Fimbulwinter: the real winter that shook the North

Here in Northern Norway we’re right in the thick of winter now. The sun has returned, but the snow — and the winter — will probably not disappear until some time in April. As I watch the long winter days unfold, I can’t help but think of the ominous warning, “Winter is coming.” Most of you will recognise that phrase from Game of Thrones, but it also carries echoes of an ancient, chilling myth: Fimbulwinter.

The legend of Fimbulwinter

In Norse mythology, Fimbulwinter isn’t merely a cold spell. It’s a cataclysmic season that precedes Ragnarok, when the world is plunged into an endless winter of despair before its eventual rebirth. Three winters follow one another with no summer between them. The myth captures the fear of nature’s unchecked power, a force so immense that even the gods must yield to it.

For people who lived a few bad harvests away from starvation, that story didn’t need much explaining.

A modern echo

Fast forward to our own era, and Game of Thrones has given us the now-iconic warning, “Winter is coming.” Martin’s version is steeped in the politics and intrigues of his fictional world, but it resonates with the same underlying truth: an inevitable, transformative challenge is on its way, and you had better be ready. Whether it’s a literal frost or a metaphorical chill, the idea that we must prepare for the worst is as old as the North itself.

The “real” Fimbulwinter of 536 AD

History, too, offers a glimpse of winter’s might. Around 536 AD, a massive volcanic eruption — possibly a series of eruptions — cast a veil of ash and sulphur over Europe and Scandinavia, ushering in what many researchers call a volcanic winter.

Chroniclers of the time described a dim, eerie light as the sun was obscured by a persistent haze. The world was plunged into what felt like an unending twilight, not so different from the bleak landscapes of the Fimbulwinter myth.

With the sunlight blocked, growing seasons were cut short, and crops failed across Europe. The resulting famine hit Scandinavia hard. Archaeologists have found evidence of abandoned farms and settlements from this period, and some estimates suggest large parts of the population in parts of Scandinavia perished.

And here is the interesting part: some historians suggest that the upheavals triggered by this catastrophe may have indirectly paved the way for the Viking age. Societies were reshaped, power was redistributed, and the resilience honed during those brutal years may have been part of what later sent the longships out across the sea. It has even been proposed that the memory of those sunless years survived in the myth of Fimbulwinter itself.

That last part can’t be proven, of course. But it’s hard to look at a generation of failed harvests under a darkened sun and not think of three winters with no summer between them.

Winter in our books

There aren’t many winter stories in our books, and the reason is simple: the Vikings usually stayed inside for much of the winter. Voyaging season ended when the storms came, and life moved indoors, to the fire, the stories, and the long wait for spring.

But there is some winter action in Harald Fairhair, where the fighting doesn’t always wait for better weather. And if you’d like a quieter taste of a Norse midwinter, our free short story Ulv’s Jól follows a young Ulv celebrating the midwinter feast with his father, long before the events of Viking.

Stay warm, keep the fire alive, and as always — skål!