Introduction

While I have no Norse characters in my novels, as the period I’m writing in is simply too early for the Norse, I’ve learned something about Norse naming conventions while working on Restitutor Reipublicae. Originally, the title character in my draft from 40 years ago was named Michael Fischer, which felt too generic for my modern version, so he was reimagined as Mikkel Friðriksson, son of Friðrik Eiríksson and Brynja Káradóttir. Why Icelandic? I’ve always had a fascination with the land of fire and ice. I chose to visit Iceland to celebrate finishing my doctorate, and later, I worked closely with several Icelandic engineers at a tech company. With a basic understanding of Icelandic culture, having read a few sagas, and with Icelandic friends,I felt it was the ideal ethnicity for my protagonist. I only hope I don’t offend any of my friends with this article.

Icelandic

Luckily for those of you reading this and thinking of a historical piece in the Viking Age, Icelandic is probably the closest thing to Old Norse that exists today. Icelanders continue the tradition of using patronymics and, on rare occasions, matronymics exclusively—without surnames. In my example, Mikkel is the son of Friðrik. And as you probably know, Leifur Eiríksson was the son of Eiríkur Þorvaldsson (aka Erik the Red). Patronymics are not exclusive to Iceland or the Norse. In Russian, for instance, the suffix -ovich or -evich means “son of.” For example, take former Russian President Boris Nikolayevich Yeltsin—his name really means Boris, “son of Nikolay” Yeltsin. In many countries, these patronymics evolved into family surnames—Andersen, Johnson, Fitzpatrick, and MacDonald, to name a few. What sets Icelandic and Old Norse apart is the use of patronymics to the exclusion of family names. Icelanders still follow this tradition today.

In fact, I once asked one of my Icelandic engineer friends whether he continued the tradition after emigrating to the United States. He told me he did and that he, his wife, his son, and his daughter all have different last names, much to the confusion of many. Iceland is one of the few modern societies that still does this—except for Klingons (“Worf, son of Mogh,” and, by the way, the similarities don’t stop there).

One final tidbit about Icelandic names: Iceland, having one of the most sexually liberated societies, recently added a non-binary patronymic -bur, which means “child.” This suffix can be used in place of the traditional -son or -dóttir.

I could imagine a Norse-based fantasy novel set in an alternate world with different gender norms, featuring a non-binary character with the name Móeiðr Eiríksbur—Móeiðr, child of Eiríkur. (Thanks to Nordic Names’ random name cloud for the first name!) This modern development in naming conventions offers a helpful guide for exploring unique and distinct fantasy worlds.

The aforementioned website Nordic Names at nordicnames.de The aforementioned website Nordic Names nordicnames.de) is a wealth of information on not just Nordic names but names associated with the region. You’ll be able to find Icelandic, Danish, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, Greenlandic, Faroese, and Sámi names. Technically, Finnish, Greenlandic, and Sámi are not linguistically Nordic, but there is sufficient Nordic influence—for example, Greenlandic is often a mashup of Inuit and Danish. The Sámi are an indigenous people of the north with a distinct language, though not without Nordic influence. Beyond supplying names, it is a rich source of anthroponymic information. There are explanations of naming practices of the various societies—for example, in Iceland, when a matronymic is used—as well as proper matronymic or patronymic forms in some cases, which can be useful if you’re trying to craft an authentic-sounding character. For example, giving a character a matronymic instead of a patronymic can immediately allude to an interesting backstory.

Beyond that, the site often includes Old Norse or Old Danish forms. So, if you have a Norse warrior named Erik, you might consider using Eiríkur (Icelandic) for a more authentic flair. According to the Nordic Names website, this is the modern variant of Æiríkʀ—that weird “R”-like character is the runic letter ʀ, a modern transcription of the rune ᛦ—and it looks modern enough to remain intelligible. A word of warning: you’ll have to decide where to strike the balance between authenticity and readability. After all, if you wanted to go really hardcore, you could even use the runic representation of Æiríkʀ—ᛅᛁᚱᛁᚲᛦ—but I’m betting that might scare off some of your readers.

There is another fun feature on the website that can help with selecting a name. You can choose a Nordic language and, optionally, a gender, and it will generate a random word cloud of names. From that cloud, a name might pop out and grab you, and if not, you can generate another cloud until you find a name you like. Alternatively, you can browse the names alphabetically, although there are thousands to sort through.

Mannanafnanefnd

A final tidbit of anthroponymy. If your tale involves modern Iceland, it is important to know that Iceland (as well as the Faroe Islands) maintains a list of allowable baby names. In Iceland, the list is overseen by Mannanafnanefnd (the Personal Names Committee). This ensures that names fit Icelandic grammar, likely because names reflect multiple generations through patronymics/matronymics. The Nordic Names site not only supplies a list of approved names but also the year each name was approved.

In my novel, Mikkel’s mother’s last name was Thorsteinsdóttir. I had watched enough Viking shows to know that Thorsteinn was Nordic, so I didn’t think twice about it. Later, to my surprise, however, Thorsteinn wasn’t approved as an Icelandic name until 2019. Considering Mikkel was supposed to be born in 2040, his mother would likely have been born in the 2010s, and so her father would definitely have predated the approval date. I ended up changing her patronymic to Káradóttir instead. In hindsight, I’ve learned this was likely because Thorsteinn was a newly approved variant of the more traditional Þorsteinn.

Conclusion

The traditional Nordic naming is a rich tradition so that knowing it can lend vibrancy to your characters be it in the VIking age though to modern Iceland. Creative minds have exploited this in unexpected ways. I submit that in Star Trek quite a lot of Klingon culture was lifted from there beyond simply the patronymic (sto-vo-kor is a thinly veiled vahalla).

Furthermore the Nordic Names website provides an invaluable resource for discovering names in any of the Nordic regional names including Finnish Greenlandic and Sami which don’t necessarily derive from the north Germanic roots of the others. Besides, the site is fun for any fan of Nordic culture on top of everything else.