Isa Meditation

Isa is reflective of the way many feel about 2020, as a whole. Spending the entire year frozen in ice, in hibernation - planning, dreaming, longing, and possibly even starving, all in a long wait for the thawing of the world. The energy turns to exhaustion, sometimes, when it isn’t released, but even exhaustion leads to sleep, which leads to new energy. 

As bad as it is, even with death, even with hunger, we will rebuild in spring, and plan again, now that we have seen the depths of winter our ancestors did first hand. Many of us now know plague and hunger, even more than did before, and it is an awakening to prepare - not in a wild, end of the world, haphazard way, but in a practical safety sense. We need to keep improving, to be ready.

Personally, I spent less of 2020 than I’d have liked in isolation. I spent it as one of the essential, or more accurately sacrificial, workers. I had empathy for those alone though. I remember entire years in the past where leaving the house was a matter of going to the woods alone, where going to a store was something I did so rarely that by the time I needed to, and with the low income I had, the entire concept of money felt foreign and I wondered how anyone just randomly went into buildings and had random pieces of paper or plastic to plunk down for any items they didn’t absolutely need made in countries they didn’t visit. It was a bizarre window, a feral moment of questioning the entire way most people go about their days. I’m not trying to sound special by saying that. In fact, if anyone were able to remove themselves from that entire economic process long enough, it would probably feel weird coming back.

There is hidden danger in this time. As with ice, you cannot see Covid, and by the time you slip, (or uncautiously try to go out in public and down a crowded set of stairs,) your injuries cannot be predicted. Many act like it cannot hurt them. Perhaps some think that because they can ice skate, or are healthy, there is no danger. Only the elderly fall and break their hip, right?

Well... not quite. 

Better yet to dream, to plan, to plant in pots on the windowsill to move on the moment you can.

Walking on ice unassisted requires paying a lot of attention. It requires skill, moving precisely and carefully. Ice is also clear - it lets us see through it, even if through the adrenaline spike of danger. In this time, we can see many of the things we took for granted, and find new ways to appreciate our lives and re-examine our priorities moving forward.

"Striving leads to failure, failure leads to wisdom, wisdom leads to maturity, maturity leads to success." - Wayland Skallagrimsson

Not Mine, but Not Easy to Find...

This is an SCA thing, and I am not an SCA member, but ever since Odin's Gift went down, I couldn't find this anywhere. It's closer to Marvel than actual Norse Myth,but googling it I couldn't even find it with the author attributed. I think I might have added the A on Hel's name to distinguish from Hell for any Christian readers, but this is otherwise as written. If there's some SCA place I can just link here, let me know. 

A Viking Christmas Carol
 

\original lyrics Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863)

'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Hall

Not a creature was stirring, not warrior nor thrall.
 

And I in my armor, my shield and my helm
 

Was drunker than anyone else in the Realm.

I staggered upstairs and fell into bed
 

While four quarts of mead were ablaze in my head.
 

Then up from below came the sounds of a brawl
 

So I grabbed up my axe and ran down to the Hall.

 

I missed the last step and crashed down in a heap

Thinking, "Why can't those low-lifes downstairs go to sleep!"
 

When what to my wondering eyes should appear
 

But two brawny strangers, wielding mallet and spear.

I said to myself, "We'll soon have them beat!"
 

Then I noticed ten warriors laid out at their feet.
 

I gave out a yell and leapt into the fray...
 

I'll always regret my poor choice of that day.

For the one laid his hammer to the side of my nose
 

And up, up, up to the rafters I rose.
 

Then came a lone frightened voice from the floor,
 

"Those are no mortal warriors -- that's Odin and Thor!"

 

Then they looked at each other and they said, "Battle's done.
 

Now they know who we are, it no longer is fun."
 

Then Thor raised his hammer, and his elbow he bent,
 

And with a loud crash, through the ceiling they went.

 

I crawled through the Hall and flung open the door,
 

 Not really sure that I'd seen them before.
 

The snow bathed in starlight, the moon like a glede,
I

 saw them ride off on an eight-legged steed.

 

And I heard them exclaim, 'ere they flew out of sight,
"

TO HELA WITH CHRISTMAS, WE JUST LOVE A GOOD FIGHT!"

© Guy L Bradley aka Sir Cipriano d'Alvarez, SCA

Naudiz Meditation

We talk a lot about “needing” things.

When I wrote my Wunjo post, I discussed finding happiness in a past time when my life was “close to the bone” of need. 

