The runes

The teaching

As the rune lore of the three old poems and of modern casters teaches it.

The row, its sounds and its three families

The Elder Futhark has twenty-four runes, and each is at once a letter, a sound and a name. The name is a common word, such as cattle, hail, sun or day, and that word is the rune's meaning. The row falls into three families of eight, which the Norse called ættir, and readers name them after their first runes: Frey's eight, Hagal's eight and Tyr's eight. The names below are the old Germanic forms that modern books use.

Three old poems give a short verse to each name, a riddle whose answer is the rune: an Old English poem on twenty-nine runes, and Norwegian and Icelandic poems on the sixteen of the later Norse row. Where a rune dropped out of the Norse row, the English poem alone speaks of it. Casters read each rune by its name and its verses first, and by the modern keyword after.

Fehu, Uruz, Thurisaz and Ansuz

Fehu, F, a stave with two arms rising to the right: cattle, and so wealth that moves. The English poem says wealth is a comfort to all, yet each must give it freely to win honour before the Lord; the Norse poems say it sets kinsmen quarrelling. Casters read possessions earned, kept and shared, and what is owed.

Uruz, U, an arch with one long leg and one sloping: the aurochs, the great wild ox. The English poem praises its pride and great horns, a fierce, brave ranger of the moors; the Norse poems take the name as drizzle and as the dross of bad iron. Casters read raw strength, health and endurance.

Thurisaz, TH, a stave with a pointed thorn on its side: the giant in the Norse poems, a torment to women, and the thorn in the English, sharp and cruel to any who grasp it. Casters read a dangerous force to be handled with care, a hard gateway, a pause before acting.

Ansuz, A, a stave with two arms slanting down to the right: a god, and in the Icelandic poem Odin himself, the aged Gautr, lord of Asgard and of Valhalla. The English poem makes it the mouth, the source of all speech and a pillar of wisdom. Casters read words, messages, counsel and inspiration.

Raidho, Kenaz, Gebo and Wunjo

Raidho, R, shaped like an R: riding, the journey. The English poem says riding seems easy to the warrior indoors, and hard to him astride a strong horse on the long roads; the Icelandic calls it the rider's joy, a speedy journey and the horse's toil. Casters read travel, the right course and order.

Kenaz, K, a small angle opening to the right: the torch in the English poem, burning pale and bright where princes sit within; the Norse poems give the name as a sore, an ulcer. Casters read light, knowledge and craft, and an opening.

Gebo, G, a plain X: gift. The English poem says generosity brings honour and worth, and help to the outcast who has nothing else. Casters read gifts, exchange and partnership, and the bond that a gift makes between giver and receiver.

Wunjo, W, a stave with a small pointed flag at its top: joy. The English poem gives bliss to the one who knows little pain, sorrow or care, and has prosperity, happiness and a good enough house. Casters read joy, fellowship and a wish fulfilled.

Hagalaz, Naudhiz, Isa and Jera

Hagalaz, H, two staves joined by a slanting bar: hail. The English poem calls it the whitest of grain, whirled from heaven and tossed by the wind until it melts into water; the Icelandic, cold grain and a shower of sleet. Casters read sudden disruption from outside, which passes and turns to water.

Naudhiz, N, a stave crossed by a short slanting stroke: need. The English poem says need presses on the heart, yet often becomes help and salvation to those who heed it in time; the Norwegian, that need leaves little choice, and the naked man is chilled by the frost. Casters read constraint and hardship, and the lesson in them.

Isa, I, a single upright stroke: ice. The English poem calls it very cold and slippery, glittering like glass and gems, a floor made by the frost, fair to see; the Norwegian, the broad bridge. Casters read a standstill, waiting and stillness.

Jera, J, two hooks set into each other: the year and its good harvest. The English poem says summer is a joy when God lets the earth bring forth bright fruit for rich and poor alike; the Icelandic, a good summer and thriving crops. Casters read reward in its season, and patience.

