Icelandic folklore, despite what you might have heard about elves, has roots seeded in the dark and desolate. Even Christmas, Iceland’s most celebrated holiday, is filled with stories of an enormous cat who steals children, and a female troll who eats them. I remember my husband telling me of, perhaps one of the most famous ghostly tales, Djákninn á Myrká, or the Deacon of Dark River. Two lovers torn apart by death--but there’s ghoulish twist.

A man, known only as the Deacon, travels to see his lover Guðrún, translated as "God Rune" in English. She lives as a housemaid on a farm opposite the river Hörgá, a trip only pursuable on horseback, but nearly impossible to trek during bad weather. One day, the Deacon and his horse, Faxi, cross the frozen river to see Guðrún, and discuss their Christmas plans, where he promises to return on Christmas Eve. Excited to spend the holidays with one another, the two kiss and bid farewell ‘til their next meeting. However, a terrible accident befalls the Deacon on his way home.; the ice atop the river Hörgá had begun thawing due to sudden weather changes and could no longer withstand the weight of the Deacon and his horse. Stepping ignorantly onto the ice, the Faxi's hooves crack the thinning sheet and release the chilling water beneath it, sending the steed into a frenzy. The Deacon, now knocked down, suffers a deathly head wound to meet his end...his body is found the next day and promptly buried before Christmas Eve. Guðrún does not learn of her beloved's death for continuous poor weather conditions prevent the news from reaching the other side of the river.

On Christmas Eve, despite the Deacon’s early demise, a knock on Guðrún’s door brings promise of his arrival. Another woman on the farm answers, but no one appears to be on the other side. Confused and anxious, Guðrún hurries to the hallway, only managing to pull on one sleeve of her coat before rushing outside. There in the darkness she makes out the figure of a man standing beside his horse, his features somewhat concealed by a hat and scarf. It’s the Deacon! Guðrún thinks. She approaches him, and he lifts her up onto the horse and takes the reigns. Everything seems to be going as planned, and they ride off into the moonlit night, all silent apart from the clopping of hooves, the flick of the winter breeze. During the journey, the horse trots over rough terrain, bumpy enough to knock the hat off of the Deacon’s head. Guðrún, adjusting her eyes to such a wild sight, fixates on an open wound on the back of his head; a bare skull transparent by the light of the moon. Suddenly the Deacon speaks:

"Máninn lýður, dauðinn ríður; sérðu ekki hvítan blettn í hnakka mínum, Garún, Garún?"

"The moon fades, death rides. Don't you see a white spot on the back of my head, Garún, Garún?"

Guðrún, fearful of the Deacon’s words, holds her tongue in shock.
Once they arrive at the church, the Deacon speaks again:

“Bíddu hérna, Garún, Garún, medan eg flyt hann Faxa, Faxa, upp fyrir garða, garða”

“Wait here, Garún, Garún, while I take Faxi, Faxi, out of the graveyard, graveyard.”

Guðrún’s eyes suddenly catch the sight of an open grave, but before she can react, the Deacon grabs ahold of her, and begins tugging her toward it. In a flash, Guðrún slips out of her empty sleeve as the Deacon pulls on it, knocking him backward into the grave; the soil piling atop his body only to bury him once again. Finally, Guðrún realizes the real Deacon is dead and that she truly encountered his ghost--the reason he could not utter her full name.* Frantic with this realization, she rings the church bell until a nearby farmer hears the commotion and comes to her aid.

For weeks, Guðrún continues to see the Deacon’s ghost. She no longer finds comfort in being alone, and is close to losing her mind out of fear. She requests the abilities of a local exorcist to rid her of the Deacon’s lingering soul one last time. To seal the blessing, the exorcist places a hefty rock over the Deacon’s burial site to ensure he can no longer emerge and torment the living. The rock remains in that exact spot to this day.

Though this tale seems to have a happy ending (in some versions, Guðrún is driven mentally insane by the visits from the Deacon’s ghost), Guðrún’s escape from the Deacon can only be described as sheer luck. So, what does the tale warn against? How to discern a ghost from a human? How to escape a ghostly encounter? Or is it all a myth to scare little children? There aren’t many texts that give a clear answer, but if you ask any Icelander, they’ll most likely tell you the story was invented as a scare tactic, and that seems to be a popular answer for many Icelandic folk tales; the power of the imagination goes wild when there is little else for entertainment.

However the Deacon of Dark River tale came into existence, it has since inspired many aspects of Icelandic arts and culture. A mural by Li-Hill depicting Guðrún on horseback with the Deacon, and her escape, was erected on the old Iceland Opera building in Reykjavik in 2015. Borg Brugghús also has a beer named after the folktale: Borg Garún Icelandic Stout. There’s even a 1988 movie based off of it called “Djákninn," and a song by the band Mannakorn also called "Garún."

There’s no doubt that Iceland takes pride in its lore, and even embraces the dark side. Perhaps this is one of the country’s most endearing qualities; its ability to maintain an air of mystique without needing a holiday like Halloween to boast about it. The tales themselves have proven to lure tourists simply by their twisted fairytale nature. If you’re a lover of the paranormal, ghost stories, or are just interested in Iceland’s creepy tales, you can visit the Deacon of Dark River’s grave in Myrká, if you drive into Akureryi or find yourself in Eyjafjörður. Once you see it, you may have to wonder: was it all real? But whatever you do--definitely don’t move the rock, or you could release the Deacon’s spirit once again.

*In Icelandic culture it is said that a ghost cannot speak the word for “God”(Guð) because of their purgatorial fate