In the world of Old Norse myth, poetry, and runic magic, the rune ᚹ Wunjo stands apart as a reminder of something we often take for granted—joy. But not the fleeting kind. Not the joy of a single moment of laughter or a pleasant surprise. Wunjo represents the enduring happiness that arises from harmony—within ourselves, among kin, and with the world around us.
In this article, we’ll explore Wunjo (ᚹ) as it appears in the Elder Futhark, the oldest known form of the runic alphabets used by Germanic peoples from roughly 150 to 800 CE. This won’t be mystical speculation or modern New Age reinterpretation. Like any good Old Norse scholar would insist, we’ll keep our feet planted firmly in the soil of linguistic and historical evidence. That’s the approach I follow in my own work—sticking close to the text, the history, and the language.
Let’s begin with the sound and shape of this rune.
The Sound of Joy: W or V?
The rune ᚹ in the Elder Futhark corresponds to the w sound, as in Old English wynn (“joy”) or Proto-Germanic winiz (friend). By the time we reach later runic alphabets, like the Younger Futhark used in Viking Age Scandinavia, the w sound had mostly disappeared, either merging with v or vanishing altogether in some dialects.
So, when we speak of Wunjo, we’re already in territory closer to the West Germanic languages, such as Old English and Old High German, rather than Old Norse. In Old English, for instance, the same rune appears as ᚹ Wynn, and it actually found a temporary home in the early English alphabet—long before the letter “w” evolved into the double-u we know today.
Phonetically, then, Wunjo was a voiced labio-velar approximant—what we’d call a “w” sound in English. Think of it as the rounded sound at the beginning of “wind,” “warm,” or “weal.” Not a hard sound, but a soft one. Gentle, rounded—fitting for a rune whose meaning centers on peace, joy, and fellowship.
The Meaning: Joy Rooted in Kinship
The most common translation of Wunjo is “joy,” but that doesn’t capture the whole picture. In Proto-Germanic, the reconstructed word behind the rune’s name is wunjō, which carries a sense not just of happiness, but contentment, harmony, and shared delight.
In the fragmented poetry and wisdom of early Germanic peoples, joy isn’t a solitary feeling. It’s bound up with belonging. A warrior might find joy in victory, but greater joy still in returning to the fire-lit hall of his chieftain, where kinsmen raise horns of mead and sing songs of shared glory.
Wunjo isn’t the kind of joy that comes from indulgence or selfish pleasure. It is the joy of being part of something larger than yourself. The joy of order restored after chaos. The joy of a ship returning safely to harbor after a storm.
Wunjo in the Rune Poems
While the Elder Futhark itself does not come with its own written poem (unlike the Younger Futhark or Anglo-Saxon Futhorc), we can get clues from the Old English Rune Poem, where the rune ᚹ (wynn) is described like this:
“Wynn byþ bliþe on byrde, / and þonne byþ hyt well mid ðam gemæcenum / sylfum to sæle.”
(Joy is hope for those who have little, a blessing among kin when all goes well.)
Here, joy is inseparable from the wellbeing of the group—“mid ðam gemæcenum”, “with one’s companions.” The poem makes it clear: joy doesn’t come from isolation but from right relations—from shared fortune and mutual care.
In short: joy is social. Harmony breeds happiness.
Symbolism: The Banner of Fellowship
Visually, ᚹ Wunjo looks like a flag flying from a pole. That’s one of the oldest interpretations of its shape. Think of a banner rippling in the wind—a sign of identity, of belonging, of a camp or people united under one symbol. It’s a fitting shape for a rune that represents collective wellbeing and shared purpose.
When carved onto wood or stone, Wunjo may have served as a symbolic blessing, a wish for peace or happiness in the home or among the clan. In some magical or divinatory traditions—though these are far more speculative and modern—it is associated with emotional healing, the overcoming of grief, or the arrival of good news.
Again, we must be careful not to project too much into the past. There’s no evidence that Viking warriors or Germanic tribesmen sat around doing “rune readings” as we think of them today. But there is ample reason to believe they took these symbols seriously—as carriers of meaning, memory, and identity.
Wunjo in Context: The End of a Cycle
In the sequence of the Elder Futhark, Wunjo is the eighth rune. That places it at the end of the first aett (a group of eight runes). This first aett starts with Fehu (ᚠ)—symbolizing cattle, wealth, and beginnings—and culminates in Wunjo, the joyful resolution of material struggle.
It’s a fitting conclusion: we move from possession (Fehu), through strength (Uruz), challenge (Thurisaz), divine inspiration (Ansuz), journey (Raidho), and need (Nauthiz)—and finally arrive at joy, not through escape, but through growth.
The joy of Wunjo is not naïve or accidental. It’s earned. It’s what comes after endurance. After learning. After loss and labor. It is the reward of a life lived in tune with others and with fate (wyrd).
Modern Reflections
Today, it’s easy to think of joy as something we chase—through consumption, distraction, or achievement. But the ancient wisdom of Wunjo reminds us that real joy often comes when we stop chasing and start connecting. With our families. Our communities. Our purpose.
The rune ᚹ offers a simple yet powerful message: you were not made to walk alone. True success isn’t hoarded gold—it’s peace at your hearth, laughter in the hall, and the warm knowledge that you belong.
So next time you feel lost in the noise, think of the banner of Wunjo, flapping high on the wind. It marks not just a place—but a people. And a promise: that joy is still possible, if we choose harmony over strife.
Final Words
ᚹ Wunjo is the heartbeat of the Elder Futhark’s first act—a reminder that what we fight for, build, and endure is not for glory alone, but for the joy of being together. The rune tells us that after hardship comes harmony. After toil, peace. And in peace, we find joy.
Not a fleeting smile—but the deep, enduring joy of being where we are meant to be.
Among kin. In harmony. Under one banner.
And that is what Wunjo truly means.