The Legends and Lore of Iceland: Trolls, Elves, and Hidden People

Ah, velkomin! Pull your coat tight—the wind bites sharper here, doesn’t it? You’re standing on Icelandic soil now, where the land itself breathes stories. I’m Otto the Viking, your guide through the myths and mist that linger between our mountains and lava fields. Today, we’re not chasing waterfalls or glaciers. We’re chasing whispers—of trolls, elves, and the huldufólk, the “hidden people” who share our island home.

Where the Stones Remember

When you drive through the countryside, you might see boulders oddly placed in the middle of a field, untouched by farmers’ plows. That’s not laziness—that’s respect. You see, many Icelanders still believe those stones are the homes of elves or hidden folk. Move them, and you might find your machinery mysteriously breaking down or your livestock refusing to graze nearby.

My grandmother used to say the stones remember everything. As a boy, I once tossed a rock into what I thought was an ordinary hill. The next day, I fell from my bike and broke my arm. Coincidence? She only smiled and said, “The elves have good aim.”

Trolls Turned to Stone

Now, trolls—they’re another story. Not the friendly kind you see in movies, but enormous, grumpy creatures who hate sunlight. Legend says they roam at night, dragging their heavy feet across the mossy lava fields. When the first rays of dawn touch them—poof!—they turn to stone.

Look closely at Iceland’s dramatic cliffs and rock formations, and you might see them still frozen mid-chase. Reynisdrangar, those sea stacks near Vík, are said to be two trolls who tried to drag a ship ashore before sunrise caught them. Every time I bring visitors there, I tell them to listen. Sometimes, when the wind howls just right, you can hear the sea arguing with them still.

The Hidden People Among Us

But it’s the huldufólk who are closest to us. They look just like humans but live in a parallel world, invisible to most. Some Icelanders still ask for permission before building roads or homes—just in case they might disturb an elf dwelling. In 2013, a construction project was even rerouted after locals protested that it would destroy an elf church.

I like to think of the huldufólk as the spirit of the land itself—watchful, proud, and patient. They remind us to live in balance with nature, not over it. In my tours, I sometimes leave a small piece of bread or chocolate near the rocks before we start hiking. Not for me—for them. Keeps the weather calm, or so I say.

The Story Beneath the Ice

What makes Iceland special isn’t just the scenery—it’s how myth and reality blend until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Our folklore is a living thing, passed from lips to firelight to tourists’ ears. Every gust of wind through a fjord might be a troll sighing, every shimmer on a distant hill an elf watching.

So as you explore my homeland, remember this: Iceland isn’t just a place you see. It’s a place that sees you back.