norwegian folklore up into the modern era, where a character called Njor is praised for helping a fisherman with her catch.

“The old folk [folk in the olden days?] were always rather lucky when they went fishing. One night old Gunnhild Reinsnos (born in 1746) and Johannes Reinsnos were fishing in the Sjosavatn. They had taken a torch and were fishing with live bait. The fish bit well, and it wasn’t long before Gunnhild had a week’s supply of fish for her pot. So she wound her line around her rod with the words: “Thanks be to him, to Njor, for this time.” [44]

In the Prose Edda, Njord is mentioned in both Gylfaginning and Skáldskaparmál, where his godly role is afforded slightly more detail and nuance.

In Gylfaginning, Njord is referred to not only as the God of the sea and of seafaring, but also of the winds, calling to mind earlier references to Neptune as a deity associated with both sea and of sky. In His guise of Wind-God, Njord is not only able to control the fate of ocean voyages, but is also able to put out fires and quell turbulent seas [45].

While Njord’s unnamed sister may have functioned as his pre-Viking Age consort, by the time the Eddas were being recorded, She was nearly entirely eclipsed by Skadi, the Goddess/Giantess associated with skiing, the mountains, hunting, archery and Winter. Here we are treated to another interesting, albeit tenuous parallel to the Greco-Roman world. If we assume, as was suggested earlier in this article, that consorts typically began as the personification of aspects specific to their preexisting counterparts, we may be able to assume the same of Skadi. The hunting aspect is of particular interest here, given the obvious parallels it would draw between Njord and Nodens in that regard.  

In Skáldskaparmál, Njord is painted as a God associated with material wealth.

“How should one periphrase Njördr? By calling him God of the Vanir, or Kinsman of the Vanir, or Wane, Father of Freyr and Freyja, God of Wealth-Bestowal.”[46]

This particular aspect of Njord’s persona is strange in that it sees no parallel outside Norse sources and may perhaps speak to a distinctly Germanic perception of the sea as a provider of wealth. This would certainly make sense, given the Germanic belief in water as a liminal gateway between our world and the world of the unseen.

Ægir, whose name comes from a poetic term for ‘the sea,’  is a slightly more enigmatic figure than Njord. He appears in both the Poetic and Prose Edda, where he depicted as a Jotunn, friend to the Æsir and host of grand feasts. His consort is named Ran, or, ‘the Robber’,[47] and is named as such due to Her role as a psychopomp to the drowned – another obvious allusion to water’s liminal nature as a gateway. Together, Ran and Ægir are said to have 9 daughters, all of which represent the different aspects of ocean waves.

“How should one periphrase the sea? Thus: by calling it Ymir’s Blood; Visitor of the Gods; Husband of Rán; Father of Ægir’s Daughters, of them who are called Himinglæva, Dúfa, Blódughadda, Hefring, Udr, Hrönn, Bylgja, Bára, Kolga; Land of Rán and of Ægir’s Daughters, of Ships and of ships’ names, of the Keel, of Beaks, of Planks and Seams, of Fishes, of Ice; Way and Road of Sea-Kings; likewise Encircler of Islands; House of Sands and of Kelp and of Reefs; Land of Fishing-gear, of Sea-Fowls, and of Fair Wind.” [48]


Possible English sea deities

Considering the the Anglo-Saxons were an island-dwelling people adept at seafaring, it is odd we have no record of a deity directly associated with water. In fact, for those who practice the Anglo-Saxon religion in modern times, this glaringly obvious blank spot has become something of an issue, especially for those who live close to bodies of water. Searching through the fragmentary sources we do have, the Anglo-Saxon polytheist is met with a couple options. The first and possibly safest route would be to accept the incompleteness and move on – an approach I’m certain many might favour. The other option, the one I favour, is to use the little information we do have and buttress that with comparative information gleaned from other Indo-European sources.  This, of course, poses the problem of what foundation to build on.

Some Anglo-Saxon polytheists have opted to go with the Old English equivalent of ægir and use Ēgor /Ēagor for their purposes. While this is a perfectly viable approach, it certainly doesn’t provide us with any additional useful information.

