The Story of Siegfried | Page 8

he had but one eye, which twinkled and glowed like
a burning coal. And all the guests sat moveless in their seats, so awed
were they in the presence of him who stood at the door; for they knew
that he was none other than Odin the All-Father, the king of gods and
men. He spoke not a word, but straight into the hall he strode, and he
paused not until he stood beneath the blossoming branches of the tree.
Then, forth from beneath his cloud-gray cloak, he drew a gleaming
sword, and struck the blade deep into the wood,--so deep that nothing
but the hilt was left in sight. And, turning to the awe-struck guests, he
said, 'A blade of mighty worth have I hidden in this tree. Never have
the earth-folk wrought better steel, nor has any man ever wielded a
more trusty sword. Whoever there is among you brave enough and
strong enough to draw it forth from the wood, he shall have it as a gift
from Odin.' Then slowly to the door he strode again, and no one saw
him any more.
"And after he had gone, the Volsungs and their guests sat a long time
silent, fearing to stir, lest the vision should prove a dream. But at last
the old king arose, and cried, 'Come, guests and kinsmen, and set your
hands to the ruddy hilt! Odin's gift stays, waiting for its fated owner.

Let us see which one of you is the favored of the All-Father.' First
Siggeir, the King of the Goths, and his earls, the Volsungs' guests, tried
their hands. But the blade stuck fast; and the stoutest man among them
failed to move it. Then King Volsung, laughing, seized the hilt, and
drew with all his strength; but the sword held still in the wood of Odin's
tree. And one by one the nine sons of Volsung tugged and strained in
vain; and each was greeted with shouts and laughter, as, ashamed and
beaten, he wended to his seat again. Then, at last, Sigmund, the
youngest son, stood up, and laid his hand upon the ruddy hilt, scarce
thinking to try what all had failed to do. When, lo! the blade came out
of the tree as if therein it had all along lain loose. And Sigmund raised
it high over his head, and shook it, and the bright flame that leaped
from its edge lit up the hall like the lightning's gleaming; and the
Volsungs and their guests rent the air with cheers and shouts of
gladness. For no one among all the men of the mid-world was more
worthy of Odin's gift than young Sigmund the brave."
But the rest of Mimer's story would be too long to tell you now; for he
and his young apprentice sat for hours by the dying coals, and talked of
Siegfried's kinfolk, --the Volsung kings of old. And he told how Siggeir,
the Goth king, was wedded to Signy the fair, the only daughter of
Volsung, and the pride of the old king's heart; and how he carried her
with him to his home in the land of the Goths; and how he coveted
Sigmund's sword, and plotted to gain it by guile; and how, through
presence of friendship, he invited the Volsung kings to visit him in
Gothland, as the guests of himself and Signy; and how he betrayed and
slew them, save Sigmund alone, who escaped, and for long years lived
an outlaw in the land of his treacherous foe. And then he told how
Sigmund afterwards came back to his own country of the Volsungs;
and how his people welcomed him, and he became a mighty king, such
as the world had never known before; and how, when he had grown old,
and full of years and honors, he went out with his earls and
fighting-men to battle against the hosts of King Lyngi the Mighty; and
how, in the midst of the fight, when his sword had hewn down numbers
of the foe, and the end of the strife and victory seemed near, an old man,
one eyed and bearded, and wearing a cloud-gray cloak, stood up before
him in the din, and his sword was broken in pieces, and he fell dead on

the heap of the slain.[EN#4] And, when Mimer had finished his tale,
his dark face seemed to grow darker, and his twinkling eyes grew
brighter, as he cried out in a tone of despair and hopeless yearning,--
"Oh, past are those days of old and the worthy deeds of the brave! And
these are the days of the home-stayers, --of the wise, but feeble-hearted.
Yet the Norns have spoken; and it must be that another hero shall arise
of the Volsung blood, and he