Grýla and Leppalúði: The Troll Parents of Iceland’s Yule Lads, Part 2

When we think of Christmas, we often imagine cozy hearths, flickering candlelight, and gentle snow falling outside. But high in Iceland’s mountains, far from the warmth of village homes, lives a figure who embodies the darker side of the season, Grýla, the troll mother of the Yule Lads, and her weary husband, Leppalúði. Together, they are two of the oldest and most fascinating characters in Nordic folklore, bridging the ancient world of fearsome winter spirits with the merrier traditions we know today.

The Ancient Roots of Grýla

Grýla’s story reaches back more than seven hundred years, long before the modern concept of Santa Claus ever emerged. She first appears in 13th-century Icelandic texts, mentioned in sagas as a giantess living in the mountains. Early tales described her as a creature of hunger and winter, a symbol of scarcity in a harsh land where food was precious and survival uncertain.

As the legend evolved, Grýla became a cautionary figure for misbehaving children. Icelandic parents warned their young ones that if they didn’t behave, Grýla would come down from the mountains with her sack to carry them away and stew them for supper. In this way, she served a grim but effective purpose, to encourage obedience and good manners during the long, dark months of Yule.

Grýla, Mother of Mischief

In time, the story softened, and Grýla’s hunger turned from literal to symbolic. Rather than a devourer of children, she became the mother of the Yule Lads, thirteen strange and mischievous sons who descend from their mountain home one by one during the Christmas season. Each son has his own peculiar habit: one steals sausages, another slams doors, one licks spoons or bowls.

These tales were a way to bring laughter to long winter nights, little bursts of humor in a world often marked by hardship. Grýla became less a monster and more a matron of misrule, the spark that ignited a uniquely Icelandic blend of fright and fun.

The Yule Lads

Leppalúði, The Quiet Companion

Leppalúði, Grýla’s husband, appears far less frequently in the sagas. He’s often depicted as grumpy, lazy, and long-suffering, a troll who does as he’s told, following Grýla’s lead. Some stories suggest he’s more resigned than wicked, a rustic reflection of domestic life in the far north.

While Grýla commands attention, Leppalúði serves as her grounding force, a reminder that even the fiercest folklore figures have their family dynamics. Together, they’re an unforgettable pair: she, the unyielding spirit of winter; he, the echo of humanity’s endurance beside her.

The Symbolism of Grýla and Leppalúði

At their core, Grýla and Leppalúði represent winter’s dual nature, its capacity to both nurture and destroy. Grýla’s hunger mirrors the lean months when food was scarce, and nature’s harshness ruled daily life. Yet her transformation over time, from a child-eating hag to a mischievous mother — symbolizes renewal, humor, and survival.

Leppalúði, ever weary, symbolizes endurance, the quiet perseverance that keeps families together through dark winters. Together, they embody the old pagan sense that light and dark, joy and fear, must coexist.

The Modern Adaptation

Today, Grýla and Leppalúði have taken their place among Iceland’s cherished Christmas icons. You’ll find them portrayed in parades, festivals, and holiday markets, less as villains, and more as whimsical folklore figures. Their thirteen sons, the Yule Lads, have even become Iceland’s version of Santa’s helpers, each one leaving small gifts in children’s shoes (or potatoes, if they’ve been naughty).

The story has evolved from fright to delight, a living symbol of how cultures transform their myths to fit the spirit of the times. What once warned children against misbehavior now celebrates creativity, humor, and Iceland’s enduring connection to its mythic past.

Grýla’s Legacy in the Winter Tales

In The Saga of Belsnickel, Grýla and Leppalúði serve as reminders of the old world’s wisdom, that every shadow in the forest tells a story, and every frightening tale once had a purpose. From their snowy cave, they’ve watched centuries of change, their sons carrying bits of mischief into the hearts of children and storytellers alike.

Perhaps that’s the magic of these old legends: they remind us that even in the darkest season, laughter, family, and story endure.

Author’s Note, by Timothy Spradlin

When I first began exploring the old Yule legends for The Saga of Belsnickel, I found something beautifully human beneath Grýla’s monstrous shell. She isn’t just a creature of fright, she’s the embodiment of a mother’s worry, a symbol of hunger and hope tangled together. Her sons, the Yule Lads, are mischievous echoes of childhood itself, flawed, funny, and full of wonder.

In my stories, I try to honor that balance. Like Grýla and Leppalúði, we all stand between light and dark, between duty and delight. The old tales remind us that Christmas was never just about joy, it was about endurance, forgiveness, and the laughter that carries us through winter’s longest night.

— Timothy Spradlin, Author of The Saga of Belsnickel series.