The Importance of Seating in the Viking-Age Longhouse


The first half-stanza of verse 2 of Hávamál reads:

The subject of this article is the answer to the question posed by the verse: “A guest has come in, where shall he sit?”

In Viking society, the arrangement of seating in the house was critically important. In this article, we will discuss seating in the Viking age: who sat where, how that position was chosen for a person, and what that position indicated about the individual. The nature of seating positions in Viking-age homes informs us about some fascinating inner workings of Viking society.

Tour of a Viking Longhouse

Before discussing the seating arrangements, we need to make a brief detour to summarize the architecture and design of a Viking-age longhouse.

Replica turfhouse at Stöng
A reproduction of a Viking-age turfhouse at Stöng

interior of Eiríksstađir
main hall at the reproduction turf house at Eiríksstađir

Most of the sitting occurred in the main room, or hall. These rooms were often multi-purpose, used for living, sleeping, working, eating, drinking, and entertaining. The two words used for these rooms are skáli and stofa.

Yet it is not clear from the literary sources or from the archaeological excavation of house ruins what the difference is between skáli and stofa. A variety of activities, and a variety of seating arrangements are described as taking place in both rooms in the literary sources, although there are many more mentions of stofa than skáli in these sources.

Houses came in a variety of sizes in the Viking age, ranging from the modest homes of small farmers to the massive structures of chieftains (gođar) or the halls of earls and kings. Despite the differences in size, there were many common elements.

floor plan
Floor plan of the house at Eiríksstađir. Illustration by Andrew P. Volpe.

Viking-age houses were much longer than they were wide, and the long walls tended to bow outward in the middle. Inside, the length of the house was divided by partition walls into a small number of rooms, each of which spanned the full width of the house. Often, there was a small room at either end, and a large room in the middle.

Two rows of vertical wooden posts ran the length of the house and were part of the structural elements that supported the roof. These rows of posts defined three aisles running the length of the hall.

internal framing
Internal framing of the house at Eiríksstađir. Illustration by Andrew P. Volpe.

Objects mentioned numerous times in the literary sources are the öndvegissúlur, usually translated as high seat pillars. It is possible that they are the two support posts in the middle on one side, but the evidence is not conclusive. We will return to this topic later.

The middle aisle of the three was open, with a packed earth floor. A long fireplace on the floor in the middle of the house provided heat, light, and a place for cooking.

main hall at Eiríksstađir
main hall at Eiríksstađir showing the longfire on the floor in the center aisle

benches at Stöng
benches at the house at Stöng

The two side aisles were covered with raised wooden platforms, commonly referred to as benches. They ran the length of the room along the long walls, one opposite the other, with the open floor and fireplace between them. One of these long benches was called ćđri (higher) and the other óćđri (lower). There is no strong evidence that one was physically higher than the other, but it is clear that one was higher status than the other, discussed later.

In addition to the long benches along the walls, there were short benches, often called cross benches placed across the room at the ends of the room along the partition walls. Perhaps they were only at the far end, or perhaps on both ends. The evidence is not clear.

Schematic of house floor plan showing benches

In the literary sources, these benches are most commonly referred to as bekkr and pallr. Bekkr is an ancient word for bench  that is common to many ancient Germanic languages. Pallr is more recent, a loan word that probably postdates the Viking age. In the Viking age, bekkr was probably the favored word for the benches in the house. In the ancient eddic poems, bekkr is used multiple times,1 but pallr never appears. In runic inscriptions, pallr appears only on a 13th century stone2, dating well after the end of the Viking age. The evidence suggests that when pallr is used in the sagas, it is probably an anachronism.

In the ancient prose sources, bekkr is used many times and often clearly refers to the long bench, but it may refer to other seating arrangements as well. Yet many modern sources, such as dictionaries, state that bekkr refers to the long benches and pallr refers to the cross benches. Do the literary sources support this distinction? The answer is unclear.

In the literary sources, pallr is sometimes used to describe both long and cross benches. In some cases, we can clearly see by context that the word describes the cross bench, while in other cases, it refers to the long bench.3 At other times, based on context, pallr is used to describe something distinct from the long benches.4

Perhaps this is yet another case where saga authors used multiple words for the same concept, an idea explained by Ármann Jakobsson in his book The Troll Inside You.5 We have seen this happen in other aspects of Hurstwic’s Viking research, such as the words fang and glíma being used interchangeably for grappling, and the words hólmganga and einvígi being used for a duel. This second case is another example where many modern sources suggest the words are used to describe different types of duels, an idea not supported by the literary sources. It’s a trap we call modern categorization, and we describe it in our book Men of Terror,6 and in our web article on Traps and Pitfalls in Viking Research.7

In a few cases, a seat is specifically called out in the literary sources as being the cross bench, using words such as ţverpallr (cross-pallr) and others.8

In the middle of each of the long benches is a place called the öndvegi (opposite way). The middle of the lower bench is sometimes called annađ öndvegi (another, or second, öndvegi). The places are opposite one another, with the fire on the floor in between. As we will discuss later, these are the two most important seats in the house.

