11
that even remotely recalls the quasi-organic
cell structure of the Dwarf-Stone (Figure 1).
Similarly suggestive is the location of this
boulder (Figure 2).
It lies immediately above a
stretch of shingle beach; unlike much of the
rocky coast of the fjord, this flat beach would
make a good spot to pull an open boat ashore.
(Seen from the slope above the shore, the shape
of the Dwarf-Stone arguably even recalls a
boat stored on the beach turned keel-upwards.)
The impression of being by a natural ‘harbour’
of sorts is further strengthened by a rocky
outcrop that juts out into the fjord just to the
east of the Dwarf-Stone, acting as a natural
breakwater protecting the shingle beach
(which, in fact, is much broader behind this
rock outcrop than further along the shore).
The evocative image of the natural harbour
is also accentuated
by the only visible piece of
human interference in this little landscape of
rock and water. About halfway along the rock
outcrop-breakwater, a groove has been cut into
a naturally protruding stump of rock, turning it
into a semi-natural bollard (Figure 2). A
mooring line is attached to this rock-bollard
which leads off into the water towards a buoy
bobbing in the fjord a few metres further out
(Figures 2 & 3).
This little ensemble shows a striking
convergence between the physical topography
of the place and the 19
th
-century folk tale. The
conspicuous and flamboyantly unusual erosion
pattern seen on the rock is mirrored by the
otherworldly character that it attains in the
story. Its striking house-shape is reflected by
the story element that it serves as the dwarfs’
rock-house. Its location immediately above a
natural harbour corresponds to its arrival by
floating across the fjord. And, the location of
the stone next to the former parsonage
correlates with the religious frame within
which the action of the tale is set. Thus, there
is a one-to-one match between the physical
features of the place as it was at the time when
the story was recorded (unusual, house-shaped
stone; natural harbour; church) and the motifs
employed in the tale (stone serving as a house
of dwarfs; voyage; the dwarfs’ piety). The
story of the Dwarf-Stone
is a place story in the
strictest sense: it does not only play itself out
in a real-world locality, but its whole plot
appears to be directly crafted onto the features
Figure 3. The Dwarf-Stone seen from the rock outcrop that projects into the fjord just to the east of the stone.
Note the stump of rock that has been worked into a semi-natural bollard to which a mooring line is attached;
this line leads to the buoy visible in Figure 2. Note also how differently this rock erodes in comparison to the
Dwarf-Stone, showing no indication whatsoever of the remarkable quasi-organic way in which erosion affects
the Dwarf-Stone’s ‘facade’.
12
of the local landscape. Or rather, it has not been
crafted
onto the landscape, but out of it. The
extreme closeness of the correspondence
between the tale of the Dwarf-Stone and its
particular landscape setting on the coast of the
fjord seems to suggest that, on one level, this
tale in its transmitted form has been created
specifically from the elements of its location:
topographical
element by topographical
element, the land has been turned into a story.
Place, Story, and Storytelling Tradition
On another level, however, it goes without
saying that the statement that the land has been
turned into a story also needs to be qualified: it
is by no means meant to imply that all the
elements that are used in the tale to weave the
different topographical features together to
form a coherent narrative whole were invented
from scratch. Rather, the tale seems to draw on
a rich corpus of established
narrative motifs to
turn place into story. For instance, the use of
stones as devices to cross bodies of water is
attested both in Icelandic saga literature
(Boberg 1966, motif-type F531.4.8, with
attestations such as the giant rowing a stone in
the A-text of
Ǫrvar-Odds saga: Boer 1888:
120) and in later Scandinavian folklore (e.g. af
Klintberg 2010, tale-type M110). Later
Scandinavian folklore also presents numerous
tales of how a prominent stone by a church was
the result of – and is testimony to – a
supernatural encounter (af Klintberg 2010,
tale-type J1 “Giant throws stone at church”, J8
“Giant throws stone at churchgoers (wedding
party)”). The multitude of attestations of such
tales that is listed by Bengt af Klintberg for
Sweden alone strongly suggests that there was
a widespread feeling that prominent stones in
the surroundings of church buildings were
warranted as objects of a narrative.
3
Another long-established motif in the tale of
the Dwarf-Stone is the idea that dwarfs live in
stones: this motif can be found already in the
kennings of Egill Skallagrímsson’s poem
Sonatorrek, where sea cliffs are called the
boat-house doors of a dwarf (st. 3; Bjarni
Einarsson 2003: 147). Classic examples of
benevolent (if pagan) supernatural beings
which inhabit a rock near a farm – at least until
they are driven out by a missionary – can be
found in
Þorvalds þáttr víðfǫrla I (ch. 3) and
Kristni saga (ch. 2; both texts ed. Sigurgeir
Steingrímsson et al. 2003). Even the idea that
the supernatural inhabitants of local rock
formations can be Christian was not an
innovation by the inventor of the Dwarf-Stone
tale, but was well established in 19
th
-century
Icelandic folklore. In Jón Árnason’s collection,
other examples are provided by the tales of
“Borghildur álfkona” (Jón Árnason 1862: 8–9;
1889: 3–5), “Túngustapi” (1862: 31–34; 1889:
16–20), and “Barnsskírnin” (1862: 54–55;
1889: 27–28).
Nonetheless, the specific combination of
motifs found in the aetiological tale of the
Dwarf-Stone has been spun specifically out of
the local topography, using the narrative
vocabulary of its time and place of creation,
but using it specifically to turn main features of
the locality into a coherent plot. Such
established motifs as are used in the resulting
tale greatly contributed to making the tale
narratively plausible to its audience; they
ensured that it ‘made sense’ to them, as it
related to a well-established tradition of
storytelling. Yet while this tradition can
account for the
motifs used in the tale of the
Dwarf-Stone, it cannot account for the
particular way in which these motifs are woven
together to form the tale’s
plot. This plot as
such was not developed out of traditional
motifs, but out of a specific local landscape. In
a manner of speaking, the traditional motifs
employed in this narrative development merely
were seeds falling on the fertile soil of the
parsonage, and the folk tale grew out of the
place in the same – if not in an even more
intimate – sense as a plant grows out of the soil
in which its seeds first take root.
4
This makes
it as pertinent to the relationship between
landscape and story as any tale can possibly be.
Place, Story, and Landscape Theory
Looking back to the approaches to landscape
mentioned at the beginning of this essay, it
seems remarkable just how little they appear
applicable to the Dwarf-Stone. Admittedly, the
tale speaks of an old, now long-abandoned site
where the parsonage was located once upon a
time; thus, there is an element of ‘memory’
here as is so prominent in classical treatments
of landscape such as Simon Schama’s (1996).
Yet this memory is a memory of a place that