He laughed again, and vanished in the dark hole that led to Nibelheim.
Wotan stood silently gazing at the Ring on his finger. Logi, looking off in the distance, saw Fasolt and Fafner nearing, with Friea. As she came closer, the gray mist began to clear slightly away, though it still hung about in heavy clouds, hiding Walhalla’s spires. Fricka, Thor, and Froh, quickly drawing near from another direction, spoke of the growing warmth and clearness of the air.
“Dear sister, welcome back to us!” cried Fricka, as the giants strode out with Friea. But, when the two goddesses started forward to meet each other, Fasolt caught hold of his captive and held her fast.
“Wait! Wait!” he cried. “Where is the ransom?”
“Behold it!” said Wotan, pointing to the heap of treasure.
The giants declared that when a pile of gold had been erected high enough to hide the Love Goddess from view, they would return her to the gods—but not before. Accordingly, a heap was made which, as it grew higher with added treasure, soon hid Friea entirely, save for a gleam of her bright hair, which Fafner’s keen eye descried. The Tarnhelm must go to hide it.
That accomplished, Fasolt strained his eyes to find an unfilled crevice. Through a tiny space he beheld one of the goddess’s eyes, and demanded the Ring to fill up the chink.
“The Ring!” exclaimed Wotan, starting back.
“The Ring!” cried Logi. “Nonsense! It is the Rhine Children’s treasure. The King God will return it to them.”
“Foolish you are,” said Wotan, in a low voice. “I shall keep it myself.”