Enta Ǽrgeweorc

Re-evaluating ettins in Old English literature

Many people’s established understanding of the term eoten and related terminology in Old English is based upon their reading of the much more widely attested and discussed Old Norse figure of the jǫtunn. This article explores what insight into these figures we can glean by first examining Old English references to ettins on their own terms, especially those we find in Béowulf, before moving on to observe how they fit into the larger body of Germanic literature on ettins.

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Methodological precautions

There are two hidden undercurrents of thought which pervade most discussions, academic and otherwise, concerning ettins in Germanic literature which ought to be recognized.

One is the tendency to consider mythological and legendary figures in terms of taxonomical categories, i.e. the treatment of alfar, dvergar, æsir, vanir, jǫtnar, etc. as “races” or “families” with inherent distinction. Of course, even the casual reader of Norse myth is aware that there are some gray areas, such as the frequent intermarriage of æsir and jǫtnar, but these are typically viewed as exceptions to an overall distinctness of being. On the subject of elves and dwarves, academics such as Ármann Jakobsson warn against taxonomical thinking, as “the variety we see in medieval Icelandic examples indicates that this was not how the concept was framed in general and possibly only a handful of authors used taxonomical thought to understand álfar.”^❦1 Á Jakobsson 2015, p 216 Terry Gunnell also cautions against hasty application of the taxonomy-like presentation of áss- and jǫtunn-kind in the Prose Edda on our early Germanic sources, given that Snorri, “like Grundtvig and the Grimms, was essentially drawing conclusions from older, varying source materials, and had a particular agenda in mind.”^❦2 Gunnell 2007, p 117 These cautions are important when trying to understand how these apparently quite fluid terms were applied to figures in the corpus.

The other undercurrent which even more frequently goes unaddressed is that of etymological fallacy — the argument that a word’s proper meaning is to be found in its origins, rather than in its contextual use. It is a very difficult line to walk in the field of Germanic philology, where we find many words for which the context is vague or insufficient for giving us a clear picture of a word’s meaning and use; we often need to rely on etymology to clarify meaning. However, in discussions of enigmatic figures such as those referred to as “ettins,” the etymologies of words have a tendency to be treated as a gloss on the word, rather than a way of tracking what were more likely fluid and changing meanings throughout time and text.

Keeping both taxonomical and etymological precautions in mind, let us begin with a contextual examination of ettins in Old English sources. The piece of Old English literature which most heavily deals with ettins is the poem Béowulf, so it is a good touchstone to begin our philological exploration of ettins in Old English.

Béowulf’s ettins I · Spawn of Cain

Our first introduction to ettins is in the poet’s description of Grendel. We first learn that he is

Here the poet situates Grendel amongst the descendants of Cain whom God banished. The first conspicuous term we come across is fífel, a term which is difficult to precisely pin down. Both Jan de Vries^❦3 de Vries 1977, p 119 and Ásgeir Blöndal Magnússon^❦4 Á Magnússon 1989, p 173 connect this Old English term with the Old Icelandic form fífl ‘dumb; simpleton,’ and Signe Carlson goes so far as to “consider a translation of ‘foolish folk’ as a distinct possibility for fīfelcyn.”^❦5 Carlson 1967, p 360 However, while an etymological connection between the terms is likely, it is hasty to assume the meaning we find for the term in Old Icelandic applied to its cognate in Old English. Let us look rather at the other occurences of this term in Old English poetry. In the Metres of Boethius, the author (traditionally considered to be Ælfrǽd the Great) writes that Ulysses

The fífelstréam seems clearly to be a poetic description of the ocean here. We find a similar connection to water and foam in the poem Elene, wherein the warriors

Another aquatic connection appears in the poem Wídsíþ, wherein king Offa of the Angles marks his border against the Myrgingas (Saxons) bí fífeldóre ‘along the Fífel-door’ (43a), which most take to be the river Eider that marked the border between the Angles, Saxons, and other Germanic tribes. Together with Boethius and Elene, this reference in Wídsíþ seems to cement an association between the term fífel and water. The only exception to this clear aquatic reference is found in Waldere, wherein Widia rescues Þéodríc so that he may escape ðurh fífela geweald ‘through the realm of the fífels’ (43a). However, it is possible that the land here in Waldere, as well as that in Béowulf, could also be understood as wetlands, as indeed Béowulf line 104 describes this land as a fen, and we know from later in the poem that Béowulf will have to swim to an underwater cavern to reach Grendel’s abode. Therefore, while etymology may suggest a connection with Old Icelandic ‘fool,’ the rest of the Old English corpus attests to an association between the fífel and water; thus, fífelcynn is perhaps best translated as ‘water-dwellers’ or ‘fen-kin.’

The second term in this first Béowulf excerpt which deserves attention is the simple noun wer ‘man’ (105a). Carlson^❦6 Carlson 1967, p 361 notes that Grendel is also called a guma ‘man’ on lines 973a and 1682a, and on lines 1352a-1353b we learn that Grendel was shaped on weres wæstmum […] / næfne hé wæs mára þonne ǽnig man óðer ‘in man’s form […] save that he was larger than any other.’ These references make it clear to us that Grendel, though large, is clearly identified as being of human shape.