I sometimes feel like I “need” sentimental things I don’t. Last year, I more or less Swedish Death Cleaned my way into having all my stuff fit in one car for what may as well have been a cross-country move. I discovered over the course of 2019 that I can’t fit it all in there anymore, and I feel like I have too much stuff. It’s not that I like being mobile, hate stability, or even enjoy travel. It’s that life has unfortunately taught me that by being trusting, I tend to draw people who want to take advantage of that trust, and I tend to be as innocent as a nun at spotting that. It’s not even the classic “bad boyfriend” - it’s usually the relatives of whomever I date that wind up making my life a Helheim. I need to be able to pack my belongings in order to feel safe Not moving, in order to be able to have my resources in a place - my car - that I have sole control over.

But do any of us ever really have control? Even the ultra-wealthy who seem like they have all the security and control in the world would have reason to fear if all electronics were to one day fry. It’s why “prepping” is as much a trend for them as it is for the rural poor. The fear of needs we can’t meet, of loss of control of the ability to meet those needs, stalks us all like a predator in the night. Those wolves - and death itself - come for us all. With technology, the gap between rich and poor isn’t just monetarily greater. Many a wealthy child I know has no idea how to cook for themselves, feed themselves, without modern conveniences. Many a poor child also lacks this knowledge - but for once, this hypothetical scenario exposes our humanity. We would all have the same Need. 

In the end we all are vulnerable to hunger and illness. Some just live closer to those mortal vulnerabilities. Hunger and grief still feel like hunger and grief, no matter who you are, what culture you are from. We all get hungry. We all get ill. We all get thirsty, grieve, and die.

Human pain should bring us together, instead of driving us apart. Many try to insulate themselves from pain, from need, and no one likes that condition. It’s at the root of my own security seeking and fears as well. But it also lets us understand one another - though I am poor, and though I am mentally ill, I have never been an addict. My window into pain, into need, into fear, however, allows me to look at the times I’ve run from my problems, even overwhelming ones. I’ve ignored hunger before because of physical pain in my feet so great it made me avoid walking even for food. And through this window, I can see how an addict would avoid doing something they need to do out of avoiding another type of pain. It allows me compassion in a deeper sense, and lets me extend a hand where I would otherwise give up a “lost cause.” In some contexts, Need can teach us not to judge others so hastily. Even with all I’ve seen, and how jaded I have become in the last year, I still want to believe, to hope, that even those who have given up the fight can find it in themselves to stand once more, rallied by the crows that cry over those lost on the field, to find some spark. 

And that’s what naudiz is.

It’s not the torch of kenaz.

It’s the desperate hope of a spark between two rubbed sticks.

Of one last chance to live, to survive the winter, see summer, get another chance, and do things right this time. Do things better. 

But as with any fight with the elements and with cold, there is one absolutely necessary factor:

“I know you are in pain. In need.

Keep. Moving.”

Do not give up the fight.

Hagalaz Meditation

        

The hail that pelted the earth

Melts into water 

Providing fertility  

   

When you are pelted by life

Keep breathing  

When the test seems too hard

When failure is eminent or worse

Keep breathing

When your friends fight with you

And family betrays you

And you feel you have nowhere to turn 

Keep breathing

This is but the bottom of a wheel, turning in mud to pull the cart.

As long as you keep breathing, keep pushing, the cart will eventually budge.

Though you may feel sore and scarred, eventually the storm will pass.

Though the circumstances are beyond your control 

and threaten to drown you in their immensity... 

You will make it through this.

Keep breathing.

Sometimes the problems can't be solved -

Only outlived.

Moment by moment.

Keep breathing.

Falling like hail leads to wisdom, 

melting like hail leads to maturity, 

and these things 

which seem like only damage, 

falling and melting, 

actually sink into the roots of new growth, 

leading to success. 

Some soil can be so much better than it was 

for all the melted ice, 

even if at first it just looks like mud. 

There's a richness to it.

On Jesus and Folkish Heathens, (who claim to not be racist).

I wrote this after listening to the first episode of a podcast that I shall not name. The hosts claimed to not be racist, but... there were definitely moments in how they spoke, and in the way they spoke about other faiths, that showed a distinct lack of empathy for the overwhelming majority of humanity.

It should be noted that I describe ideals in this poem, not all of which are practical for the present moment. However, I long for a Star Trek-like society (admittedly one more friendly towards spirituality) and we'll never walk those thousand miles unless we keep taking steps in that direction.





