The Story of Siegfried | Page 6

and the country of the Burgundians. It was in
this place, midway between the shops of Mimer and Amilias, that the
great trial of metal and of skill was to be made. And here were already
gathered great numbers of people from the Lowlands and from
Burgundy, anxiously waiting for the coming of the champions. On the
one side were the wise old Siegmund and his gentle queen, and their
train of knights and courtiers and fair ladies. On the other side were the
three Burgundian kings, Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher, and a mighty
retinue of warriors, led by grim old Hagen, the uncle of the kings, and
the wariest chief in all Rhineland.
When every thing was in readiness for the contest, Amilias, clad in his
boasted war-coat, went up to the top of the hill, and sat upon a great
rock, and waited for Mimer's coming. As he sat there, he looked, to the
people below, like some great castle-tower; for he was almost a giant in
size, and his coat of mail, so skilfully wrought, was so huge that twenty
men of common mould might have found shelter, or hidden themselves,
within it. As the smith Mimer, so dwarfish in stature, toiled up the steep
hillside, Amilias smiled to see him; for he felt no fear of the slender,
gleaming blade that was to try the metal of his war-coat. And already a
shout of expectant triumph went up from the throats of the Burgundian
hosts, so sure were they of their champion's success.
But Mimer's friends waited in breathless silence, hoping, and yet

fearing. Only King Siegmund whispered to his queen, and said,
"Knowledge is stronger than brute force. The smallest dwarf who has
drunk from the well of the Knowing One may safely meet the stoutest
giant in battle."
When Mimer reached the top of the hill, Amilias folded his huge arms,
and smiled again; for he felt that this contest was mere play for him,
and that Mimer was already as good as beaten, and his thrall. The smith
paused a moment to take breath, and as he stood by the side of his foe
he looked to those below like a mere black speck close beside a
steel-gray castle-tower.
"Are you ready?" asked the smith.
"Ready," answered Amilias. "Strike!"
Mimer raised the beaming blade in the air, and for a moment the
lightning seemed to play around his head. The muscles on his short,
brawny arms, stood out like great ropes; and then Balmung, descending,
cleft the air from right to left. The waiting lookers-on in the plain below
thought to hear the noise of clashing steel; but they listened in vain, for
no sound came to their ears, save a sharp hiss like that which red-hot
iron gives when plunged into a tank of cold water. The huge Amilias
sat unmoved, with his arms still folded upon his breast; but the smile
had faded from his face.
"How do you feel now?" asked Mimer in a half-mocking tone.
"Rather strangely, as if cold iron had touched me," faintly answered the
upstart.
"Shake thyself!" cried Mimer.
Amilias did so, and, lo! he fell in two halves; for the sword had cut
sheer through the vaunted war-coat, and cleft in twain the great body
incased within. Down tumbled the giant head and the still folded arms,
and they rolled with thundering noise to the foot of the hill, and fell
with a fearful splash into the deep waters of the river; and there,

fathoms down, they may even now be seen, when the water is clear,
lying like great gray rocks among the sand and gravel below. The rest
of the body, with the armor which incased it, still sat upright in its place;
and to this day travellers sailing down the river are shown on moonlit
evenings the luckless armor of Amilias on the high hill-top. In the dim,
uncertain light, one easily fancies it to be the ivy covered ruins of some
old castle of feudal times.
The master, Mimer, sheathed his sword, and walked slowly down the
hillside to the plain, where his friends welcomed him with glad cheers
and shouts of joy. But the Burgundians, baffled, and feeling vexed,
turned silently homeward, nor cast a single look back to the scene of
their disappointment and their ill-fated champion's defeat.
And Siegfried went again with the master and his fellows to the smoky
smithy, to his roaring bellows and ringing anvil, and to his coarse fare,
and rude, hard bed, and to a life of labor. And while all men praised
Mimer and his knowing skill, and the fiery edge of the sunbeam blade,
no one knew that it was the boy Siegfried who had wrought that piece
of workmanship.
But after a