Modern Icelandic Plays: Eyvind of the Hills

In Short

This collection presents two foundational works of modern Icelandic drama: Eyvind of the Hills and The Hraun Farm. The former is a tragic epic about an outlaw and his lover seeking sanctuary in the wild, while the latter is a tense domestic drama centered on a family’s struggle to survive a natural disaster. Both plays are deeply rooted in the harsh geography of Iceland and the tension between individual desire and community expectation. They have endured for their raw emotional honesty and their ability to elevate local struggles into timeless, haunting human experiences.

The Story

In Eyvind of the Hills, a man named Kari works as an overseer on a remote farm, hiding a past as an escaped thief named Eyvind. He falls in love with his employer, Halla, a woman of strong will who refuses to let social conventions dictate her life. When a local bailiff threatens to expose Kari’s identity, Halla chooses to abandon her home and wealth to live with him in the desolate highlands. Over the next sixteen years, they survive as outlaws in the wilderness, raising a child amidst extreme hunger and cold. Their bond is tested by the constant threat of capture and the psychological toll of their isolation. Ultimately, the harsh reality of their existence breaks them. Fearing they will be discovered and separated, Halla kills their child to spare her from their wretched life, and the couple finally succumbs to the elements in a snowstorm, choosing to die together rather than be torn apart by the law.

The Hraun Farm shifts the focus to a prosperous rural family whose lives are upended by a devastating earthquake. Sveinungi, the stern patriarch, is obsessed with preserving his property, even as the earth literally splits beneath his feet. His daughter, Ljot, has fallen in love with a man her father deems unsuitable, and the family’s internal conflicts mirror the instability of the landscape itself. As the farm is ruined, Sveinungi attempts to force his will upon his daughter and her suitor, even contemplating violence to maintain control. However, the sheer scale of the disaster forces a reckoning. The family is stripped of their material security, and the rigid social hierarchies that once defined their status crumble along with their buildings. In the end, they are forced to confront the fragility of their existence and the realization that their pride and possessiveness cannot protect them from the forces of nature or the evolution of the next generation.

How It Unfolds

The hidden past Kari lives under an assumed name on Halla's farm, unaware that rumors of his identity as a notorious thief are beginning to circulate. The arrival of a suspicious bailiff forces him to confront the inevitability of his discovery.

The flight to freedom Halla makes a definitive choice to reject her status and wealth, pledging to follow Kari into the lawless mountains. They leave behind their comfortable life to embrace the danger and freedom of the hills.

The exile in the wilderness Years of brutal struggle follow as the couple lives in a cave, sustained only by their love and a dwindling supply of necessities. The psychological weight of their isolation begins to erode their sense of self.

The ultimate sacrifice As capture looms, Halla takes a final, horrific action to ensure their daughter does not face a life of shame and suffering. The couple retreats into the frozen waste, finding a final, fatal sanctuary in the snow.

The crumbling homestead In the second play, a peaceful life is shattered by an earthquake that destroys the farm and leaves the family vulnerable. The physical destruction of the home forces the characters to reveal their true, often selfish, motivations.

The clash of wills Sveinungi tries to exert authority over his daughter’s romantic future, refusing to accept that his control over her life has vanished with his property. His desperation leads to a dark attempt to eliminate her suitor.

The realization of loss The family finally acknowledges that their struggle to preserve the status quo is futile against the indifference of the earth. They are left with nothing but their relationships, forcing a fragile reconciliation.

The People

Kari (Eyvind) is a man defined by his secret shame and his deep, consuming love for Halla. He carries the burden of his past, which eventually forces him into an existence where his only identity is that of an outcast. Halla is the emotional engine of the first play; she is courageous, fiercely independent, and ultimately tragic. Her transition from a secure farmer to a mother living in a cave reveals a woman willing to trade everything for a life lived on her own terms. Sveinungi, the father in The Hraun Farm, is a man of iron-willed pride. He views his farm and his daughter as possessions, and his inability to adapt to the catastrophe that destroys his home highlights the destructive nature of rigid authority. Ljot, his daughter, represents the future. She is quiet but firm in her convictions, successfully breaking away from her father’s influence to forge her own life. Through these characters, the reader sees how external pressures—whether the law or the earth itself—force individuals to strip away their masks and reveal their core priorities.

In Its Own Voice

"I have lived where I could touch the roof over my head with my clenched fists, and I have lived where my eyes could not reach it."

Kari reflects on the vast disparity of his life, from the cramped confines of a prison-like existence to the open, lawless expanse of the highlands.

"The earth sets traps for men; the earth is a man-eater."

Jakobina, a character sensitive to the omens of the landscape, summarizes the underlying fear that nature in Iceland is not merely a setting, but a predatory participant in human life.

What It's Really About

These plays explore the tension between the individual spirit and the crushing weight of external forces. Whether it is the legal system in Eyvind of the Hills or the tectonic instability in The Hraun Farm, the characters are constantly negotiating their freedom against a world that seeks to define or destroy them. The plays ask whether a life lived outside of social and natural boundaries is sustainable, or if such defiance inevitably leads to tragedy. They examine the nature of love, duty, and pride, suggesting that when a person is pushed to the edge, the most primal human instincts—to hold on, to protect, or to escape—are the only things left standing.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate stark, atmospheric drama will find much to admire in these plays. The language is direct and unadorned, reflecting the harshness of the Icelandic environment, which is as much a character as any of the people. Reading these works feels like watching a slow-motion collision between human willpower and elemental necessity. It is not an easy read; the plays are steeped in a specific, historical sense of duty and honor that may feel foreign to modern sensibilities, and the casual mention of period attitudes toward class and social hierarchy requires a degree of patience. However, those who persevere will find a profound meditation on what happens when the structures we rely on—our laws, our homes, our families—suddenly fail us. What lingers is not just the tragedy of the plot, but the haunting image of people standing tall against a landscape that cares nothing for them. These works remain essential for anyone interested in the intersection of folklore and existential drama, offering a window into a culture that has always had to fight to exist.