~*~*~*~*~

Hvitakrist they called him

Not because of pale skin

Though we all go a few

shades lighter at death

Indeed, they referred to his death

To his choice not to fight back

To see him as a weak god

Killed with nails

While theirs held a hammer

Was he a coward, they ask?

Or did he just lose the fight?

For why would someone

not fight death?

Yet we all die. We all fight lost battles.

The gods of Ragnarok

Are no strangers to the concept.

What if this was less of a battle

And more of a riddle?

We fight groups outside our own

Believing that it makes our group

More likely to survive

In a world with limited resources.

But in the end, no groups survive.

A handful of humans and gods,

the myths say...

But that is only from Ragnarok.

There are other battles

And the Norns

Will cut the threads on us all.

Time. Nature. Fate.

The debris of a supernova

Will bury us all in fire and ice

And someday return us

To the stardust

From which we came,

Our elements bursting out of suns

Like blood and bone

From the head of Ymir.

No competition there!

None survive!

It all cools, the universe ends

Sucked into black holes

To pinpoints. To new universes!

Which burst forth with life again!

So there was a trick - life survives.

Life tries again.

Just enough seems encoded

Into the wyrd fabric of reality itself...

But not these small tribes.

Not these petty disputes.

What do imploding galaxies care

For wars started over skin pigment,

Nose bones, books, or borders?

For food for creatures

Whose very fossils have melted

And even the last bit of oil

Was burnt by the sun?

How much of this can survive?

How much of the wyrd can we warp?

Can we weave in enough love

To cause ripples in the fabric of time?

To echo in some Superconscious

In some other place,

Some other world?

Can we survive past the borders

Drawn by humans on the earth

And instead of borders

Just have bonds

Tying one to another

So that we don't let go

As the universe flings us

Into the night sky?

Millions of miles a second

We hurl through space

Faster than Thor's hammer thrown.

Hospitality wasn't about

Who you liked,

Or even knew,

It was about setting aside disputes

When the winter winds howled

To sort out in spring

When the larger danger was past

Because you yourself would not wish

To be left in the cold if it was you

Knocking on some stranger's door.

This isn't hospitality,

It is a lock

Saying I don't care if they die

Or starve

Or get beaten by those who

Are supposed to enforce Law

Even if they did no wrong.

Not my family? Not my problem.

But what if it was Rig?

Is this why you objected

To seeing Heimdallr with dark skin

Even in a different setting

Unrelated to your cosmic stories?

For if there is one thing you know

It's that doors should always

Be open to the gods -

But Yggdrasil forbid

they wear a face you don't like!

How ridiculous.

How trivial.

How tiny.

How small.

When our dust

is all in the same cloud

after the worlds end?

No, you never took an oath

To the little blue dot

(Unless you oathed yourself to Jord)

But if you did a landtaking

And staked out the borders of home

Did the Landvaettir not tell you,

Did the elves dare not whisper,

That you are merely riding

On the back of a Heavenly Body

That someday might collide

With other galaxies, other worlds?

We love to form order from chaos

But look around - the world is both.

Our ancestors loved order

Because they knew chaos too well

But now we assume

That Nature herself

Obeys our petty rules

And closed systems of growth.

Migratory birds

do not know our borders -

And we are arrogant enough

To assume they should!

We pour chemicals on crops

Without thinking about evaporation,

Or run off, or rain, or streams.

We think we can bomb our neighbors

And the radiation will never reach us.

Nothing is as simple

As our minds make it

So is it really order you are after

Or ignorance of complexity?

Or - more accurately -

Do you demand

A world you can

Control?

You can't even control

The moment of your death!

So you have the audacity

To try to control

The moment of someone else's?!

We are all on this boat.

We are all on this earth.

We hurl through seas

Of space and time.

We live, or drown, together.

A Handy Comparison List for Heathenry and Wicca... Sort Of.

Theologically, British Traditional Wicca (think Gardnerians, Alexandrians, etc) and Neo-Wiccans (think Scott Cunningham, anyone from Llewellyn writing about Wicca, etc) share a few points such as:

- reincarnation, usually within species

- rule of three

- duotheism / usually soft polytheism (goddess and god / the belief that all goddesses are one goddess, all gods are one god)

- 8 Sabbats, making up the wheel of the year

- 4 elements 

- circle casting

- some tranced based magic (ex, Drawing Down the Moon), but mostly symbol based magic (ex, spells done with with tools and ritual) 

- etc

~*~*~*~*~

Heathenry has a very different structure. Going point by point in a list format is a bit tricky because the correlations aren't exact, but to give it the old college try...

