"I mind me well of the bargain," returns Wotan, "but I give no thought to fulfill it. My castle stands; for the wage—fret not thyself."
"Oh, laughing, impious lightness," reproves him Fricka, "thy bargain is fast, and is still to rue."
Nay, on the moment rushes Freia to them, pleading, pursued by the giants. "Give her to us!" they cry,—Fasolt and Fafner, mighty twain that unslumbering had reared the walls of Wotan's castle, to win them a woman, winsome and sweet.
"Now pay us our wage!"
"Nay," coolly answers Wotan, "other guerdon ask. Freia may I not grant!"
But the giants insist. They accuse the god of faithlessness. He jests with them, temporizing, awaiting anxiously the arrival of Loge (Loki), spirit of cunning, at whose suggestion that bargain had been struck. For even then Loge had secretly assured Wotan that Freia should in the emergency be ransomed. The giants, indignant at the delay, press on Freia. She calls on her brothers, Froh (Freyr) and Donner (Thor). They rush to her rescue: Froh clasps the fair one; Donner plants himself before the importunates.
"Know ye the weight of my hammer's blow?" thunders he.
There is battle in the air.
Then enters Loge, demon of fire, mischief-maker, traitor, and thief, whom long ago Wotan had lifted from his evil brood and of him made a friend and counselor.