Associated with the öndvegi are the öndvegissúlur, usually translated as high seat pillars, as mentioned earlier. The nature of these pillars is not clear. A possible explanation is that they are the posts on either side of the öndvegi: the structural elements that hold up the house. The literary sources mention that holes were dug to set the öndvegissúlur, which would be needed to set the wooden posts used in the construction of a house. Yet, we have little solid evidence to support this suggestion.

floor plan high seat
Schematic of house floor plan showing öndvegi

Ingolfr finds his pillars
19th century illustration of Ingólfr Arnarson finding his öndvegissúlur

What is more clear is the strong connection between öndvegissúlur and the gods, but the nature of this connection is not clear. The pillars are sometimes described as being decorated with images of the gods.9 In several examples, settlers in Iceland brought their öndvegissúlur with them from Norway and threw them overboard when they sighted the Icelandic coast, asking the gods to guide the pillars to a suitable place for them to settle.10 If the pillars could not immediately be located, settlers might make a home where they thought best, but relocate to the proper site when the pillars were found.11 Additionally, there are examples of the pillars being located in the hof (the heathen temple),12 but in many cases, it seems likely that they were in the house.13

These examples might suggest that the öndvegissúlur were not structural elements of the house, since it would imply that settlers had to tear down their house in Norway (or at least significantly damage it) in order to remove the öndvegissúlur to bring them to Iceland. Additionally, there is at least one example in the literary sources describing images of Ţórr and his hammer carved into the brúđa of a chair.14 The word might mean the uprights of the armrest, but the usage of the word in other examples suggests the seatback.15 Despite these seeming connections between gods and pillars, we simply do not have enough information to draw any solid conclusions.

In translations, öndvegi is sometimes translated as high seat, but there is another word used whose literal translation is high seat: hásćti. Both are collocated in the middle of the bench area, based on their usage in the literary sources. Whatever the distinction between hásćti and öndvegi, it seems clear that this position was the seat of the leader of the household: the “top dog”, the head man who held the highest position in the household. The head man might be the king16 or the earl17 or the bóndi (the head of the farm household).18 Even the gods in their realms sit on a hásćti. When Óđinn sits on his hásćti, he can see over all the worlds.19

Odin sits on highseat
19th century illustration of Óđinn sitting on his highseat

In the human world, it is not clear if there was an actual chair in this place, or whether it was merely a location on the bench. In many cases, notably for the king in his hall, it seems clearly to be a physical object: some kind of raised chair. It could be constructed or built if needed.20 It could be brought in to the hall.21 It could be kicked over.22 It could have a hiding place or a chest underneath it.23

Snorra edda
Gylfi and the three kings in their highseats, shown in an illustration from a manuscript of Snorra edda, Uppsala University Library DG 11

But importantly, it had elevation. It was higher than what was around it, and higher than other seats.24 When Gylfi traveled to the Ćsir, he was led into the hall where he found three kings each sitting in their hásćti, one above the other.25 Men are said to look up to where the king sat in his hásćti.

Oseberg chair
Oseberg chair. Illustration adopted from Brřgger et al, Osebergfundet (1928).

We have a little bit of evidence about what these chairs might have looked like. First, we have archaeological evidence in the form of the Oseberg chair, found in a royal burial.26 While it may or may not be the chair of a king, it is likely the chair of a very high status individual and is part of a high status grave.

Viking-age runestone G 181 shows two seated figures, one of whom seems to be sitting in a chair.27

runestone G 181
Runestone G 181. Anställd vid SHM, Historiska museet/SHM. Creative Commons

King manuscript illumination from AM 343 fol. 1v

Additionally, we have a number of pictures of kings in their seats in pictorial sources, such as in manuscript illuminations and in the Bayeux tapestry from the 11th century.