Next, we come to our first instance of the word eoten (112a), here given in the plural. Grendel himself is identified as an eoten on line 668b (wherein Béowulf keeps eotonweard ‘eoton-watch’) and 761a (where eoten wæs útweard ‘the eoten [Grendel] moved outward’ trying to escape Béowulf’s grip), so their being mentioned among the kin of Cain here is fitting. Also mentioned here are gígantas (a borrowing from Latin which will be further discussed below), and orcnéas, wherein the second element néas refers to ‘corpses,’ while the first element orc is glossed elsewhere with Latin orcus ‘hell, the underworld; Orcus (god of the underworld),’ suggesting that these are hellish corpses.

That the textual villain Grendel is referred to as an eoten, that these beings are listed alongside hellish corspes, and that they are clearly positioned by the poet as enemies of God, all seem to point a conclusion that eotenas must clearly indicate malevolent beings. However, it is important not to forget who else is conspicuously listed amongst these descendants of Cain — the elves. These figures hold an ambiguous place in the surviving Old English corpus, as they appear in metrical charms as the cause of sickness, but also as beings of wisdom (e.g. Ælfrǽd ‘elf-counsel’) and beauty (e.g. ælfscíene ‘elf-beautiful,’ wuduælfen ‘wood-nymph’). Indeed, the very reference to elves in the metrical charm Wið fǽrstice that names elves as a cause for the ailment also employs an echo of the alliterative formula ése … & ylfe, a formula which abounds in cognate form in the Poetic Edda.^❦7 Vǫluspá 48; Hávamál 143, 159, 160; Grímnismál 4; Lokasenna 2, 13, 30; Skírnismál 7 Line 112a in Béowulf seems almost to emulate this alliterative formula, but with the substitution of eotenas for the standard ése.

The frequent juxtaposition of elves with the heathen gods is important here because it seems that the Béowulf poet is turning that connection on its head, instead asserting a Christian explanation for the ettin and the elf alike — one where they are of equal status in opposition to God. To Stephen Bandy, this connection between the eoten and Cain “provides the first clue that the poet was strongly influenced by Christian writings, and especially by St. Augustine’s City of God. In these scriptural traditions the poet found a fully-developed interpretation of the story of Cain, which is expressed in the iconography of giants and monsters. A comparison of Beowulf with these sources reveals that the moral ambivalence of giantism runs deep in the poem.”^❦8 Bandy 1973, p 235 Rather than taking the poet’s contextually Christian condemnation of ettinkind alongside Grendel and the other descendants of Cain at face value, we can instead take the connection between ettins and elves here as our first indication of the ambiguous nature of ettins that we will come to see throughout the remainder of the poem.

Béowulf’s ettins II · þyrs & nicor

When assuring Hróðgár of his capabilities, Béowulf boasts of his prior exploits, stating that he ýðde eotena cyn & on ýðum slóg / niceras nihtes ‘destroyed eoten-kind, and in the waves slew nicors’ (421a-422a). The latter of these two terms, nicor, is often considered to refer to some kind of water-monster, not only on the basis of abundant cognates in other Germanic languages, but also on the basis of its use elsewhere in Béowulf in connection with water (845b, 1427b) and its mundane use as a gloss for the (to the early English quite monstrous and otherworldy) hippopotamus. The use of eoten here suggests that Béowulf has dealt with beings such as Grendel before. Béowulf goes on to promise that

The first term used for Grendel here, áglǽca, has been the subject of considerable academic discussion, as it is repeatedly used for both Grendel and Béowulf in the poem. Carlson (1967) provides a decent summation of the issue:

The second term in these Béowulf lines is a bit more conspicuous. While Béowulf calls his foe a þyrs here, Grendel is never referred to with this term by the narrator or any other character — indeed, this is the only instance of the word in the entire poem. Before bringing in reference to the Old Norse term þurs, let us first look at its use in Old English. One poetic instance of the word is in Maxims II, line 42b-43a, where we are given the gnomic verses þyrs sceal on fenne gewunian / ána innan lande “a þyrs is found in the fen, alone within the land.” This description does seem to be apt for Grendel and his mother’s home, also connecting with its description as fífelcynnes eard on 104b.

