{"id":315,"date":"2010-05-30T18:23:09","date_gmt":"2010-05-30T18:23:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/borkurdotnet.com\/urbanvolcano\/?p=36"},"modified":"2025-04-19T17:38:22","modified_gmt":"2025-04-19T17:38:22","slug":"of-elves-and-kings","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/of-elves-and-kings\/","title":{"rendered":"Of elves and kings"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<aside class=\"other-formats\">Other formats: <a title=\"Of elves and kings (PDF)\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/ebooks\/en\/pdf\/elves-and-kings.pdf\">PDF<\/a> | <a title=\"Elfos y reyes (espa\u00f1ol)\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/es\/elfos-y-reyes\/\">espa\u00f1ol<\/a> | <a title=\"\u00c1lfar og k\u00f3ngar (\u00edslenska)\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/is\/alfar-og-kongar\/\">\u00edslenska<\/a><\/aside>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image is-resized\">\n<figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><a href=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?ssl=1\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"300\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?resize=300%2C300&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"Elves and kings \u2014 Illustration by Yana Volkovich\" class=\"wp-image-424\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?resize=300%2C300&amp;ssl=1 300w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?resize=150%2C150&amp;ssl=1 150w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?w=1024&amp;ssl=1 1024w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 300px) 100vw, 300px\" \/><\/a><figcaption class=\"wp-element-caption\">Illustration by Yana Volkovich<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n<p>I sat down on a bench in Vondelpark. The sun was shining. I wiped sweat from my forehead. I had recently abandoned the Icelandic summer and moved into the Dutch autumn. The autumn being considerably warmer than the summer. I had difficulty coping with the heat. Having lived the first twenty-four years of my life in Iceland, I was not used to this sort of heat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I sat with a notebook in my lap and a pen in my hand, with the intention of writing a script for a short film about parklife in Amsterdam. However, my mind was blank. I could not squeeze out a word. The page was equally blank. Was it the heat that caused my writer&#8217;s block? Or was there too much turmoil going on in my head? Turmoil caused by the recent changes in my life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I was starting a new chapter in my life. A chapter in which I hoped to become richer in creative content than the empty page in the notebook I had in front of me. It was the first autumn of the new millennium. I had left sparsely populated Iceland behind me and moved to densely populated Netherlands. A few months after finishing a degree in mathematical logic, I was about to start a course in film making. I had left the scientific world behind me and was heading into an imaginary one. It was not the stereotypical educational path.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHet is nog steeds vrij warm hoor!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I looked up from my empty notebook to the man who had sat down beside me. Talking about stereotypes. Although I assumed he was a local, he was not what you would call a stereotypical Dutchman &#8212; the tall, slim blond &#8212; he was short and chubby with sweat running down his bald head. He had sat down beside me to catch his breath. He had been running.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSorry, I don&#8217;t speak any Dutch,\u201d I replied in English. I was sure he had said something about it being warm or something, but that was all I had got.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOh, I just said it was still warm,\u201d the Dutchman repeated, this time in English.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, it is warm,\u201d I agreed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We sat in silence and watched the life in the park. I with my blank mind. He with his bald head. He trying to catch his breath and squeeze it down into his lungs. I trying to catch the spirit in the park and write it into my script.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhere are you from?\u201d the Dutchman asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIceland.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The Dutchman raised his eyebrows, nodding his head looking genuinely surprised.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWow. As far as I can recall, this is the first time I have met someone from Iceland,\u201d the Dutchman said, still nodding his head as if he was trying to convince himself that he had indeed met a specimen of the rare species known as Icelanders. \u201cDo you know Bj\u00f6rk?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>What? I hesitated. What sort of question was that? I knew of course that Bj\u00f6rk was famous all over the world, but I still thought it was an odd question. It was like me asking if he knew Ruud Gullit. It was a long shot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWell, no. I mean yes, but no,\u201d I said awkwardly. \u201cNot personally. Not her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Of course I knew Bj\u00f6rk. My sister&#8217;s name is Bj\u00f6rk. I did not know THE Bj\u00f6rk. I only knew a Bj\u00f6rk. I did not know the singer. Not personally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cSo it is not true that everybody knows everybody in Iceland?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, not really,\u201d I replied thinking of all the Icelandic people I did not know. \u201cIt is not even true that most people know most people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHuh,\u201d was all the Dutchman had to say. He raised his eyebrows and looked a bit disappointed that I had not confirmed the myth about the small and tightly woven social network in Iceland.