When the three were seated at the table, Hunding curtly demanded his guest's name and history; and Siegmund replied sadly that he was known to the world as "Woful," owing to his misfortunes, and that he and a beloved twin-sister had been born to a famous hero. One evening, when Woful was still but a child, on returning from a forest hunt with his father, a terrible sight had met their eyes; for their home had been burnt and laid waste by enemies, the beautiful mother lay dead, and no trace whatever remained of the tender little maid who had been the sunshine of their lives. Some years later, the warlike hero also suddenly disappeared, and then his unhappy son was left to struggle as best he could with the ill-luck that had followed him all his life. That evening, on passing through the forest, he had rushed to the aid of a poor maiden, whose kinsmen were seeking to wed her to a churl whom she abhorred; but being overwhelmed and disarmed by the fierce tyrants, he had been compelled to flee for his life and take refuge in the first homestead he came to.
On hearing this last part of the story, Hunding's brow grew dark; and he declared with suppressed anger that they were his kinsfolk whom Woful had attacked, adding that he himself had been called to their aid, but arriving too late to be of assistance, had returned to his house, only to find the flying foe upon his own hearth.
Siegmund, seeing that he had thus unwittingly sought shelter in the abode of an enemy, felt that his last hour had come, since he had no weapons for his defence; but Hunding, being bound by the laws of hospitality not to harm his guest till the morrow, declared that he was safe for that night, but should die with morning light.
He then bade his wife prepare his evening draught, and retire for the night; but as Sieglinde moved towards the inner chamber, she threw a tender, sympathising glance upon the despondent Siegmund. Then Hunding, having seen that the door was fastened, took up his weapons with a triumphant look at his doomed guest, and also departed to the sleeping-chamber; and Siegmund, left alone, sank upon the hearth with troubled thoughts.
Presently, as he lay gazing into the dying embers of the fire, the door of the inner chamber was softly opened, and the beautiful Sieglinde came towards him in haste, declaring that he might now depart in safety, since Hunding lay wrapped in helpless slumber, she having mixed a narcotic with his evening draught. She added that a wonderful weapon also lay ready to his hand; and then, returning the tender glance bestowed upon her by Siegmund, she began to tell him a strange story.
On the day she was wedded to Hunding against her will, having been forced to the deed by fierce ravishers who had stolen her from her home in early childhood, a stranger, wrapped in a dark cloak, had suddenly entered this very hall, and plunging a shining sword deep down to the hilt in the ash-tree's stem, had declared that it possessed magic qualities, and should become the prize of whichever hero could pluck it forth. All the warriors at the festive board had tried to wrench the sword from its sheath, but in vain; and Sieglinde added that she knew by the kindly glance bestowed upon her by the stranger, whose features had reminded her of the father she had been stolen from, that the magic weapon was reserved for some brave hero who should one day come to offer her his love and help, and who, her heart whispered, now stood before her.
These words filled Siegmund with an intoxication of joy; and no longer able to quell the love that already surged in his heart, he clasped the beautiful maiden in his arms with rapture. But as Sieglinde gazed upon her beloved, his features and glances suddenly reminded her of the stranger who had plunged the sword in the tree; and on learning from Siegmund that his father had been known as Volsung, she exclaimed that that was the name of her own father, whose features had been reflected in those of the stranger who had appeared on her wedding morn.
Siegmund, quickly realising that it was his long-lost twin-sister who stood before him, and whose love he had won, embraced her with even greater joy than before; and knowing now that his mysterious father, Volsung, had placed the sword in the ash-tree to be plucked thence by his own son only, he hastened to the mighty tree and triumphantly drew the weapon forth, announcing its name to be "Needful." Then the enraptured lovers, hand locked in hand, rushed forth joyously into the sweet spring night; and hastening with glad footsteps through the moonlit forest, they sought a place of refuge from the vengeance of Hunding, who, they knew, would follow them on awakening from the effects of the narcotic.
Now Siegmund and Sieglinde, though they knew it not, were in reality the twin-children of the great god Wotan, who, in the guise of the hero Volsung, had wooed and won a beautiful maiden of the earth; and from the first naught but misery had fallen to the lot of the ill-fated pair.
As soon as Wotan's celestial wife, Fricka, the goddess of Marriage and upholder of conjugal bonds, knew of the unholy love of Siegmund and Sieglinde, and of their flight from Hunding, she was filled with indignation; and summoning her roving and inconstant husband, she poured forth angry reproaches upon him for countenancing this violation of her laws. She demanded that the recreant lovers should be overtaken and punished, and that Siegmund's magic sword should be broken; and knowing that Wotan had already despatched one of his attendant war-maidens, the beautiful Valkyrie, Brünhilde, to assist his son against the pursuing Hunding, she bade him instantly recall her.