- Complex afterlife consisting of Valhalla, Folkvangr, Helheim, Nastarond, and possibly other places like Adlang and Vidblain, which may be where souls go after/during Ragnarok.

- Nothing quite like the Rule of Three. Many Heathens go by the Nine Noble Virtues, but those were made up fairly recently, and variations exist. (Update: it should be noted that the NNV is a racist dogwhistle at this point within heathenry because the original maker of it was racist.)

- Hard polytheism. Odin, Thor and Loki are most definitely Not all names for the same deity, nor are Frigga, Sif, and Sigyn the same deity. Some, myself included, still believe in another unifying divine force larger than these individuals. (Sometimes gets associated with Odin, though I prefer the association with Freya's missing spouse, Odr, because it opens to some fabulous parallels to mystical traditions in other faiths, and given that Freya is most definitely a goddess associated with mystical work... But that's another topic.) Nature reverence tends to come from a belief in the Landvaettir, or land spirits, such as trolls and elves, etc.

- A variety of calendars. Some that are influenced by Neo-Wicca are similar to the 8 Sabbats, others are extremely different. The equinoxes, in particular, seem to have shown no real *religious* importance to the Norse Pagans historically, and are, if kept, mostly around at all because of Wiccan influence. One can, of course, argue for the objective scientific nature of those days being based on observable phenomenon, but all of that is still kind of up for debate. Even groups that parallel will often make holidays like that less significant than, say, celebrating Leif Erikson coming to North America without actually killing the locals. Because my new state requires me to do some religious group work, whenever I get that going, if I start from scratch, I'm personally looking at a collection of 12 or 13 holidays. (It would make it much more convenient for monthly meetings, at any rate.)

- No four elements, except due to Wiccan influence. Fire and Ice are, however, seen as significant polarities in the creation of the universe.

- Heathens don't usually cast circles, outside of Neo-Wiccan influence, but do a "hammer hallowing" instead. Nice thing about that is it doesn't have boundaries, just gradually fades after a space, so people can come and go as needed.

- magic is primarily trance based (faring free, high seat ritual), and only secondarily symbol based (runes, the occasional use of Icelandic magical staves by some, very few tools used in magic and ritual - which is a bonus for portability and packable altar kits, let me tell you!)

A caveat:

Heathens are also an extremely polarized lot, mostly on the far, far left or far, far right. Personally, I often have issues carving out a "sane middle ground," or moderate space, and finding such in the community. (Update: there are enough Heathens that it's easy to find non-tankies now, and the right has gotten abhorrent.)

Additionally, a lot of them like to play "more Heathen than thou" if they actually know Old Norse or Icelandic (which is remarkably close to Old Norse), and pulling obscure terms out of some dusty tome and making them mean so much more than they probably did to that culture is commonplace. (Update: I still think people who insist on linguistic purism and treat it like you need a doctorate in medieval studies to be heathen... are assholes.)

Northvegr is down, so I'm mirroring this here...

The “Loki's Tale” Ballad

(Lokka Tattur, as found on northvegr.org)
{English Translation}
Loki's Tale
1.
A peasant (1) and a giant [held] a match,
The giant won and the peasant lost.
Refrain:

What avails me this harp (2)
That is by my hand,
Will no stalwart man follow me
To another land ?

