Thirteen Footsteps in the Snow: The Story of Iceland’s Yule Lads

Here in Reykjavík, Christmas does not arrive all at once.
It comes one knock at a time. One pair of muddy boots. One curious nose at the door.

These are the Yule Lads – thirteen mischievous brothers who step down from the mountains one by one in the dark days before Christmas, linger just long enough to cause a little trouble, and then quietly make their way home again after the New Year.

They are older than Santa, wilder than elves, and deeply woven into Icelandic winter storytelling.

The Yule Lads live in the mountains, far from town lights and warm kitchens. In folklore, they come from rugged places where snow gathers early, and shadows stretch long. Their home is often said to be Dimmuborgir in North Iceland, a lava labyrinth shaped by fire and time.

They are the sons of Grýla, a terrifying ogress who prowls the winter darkness, and Leppalúði, her lazy, mostly harmless husband. Grýla is known for her appetite for misbehaving children, a warning tale once used to keep youngsters in line during the harshest months of the year.

The family also keeps an enormous Yule Cat – a beast said to devour anyone who doesn’t receive new clothes for Christmas. Today, that tale lives on more playfully, reminding everyone to gift socks, mittens, or something warm.

Over time, the Yule Lads softened. From frightening figures, they became playful tricksters – and eventually, beloved visitors.

The Yule Lads arrive one per night, starting on 12 December. Each stays for thirteen days, meaning as one arrives, another is already preparing to head back to the mountains.

Their final departure is on 6 January, known in Iceland as Þrettándinn (the Thirteenth Day of Christmas), when bonfires are lit and the last echoes of the holidays fade into winter.

Each Yule Lad has a personality shaped by everyday life in old Icelandic farmhouses. They sneak, steal, slam doors, lick spoons, and peer through windows. These are not grand crimes – just small disturbances, familiar and human.

Traditionally, children place a shoe on the windowsill. A well-behaved child receives a small gift. A naughty one may find a potato.

1. Sheep-Cote Clod (Stekkjastaur)
   Arrives 12 December – Departs 25 December
   Stiff-legged and stubborn, he harasses sheep and tries to drink their milk, though he’s terrible at it.
    
2. Gully Gawk (Giljagaur)
   13–26 December
   He hides in gullies near farms, waiting for a chance to sneak into cowsheds.
    
3. Stubby (Stúfur)
   14–27 December
   Small and quick, he steals pans to scrape up burnt leftovers.
    
4. Spoon Licker (Þvörusleikir)
   15–28 December
   Tall and thin, with a particular fondness for wooden spoons.
    
5. Pot Licker (Pottasleikir)
   6–29 December
   He waits for unattended pots, licking them clean.
    
6. Bowl Licker (Askasleikir)
   17–30 December
   He hides under beds, stealing bowls of food left on the floor.
    
7. Door Slammer (Hurðaskellir)
   18–31 December
   A night owl who delights in keeping everyone awake.
    
8. Skyr Gobbler (Skyrgámur)
   19 December – 1 January
   Obsessed with skyr, Iceland’s beloved dairy staple.
    
9. Sausage Swiper (Bjúgnakrækir)
   20 December – 2 January
   He hides in rafters, waiting for sausages to smoke.
    
10. Window Peeper (Gluggagægir)
    21 December – 3 January
    Curious and nosy, peering into homes in search of things to steal.
     
11. Door Sniffer (Gáttaþefur)
    22 December – 4 January
    With an enormous nose, he follows the scent of baking bread.
     
12. Meat Hook (Ketkrókur)
    23 December – 5 January
    Uses a hook to snatch meat from cupboards and chimneys.
     
13. Candle Beggar (Kertasníkir)
    24 December – 6 January
    The last to arrive, drawn by the glow of candles once made of tallow, and edible.

In modern Reykjavík, the Yule Lads are no longer feared. They appear in festive jumpers, greet children in town squares, and quietly remind everyone that winter is meant to be shared – with humour, warmth, and a little mischief.

They are part of how Icelanders mark time in December, not by dates alone, but by stories, footsteps, and the slow gathering of light.

If you’re visiting during the festive season, keep an eye on your windowsill. You never know who might be passing through the night.