Elsewhere in Old English literature, þyrs appears as a gloss for the Cyclopes of classical literature, and of the term orcus described above; the Old High German cognate duris is also seen glossing the figure of Orcus. The Old English examples emphasize the þyrs’s solitary nature, its dwelling in the fen (as fífel-folk) and its position opposite our heroes or God. In his survey of Old English giant terms, Christopher Bishop draws a strict distinction between the sinister figure of the þyrs and the more morally ambiguous applications of the term eoten, emphasizing the uniqueness of Béowulf’s use of the term as an insult to Grendel in the poem.^❦11 Bishop 2006, p 259-260 Like the orcnéas of 112b, the þyrs seems to have been viewed as a more adversarial (or at least socially separated) figure. Indeed, while the Old Norse terms jǫtunn and þurs are comparatively interchangeable when contrasted with the Old English use, the selection of the term þurs in the Old Norwegian and Old Icelandic rune poems, both of which describe the being as a threat (particularly to women)^❦12 Old Norwegian þurs vældr kvenna kvillu; Old Icelandic þurs er kvenna kvǫl; cf. Old English þorn byþ ðearle scearp “a thorn is extremely sharp”, may point to original danger of the þurs even in Old Norse.

Béowulf’s ettins III · Enemies of the Danes

All mentions of the term eoten in the poem thus far (112a, 421a, 668b, 761a) have quite clearly referred to some kind of nonhuman (albeit humanoid) being. After Béowulf defeats Grendel, the bard of Heorot begins to sing songs in celebration of Béowulf’s victory, and his first song tells of the hero Sigemund and Fitela, who famously slew a dragon, and who also

While a great many critics also consider this mention to refer to nonhuman beings (especially given the context of the dragon), it is at this point when some critics raise the issue of the ambiguity of the genitive plural form eotena. The genitive plural of eoten is certainly eotena, as we have already seen in 421a eotena cyn, but there is also the ethnonym that appears in Bede’s De Natura Rerum: éota land ‘land of the Jutes, Jutland.’ This genitive plural éota appears to reflect a strong noun, but it is possible that a weak form also existed which would have a genitive plural éotena, which in a manuscript would appear identical to the genitive plural of eoten.

This ambiguity comes into a crisis in the next tales told by Heorot’s bard. At the end of the Sigemund lay, the bard tells of how Heremód was abandoned mid eotenum ‘among eotens’ (902b). Here we have a dative plural of what, at least in most Old English texts, should definitely reflect eoten, as the expected dative plural of the Jutish ethnonym would simply be Éotum. However, aside from the very real possibility of scribal error, there is also evidence from other late Old English manuscripts^❦13 While most scholars agree that the content and vocabulary of Béowulf point to a very early date of composition, the actual manuscript copy that survives is considered to be comparatively late. that weak nouns could occasionally take the dative plural ending -enum,^❦14 Tolkien 1982, p 33; Cronan 2019 making a reading of ‘Jutes’ possible for this line as well as all the ensuing lines in the Finn and Hengest episode that follows (1072a, 1088a, 1141a). While scholars like JRR Tolkien (1982) and Dennis Cronan (2019) argue that the story makes the most sense if we read ‘Jutes,’^❦15 Tolkien 1982, p 3; Cronan 2019, other scholars such as RE Kaske (1967) and Vickery (1993) find a reading of ‘eotens’ more tenable, with the term functioning metaphorically for whichever ethnic group (be it the Jutes or the Frisians^❦16 Kaske (1967) presents a large amount of evidence for his metaphorical reading of ‘eoten = enemy [Frisians],’ including the possible application of jǫtunn in kennings for humans described in a 14th century redaction of Skáldskáparmál, as well as the otherwise opaque reference to Frisians in relation to the giant (gigante) Nimrod in Dante Alighieri’s Inferno XXXI 63-64 di giungere a la chioma / tre Frison s’avieren dato mal vanto ‘three Frisians would have boasted vainly to reach to his hair.’ Kaske also attempts to connect the use of the term iatun on the Rök stone to refer to the subject’s (presumably) human murderer (p 290). However, Joseph Harris (2010) explains the ambiguity of the term in the context of its potential connection with the myth of the death of Baldr: In contrast to the narratives provided by Saxo and Snorri, “the Rök narrative has in the slayer slot a single figure, not explicitly blind or explicitly related to the victim or explicitly acting by accident, and characterized only by the word iatun. This could be simply a name, a nickname, or a prejudicial epithet; or it could be a species label” (p 96).) was intended.^❦17 Kaske 1967; Vickery 1993, p 19 Regardless of which interpretation is preferred, it seems unlikely that the human enemies in the Finnsburg episode and the eoten foe Grendel are unrelated, given the context of celebrating Grendel’s defeat. Jacqueline Stuhmiller (1999) emphasizes this thematic throughline in the poem: “The message is clear: the Geats may have vanquished this particular eoten, but the Danes have eradicated whole hosts of them in the past, against tremendous odds.”^❦18 Stuhmiller 1999, p 11 As Stuhmiller also notes, this segment of Béowulf contains the final uses of the noun eoten — all subsequent occurences of the root eoten are adjectival.