2.
"I have fulfilled my [end of the] bargain,
Now I will have your son.
3.
I will have the son of yours
You'll not conceal him from me."
4.
The peasant said to his lad:
"Bid Odin (3) to step in for me."
5
"Summon now Odin the Asa-king (4),
Who can guard him, hid away for long.
6.
"I wish Odin wert right here,
And knew where to hide the boy!"
7.
Ere he hath said the word,
There stood Odin before the table.
8.
"Hark thou Odin, I bid to thee,
Thou shalt hide mine son for me!"
9.
Odin fared off with the boy,
The wife and the peasant were woebegone.
10.
Odin commanded a field of crop,
To grow tall after scarce one night,
11.
Odin commanded the boy become
A single ear among the crop.
12.
A single ear among all the crop,
A barley-grain amid one ear.
13.
"Lie in there, do not pain,
When I should hail, come to me!
14.
Lie in there, don't you fear
When I should hail, come hither out!"
15.
The giant has a heart as hard as horn,
He grasps a whole arm's-ful at the corn.
16.
He now grasps the corn in his sight,
Bearing a keen-biting sword in hand
17.
And bearing a keen-biting sword in hand
He sets out to mow the boy down.
18.
Then was the boy affrighted,
The barley-corn squirmed out of the fist.
19.
Then was the boy overcome with pain
Odin hailed unto him.
20.
Odin fared with the boy back home
The peasant and his wife gave them embrace.
21.
"Here I have the young son of yours,
Now I am done with hiding him."
22.
The peasant said to his boy:
"Bid Hønir (5) to step in for me!"
23.
"I wish Hønir wert right here,
And knew where to hide the boy!"
24.
Ere he had said the word,
There stood Hønir before the table.
25.
"Harken Hønir, I bid to thee
Thou shall hide mine son for me!"
26.
Hønir fared off with the boy,
The wife and the peasant were woebegone.
27.
Hønir gang over the green ground,
Seven swans flew across the sound.
28.
Eastward flew two swans
They alighted beside Hønir.
29.
Hønir commanded now the boy to become
A single feather in the head of the swan.
30.
"Lie in there, do not pain,
When I call you, come out to me!
31.
Lie in there, don't you fear,
When I call you, come hither out!
32.
The monster gang over the green ground,
Seven swans flew across the sound.
33.
The giant dropt down on his knees
And grabbed the swan which was at the forefront.
34.
He took a bite out of the forefront swan,
Gashing its throat down to the shoulder.
35.
Then was the boy turned affright,
A feather slipped out of the giant's clutches.
36.
Then was the boy overcome with pain,
Hønir hailed unto him.
37.
Hønir fared with the boy back homeward,
The wife and the peasant gave them embrace.
38.
"Here I have the young son of yours,
Now I am done hiding him.
39.
The peasant said to his lad:
"Bid Lokki step in for me!"
40.
"I wish Lokki wert right here,
And knew where to hide the boy!"
41.
Ere he said the word,
There stood Lokki before the table.
42.
"Thou canst but imagine my dire need,
The monster means to have my son dead.
43.
Harken, thou Lokki, I bid to thee,
Thou shall hide mine son for me!
44.
Hide him so good, as well as you can,
So the lad can never captured be!"
45.
"If I am to hide your son,
You must do my bidding!
46.
You shall build a boathouse,
While I am gone away.
47.
You shall cut out a window wide,
And bar it with an iron rod!
48.
Lokki fared off with the boy,
The wife and the peasant were woebegone.
49.
Lokki appears over the strand,
With a skiff ashore by the land.
50.
Lokki rows out to the remotest fishing banks
That was told in the lore of yore.
51.
Lokki utters not another word,
He casts the hook and sinker overboard.
52.
He casts the hook and sinker overboard
And anon hauls in a halibut (helliflounder). (6)
53.
He hauls in one, he hauls in two,
The third had a blackish hue.
54.
Lokki commands now the boy become,
An egg-grain in the halibut(helliflounder)'s roe.
55.
"Lie in there, do not pain,
When I call you, come out to me!
56.
Lie in there, don't you fear,
When I call you, come out hither!"
57.
Lokki now rows back towards land,
The giant awaiting in the sand.
58.
The giant asked him straightaway:
"Lokki, where have you been tonight?"
59.
"Little peace had I,
For I sailed and fared all over the sea."
60.
The giant rushes for the iron skiff,
Lokki shouts: "The waves are bad".
61
Lokki speaks, and here's what he said:
"Giant, let me tag along."
62.
The giant took the tiller by the hand
Lokki now rowed away from land.
63.
Lokki rows a good long ways,
But the iron skiff doesn't budge a bit,
64.
Lokki swears by the truth,
"I can steer one better than you."
65.
The giant then takes the oars,
The iron skiff sped over the sea.
66.
The giant rows a good long ways,
Nigh did Lokki to the sternpost stay.
67.
The giant rows out to the remotest fishing banks,
That was told in the lore of yore.
68.
The giant utters not another word,
He casts the hook and sinker overboard
69.
He casts the hook and sinker overboard
And anon did catch a halibut (helliflounder).
70.
He hauls in one, he hauls in two,
The third was of blackish hue.
71.
Lokki swears by his faith,
"Giant, let me have the fish"
72.
The giant replies and nay says he,
"No, my Lokki, you shan't have it."
73
He put the fish between his knees,
And counted each egg in the roe.
74.
He counted each egg in the roe.
He meant to catch the boy.
75.
Then was the boy turned affright,
And an egg leapt out of the hand.
76.
Then was the boy overcome with pain,
Lokki hailed unto him
77.
"Sit yourself behind me,
Let not the giant see you.
78.
You must leap lithely upon the land,
Do not leave a track in the sand!"
79.
The giant then rows back to land.
Straight into the white sand.
80.
The giant rows onto land,
Lokki turns 'round the iron skiff.
81.
The giant runs the sternpost aground on land,
The boy leaps lithely upon the land.
82.
The giant gave gaze to the land,
There stood the boy on the sand.
83.
The boy leapt so lithely on to land,
He left no track upon the sand.
84.
The giant leapt heftily on to shore,
Sinking knee-deep in the sand,
85.
The boy scurries away as best as he could,
Scurries right through his father's boathouse.
86.
He scurries right through his father's boathouse,
The giant, after him in hot pursuit.
87.
The giant gets himself stuck in the window,
Smashing his head on the iron bar. (7)
88.
Loki then did not bide,
He struck off one of the giant's shins.
89.
To giant was rather amused by this,
The wound mended back to whole again.
90.
Loki then did not bide,
He struck off giant's other shin.
91.
He struck off the giant's other shin.
And tossed in-between, a stick and stone. (8)
92.
To the boy was rather amused by this,
Watching the giant sundered to pieces altogether.
93.
Lokki fared with the boy back homeward,
The wife and the peasant gave them embrace.
94.
"Here I have the young son of yours,
Now I am done with hiding him.
95.
I've kept my words to you,
Now the giant has lost his life."
(translated by Kiyo using the Danish translation and Old Icelandic dictionary, and with the indispensible help of Anker Eli Petersen)
1. peasant— Far. bónði is the same word as in Old Icelandic. I've used the word "peasant" here (to match H.A. Gureber's short story "Skrymsli and the Peasant's Child", which is essentially a retelling of this Loki's Tale ballad). Anker Eli Petersen uses "farmer" in his translation of the Skrímsla Ballad. The word is also variously translated as "bondsman", "franklin", or "husbandsman".

