“Then greet Walhalla and the heroes for me,” said the Volsung; “for there I will follow you not.”
“You have looked on the face of the Walküre,” said Brünnhilde. “You must die.”
And, by degrees, she made him understand that death was awaiting him, that he was doomed to be killed by Hunding. In despair Siegmund raised Nothung, the sword, and declared that he would kill his wife and himself, so that they might be together in death. But Brünnhilde, who had felt her heart grow more and more tender towards this unhappy pair, started forward, bidding him hope, and declared that she would help him, instead of Hunding, in the combat, and save both himself and his wife.
“I shall be with you in battle,” she promised; and she hurried away, leading her horse.
It grew darker and darker. Storm-clouds were gathering, and the rocky gorge was filled with a dense, black shadow. In the distance came the sound of Hunding’s horn. Waving his sword, Siegmund sprang up the rocks to meet the enemy.
Sieglinde, dreaming softly where her husband had left her, was awakened by a wild burst of thunder and lightning. She started up frantically, trying to see through the darkness. Clouds were all about her, veiling the rocks on every side. Hunding’s deep horn-call sounded nearer and nearer. Finally, from a high rock among the trees on the top of a wooded slope she could hear the voices of the combatants and the clash of weapons. Suddenly, in a vivid glare of lightning, Brünnhilde appeared among the clouds, stooping low over Siegmund, and protecting him with outstretched shield. Clear and strong rang out her voice over the tumult:
“Be firm, Siegmund! Strike quickly.”
But now Sieglinde, staring wildly up through the darkness, paralyzed with fright, saw a fierce crimson light—the light that heralded the approach of the angry King God—and Wotan stood revealed in the clouds above Hunding.
“Away from my spear!” he cried, in a terrible voice. “Let the sword be splintered!” And he stretched out his weapon, made from the World-Ash. Nothung was shivered in pieces upon it, and the Robber Hunding, with one blow killed Siegmund, the Volsung.
With a great cry Sieglinde sank to the ground, but through the cloudy darkness came Brünnhilde. She lifted the poor woman on her horse, and, urging Grani to flight, sped away through the clouds.