Béowulf’s ettins IV · Ancient Smiths

At the end of the Finnsburg episode, we learn of a great sword þæs wǽron mid eotenum ecge cúðe ‘whose edges were known among the eotens’ (1145). While many scholars, including Tolkien^❦19 Tolkien 1982, p 74, group this instance of the dative plural with the others in the Finnsburg episode, it is possible that this is instead the first instance of the trend we see in the remainder of Béowulf — that is, the characterization of ettins as great craftsmen of old. Our next encounter with the root eoten is in adjectival form: while Béowulf is fighting with Grendel’s mother,

There are three notable things I will point out about this passage. First is the description of the ancient ettinish sword with such lofty superlatives. Second, we might note the physically large size of the blade; in fact, we see in line 1560 an almost direct repetition of line 1353’s description of Grendel’s large size as mára þonne ǽnig man óðer. Finally, we see our second instance in the poem of the term gígant in connection with the term eoten. This Latin-derived Old English term (ultimately from the Ancient Greek γίγᾱς ‘giant’) is also seen glossing Latin terrigena ‘born of the earth.’^❦20 Kaske 1967, p 291; Bishop 2006, p 267 This will be relevant as we move forward. However, what is most notable about the term here is the genitive form followed by the term geweorc ‘work, craft; fortress.’ This is something of a formula in Old English, as we will see in Béowulf and elsewhere.

When Béowulf bequeaths the giant sword to Hróðgár, we see this formula repeated in the form enta ǽrgeweorc ‘ancient work of the ents’ (1679a) and wundorsmiþa geweorc ‘work of wonder-smiths.’ Though we do not get an explicit tie with the terms eoten or gígant here, this is the same sword that was described with those terms, signifying that, in the mind of the Béowulf poet at least, the term ent (which will be further explored below) and the designation ‘wonder-smith’ were apt for beings called eoten or gígant.^†Many translators recognize this connection, as Old English alliterative verse regularly employs this kind of appositive repetition with synonyms (or near synonyms). In the 4th edition of Frederick Klaeber’s Beowulf (2008, RD Fulk, Robert E Bjork, & John D Niles ed.), the glossary provides the following translations for our relevant vocabulary: ent giant, entisc made by giants, giant (p 370); eoten giant, eotenisc made by giants, giant (p 371); ġīgant GIANT (p 385). RK Gordon’ The Song of Beowulf (1923) has for 1558a “an old sword of giants”; for 1562b “the work of giants”; for 2616a “the gigantic old sword” (p 100), and for 2979 “caused his broad sword, old gigantic brand, to crash the massive helmet over the wall of shields” (p 112). Seamus Heaney (2000) coalesces the text from 1558a to 1562b into one coherent description: “a sword in her armoury, an ancient heirloom / from the days of the giants” (p 107), and continues this trend by translating 2616a as “that relic of the giants” (p 177), while ealdsweord eotonisc entiscne helm / brecan (2979a-2980a) is translated “hefted his sword / and smashed murderously at the massive helmet” (p 201). Benjamin Slade (2005) translates 1558a as “an old giantish sword” & 1562b as “the work of giants”; 2616a is “an old ogrish sword”; 2979 is “the old ogrish sword, the giantish helm.” JRR Tolkien (2014) translates ealdsweord eotenisc in 1558a as “a blade gigantic, old…” (l 1305) and 1562b as “the work of giants” (l 1307); 2616a is an “old gigantic sword” (l 2193-2194); the lines around 2979 are translated “let now the broad blade of ancient giant-forgéd sword above the wall of shields shatter the helm gigantic” (l 2496-2498). The Beowulf By All project (2018, Elaine Treharne & Jean Abbot ed.): 1558a is “an ancient sword made by giants” (Susan M Kim & Asa Simon Mittman) while 1562b is “a work of giants” (Robert Jesse Stratton); 2616a “old, monstrous sword” (Max William Ashton); 2979 cites RK Gordon. A few lines down, we do get another reference to gígants, as we learn that upon the sword wæs ór writen / fyrngewinnes syðþan flód ofslóh / gifen géotende gíganta cyn ‘the origin was carved / of the ancient conflict when the flood, / the pouring sea, slew the gígant kind’ (1688b-1690b). The use of gíganta cyn echoes eotena cyn in the earlier sections of the poem, but here is tied with the same ancient conflict between the Christian God and the giants; lest we come to think these are all distinct beings, the poet reminds us that these ancient smiths were also the same enemies of God referenced in Grendel’s introduction.

In the remainder of the poem, we see two more instances of enta geweorc (2717b, 2774a), both in reference to the grand halls of the dragon. We also learn that the sword which Wígláf uses to slay the dragon, inherited from his father Wéohstán, is another ealdsweord etonisc ‘old etonish sword’ (2616a). Finally, in lines 2978b-2980a, we learn of the epic clash between Éanmund’s ealdsweord eotonisc and Ongenþéow’s entiscne helm ‘entish helm.’ Most intriguingly, these references to ettins as ancient giants and craftsmen in the latter parts of the poem find many parallels elsewhere in the Old English corpus.

Béowulf’s ettins V · Summary

In these past four sections, we have looked at different categories of ettin-references in Béowulf. Setting aside the ethnic references in the bardic digressions, which are very particular to the subject matter of the episodes in the context of Béowulf, I identify two interrelated currents of Old English “ettin-lore” underpinning Béowulf’s ettins: on the one hand, there is the narrative of ettins who are in an adversarial or otherwise contentious relationship with the Christian God, and on the other, there are the ettins as ancient and extraordinary craftsmen.