Bayeux tapestry scene 33
Bayeux tapestry scene 33. Creative Commons

The evidence for the widespread use of chairs in the Viking age is limited, with nearly no archaeological finds. Did the bóndi on his farm sit on a hásćti located at the öndvegi, or did he merely sit on the bench at the öndvegi? It is hard to draw any definitive conclusion based on available evidence, but given the very limited evidence of chairs from the Viking age and the extensive evidence suggesting the near universal presence of benches in longhouses, it seems more likely that chairs would be found in royal settings than in farm settings. Certainly, the bóndi sat at his öndvegi, but there may not have been a chair there, merely a place on the bench. Perhaps the saga authors used the word hásćti for the seat of the bóndi to indicate the place of the head man and top dog of the household.

There are a few other objects relating to seating that seem to have a connection to the hásćti. First is the fótpallr (footstool), seen in many illustrations of the king on his high seat, and mentioned in the literary sources.28 Another is the word stóll, usually translated as stool. It is sometimes mentioned that a stóll was brought out and placed in front of the king in his hásćti so the two men could talk.29 In other cases, a stóll is used for casual seating in the hall,30 or in a búđ (booth) at Alţing.31 While it is possible stóll refers to a chair, rather than a stool, there are many more examples of Viking-age stools found in archaeology than chairs.

Bayeux tapestry
Bayeux tapestry scene 1 shows King Edward sitting with his feet on a footstool. Creative Commons

Occasionally, cushions (hćgindi) are mentioned being used for seating, in some cases on the bench, and in others, on the floor.32 Additionally, hay and other grasses are mentioned numerous times being scattered on the floor, and people sometimes are said to sit on the hay on the floor.33

Now that we have some basic understanding of what all these seating positions are and where they were located in the hall, we will look at who sat in these various places. For additional details about the architecture and layout of Viking-age houses, please look at the Hurstwic articles on longhouses34 and on turfhouses.35

Who sat where?

What is clear from numerous examples in the literary sources is that the top dog sat in the middle of the higher bench: the öndvegi or the hásćti. The top dog, depending on the house, was the king, or sometimes the king and queen together. The top dog was the earl. The top dog was the bóndi, the head of the household on a Viking-age farm.

The people of the top dog were arrayed out in both directions on his upper bench on either side of the top dog. Who was in this group again depended on the nature of the house. It might be the king’s hirđ (his bodyguard and constant companions), his family, his allies, or the bishop. It might include friends or trusted advisors. Immediately adjacent on either side of the top dog were the two highest ranking people in his entourage. But the head man sat with his people at his side.

Occasionally, the top dog shared the high seat, such as the king sharing the seat with his queen36, or with a visiting earl37, or with visiting guests of high status.38

Typically, an honored guest sat across from the top dog, in the middle of the lower bench in the annađ öndvegi. Arrayed out in both directions on either side of this guest were his people: his allies, his supporters, his family.

seating position
Schematic illustration showing eating position in the house. The top dog and his team sat on the ćđri, and the guest and his team sat on the óćđri.

Occasionally, the literary sources mention that people on the benches were paired up, and sat together as sessunautar39 (seat mates) or bekkjunautar40 (bench mates). It’s not clear what interactions these mates had on the bench. The stories tell us that they drank together, and shared the news together41, and traveled on adventures together on behalf of the king.42

What does seating position tell us and how was it determined?

Throughout a person’s life and after his death, his seating position was chosen for him. An infant to be fostered was placed on his foster-father’s knee in a ritual called knésetja (placing on the knee),43 which served to accept the infant into the family. During life, a person’s seat was chosen by the top dog in whatever hall that person might find himself. After death, the gods might choose a person’s seat. Freyja shares with Óđinn half of the men who have fallen in battle, and she selects where they will sit in her hall, called Sessrumnir (place with many seats).44 Even the name of the hall suggests the importance of seating.

Perhaps the only circumstance in which an individual’s seat was not chosen by someone else was if that individual were the top dog sitting in his own hall. Otherwise, the top dog made the choice. The top dog assessed the man’s worth – his value to the top dog – and assigned his seat accordingly. The position of one’s seat was a measure of one’s worth: his virđing.45

We discuss the concept of virđing in our book,Men of Terror.46

No doubt, other concepts played a role in the choice of one’s seating position, such as sćmd and drengskapr as explained in the discussion of virđing in our Men of Terror book. But what the top dog thought of a person – how he valued that person as a man, and the degree to which he respected that man – determined how he seated that person.