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYet, quite a few people know quite a few people,\u201d I continued. \u201cBut, &#8230;\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I hesitated and wondered where I was going with this argument. The Dutchman nodded his head and waited for me to continue the thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut I guess the same is true here in the Netherlands,\u201d I said grinning. \u201cI mean, here there are even more people that know even more people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I was rather pleased with my response. I thought it was fairly funny. Well, if not funny then at least witty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, I don&#8217;t think so,\u201d the Dutchman said with a serious face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We sat in silence. I was a bit taken aback by the Dutchman&#8217;s lack of response to my wit. Perhaps it had not come out right. Perhaps it had simply not been funny. I hesitated to continue the discussion and decided to go back to my script. Or rather, I went back to the blank piece of paper that was supposed to become my script. I had yet to put the first word onto the page. I looked around the park in search of inspiration. Arguably, I could not get a better source of inspiration for a script about parks in Amsterdam than looking around a park in Amsterdam. Yet I could not get a single word out of my pen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut tell me,\u201d the Dutchman said, his face lighting up as if he had just remembered something remarkable. \u201cIs it true that Icelandic people believe in elves?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I said hesitantly. I had not anticipated this question either. Was it really elves and Bj\u00f6rk that symbolized Iceland in the eyes of the world?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cReally?\u201d the Dutchman said with questioning eyes. \u201cEverybody?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo, maybe not everybody,\u201d I said and tried to remember if I had ever seen statistics about how many Icelandic people believed in elves. I did not come up with much. I recalled having seen some numbers at some point about the percentage of Icelandic people who believed in elves. However, I could not even remember in which ballpark the percentage was. It was not as if this was a hot topic in Iceland. The pollsters were interested in more serious subjects such as the popular support for the government or whether or not Iceland should join the European Union.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAnd you?\u201d the Dutchman asked grinning. \u201cDo you believe in elves?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I hesitated. For a moment I thought that this question called for some contemplation. I had lived twenty-four years in Iceland without having to make up my mind about whether I believed in elves. The occasion had never arisen. I had never been involved in moving large rocks or tunneling through mountains &#8212; the main activities affecting the presumed habitats of elves and thus instigating interaction with them. I did not even know if Iceland should join the European Union. The question about the existence of elves was even farther from my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I felt slightly overwhelmed by the fact that I had to make up my mind. In my life I had not experienced anything that suggested the existence of elves. Yet, neither had I experienced anything that gave me grounds to argue against their existence either. Maybe it was the same with elves as with penguins. Even though I had never seen one, it did not mean that I doubted their existence. Yet, maybe penguins and elves were not comparable. Anyway, I had to make up my mind. I had to answer the Dutchman&#8217;s question. To believe or not to believe &#8212; in elves &#8212; that was the question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes,\u201d I replied firmly, more based on instinct rather than conviction. \u201cAnd the feeling is mutual. Elves believe in me too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I did not know where the latter statement came from. It was just something that had spontaneously popped into my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cReally?\u201d The Dutchman looked surprised. In a way, I could not blame him. I was quite surprised myself. \u201cBut why?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That was a good question. As my answer had been based on instinct rather than on careful reasoning, I was not prepared to argue my case.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWhy not?\u201d I replied, fully realizing that answering with a question was not a satisfying answer. \u201cBelieving in elves causes no harm, and it might be fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>In my mind I recalled a recent news item I had seen about school children singing for the elves in a reconciliation meeting. Workers had been blowing up rocks on the slopes of a mountain above a fishing village in north-west Iceland. Something went wrong and rock fragments rained down over the village. A school teacher argued that this was the work of the angry elves whose habitat had been destroyed by the explosions. He took his pupils to the construction site and organized a concert where the children sang for the elves. I had thought it was a nice gesture. Regardless of the existence of elves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut it makes no sense,\u201d the Dutchman replied. \u201cHow can you believe in something that does not make any sense?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I wondered if there was no way of pleasing this guy. First, he seemed disappointed by the fact that I had downplayed the myth about the density of the Icelandic social network. Now, he seemed disappointed that I had confirmed the myth about the Icelanders&#8217; belief in elves. I had to try to find a convincing answer. I could play the the penguin card. However, it was possible that the Dutchman had at some point been to South America &#8212; or to a zoo. Hence, he might have an easy answer to the question about the existence of the mysterious and supernatural species known as penguins. Thus, I decided to take another route.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI guess it is a bit like believing in the royal family,\u201d I said, immediately realizing that I might have chosen a delicate subject.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut that&#8217;s different,\u201d the Dutchman exclaimed. \u201cThe royal family exists. Believing in elves serves no purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Of course the Dutchman was right in the sense that believing in elves had no functional purpose. Not in our fact-driven and rational modern times, at least. He had however touched a sensitive nerve. For some reason I felt obliged to defend the elves. I felt obliged to defend imagination against functionality. I felt the obligation to defend my current existence against my past. To defend the joy of the imaginary world against the utility of the real one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cDoesn&#8217;t the same go for royalty?