We run into a similar issue with Gārsecg. Gārsecg is typically assumed to be a compound of gār, meaning ‘spear,’ ‘dart,’ or ‘javelin’ and secg, meaning ‘man’ – an image which has lead some scholars to assume a spear wielding deity akin to Neptune and his trident [49]. While this kenning may indeed be referencing a lost Anglo-Saxon figure, there’s little information to be gleaned outside of a theonymic connection to the spear.

In the character of Wada, we are presented with a little more in terms of workable information. One thing that certainly puts Wada in a better position to assume the role of the Anglo-Saxon sea God, is the fact that there is little doubt that He was a well-known and attested folkloric figure in England.

The earliest mention of Wada is found in the eighth-century Anglo-Saxon poem, Widsith, where he is listed as ruler of the Hælsings, associated with Hälsingland in Sweden.

“Cæsar ruled Greeks and Cælic Finns,

Hagena Holmrygas, Heoden the Glommas.

Witta ruled Sueves, and Wada the Hælsings,

Meaca the Myrgings, Mearchealf the Hundings.”[50]

While this is earliest attestation of Wada, most of what we know about Him comes from Þiðreks saga af Bern, where He is depicted as being a sea-dwelling giant who settles on land to sire Weland the Smith [51]. Once His son is of age, Wada, who is unable to find passage from Sjoland to Grønsund, decides to wade across the strait “nine ells deep” with Weland on his shoulders. Here, Weland works as an apprentice first to Mimir and then, later, to two dwarfs. Wada’s involvement in the tale ends when he is caught in a landslide and ultimately succumbs to his wounds [52].

Wada’s importance as an English folkloric figure is highlighted by the fact that common knowledge of His personage appears to survive as late as the 17th century. Chaucer refers to a now lost Tale of Wade in his Troilus and Criseyde and makes mention of Wade’s boat in The Merchant’s Tale – a reference which was later expanded upon by Thomas Speght, a late 16th – early 17th century schoolmaster and editor of Chaucer’s work, who recorded the name for the boat as Guingelot. There has been considerable debate as to the etymological origins of Guingelot, with Skeat suggesting a derivation of “Winglock” [53] and Michel suggesting a compound consisting of Old English Gang, ‘going,’ ‘journey,’ ‘step,’ and læt, ‘slow,’ or ‘sluggish,’ essentially ‘Slow-goer’ [54][55][56][*].

The character of Wada seems to have slipped out of common consciousness in most of England by the early Renaissance period, though He endured into more recent times in North Yorkshire folklore. In Whitby, there are standing stones called Waddes Grave, which, according to popular legend, are the final resting place of a deceased sea-giant. Several different accounts also tell of Wada hurling a hammer, earth and stone back and forth with His wife, Bell, with several local landmarks being attributed to this raucous exchange [57].

Given that Wada is the only one of the three English characters explored in this article attested in folklore, it might be sagacious to employ Him as de facto sea God [**]. While He is never described as a “God” per se, there is some suggestion, considering the mythic stories attributed to Him, that he may have found Himself demoted into a folkloric hero after conversion.


A water deity specific to Fyrnsidu

Now that we’ve explored water divinities from ancient Greece, Rome, Roman Britain, Viking Age Scandinavia and England, we can better piece together what a water deity might look like for the contemporary Anglo-Saxon polytheist.

We may assume, much like His Greek and Roman counterparts, Wada holds sway over both the sea and inland bodies of water, which He traverses in his ship, Ganglæt. Because water is a gateway, an entrance to the other, Wada straddles both our world and the world of the Other – a liminal deity with strong psychopompic connotations. He, like Ran, swallows unfortunate sailors as they cross over from the present and become part of the sacred, ever evolving past. It is for this reason that offerings to Wada might be best placed in water, or in liminal spaces so that He might receive them.

Wada may be viewed as a deity associated with the sky – particularly with the fertilizing skies which produce rain and abundance, hearkening back to the Indo-European ‘Lord of Sky Wet,’ suggested by Petersmann. He also might share Njord’s associations with the wind, which would surely fit in well with a God of cloud and rain .In this particular role, Wada might be provided propitiatory offering during times of drought or violent, uproarious storms.

