How the sea came to have salt: a Nordic Folktale
- Georga Holly
- Mar 7
- 7 min read
Written by Morvern Graham, multi-award winning artist and storyteller
Half a year ago, I moved from my life in Scotland’s bustling capital city to a little house on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the North Sea.
Since moving here, sea mythologies have come alive in my mind; awoken beneath the depths as I grow to know this new, wild place I call home. It’s got me thinking particularly, in this tumultuous political climate we find ourselves in, about our perceptions of power.
As I write these words with the waves crashing below my house, my thoughts turn to those who are seeking to control things; leaders who are tightening their fists around untamable forces in an attempt to rule with total absolution. Everyday we witness a new kind of mistreatment or overconsumption at the hands of these so-called leaders; these people who perceive themselves to hold the true power over the world.
Now more than ever, we need defiant forces such as the sea. Forces of nature, and forces of strength in our advocacy for the world. I feel the same strength in women as I do from the power of the waves below my home. Cyclical and mysterious both; we carry the power of life through our depths in unseen ways. Beneath the point where the ocean swell falls away to mysteries which even science can’t uncover, water women rule the seas.
Turning to folklore, we see how closely linked the ocean is with female figures. The lore of Selkies; beautiful shape-changing women who don their grey skins and transform into elegant seals. The stories of vengeful mermaids, who lure in unsuspecting sailors before dragging them to their watery doom. On the Outer Hebridean Island of Lewis, the locals pay homage to Seonaidh the Seaweed Witch every year on the autumn Equinox, and in Orkney and Shetland the Sea Mither rules over the summer months, bringing favourable tides and calm weather.
When I think of strong women, however, and tales of the sea, I can’t help but fixate on one particular story. The story of two giantess sisters, and their struggle against many of the same controlling forces us women face today.
Let me tell you the story of Fenja and Menja, and how the sea came to have salt.
How the sea came to have salt: a Nordic Folktale
Deep in the Northern mountains of Sweden there once lived two giant sisters, whose names were Fenja and Menja. Part of the noble race of the mountain-risar, Fenja and Menja were famous throughout the North for their strength and power, as it was said they could shift mountains and splinter entire armies of bear-like warriors.
Stories of their impressive strength travelled far, and soon the sisters were petitioned by a local King who had need of their services. The giant sisters travelled to the castle of King Frodi, who welcomed them into his great halls and promised them safe passage.
He led Fenja and Menja to a room which housed the most enormous grindstone anyone had ever set eyes on, and he asked the giant sisters if they’d be able to turn it. Taking a side each Fenja and Menja pushed the handles of the stone, and all at once a mighty rumble erupted and the ground began to quiver as the giant sisters turned the grindstone.
King Frodi was delighted, but he had not intended to stay true to his word, for this was no ordinary grindstone. The King had come into possession of it from a wizard, who told him that when it was turned it would not just grind meal or barley like any other millstone, but anything it was asked, and King Frodi’s head swam with the endless possibilities of this enchanted stone ever since.
The moment the greedy king saw that Fenja and Menja could work the stone, he ordered iron chains to be clamped around their ankles, binding them to their fate. He told the mighty giant sisters that they belonged to him now, and would work tirelessly as his servants, churning out anything he wished from the enchanted grindstone.
First, King Frodi demanded gold. He had ambitions to become the richest king in the entire North, and he desired endless amounts of wealth to build his kingdom. Surely enough, when Fenja and Menja turned the great stone, out from it poured mountains upon mountains of gold. Soon King Frodi had so much gold that even his castle was built from golden bricks, and people traveled from miles around to set their eyes on this famous shining kingdom.
Once he was satisfied that he had enough wealth, King Frodi went to the giant sisters with another demand. This time he wanted prosperity, to ensure his rich kingdom would always be blessed with a good harvest, fine weather and attractive trade. Sure enough, when Fenja and Menja turned the great grindstone, out of it poured prosperity for Frodi’s kingdom. Soon, it was not just his golden castle which was famous, but also the success of his fertile lands and bustling trading ports. Revelling in his success, King Frodi demanded the giant sisters continue to work tirelessly day and night as they turned the stone around and around without end.
When he was quite satisfied with his prosperity, King Frodi demanded something else from the grindstone; fear. Gold and success were all very well and good thought the King, but I ought to be feared throughout the Northlands to ensure no rival kingdoms would ever dare challenge me. Once again he ordered the giant sisters to work day and night without rest, as they churned fear from the stone for the greedy King.