Generally, the closer one sat to the top dog, the higher his virđing. The top dog sat in the middle of the higher bench, with his team ordered by virđing spread out on either side sitting on the upper bench. The intriguing guest with the most virđing sat opposite the top dog in the middle of the lower bench, with his team spread out on either side sitting on the lower bench. Thus, home team and visiting team members could see each other and converse easily, while at the same time, side conversations could go on within each team.

The person in the öndvegi (middle seat on upper bench) was nearly always the top dog. The person in the annađ öndvegi (middle seat on the lower bench) was nearly always a guest with special talents and characteristics.

The usual type of guest seated here was someone who was well-traveled or knowledgeable who could share news, information, and entertaining stories. Another type of guest seated here was someone who had gained his virđing by performing some heroic feat, or by being from a good family, or who gained respect in other ways.

It is not clear what happened when there were no guests in the house. While the literary sources have detailed descriptions of seating arrangements when guests were present, the arrangement with no guests in the hall is rarely, if ever, mentioned, presumably because it was not interesting to the saga author or his audience. One of the few examples in the literary sources tells us that slaves and freeborn men sat outward on the lower benches.49 Perhaps when there were no guests, the top dog’s lower status men filled the lower bench.

Occasionally, there were too many guests to fit on the benches. In that case, temporary benches called forsćti (seats in front) were set up on the floor in front of the normal long benches.50 The nature of these benches is unknown.

What the literary sources make clear is that one’s worth was indicated by one’s seating position in the hall. A man’s seat was a visible marker of his status. The closer his seat was to the top dog, the higher his status. The further away he sat, the lower his status.

This position of one’s seat was sometimes described as being outward (further along the bench away from the top dog) and thus lower status, or inward (closer to the top dog) and thus higher status.51

inward vs outward
Inward seating versus outward seating relative to öndvegi

Yet there is another frame of reference that applies to inner versus outer that is also supported by literary sources. Inner may also mean further into the house, and thus further from the door, while outer means closer to the outdoors, and thus closer to the door.52 A man sitting close to the door was low status.53

inward vs outward
Inward seating versus outward seating relative to door

The lowest-status seats of all apparently were the corner seats, where the hornkerling (old woman in the corner) sat,54 and in the hay off the ends of the bench, where the stafakarlar (cripples) sat.55

To some degree, these seating positions may have also been based on comfort. The high-status seats near the fire were certainly brighter and warmer than the low-status seats at the end of the benches and by the door.

The literary sources tend to focus on the seating arrangements for men, while the seats for other household members are much less frequently called out. During yule and wedding feasts, it is often mentioned that women, such as the bride and her party, sat on the pallr, which here, may mean the cross bench, because the seating arrangement of the men on the bekkr is often described in detail.56 Or, the use of the word pallr may be an anachronistic element added by the saga author. In some cases, the queen sat on the high seat.57 On rare occasions, other women were placed in the high seat,58 including high status women, such as a völva (seeress).59

Sometimes children who were guests were given seats on the bench, and even on the high seat.60 In at least in some cases, the seat was given as a sign of respect for their heroic deeds.61 More typically, when children are mentioned in the literary sources, they are playing or sitting on the floor.62

The place of elderly or crippled people varied, depending on the nature of the individual. Important or unique people who were thought to be worthy of respect had seats of high status, including in the öndvegi, despite their advanced age.63 More typically, elderly and crippled sat in low status locations, such as further out on the lower bench,64 or even off the bench in the straw with the other cripples.65

The dynamics of seating

The verse from Hávamál quoted at the start of this article asks the question: where does a new guest get seated? The answer is that his place was chosen by the top dog based on the guest's virđing. If the guest was unknown, a seat might be offered based on his reputation and family. If there was little information, a guest might be placed far outward on the lower bench.66 Or, guests might be tested before a seat was offered. Ţórr and his companions were tested with physical competitions before being offered a seat by Útgarđa-Loki,67 and even Óđinn battled in a contest of wits in order to win a seat as a guest of Vafţrúđnir.68

When the newcomer took his seat, it seems that everyone on the bench moved outward one place.69 Little is said in the literary sources about what might happen to the people already sitting at the ends of the bench, should there not be enough room for everyone.

A guest’s seat might be changed during his visit, again, based on the top dog’s reassessment of the guest’s virđing. When new information about a guest and his accomplishments came to light, he might be moved to a higher status seat.70 Sometimes the guest performed a heroic feat during his visit, resulting in a move to a higher status seat.71

A guest might not care for the seat given him, believing it didn’t reflect his true worth.72 A man displaced to a lower status seat might use violence or the threat of violence against the newcomer to reclaim his higher status seat.73 And in several instances in one story, the top dog at the house told his guest to chose any seat he wanted if he thought he could pull the man currently sitting there out of the seat.74


A Viking had to earn his place in Viking society ceaselessly. It was not a world of entitlement. Each individual was assigned virđing – a worth – and that worth was constantly being assessed and challenged.