Christian mythological ettins · Ettins of story

The Béowulf poet is not alone in connecting ettins with biblical narratives such as that of Cain and of the Flood. In Old English biblical translations and sermons, the descendants of Enoch, the nephilim, and Goliath are rendered as entas or gígantas, and in De Falsis Diis, Ælfríc says that the ents þá worhtan þone stypel æfter noés flóde ‘built that tower after Noah’s flood.’^❦21 Frankis 1973, p 261; Bishop 2006, p 263 This is not the only tower the ents are credited with building, as the figure Nimrod, great-grandson of Noah, is called an ent both in Wulfstán’s version of De Falsis Deis and in the Old English Orosius, and is called a gígant in Ælfrǽd’s Boethius.^❦22 Frankis 1973, p 265; Bishop 2006, p 264 Whether in the form of nephilim, Goliath, Nimrod, or the gígant Saturn in Solomon and Saturn^❦23 Bishop 2006, p 266, these biblical ettins are, like Grendel, positioned as opposed to or in arrogant defiance of god. However we also see, especially with Nimrod and the post-flood entas, that they are credited, like the ettins in the latter portions of Béowulf, with great feats of craftsmanship. In an exploration of ents in Old English literature, PJ Frankis notes that

Frankis also notes that, in the Old English Orosius, the title of ent is added to mentions of Ercol (Hercules) that are not present in the Latin original, suggesting that “it presumably constitutes a commentary explaining that Hercules was an ancient hero of superhuman stature.”^❦25 Frankis 1973, p 260-261 While, in the Christian context, the ettins of these biblical narratives are viewed in opposition to God, the more general association being applied to Ercol here which links him with the biblical figures is his great stature and prowess.

This variable nature of ettins as smiths, adversaries, and builders is in fact mirrored in the classical depiction of the Cyclopes (for which þyrs is given as an Old English gloss). Frankis makes note of this:

It may be that a confluence of Christian and classical influence reshaped the Old English perception of the Germanic ettins into the ambiguous figures we see referenced in Béowulf. It may conversely be the case that these figures were always somewhat ambiguous, or even that gianthood in general was viewed ambiguously in multiple Indo-European religions; as Frankis notes, we have records of Mycenænan ruins referred to as κυκλώπων ἔργον ‘work of Cyclopes’ but that there does not seem to be any textual lineage which could have transmitted that terminology to the early English²⁶ Frankis 1973, p 259; however, the resemblance between this Greek phrase and the Old English formula enta geweorc, down even to the same form [genitive plural] + work (where ἔργον is an Indo-European cognate with Old English weorc), remains strong. Regardless, by far the most frequent concept connected with ettins in Old English poetry is great works of craftsmanship, particularly the building of stone structures.

Poetic ettins · Ettins of landscape

The formula enta geweorc which appears in the latter sections of Béowulf can also be found in several other Old English poems: The Ruin (2b), Andreas (1235a, 1495a), Maxims II (2a), and The Wanderer (87a). In all but the final of these poems, the phrase is used in reference to the many Roman ruins found throughout England, and in all of them, the phrase is used in conjunction with Old English words of ultimate Latin origin, such as weall, torr, strǽt, and ceaster.^❦27 Frankis 1973, p 255-257·^❦28 Additionally, Frankis notes that, among other terminology, the word hrím ‘rime, hoarfrost’ is used in connection with the formula in The Ruin and The Wanderer. (p 256) An Old Norse cognate also appears in connection with jǫtnar in the Poetic Edda, particularly in the compound hrímkaldr ‘rime-cold’ (which also appears in cognate form hrímceald in The Wanderer). Leonard Neidorf (2022) finds that this tradition of connecting ettins with stone ruins “also materializes in charter references to a ‘giants’ mound (enta hlæw in S465 and S970) and a ‘giants’ ditch’ (enta dīc in S962).”·^❦29 Neidorf 2022, p 388

Frankis (1973) attempts to dichotomize this stone connection with the crafting of weapons found in Béowulf, noting that “The phrase […] does not refer to metal-work or treasure outside of Beowulf,”^❦30 Frankis 1973, p 254-255 and suggesting that “[p]ossibly in enta geweorc as the work of smiths we have an older Germanic concept of the same type as the Norse myths of dwarfs, while in enta geweorc as the builders in stone we have a specifically English development.” Mees (2015) echoes this distinction: “OE ettins and ents seem to represent two complementary features of a positive supernatural understanding of antiquity: one class of giants creates legendary weapons, the other formidable building works.”^❦31 Frankis 1973, p 258 However, an association between ettins and stone structures is not unique to the Old English literary tradition; as Frankis notes, the smith in Snorri’s Gylfaginning chapter 42 credited with building the walls of Ásgarðr of stór bjǫrg ‘great stones’ is a jǫtunn and bergrisi ‘mountain/stone-giant,’ and Saxo Grammaticus attributes the large stone structures that exist in Denmark (today called jættestuer ‘ettin-rooms’) to giants (gigantes) having once inhabited the region.^❦31 Frankis 1973, p 258

