It was indeed Wotan the Wanderer.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a voice of thunder, pointing to the broken blade.
"I—I am trying to mend the—the Sword of Need," said the dwarf. He knew there was no use in telling an untruth, as Wotan had already recognised the weapon.
"Where did you get it?" Wotan asked.
"'Twas given me by Sieglinde the mother of Siegfried. Mercy, mercy! I cannot mend it!"
"Peace, fool! You speak truth. No one but the hero who knows no fear can weld those pieces together!"
So saying he struck his spear upon the floor with a noise like thunder and turning strode away into the forest.
Mime dared not look after him or ask any questions. Indeed, he was in such utter terror that he did not venture from behind the anvil, where he lay hid all day. And here it was that Siegfried found him when he returned home.
"Mime, have you got my sword done yet?" he called.
"Pardon! pardon!" whined the dwarf. "Oh, I have had such an awful scare!"