After their many months of labor, Fenja and Menja were growing exhausted. The giant sisters kept each other strong, however; taking it in turns to grind the stone. They had given the enchanted grindstone a name; Grotti, and began to compose a song to pass the long hours. The giant sisters named this song the Grottasöngr - Grottisong. The lyrics contained a prophecy of vengeance: foretelling the doom and destruction of Frodi’s Kingdom, and all his wealth washing away beneath a wave of despair.
The words of the Grottisong echoed throughout the kingdom, finding their way into King Frodi’s dreams and driving him to madness and paranoia. He demanded Fenja and Menja cease their singing and simply get on with their work, but nothing would quell the sister’s voices.
Eventually, the King grew so sick of hearing the Grottisong that he decided to sell Fenja and Menja, along with the grindstone to the highest bidder. The giant sisters were handed over to Mysing; a wealthy and powerful lord of the seas, who owned a fleet of 100 fine ships. As they boarded one of his vessels, the sisters wondered what Mysing would desire from the stone. Would it be gold, prosperity, more fear? Mysing however, wanted none of these things, and he demanded the giant sisters grind out salt; a thing of precious value in the trading markets. Mysing knew that if he possessed his ship’s weight in salt, then he would be a wealthy and powerful man till the end of his days.
Sure enough, when Fenja and Menja turned the stone, out of it poured enough salt to fill a barrel every hour. Satisfied with his purchase, Mysing set sail with his fleet of ships across the Northern seas. Whilst Mysing’s fleet travelled across the seas, the giant sisters continued to turn the stone, feeling the churning waters moving the boat beneath their feet. To pass the time they sang their Grottisong once again, adding in an extra verse about Mysing and his greed which matched that of King Frodi’s. As the giant sisters worked they sang their song loudly into the night, their voices carrying across the waves…and it was then that something extraordinary happened.
At first, the giant sisters thought they could hear an echo of their own voices, coming back to them from the watery depths. They stopped their grinding for a moment, straining their ears to listen against the silence. Undeniably, Fenja and Menja could hear a soft but mighty voice, answering their song.
The mysterious voice belonged to the Sea Mither; guardian of the ocean depths and keeper of the tides. She above anyone understood the giant sister’s plight; of being mistreated despite her power, and feeding the overconsumption of greedy folk. She had been listening to the sisters sing their Grottisong, and in turn, she offered her own.
The words that the giant sisters and the Sea Mither exchanged that night have fallen into myth, but the next day a great storm appeared on the horizon. The swirling waves reached higher than the Northern mountains, engulfing Mysing’s fleet of fine ships in a watery fist of fury. Legend tells that this mighty storm even travelled to the Northern shores of Frodi’s kingdom; swallowing up his golden castle and washing his riches away.
Every one of Mysing’s ships sank to the bottom of the ocean that day, along with Grotti; the enchanted grindstone. It sits on the ocean bed to this very day, grinding endless amounts of salt into the waters of the world’s oceans. The constant churning motion of the stone formed a whirlpool above where Grotti sits, creating the Swilkie; the most dangerous whirlpool in the Pentland Firth.
Fenja and Menja were sheltered from the onslaught of the storm, which freed them from their captivity and washed them safely upon the island of Stroma where they live to this day. Never again did the giant sisters forget the words the Sea Mither had shared with them that night. Thanks to her, they never forgot their true power, and their strength to overcome anything which sought to hold them back.
Editor's Note
This tale of Fenja and Menja reminds us that storytelling itself is a kind of power—one that cannot be bound or controlled, no matter how much those in authority may try. It carries history, wisdom, and resistance through time, passed from voice to voice like a tide that never ceases.
Storytelling has always been an intrinsic part of the human experience, shaping our understanding of the world long before the written word existed. It is through stories that we make sense of chaos, that we preserve knowledge, that we pass down warnings and hopes for the future. More than mere entertainment, stories have been the foundation of cultural identity, resistance, and collective memory. In them, we see reflections of our struggles and our triumphs, our fears and our courage.
The stories we tell about the ocean and its guardians, about waterwomen and their strength, about battles fought against greed and domination, all shape our understanding of the world. They remind us of our responsibility to protect what is vital—to respect the forces greater than ourselves, rather than seek to exploit them.
Women have always been a part of this protection. Like the sea, they are often underestimated, their contributions overlooked. But just as the waves carve coastlines, as tides shape the very land itself, the work of women—storytellers, activists, guardians of the deep—has shaped history, and will continue to shape the future.
As long as there are voices to tell these stories, as long as the sea churns and the salt remains, we will remember. We will resist. We will reclaim our power.
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