REYKJAVIK, Iceland (AP) — In
this land of fire and ice, where the fog-shrouded lava fields offer a
spooky landscape in which anything might lurk, stories abound of the
"hidden folk" — thousands of elves, making their homes in Iceland's
wilderness.
So perhaps it was only a matter of time before 21st-century elves got political representation.
Elf advocates have joined forces
with environmentalists to urge the Icelandic Road and Coastal Commission
and local authorities to abandon a highway project building a direct
route from the Alftanes peninsula, where the president has a home, to
the Reykjavik suburb of Gardabaer. They fear disturbing elf habitat and
claim the area is particularly important because it contains an elf
church.
The project has been halted until
the Supreme Court of Iceland rules on a case brought by a group known as
Friends of Lava, who cite both the environmental and the cultural
impact — including the impact on elves — of the road project. The group
has regularly brought hundreds of people out to block the bulldozers.
And it's not the first time issues about "Huldufolk," Icelandic for "hidden folk," have affected planning decisions.
They occur so often that the road
and coastal administration has come up with a stock media response for
elf inquiries, which states that "issues have been settled by delaying
the construction project at a certain point while the elves living there
have supposedly moved on."
Scandinavian folklore is full of
elves, trolls and other mythological characters. Most people in Norway,
Denmark and Sweden haven't taken them seriously since the 19th century,
but elves are no joke to many in Iceland, population 320,000.
A survey conducted by the University
of Iceland in 2007 found that 62 percent of the 1,000 respondents
thought it was at least possible that elves exist.
Ragnhildur Jonsdottir, a self-proclaimed "seer," believes she can communicate with the creatures through telepathy.
"It will be a terrible loss and damaging both for the elf world and for us humans," said Jonsdottir of the road project.
Although many of the Friends of Lava
are motivated primarily by environmental concerns, they see the elf
issue as part of a wider concern for the history and culture of a very
unique landscape.
Andri Snaer Magnason, a well-known
environmentalist, said his major concern was that the road would cut the
lava field in two, among other things, destroying nesting sites.
"Some feel that the elf thing is a
bit annoying," said Magnason, adding that personally he was not sure
they existed. However, he added, "I got married in a church with a god
just as invisible as the elves, so what might seem irrational is
actually quite common" with Icelanders.
Terry Gunnell, a folklore professor
at the University of Iceland, said he was not surprised by the wide
acceptance of the possibility of elves.
"This is a land where your house
can be destroyed by something you can't see (earthquakes), where the
wind can knock you off your feet, where the smell of sulfur from your
taps tells you there is invisible fire not far below your feet, where
the northern lights make the sky the biggest television screen in the
world, and where hot springs and glaciers 'talk,'" Gunnell said.
"Everyone is aware that the land is
alive, and one can say that the stories of hidden people and the need
to work carefully with them reflects an understanding that the land
demands respect," he added.
Gunnell said similar beliefs are
found in western Ireland, but they thrive in Iceland because people
remain in close contact with the land. Parents still let their children
play out in the wilderness, often late into the night. Vast pristine
areas remain, even near the capital, Reykjavik.
And at Christmas, Icelanders await
not just one Santa Claus, but 13 trolls known as the "Yule Lads" who
come to town during the 13 days before Christmas. Each has his own task,
putting rewards or punishments into the shoes of little children. They
include Stufur, or Stubby, who is extremely short and eats crusts left
in pans; Pottaskefill, or Pot-Scraper, who snatches leftovers; and
Hurdaskellir or Door-Slammer, who likes to slam doors at night.
"If you ask an Icelander about
elves, they might say they don't believe," said Jonsdottir. "But we
always have stories of them, if not from ourselves then from someone
close like a family member."
Hilmar Gunnarsson, a writer in Reykjavik, fondly remembers a story his grandmother told him about a mischievous elf.
"She told me about (a pair) of her
scissors that went missing and she was certain that an elf borrowed
them," Gunnarsson said. "She would not believe that they were just lost
and she would not buy (new) scissors. She said the elf would give them
back when he was finished. She said they were returned."
One of Iceland's most famous daughters, the singer Bjork, displayed no hesitation when asked by U.S. comedian and TV host
Stephen Colbert if people in her country believed in elves.
"We do," she said. "It's sort of a
relationship with nature, like with the rocks. (The elves) all live in
the rocks, so you have to. It's all about respect, you know."
