Hello one and all!
The story of the The Deacon of Dark River (Djákninn á Myrká) is a popular folk tale from Iceland. It has been retold many times through the centuries, and the origins and author has been lost to the mists of time. This element of mystery surrounding it has given it even more potency though.
The Deacon of Dark River
Long ago there lived a deacon in northern Iceland, on a farm called Dark River (Myrká). He had a girlfriend named Gudrún, who he loved dearly, but she lived on the other side of the Hörgá river, where she worked as a maid. One day the deacon rode to his beloved and made plans to pick her up on Christmas Eve, so that they could spend the holiday at his farm. As the young man rode back home on his horse Faxi, he was caught in a sudden storm and fell into the river, hit his head and drowned.
A farmer found the unfortunate man's body and buried him a week before Christmas. The news didn't reach Gudrún though, because the weather remained foul, and no one was able to cross the Hörgá river. So the girl fussed and prepared herself for when her boyfriend would come to pick her up.
On Christmas Eve she waited outside for him to appear. Sure enough, the deacon appeared out of the mist on his grey horse , and picked her up. During the ride both of them remained silent, and the deacon hitched up his scarf and hat, so that his face remained hidden.
After a while they approached a hillock, and the horse reared and jumped up, which caused the deacon's hat to fall off. Gudrún saw straight into his skull. She was shocked but remained quiet.
They arrived at Myrká without further incident, and the deacon at last spoke:
"Wait here, Gudrún, Gudrún, while I take Faxi, Faxi, out of the graveyard, graveyard."
She stood still on the spot, as he had asked her, but became scared when she noticed the open grave in the farm's cemetery. Gripped with panic, she ran to the church and started to ring the church bells, but her former beloved gripped her from behind and dragged her towards his grave.
Nearing the open hole in the ground, Gudrún thought it was the end for her, but at that moment her coat started to rip. The deacon fell backwards into the grave and the heaps of earth on either side shook and tumbled down on top of him.
For two weeks afterward the deacon continued to haunt Gudrún. She was at her wit's end. The people of the community pitied her, and hired a sorcerer from the neighbouring county, who rolled a giant rock on top of the deacon. Since then the body has rested in peace. Gudrún though was never able to recover from her ordeal.
Thank you for reading!
The story of the The Deacon of Dark River (Djákninn á Myrká) is a popular folk tale from Iceland. It has been retold many times through the centuries, and the origins and author has been lost to the mists of time. This element of mystery surrounding it has given it even more potency though.
The Deacon of Dark River
Long ago there lived a deacon in northern Iceland, on a farm called Dark River (Myrká). He had a girlfriend named Gudrún, who he loved dearly, but she lived on the other side of the Hörgá river, where she worked as a maid. One day the deacon rode to his beloved and made plans to pick her up on Christmas Eve, so that they could spend the holiday at his farm. As the young man rode back home on his horse Faxi, he was caught in a sudden storm and fell into the river, hit his head and drowned.
A farmer found the unfortunate man's body and buried him a week before Christmas. The news didn't reach Gudrún though, because the weather remained foul, and no one was able to cross the Hörgá river. So the girl fussed and prepared herself for when her boyfriend would come to pick her up.
On Christmas Eve she waited outside for him to appear. Sure enough, the deacon appeared out of the mist on his grey horse , and picked her up. During the ride both of them remained silent, and the deacon hitched up his scarf and hat, so that his face remained hidden.
After a while they approached a hillock, and the horse reared and jumped up, which caused the deacon's hat to fall off. Gudrún saw straight into his skull. She was shocked but remained quiet.
They arrived at Myrká without further incident, and the deacon at last spoke:
"Wait here, Gudrún, Gudrún, while I take Faxi, Faxi, out of the graveyard, graveyard."
She stood still on the spot, as he had asked her, but became scared when she noticed the open grave in the farm's cemetery. Gripped with panic, she ran to the church and started to ring the church bells, but her former beloved gripped her from behind and dragged her towards his grave.
Nearing the open hole in the ground, Gudrún thought it was the end for her, but at that moment her coat started to rip. The deacon fell backwards into the grave and the heaps of earth on either side shook and tumbled down on top of him.
For two weeks afterward the deacon continued to haunt Gudrún. She was at her wit's end. The people of the community pitied her, and hired a sorcerer from the neighbouring county, who rolled a giant rock on top of the deacon. Since then the body has rested in peace. Gudrún though was never able to recover from her ordeal.
Thank you for reading!
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