Eihwaz, Perthro, Algiz and Sowilo

Eihwaz, its sound uncertain, a stave with a hook to the right at its top and to the left at its foot: the yew. The English poem calls it a tree with rough bark, fast in the earth, held by its roots, a guardian of fire and a joy on the estate. Casters read endurance, steadiness and defence.

Perthro, P, a stave with two arms bent like a cup turned on its side: a name whose meaning is lost. The English poem calls it a source of play and laughter where warriors sit happily together in the hall, perhaps a gaming piece or a dice cup. Casters read chance, mystery and what is still hidden.

Algiz, Z, a stave with two arms raised: its old name survives only in the English poem, as the elk sedge, a marsh grass that cuts and bloodies any who grasp it. The shape is like an elk's antlers or a hand held up. Casters read protection and watchfulness.

Sowilo, S, a zigzag like a stroke of lightning: the sun. The English poem calls it ever a hope to seafarers crossing the fishes' bath until the sea steed brings them to land; the Icelandic, shield of the clouds, shining ray and destroyer of ice. Casters read success, wholeness and guidance. Two sun runes side by side were the badge of the SS; the single rune is the old letter.

Tiwaz, Berkano, Ehwaz and Mannaz

Tiwaz, T, an arrow pointing upward: the god Tyr, who put his hand in the wolf Fenrir's jaws as a pledge so that the gods could bind it, and lost it. The Icelandic poem calls him the one-handed god, leavings of the wolf, prince of temples; the English, a guiding star that keeps faith and never fails. Casters read justice, honour and sacrifice for the right.

Berkano, B, a B with pointed bowls: the birch. The English poem speaks of a tree that bears no fruit yet puts forth shoots, splendid in its branches and lofty crown; the Icelandic, a leafy twig, a little tree, a fresh young shrub. Casters read growth, birth and beginnings.

Ehwaz, E, two staves joined at the top by a V, like an M: the horse. The English poem calls it a prince's joy among warriors, proud in its hooves, a comfort to the restless. Casters read movement and the partnership of horse and rider, trust between two.

Mannaz, M, two staves joined at the top by a cross: man, the human being. The English poem says the joyful man is dear to his kin, yet each must fail the other when the Lord gives the body to the earth; the Icelandic, the delight of man, increase of the earth, adorner of ships. Casters read the self among others, and mortality.

Laguz, Ingwaz, Dagaz and Othala

Laguz, L, a stave with one arm slanting down from its top: water, the sea. The English poem says the sea seems endless to those who venture on a rolling ship, when the waves terrify them and the sea steed will not heed its bridle; the Icelandic, an eddying stream, a wide pool, the land of the fish. Casters read flow, feeling and intuition.

Ingwaz, NG, a small diamond: the god Ing, whom Norse tradition knew as Yngvi Freyr. The English poem tells that Ing was first seen among the East Danes, then went east over the waves with his wagon behind him. Casters read gestation, completion and rest after work.

Dagaz, D, two staves joined by a cross, like an hourglass on its side: day. The English poem calls day the Lord's messenger, dear to men, the Creator's glorious light, a hope and joy to rich and poor and of use to all. Casters read daylight, breakthrough and awakening.

Othala, O, a diamond standing on two legs: inherited land, the homestead. The English poem says an estate is dear to everyone who may enjoy there what is right and proper in lasting prosperity. Casters read home, heritage and what is handed down. In some old rows Othala and Dagaz change places. Drawn with feet, Othala was a Nazi badge and is still a hate symbol.

How a cast is read

Casters keep the runes in a bag, frame one plain question and draw one rune or three without looking; others scatter a handful on a white cloth and read only those that fall face up. One rune gives the heart of the matter. Three are read as what was, what is and what may follow, after the three Norns, Urd, Verdandi and Skuld, who sit at the well beneath the world tree.

Some casters read a rune that comes out upside down as its meaning blocked or turned against itself. Nine runes, among them Gebo, Isa, Ingwaz and Dagaz, look the same either way up and are never reversed. The name and the old verse are read before the keyword, and the draw is taken as a prompt for thought, never as a ruling.