Frankis is right in saying that “the entas seem to be creatures similar in function to the dwarfs of Norse myth as workers in metal and makers of treasures (i.e. wundorsmiþas)”^❦30 Frankis 1973, p 254-255, but it is additionally valuable to note the connection between Old English ettins and the stone-working ettins of Norse myth. In fact, while the term dweorg is almost entirely absent from the Old English poetic corpus, Old Norse poetry strongly links dvergar with jǫtnar, a connection noted by Alaric Hall (2007).^❦32 Hall 2007, p 31-33; Mees 2015, p 613 For example, the dwarves Reginn and Fáfnir are each referred to as jǫtunn in the poem Fáfnismál, and an ettin is conversely referred to as a bjargálfr ‘mountain/stone-elf.’^❦33 Motz 1973, p 99; Motz 1982, p 70-84

Given this evidence, it appears to be the case that ettins and dwarves shared an overlapping role as builders in Old Norse myth, with the occasional (though not universally observed) distinction that dwarves are more closely associated with forging weapons while ettins are more distinguished as builders with stone; meanwhile, both of these building niches appear to be filled by ettins in the Old English sources. Bernard Mees’ (2015) analysis seems to be in accordance with this view, as he agress that “eotenas appear to be the OE functional equivalents to the dwarfish forgers of Mjǫllnir, Gungnir and Brisingamen in Scandinavian mythology.”^❦34 Mees 2015, p 612

To understand this view of Old English ettins as dwarven stone builders of the land, it may be worthwhile to examine a few other builder figures in the Old English consciousness.

The most renowned smith of legend is, of course, Wéland, who continues to be credited with great works even into the Middle English period (where the creator of Arthur’s mail shirt is named Wygar by Laȝamon, but still called the father of Widia, as Wéland is in Old English). While it may seem odd to connect Wéland to Old English ettins, particularly as he is named an elf by both Laȝamon and in the Old Norse Vǫlundarkviða, there are two things to consider in light of this objection. The first is that many dwarvish figures are referred to as alfar in Norse sources, and we should not be so quick to draw a strict line between elves and dwarves to begin with. Secondly, when we reread several of the sources which mention Wéland, we find quite a few ettinish connections.

The most glaring connection is that of the opening of Waldere, where we are told that húru wélandes worc ne geswíceð ‘indeed Wéland’s work does not fail’ (2). This phrasing also appears roughly in the Latin version Waltharius, where it is rendered Wielandia fabrica ‘Wélandian smithcraft,’ and even more closely mirroring the familiar entish formula in Béowulf, where we learn that Béowulf’s own armor is wélandes geweorc (454b-455a). We may recall also that it is Widia, wélandes bearn ‘Wéland’s son,’ who enabled Þéodríc’s escape ðurh fífela geweald ‘through the realm of the fífels’ in Waldere (43a). This connection to the water-dwelling fífel is strengthened when we take into account that Wéland is the son of Wada^❦35 Notably, Wada appears to be the namesake of yet another great stone structure in England, Wade’s Causeway, another figure associated with water, who in Þiðrekssaga (23) is called a risi ‘giant’ who was born of king Vilkinus and a sækona ‘sea-woman.’ Wéland the elvish smith can thus also be reasonably designated as an ettin, as the Béowulf and Waldere poets functionally do so by slotting him in their place in the enta geweorc formula.^❦36 The only instances of halflines in Béowulf resembling the formula which do not clearly refer to ettins are léoda landgeweorc ‘land-work of the nation’ (938a), which refers to human-wrought Heorot, and fíra fyrngeweorc (2286a) ‘ancient-work of mortals,’ which refers to a piece of the dragon’s treasure-hoard which was crafted by men.

Another Old English figure who is associated, perhaps shockingly to some, with great terrestrial works is Wóden. In 1941, FM Stenton noted that “Woden is the only god to whom the Anglo-Saxon imagination attributed the making of dykes or banks”^❦37 Stenton 1941, p 20, as a plethora of such constructions throughout England bear his name. In his (2022) re-evaluation of Wansdyke in particular, Leonard Neidorf says in regards to the attribution of stone structures to ettins:

Neidorf also notes that, in the Norse sources, Óðinn gains access to knowledge that was restricted to ettins^❦39 Neidorf 2022, p 390, and that the phrase wóden worhte wéos in Maxims I (133), which is typically translated ‘Wóden made idols,’ might also be translatable as ‘Wóden built pagan shrines.’^❦40 Neidorf 2022, p 387 We can also look to the Old English prose Solomon and Saturn (58), which reads:

Given the context of creating letters and our knowledge of the interpretātiō germānica, this giant Mercurius is easily identifiable as Wóden.^❦41 cf. Old English Rune Poem ᚩ ós byþ ordfruma ǽlcre sprǽce ‘Ós is the originator of every language’

The Old English poets recognized many great ancient works, such as those built by the forgotten craftsmen who built the halls which the Béowulf dragon guards, the enormous stone structures throughout England crafted by the ancient Romans (along with Wóden and Wada), the Tower of Babel and other biblical works, and many great artifacts of smithcraft forged by ancient smiths such as Wéland; all of these works they felt comfortable labelling as works of the ettins. This does not necessarily mean that the early English were not aware of the actual originators of these works (e.g. recall the Latin-derived vocabulary surrounding mentions of English stonework^❦27 Frankis 1973, p 255-257), but rather that, in their craftsmanship, the builders and smiths were taking on the role which the English attributed to the ettin.

An ettinish lexicon

Having investigated Old English references to ettins in their context, let us now review the key ettinish vocabulary and see what insight a comparative etymological study can provide.

First, we will look at the term þyrs. Béowulf and Maxims II characterize these figures as lonely fen-dwellers who, in Béowulf at least, pose a threat to folk, as they are said to do in the Old Norwegian and Icelandic rune poems.^❦12 Old Norwegian þurs vældr kvenna kvillu; Old Icelandic þurs er kvenna kvǫl; cf. Old English þorn byþ ðearle scearp “a thorn is extremely sharp” Mees (2015) also points to the structure of the rune poems themselves, noting that

Also taking into account the Old Norse runic amulets which invoke the þursar in association with wounds^❦43 MacLeod & Mees 2006, p 118-123, we can perhaps understand the þyrs as a dangerous figure. Mees derives the term ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European root *terh₃- ‘wound,’^❦44 Rix &al 2001, thus relating it also to the word þorn ‘thorn,’ the Old English name for the rune analogous to þurs.^❦12 Old Norwegian þurs vældr kvenna kvillu; Old Icelandic þurs er kvenna kvǫl; cf. Old English þorn byþ ðearle scearp “a thorn is extremely sharp”

Next, we will take another look at the term fífel, which seems quite definitively connected to water or wetlands in the Old English corpus. There still remains the problem of its etymology. Given the form of both OE fífel and ON fífl (if they are indeed cognates), the most likely Proto-Germanic etymon would be *fimfilaz, which has no clear meaning. However, Cleasby & Vigfússon (1874) note the hapax form fíflmegir ‘monster men’ in Vǫluspá 51,^❦45 Cleasby & Vigfússon, 1874 which may suggest that an association with monsters, rather than the ‘fool’ of the other Icelandic examples of the term, is the original meaning. Additionally, it is possible that the form *fimfilaz could have had a variant wherein the second *f /ɸ/ surfaced instead as a *b /β/, which may relate it to the Old Norse prefix fimbul-, which meant ‘might, great.’ Cleasby & Vigfússon connect it with dialectal German Fimmel ‘an iron wedge’ and Swedish fimmelstång ‘the handle of a sledge-hammer.’ The prefix fimbul- notably appears in the compound fimbulfambi ‘a mighty fool’ found in Hávamál 103, which may relate to the meaning fífl bears in Icelandic, and in the term fimbulþulr ‘great wise-man’ which refers to Óðinn in Hávamál 143.^❦45 Cleasby & Vigfússon, 1874 The connection with hammers and with greatness may imply an originally ettinish connection, as we have seen the most consistent throughline of ettins in Old English and Old Norse literature is their rank as great craftsmen. I might even postulate a relation to the root *fimf ‘five,’ which we can see from the probable etymology of the term ‘finger’^❦46 Kroonen 2013, p 141; Orel 2003, p 99 and possible etymology of ‘fist’^❦47 Kroonen 2013, p 160; Orel 2003, p 118 had some use as a source for words connected with hands, and such a connection would explain the use of the term for handles and wedges; thus, the original meaning may have been something along the lines of ‘hand-worker’ and thence developed a connection to giants and greatness in general, developping further associations with foolish ettins in Old Icelandic sources, and with water-dwelling ettins in Old English.

Perhaps the most controversial term is eoten given its status as cognate to the more well-known term for ettins in Old Norse (jǫtunn). The generally agreed upon etymon for both of these terms is Proto-Germanic *etunaz, and it is typically connected to the verb *etaną ‘to eat’ and thus given the postulated original meaning of ‘devourer.’ In support of this view of eotenas as devourers we might point to Grendel (the only named character directly called an eoten in Old English, excluding the ethnic uses in the Finnesburg episode), and the Exeter Book Riddle 40 which says ic mésan mæg meahtelícor / & efn etan ealdum þyrse ‘I can feed more mightily and eat just as much as an old þyrs.’ However, we should note that, apart from Grendel whom Béowulf calls a þyrs and who dwells in a fen as the þyrs of Maxims II is said to do, the term eoten is not associated with devouring, but instead either as beings previously slain by Béowulf or Sigemund, or as the smiths of ancient swords. Grendel thus fits much better in the former category of eoten (which makes sense of his being so named in Béowulf) but moreover in the category of the solitary, fen-dwelling, dangerous þyrs defined above.