\u201d I said \u201cDoes believing in the royal family have a purpose?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The Dutchman did not answer right away. I wondered if I had gone too far. Perhaps, discussing the utility of the royal family was a sensitive topic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe royal family has a purpose,\u201d the Dutchman said after a moment&#8217;s thought. \u201cThe royal family is a unifying symbol of the nation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I knew that argument well. We used it in Iceland in the context of the Icelandic president. The president whose role was comparable to an elected monarchy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut can&#8217;t elves perform the same function?\u201d I said, still thinking of the role of the Icelandic president. \u201cCan&#8217;t elves function as the unifying symbols of a nation too?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I thought that I was on to something. There seemed to be some parallels between seemingly unrelated concepts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBut also,\u201d the Dutchman exclaimed. \u201cThe royal family is the symbol of the Netherlands in the eyes of the outside world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I could not help grinning. The Dutchman had unknowingly given me yet another parallel between elves and kings. As far as I could work out from this discussion, elves &#8212; and Bj\u00f6rk &#8212; symbolized the Icelandic nation in the eyes of the outside world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cIn the case of Iceland,\u201d I said with a grin on my face. \u201cElves symbolize the Icelandic nation in the eyes of the outside world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I stood up and said goodbye to the running Dutchman. I was off to find another bench where I could elaborate on my current inspiration and write a short film script about the parallels of elves and royalty in our modern society.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<aside class=\"wp-block-group book-ad has-text-color has-background\" style=\"color:#000000;background-color:#65aab1\"><div class=\"wp-block-group__inner-container is-layout-flow wp-block-group-is-layout-flow\">\n<div class=\"wp-block-media-text is-stacked-on-mobile\" style=\"grid-template-columns:33% auto\"><figure class=\"wp-block-media-text__media\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"765\" height=\"1024\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?resize=765%2C1024&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"999 Abroad \u2014 Cover by Ana Pi\u00f1eyro\" class=\"wp-image-1212 size-full\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?resize=765%2C1024&amp;ssl=1 765w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?resize=224%2C300&amp;ssl=1 224w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?resize=768%2C1027&amp;ssl=1 768w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?resize=1148%2C1536&amp;ssl=1 1148w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/999Abroad_iPAD_FINAL_1873x1400.jpg?w=1400&amp;ssl=1 1400w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 765px) 100vw, 765px\" \/><\/figure><div class=\"wp-block-media-text__content\">\n<h4 class=\"wp-block-heading\">999 Abroad<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<p>This short story appeared in the short story collection 999 Abroad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>If you enjoyed the story, we encourage you to support the publication by buying a copy of the book. <\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>999 Abroad<\/em> is available as paperbacks from <a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/999-Abroad-B%C3%B6rkur-Sigurbj%C3%B6rnsson\/dp\/9935909530\">Amazon<\/a> and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.barnesandnoble.com\/w\/999-abroad-b-rkur-sigurbj-rnsson\/1112757770\">Barnes and Noble<\/a> and e-books from the <a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/999-Abroad-ebook\/dp\/B008OXZWZI\">Amazon Kindle Store<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/books.apple.com\/us\/book\/999-abroad\/id1397155625\">Apple Books<\/a>, <a href=\"https:\/\/www.kobo.com\/us\/en\/ebook\/999-abroad\">Kobo<\/a>, and <a href=\"https:\/\/www.storytel.com\/in\/books\/999-abroad-2028500\">Storytel<\/a>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>You can also support the author through <a href=\"https:\/\/patreon.com\/UrbanVolcano\">Patreon<\/a> and <a href=\"https:\/\/buymeacoffee.com\/borkur\">Buy Me a Coffee<\/a> or by rating the book on <a href=\"https:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/book\/show\/15821966-999-abroad\">Goodreads<\/a>.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-buttons is-horizontal is-content-justification-center is-layout-flex wp-container-core-buttons-is-layout-499968f5 wp-block-buttons-is-layout-flex\">\n<div class=\"wp-block-button has-custom-width wp-block-button__width-50\"><a class=\"wp-block-button__link has-text-color has-background wp-element-button\" href=\"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/999-abroad\/\" style=\"border-radius:50px;color:#ffffff;background-color:#000000\">book details<\/a><\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div><\/aside>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A short story by B\u00f6rkur Sigurbj\u00f6rnsson. An Icelandic film student in Amsterdam and a Dutch jogger meet in Vondelpark and discuss Icelandic stereotypes, Bj\u00f6rk, elves and kings.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":424,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[2],"tags":[45,64,73,9,44,60],"class_list":["post-315","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-shortstories","tag-beliefs","tag-celebrities","tag-iceland","tag-public-spaces","tag-royalty","tag-supernatural-creatures","col-md-6 col-sm-6"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-content\/uploads\/2010\/05\/elves.png?fit=1024%2C1024&ssl=1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/315","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=315"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/315\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2304,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/315\/revisions\/2304"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/424"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=315"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=315"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/urbanvolcano.net\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=315"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}