Like Poseidon and Neptune, Wada could certainly be a deity linked to earthquakes, as evidenced in Yorkshire folklore, where He is depicted manipulating the landscape with ease and moving the very earth itself. His consort, Bell, whose name in Old English possesses the double meaning of ‘bell,’ (the same as the modern object) and ‘a bellow,’ ‘a roar,’ ‘a cry,’ [58][59]may play some role in the earth-moving aspect of Wada’s personality, though, admittedly, there is little to go on.

As stated above, offerings given to Wada might be left in bodies of water, or in liminal spaces, such as in grottoes, or at a river’s edge. In terms of what is offered, we have a variety of options at our disposal. We may opt to offer coins, or pins, as both still are very common offerings left at holy wells and springs in Britain and Ireland [60]. We may also choose to leave votive representations of bulls or horses and, if we are in need of His healing aspect, representations of the afflicted body part, or perhaps, votive dog figures à la Nodens.

Creating a particular tide to celebrate Wada is somewhat trickier, with Roman sources being the only somewhat viable resource in that regard. The Neptunalia took place roughly around July 23rd, when the weather was at its hottest and at its driest in Italy[61]. Virtually nothing is known about the activities that took place during this tide, apart from the fact that celebrants constructed simple huts and likely feasted and drank within them. It may be beneficial, then, to place a holy tide specific to Wada at a time of year when drought is expected/typical, which may differ depending on where you reside.


Potential epithets

Þerscold – Literally ‘Threshold,’ relating to His liminal status and role as gatekeeper

Regnwyrhta – ‘Rainmaker,’ associated with His role of crop fertilizer

Brymflōd – ‘Deluge’

Ēgorhere – A poetic term for a deluge, essentially ‘Sea-Army.’ This is the kenning used as a gloss for the great flood recounted in the Bible, which provides some perspective as to the scale suggested here

Drǣfend– ‘Hunter’

Sǣhund – ‘Sea-hound’

Forswelgend – ‘Devourer,’ ‘Swallower’

Hēahlǣce – ‘High-Leech,’ ‘physician’

Hellegod – ‘God of the infernal realms’

Swefenbora – ‘Dream-bringer,’ based on the Victorinus inscription

Gārsecg – ‘Spear-man,’ as mentioned above

Fiscwylle – ‘Abounding in fish’

Sǣcyning – ‘Sea-king’

Sǣgenga – ‘Sea-goer,’ ‘mariner’

Mereweard – ‘One who keeps guard in the sea’

Eorþtilia – ‘Earth-tiller’

This is obviously not an exhaustive list and more can and may be added as they present themselves.




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[44]Dumézil, Georges translated by Coltman, Derek. From Myth to Fiction: The Saga of Hadingus
[45]Byock, Jesse.The Prose Edda
[46]Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur. The Prose Edda of Snorri Sturlson
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[48]Arthur Gilchrist Brodeur. The Prose Edda of Snorri Sturlson
[49]Bosworth, Joseph. “An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online.” Gár-secg. Ed. Thomas Northcote Toller and Others. Comp. Sean Christ and Ondřej Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. Web. 8 Mar. 2018.
[50]Francis Barton Gummere. Widsith
[51]Kai Roberts. Folklore of Yorkshire
[52]Haymes, Edward R. The Saga of Thidrek of Bern
[53]Skeat, Walter W. Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer: Notes to the Canterbury Tales
[54]Michel, Francisque. Wade: Lettre à M. Henri Ternaux-Compans sur une tradition angloise du moyen âge
[55]Bosworth, Joseph. “An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online.” GANG. Ed. Thomas Northcote Toller and Others. Comp. Sean Christ and Ondřej Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. Web. 9 Mar. 2018.
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[57]Leyland, John. The Yorkshire Coast and the Cleveland Hills and Dales.
[58]Bosworth, Joseph. “An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary Online.” BELL. Ed. Thomas Northcote Toller and Others. Comp. Sean Christ and Ondřej Tichý. Faculty of Arts, Charles University in Prague, 21 Mar. 2010. Web. 9 Mar. 2018.
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[60]Bord, Janet and Colin. Sacred Waters: Holy Wells and Water Lore in Britain and Ireland


[*]Michel suggested the name meant Slow-goer, but as far as I am aware, I’m the only one who has attempted to translate that into Old English. This compound is as close as I could come to a decent reconstruction based on his suggestion alone.
[**]The reader / practitioner may disagree with me here. The choice is entirely left to their discretion.