Thor wrestles Elli
19th century illustration of a glíma competition between Ţórr and Elli

Worth was not easily attained. A Viking had to prove himself to attain worth, which could be gained through a variety of ways. Most often, that way was through successfully completing an arduous task which put a man’s life on the line. Sometimes the test was performed on the spot, in front of the top dog and his team, such as when Ţórr, Ţjálfi, and Loki had to demonstrate their prowess while visiting the realm of Útgarđa-Loki before they were offered a seat.75 The search for enhanced virđing was relentless.

Hurstwic glíma
21st century picture of a glíma competition at a Hurstwic feast

It was a hierarchical society, and a man’s place in that society was not just based on his class and his family, but even more strongly on the virđing awarded to the man for his accomplishments. To our modern eyes, it might seem ruthless, this relentless struggle to prove one’s worth and to maintain one’s place in society.

At the same time, the top dog yearned for knowledge, just like Óđinn himself. As a result, a guest needed to be knowledgeable, well-traveled, and articulate to win the virđing of the top dog. These qualities are implied in the literary sources and spelled out in Hávamál.76 Intellectual stimulation was prized among Vikings and rewarded with a high-status seat.

The seating arrangements in Viking-age houses show us that their society was nothing like the egalitarian Arthurian round table seating seen in other societies. A Viking-age man fought for virđing at every turn, even for something as innocuous as finding a seat.