2. Refrain: what avails me..— Even though hvat skalliterally reads "what shall", it means "to what end," "for what use," or "why".

3. Odin— In Faroese Óðin is pronunced "oh·vin", the phonetic representation Ouvin (gen. Ouvans, acc. Ouvan) is used by the early ballad-collector H.C. Lyngbye, and is also recorded by Grimm in his Teutonic Mythology.

4. Asa-King,— i.e. the king of the Æsir deities.

5. Hønir— or Hoenir is another name of Vili. Odin, Vili, and Ve were three brothers responsible for creating the first humans, Ask and Embla (a man and a woman, and their names meaning "ash" and "elm" respectively). I think the Icelandic form is Hœnir ("oe-ligature") even though Hænir ("ae-ligature") is used in most e-texts. The character is mentioned in Völuspá, str. 18. The trio of deities who are summoned in this ballad are also the tree who are travelling together when they slay Otr and are forced to pay the wergeld in the Volsunga saga. g

6. halibut—Though the Faroese name of the fish is flundr, this translates to "halibut" (not "flounder"). (cf. Faroese Fisheries Laboratory's polyglot fish name list.) H. A. Guerber, wrote a short story "Skrymsli and the Peasant's Child" based almost entirely on this ballad, and in it he translates the fish as "flounder". Interestingly enough, the Japanese translation of Gureber's story calls the fish "hirame") (* which, as can be confirmed using the polyglot fish list hotlinked above, is a type of "fluke" in English, and called reyðsprøka in Faroese.).
There is also different retelling of the story(Loki's Trick), in which the fish is given as "haddock".

7. iron bar — Far. jarnkelvi (OIc. járn- "iron" + kylfa "club"). It was most difficult for me to comprehending what was happening here, until Anker Eli Petersen sent me his rough translation. In str. 47, Loki dictates the farmer to make a window and set an "iron bar" in it. Since the boy is of much smaller stature, he can run through this barred window without problem. But the giant who comes running doesn't quite fit through, and bangs his head so hard that it is "brast" (or broken). It is revealed in the following stanzas that the monster has regenerative powers, and one might surmise that even a smashed head is hardly a lethal blow to it.
H. A. Guerber, in his story "Skrymsli and the Peasant's Child" based on this ballad, interpreted the iron implement to be a sharp spike:
"..Loki had cunningly placed a sharp spike in such a position that the great head of the giant ran full tilt [at full speed] against it, and he sank to the ground with a groan."

8. I have read (at the "Infinite Space" site below) that a similar charm is used in the Thidrekssaga to prevent a dwarf (or dwarves) from coming back to life.