Decoding the Icelandic Yule Lads
- Natalie Guttormsson

- Dec 3
- 7 min read
Pulling back the curtain on Icelandic Lore in Popular Media
There are loads of articles and podcast episodes floating around the internet discussing the Icelandic Yule Lads. People laugh about their silly names and list the pranks they’re known for and the dates they’re supposed to be around.
They might also tell you how their stories used to be so scary that their stories were banned in the mid-1700s. But I have yet to find a source online that really discusses the Yule Lads in the context of how cruel everyday life in Iceland used to be, especially for children.
I mean, how bad would things have to be before the government decided they had to intervene and ban the stories out of concern for child welfare?
Once we answer this question, it becomes clear why characters like Sheep-Worrier, Sausage-Swiper, or Candle-Swiper would be truly terrifying to a child in the early 1700s versus children of the modern era.
A Quick Jólasveinar 101
If you’ve never heard of the Icelandic Yule Lads, here are the basic details you need to know:
There are 13 official Yule Lads in total
Their mother is a child-eating ogress named Grýla
Their father is a lazy ogre named Leppaluði
The lads arrive one by one each night from Dec.12-24
They go back home one by one each night from Dec. 25 to Jan.6
Each lad is associated with a prank or bad deed
Now, let’s take a step back in time…
Before we dissect the meaning behind Iceland's Christmas folklore, we need to first get into the mindset of the people (especially the children) who lived with the lore when it was highly potent in the 1700s.
Let’s hop in the time machine to December 1732.
Let’s visit a fjord in the eastern part of the island where the sun doesn’t fully rise above the southern mountain ridge until spring. The halo of daylight on the horizon lasts for just under three hours before darkness returns.
It’s bitterly cold. The dampness rolls off the ocean and settles into your bones, seeping through your woollen layers just as the wind finds its way through every tiny space between the knitted stitches, kissing your skin with an arctic chill.
Inside the crowded turf house, it is warm, but there’s a dampness here too from woollen clothes struggling to dry out. There is a unique odour, mixed from the earthen walls of the structure, the sheep dung bricks fueling the fire, too many bodies crammed into the living/sleeping area (baðstofa), and the waft of livestock from the room directly below. It all works together to create the heat needed to survive, and you get used to the smell.
Food is a precious commodity. Special meats are prepared over many weeks just for the holiday occasion, but each helping must be carefully rationed to ensure the supplies don’t run out before spring.
There is no electricity yet, which makes candles a very valuable commodity to bring comfort and to complete necessary tasks, such as cooking, knitting, and reading.
The Lutheran Religion is the dominant faith, with bible hymns and stories shared nightly, alongside renditions of the sagas and other folk tales. In the long, dark, and cold nights, prayer is vital to keep the hunger and fear at bay.
Now, keep in mind, just three years later, in 1735: “Many people left their homes in the north and the east because of the severe winters. That spring, people all over the country died of hunger. They were living in such poverty. Birth and death rates were affected by the malnutrition.” (Icelandic Roots Database)
It is in this context that we must meet Grýla and the Yule Lads before we laugh and judge their stories.
The Thirteen Yule Lads & Their Pranks
You’ll notice in the list below that many of the pranks involve stealing food. That’s because for many years there was widespread poverty and harsh winters that meant food was scarce.
Dec. 12 - Stekkjarstaur (Sheep Worrier): worries the sheep and moves slowly on stiff legs.
Dec. 13 - Giljagaur (Gully Gawk): hides in gullies to steal milk from the cows or sheep.
Dec. 14 - Stúfur (Stubby): is abnormally short and steals pans to eat the food scraps left on them.
Dec. 15 - Þvörusleikir (Spoon Licker): steals and licks wooden spoons to eat the leftovers on them.
Dec. 16 - Pottaskefill (Pot Scraper): scrapes and eats the leftover food from pots.
Dec. 17 - Askasleikir (Bowl Licker): hides under beds to steal food left in the bowls.
Dec. 18 - Hurðaskellir (Door Slammer): slams doors both inside and outside.
Dec. 19 - Skyrgámur (Skyr Gobbler): steals the Icelandic yogurt skyr.
Dec. 20 - Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage Swiper): steals sausages from the rafters.
Dec. 21 - Gluggagægir (Window Peeper): creeps around the house and looks through windows to steal items.