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1. Atlakviđa 1, 2, 3; Grímnismál 9, 45; many others.
2. N 344. https://app.raa.se/open/runor/inscription?id=414c531e-1f41-4c65-81bd-bcd8cac6e249
3. Heiđarvíga saga, ch. 26; Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 116, 136, 147; Víglundar saga, ch. 14, 16; Egils saga, ch. 55; Ynglinga saga, Ch. 37.
4. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 6, 14, 34; Gunnars saga, ch. 1; Ljósvetninga saga, ch. 13; Víga-Glúms saga, ch. 6; Kormáks saga, ch. 20.
5. Ármann Jakobsson. The Troll Inside You. Punctum Books (2017).
6. William R. Short and Reynir A. Óskarson. Men of Terror: a comprehensive analysis of Viking Combat. Westholme Publishing (2021). pp. xi-xii.
7. https://www.hurstwic.com/research/text/traps_and_pitfalls.htm
8. Bárđar saga, ch. 13; Kjalnesinga saga, ch. 14; Ţórđar saga, ch. 12.
9. Landnámabók 33; Eyrbyggja saga, ch. 4
10. Kormáks saga, ch. 2; Laxdćla saga, ch. 3; 5; Landnámabók 6, 8, 33.
11. Landnámabók 6-8; 79, 81, 83.
12. Eyrbyggja saga, ch. 4; Vatnsdćla saga, ch. 15.
13. Landnámabók 8, 44, 79, 81, 83; Laxdćla saga, ch. 5.
14. Fóstbrćđra saga, ch. 23.
15. Grettis saga, ch. 18; Bárđar saga, ch. 15.
16. Skáldskaparmál 43; Egils saga, ch. 11, 55; Bárđar saga, ch. 18; Jökuls ţáttur Búasonar, ch. 3; Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 154; Víglundar saga, ch. 4, 6; Norna-Gests ţáttur, ch. 3; many others.
17. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5, 14; Víglundar saga, ch. 4.
18. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch., 116, 159; Eyrbyggja saga, ch. 33; Landnámabók 58.
19. Gylfaginning 17.
20. Gylfaginning 14; Odds ţáttur Ófeigssonar, ch. 0; Ynglinga saga, ch. 36; Hákonar saga Ađalsteinssonar, ch. 12.
21. Ynglinga saga, ch. 37.
22. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 116.
23. Odds ţáttur Ófeigssonar, ch. 0; Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar, ch. 109.
24. Gylfaginning 17; Haraldar saga hárfagri, ch. 35; Hirđskrá 5.
25. Gylfaginning 2.
26. Brřgger, A.W. et al, ed. Osebergfundet: utgit av den Norske stat. Universitetets Oldsaksamling (1917-1928).
27. G 181; SHM 13127; https://samlingar.shm.se/object/0EE82D5D-5FAE-4060-83C2-86D2DBFD409C
28. Haraldar saga hárfagri, ch. 8.
29. Örvar-Odds saga, ch. 27.
30. Grćnlendinga saga, ch. 5; Kjalnesinga saga, ch. 7.
31. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 118, 119.
32. Gísla saga, ch. 30; Kjalnesinga saga, ch. 14.
33. Ţorleifs ţáttur jarlaskálds, ch. 4; Halldórs ţáttur snorrasonar hinn síđari, ch. 2; Hálfs saga og Hárekka, ch. 17; Hallfređar saga, ch. 2.
34. https://www.hurstwic.com/history/articles/daily_living/text/longhouse.htm
35. https://www.hurstwic.com/history/articles/daily_living/text/Turf_Houses.htm
36. Óttars ţáttur svarti, ch. 0; Ynglinga saga, ch. 21; Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar, ch. 43
37. Víglundar saga, ch. 4
38. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 14; Ljósvetninga saga, ch. 21; Vatnsdćla saga, ch. 42
39. Víga-Glúms saga, ch. 6; Halldórs ţáttur Snorrasonar hinn síđari, ch. 2; Sneglu-Halla ţáttur, ch. 3, 7; Ţorvalds ţáttur tasalda, ch. 0
40. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5; Bárđar saga, ch. 15; Hallfređar saga, ch.6; Ţorleifs ţáttur jarlaskálds, ch. 4; Örvar-Odds saga, ch. 14
41. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5
42. Hallfređar saga, ch. 6
43. Haraldar saga hárfagri, ch. 22, 41; Hákonar saga Ađalsteinssonar, ch. 10; Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar, ch. 11;
44. Gylfaginning 24
45. Jökuls ţáttur Búasonar, ch. 3; Víga-Glúms saga, ch. 6; Ţórarins ţáttur Nefjólssonar, ch. 1; Örvar-Odds saga, ch. 27
46. William R. Short and Reynir A. Óskarson. Men of Terror: a comprehensive analysis of Viking Combat. Westholme Publishing (2021). p. 3
47. Fóstbrćđra saga, ch.8, 24; Vatnsdćla saga, ch.43; Víglundar saga, ch.5; Fljótsdćla saga, ch.10
48. Flóamanna saga, ch.15.
49. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5
50. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 136; Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5
51. Egils saga, ch. 72; Flóamanna saga, ch. 24; Hávarđar saga, ch. 13; Hirđskrá 18, Lokasenna 11
52. Bárđur saga, ch. 13, 61; Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 34, Víga-Glúms saga, ch.6; Ólafs saga helga, ch. 57
53. Droplaugarsona saga, ch. 13, 14.
54. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 35
55. Ţorleifs ţáttur jarlaskálds, ch. 4
56. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 10, 14, 34; Gunnlaugs saga, ch. 11; Hćnsa-Ţóris saga, ch. 12; Ljósvetninga saga, ch. 13; many others
57. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 4; Óttars ţáttur svarti, ch. 0; Ynglinga saga, ch. 21; Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar, ch. 43
58. Gunnlaugs saga, ch.3; Laxdćla saga, ch. 46.
59. Eiríks saga, ch.4.
60. Hálfs saga og Hárekka, ch.17.
61. Hávarđar saga, ch. 14; Hćnsa Ţóris saga, ch. 7; Hálfs saga og Hárekka, ch.17.
62. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 1, 8; Egils saga, ch. 72; Vatnsdćla saga, ch. 42.
63. Ólafs saga helgi, ch. 79.
64. Hallfređar saga, ch. 11; Sneglu-Halla ţáttur, ch. 3.
65. Ţorleifs ţáttur jarlaskálds, ch. 4.
66. Víga-Glúms saga, ch. 6; Fóstbrćđra saga, ch. 24.
67. Gylfaginning 46.
68. Vafţrúđnismál, 6-10.
69. Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 35; Hávarđar saga, ch. 13; Ţórarins ţáttur Nefjólssonar, ch. 1.
70. Örvar-Odds saga, ch. 27; Orms ţáttur Stórólfssonar, ch. 10.
71. Fljótsdćla saga, ch. 5; Víga-Glúms saga, ch. 6; Grettis saga, ch. 19.
72. Laxdćla saga, ch. 46; Brennu-Njáls saga, ch. 35.
73. Ljósvetninga saga, ch. 21.
74. Tóka ţáttur Tókasonar, ch. 1, 2.
75. Gylfaginning 46.
76. Hávamál 5, 17, 18, 28.