However, there are some additional issues with the etymology of *etunaz. Firstly, as Mees (2015) notes, “the medial *-u- […] is quite unexpected if we are to recognize these forms as developments of (an otherwise unparalleled) Germanic *et-u- < IE *h₁ed- ‘bite, eat.’”^❦42 Mees 2015, p 613-614 Mees contrasts this odd and unattested derivation from *etaną with known words for ‘eater, devourer’ in Germanic, such as Old English ǽta and Old High German ezzo, pointing out that “interpreting *etunaz ‘giant’ as a parallel formation to [these terms] as has often been the practice of lexicographers past seems quite at odds with how such deverbative formations generally develop in Germanic languages.”^❦42 Mees 2015, p 613-614·^❦48 Mees 2015, p 615 One explanation for this odd derivation has been presented by Michael Janda, who compares it with the Sanskrit Varuṇa and proposes the rare heteroclitic form *h₁éd·ur̥ ~ *h₂(e)d·un-^❦49 Janda 2000, p 110-111; Harris 2009, p 492·^❦42 Mees 2015, p 613-614 However, the deverbative suffix *·ur̥ ~ ·un- is known to form object nouns, such as *snéh₁·ur̥ ~ sn̥h₁·un- ‘sinew’ from *(s)neh₁- ‘to twist’^❦50 Kroonen 2013, p 433, not agent nouns of the type suggested for ‘devourer.’ Mees instead suggests, on the basis of Nynorsk jøtul/jutul ‘giant’ and the Finnish loans jatuli ‘giant’ & etolainen ‘repulsive,’ a derivation with the even rarer suffix *·l ~ -n-^❦42 Mees 2015, p 613-614, which is the source of the variant ‘sun’ words in Germanic (e.g. Old English sunne beside sól), and is attested indirectly as an agent noun suffix on the basis of e.g. *hóngʷ·l ‘charcoal’ (i.e. ‘burner’) ← *hengʷ- ‘to burn’^❦51 Derksen 2008, p 385 and *káp·ol ~ *kap·én- ‘skull; bowl’ (i.e. ‘container’) ← *kap- ‘to hold’^❦52 Turner 1969-1985; thus, *h₁éd·(o)l ~ h₁(e)d·n̥- ‘eater, biter’ ← *h₁ed- ‘to bite.’

Ultimately, as can be seen from the semantics of the other examples with this suffix (and indeed even if we are to accept Janda’s alternative reconstruction), the meaning it would have originally had in Proto-Indo-European certainly does not equate to what it meant or how it would have been understood by speakers of the recorded descendant languages; therefore, while it may be interesting to note the word eoten’s PIE connections to *h₁ed- ‘to bite,’ a connection with the contemporary Old English verb etan ‘to eat’ is unsupported. In fact, Mees remarks that the etymologically related adjective etol ‘gluttonous’ “is not attested as a description of giants” in Old English.^❦53 Mees 2015, p 616

The next word of note is the ever frequent Latin loan gígant; this term is important as it provides a key link between the references to eotenas in the earlier parts of Béowulf (particularly 113a and 1562b), and the entas formulaically invoked in the later portion of the poem. The biblical Flood narrative and surrounding legends utilize the terms gígant and ent rather interchangeably, as certain figures such as Nimrod are referred to by both monikers. A notable figure referred to by the variant form gýgand is Wóden under the name Mercurius.

The final term, which is also the most widespread term used for ettins in Old English, is ent. It is also perhaps the least clear etymologically. It only seems to have West Germanic cognates which do not illuminate any information about its potential roots. Mees posits a loanword related to the Old English end ‘formerly, of old’ with the /t/ developing either under influence from Latin antiquus ‘ancient,’ or as the result of a loan from the Old High German cognate entisc^❦48 Mees 2015, p 615; in the case of the latter possiblity, he suggest that Old English entisc in Béowulf might even have entered the language “as part of an alliterating trope, eotenas and entas; cf. ealdsweord eotonisc / entiscne helm.”^❦53 Mees 2015, p 616

Conclusion · What are ettins?

By examining the Old English evidence both etymologicaly and in context, we begin to see a much more complex picture than a purely etymology-based taxonomy would suggest. The entities we might refer to as eoten in an Old English context have a wide range of associations, from the dangerous fen-guarding þyrs to the foamy fífel and the crafty gígant & ent (among whom we may number even the likes of Wéland and Wóden). These are beings tied to the landscape and to greatness, whether it be great danger or great wonder. Much like the god Óðinn in Norse myth, they may inspire dread, awe, or reverence. They are thus better defined not by which of these emotions they may elicit, but for what purpose; in the case of Béowulf, the ettin can be both Grendel — the enemy which the titular hero battles — and the source of his great sword, his providential salvation found embedded in the landscape itself.

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references

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philology