Iceland’s wild western coast has always born a long line of storytellers. These are people who share tales of super-human Vikings and sneaky spirits across the years. ‘Here we are all storytellers,’ says a native Icelandic man named Ingi. ‘Maybe it’s our Celtic heritage, but our landscape and long winters also have an affect. We started to collect myths, to bring them back to life, to help us through the cold nights.’ I ask him if he believes in the huldufólk, the mysterious ‘hidden people’ often incorrectly translated as ‘elves’ in English. ‘I have not much experience of them,’ he says, ‘but if you reject everything you don’t know, you believe in nothing.’ Many Icelanders genuinely believe in these mysterious huldufolk.