Dec. 22 - Gáttaþefur (Doorway Sniffer): uses his large nose to sniff out laufabrauð (very thin, fried bread wafer)
Dec. 23 - Ketkrókur (Meat Hook): uses a hook to steal meat reserved for the special season.
Dec. 24 - Kertasníkir (Candle Beggar): steals candles made of tallow, which were once edible.
Today in Iceland, children place a shoe in their window so the Yule Lads can bring them gifts on their arrival night: treats or gifts for good children and potatoes for bad children.
But back in the 1700s, it was a very different story.
We set the scene moments ago. Now imagine that each night of the holidays there are mysterious trolls or ogres coming down from the mountains to steal your food. They might be under your bed, lurking in the shadows, hiding with the animals, or just outside a door or window.
For the adults, it seems like sharing these stories might have been a deterrent to stealing precious food stores that would affect the whole household. It was probably a way to ensure that everyone ate their full servings and did not leave any crumbs behind in their personal bowls, spoons, or the dishes used to prepare the meals. Clean dishes would remove the temptation for the Yule Lads.
And, these stories might also have been a way to put the blame on the supernatural, rather than admit to skimming off the skyr reserves.
You can listen to Icelandic folklorist, librarian, and teacher, Þórdís Edda Guðjónsdóttir and I discuss the Icelandic Yule Lads in detail on the Folklore Forum podcast: listen here.
But why were the stories of the Icelandic Yule Lads banned?
If we go back to a dark time in Icelandic history, like the early 1700s, we find a society very different from the place today that draws millions of tourists a year. We find an island with a population of roughly 43,600. Communities are spread out. There is no ring road. Travel happens on foot or sometimes by boat.
The 1700s were not a great time in Europe for poor people. We’re on the heels of the bubonic plague. The climate has been exceptionally cold. But it was especially harsh in Iceland because there were shocking rules in place and enforced by the powerful landowners. For example, people were forbidden to marry or have children unless they could afford to own land or lease land from another farmer. Land was hard to come by, especially land that could generate a living. This meant that most of the population worked on the farms of others, unable to marry and unable to improve their opportunities.
Yet, as humans do, babies were still being created.
Unwed people were forced to work on the farms of others, as lowly paid labourers or house servants. Once a year, they could move from one farm to another (by choice or not), which meant there was no guarantee that poor families would stay together. Children were frequently separated from their parents and forced to work in gruelling conditions for little to no pay. While there were cases of kind farmers that cared as best they could for their foster children, there are just as many reports of terrible conditions—enough to give modern parents nightmares!
Let’s, for a moment, imagine children between the ages of 5 and 12, separated from their parents, working long, hard hours for people who care little for their well-being. As the Yule time rolls around, it’s completely dark most of the day, except for a few hours on either side of noon. There is no electricity, no central heating, and food is strictly rationed.
Now, imagine them hearing tales that child-eating trolls are on the loose. These trolls are coming to steal already scarce food, terrorize the household, jump out from corners, behind doors, and lurk in the windows. And for any child who misbehaves or doesn’t finish their chores on time, the mother of all trolls, Grýla, will haul them away in their sleep for her stew.
It's no wonder Denmark was concerned for the welfare of children in Iceland during this time. In 1746, Denmark went so far as to ban tales of the Icelandic Yule Lads, as part of a broader move to reduce terror-based parenting practices in Iceland.
Why are the Yule Lads Popular Now?
Well, when stories are taken away, sometimes they become legendary. The nineteenth century was a period where scholars sought to preserve old stories. They gathered their nation’s folklore in an attempt to showcase their distinct culture. Stories of the Yule Lads were collected for Jón Arnason’s Icelandic folklore collection in the late 1800s. Then, in 1932, Jóhannes úr Kötlum—a poet—compiled his Yule Lads Poem, narrowing down the collection of Yule Lad candidates to 13, giving a clear runway to Christmas eve and a convenient departure window that ends on the morning of the Epiphany.
With modernization, stories that used to terrify become less so. And with Iceland now being a leading nation when it comes to early childhood care and education, it’s hard to fathom that the 1746 ban happened in the same country.
Some may tell you that the Yule Lads just became nicer to children over the centuries. But I see folklore as a reflection of society, and I’d argue that it was the Icelandic society that improved over the centuries, not just for children, but all who dwell there.
So, now you know more about the setting in which the Icelandic Yule Lads terrorized the countryside. What do you think of them? Where have you encountered information about them? Was it a website, social media post, or a podcast? I’d love to know! Share it in the comments below.




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