The Ploughing of Gefjon: A Groablót Story
Long ago, when the world was still young and the fields had yet to feel the first cut of a plough, the Goddess Gefjon wandered through the lands of men. She was a giver of bounty, a bringer of fertile soil, and wherever her foot fell, green things sprang up behind her.
One day, Gefjon came to the court of King Gylfi of Sweden. He was a wise king, fond of riddles, and welcomed her with feasting. The two spoke long into the night, and Gefjon’s bright mind and keen wit delighted the king. Amused and impressed, Gylfi offered her a gift:
"Take from me whatever land you can plough in a single day and night."
Gefjon’s eyes glimmered like sunlight on new leaves. She left the hall, journeying far into the Otherworld, to the halls of the Jötunn, where her four great sons dwelt. They were strong as mountains and oxen both, for their father was a Jötunn. She yoked them to a plough of iron, and they came willingly, knowing the work would honour their mother.
At Gefjon’s call, the four sons strained against the Earth. The ground split and turned beneath them, rich black soil curling like waves behind the plough. Through hills and meadows they tore, pulling a great island free from the heart of Sweden. Streams ran in the furrows, and lakes welled up in the wake of the cut.
By the time the sun set and rose again, Gefjon had pulled the land into the sea. Her four sons dragged it far, and it settled in the waters where it rests to this day — the green isle of Zealand.
Gefjon set her new island in the sun, sowing it with seed. Barley grew where her hands scattered the grain. Wheat bent in the breeze where her plough had passed. She taught the people to till the soil, to honour the land spirits, and to plant with care so that every seed might wake in the long days of Summer.
And so, in early Summer, when the Earth softens and the plough turns the first furrow, we remember Gefjon.
We say:
“Hail to Gefjon, strong oxen Goddess,
Tiller of the rich soil of Midgard.
May this land be fertile,
And what we sow here grow in abundance.”
We give thanks for fertile soil, for the work of strong hands, and for the promise that what is planted under her wise gaze will rise in plenty.
The End.
