Norse tradition tells of a conflict between two earls of tenth-century Norway in which both the parties, named Hakon and Thorleif, resorted to magic. Thorleif disguised himself as a beggar, went to the court of Hakon, and under the pretense of singing a poem in his honor recited a curse that caused Hakon to lose his beard and much of his hair, to itch uncontrollably between his legs, and to suffer a lingering illness. In revenge, Hakon invoked the goddesses Thorgerd and Irpa, who aided him with their “trollish and prophetic powers.” They made a human figure out of driftwood, placed a heart inside it, and sent it to Thorleif, who promptly died.

Our source for all this is a literary account, not a straightforward history. Indeed, the earliest recorded version of the tale is from the fourteenth century, and what it attests is not the actual practice of magic in pre-Christian Scandinavia but rather the recollection of that magic at a time when it could arouse a mixed reaction, combining horror with amusement. Precisely in this respect, however, the story gets to the heart of the problem in working with the pre-Christian magic of northern Europe: most of our information comes from after the conversion, and our fullest sources are fictional accounts that combine actual magical practice with fanciful embellishments.