LOKE. Spare thy doubts. That spear or nothing
Can wound his breast.—But see, the sun is rising,
And I must fly to subterranean places;
But I’ll forsake thee not. This horn I give thee,
And when thy need is greatest, then, O Hother!
Blow strongly in that horn, and turning westward,
Call thrice aloud on Vanfred—Vanfred! Vanfred!
[The two last times he cries it with a hollow voice, after having disappeared among the rocks, and the last time of all evidently farther away than the other. Immediately thereupon a noise is heard among the rocks, as of distant thunder.
HOTHER, and presently NANNA.
HOTHER (casts away the horn). Accurs’d be thou, thy horn, and all thy magic!
Is Hother fearful? Does he crave in battle
The aid of warlocks and of arts ignoble?
Is not my arm sufficient? Ha! I’ll show thee!
[He is going; but NANNA meets him at the entrance of the scene.
NANNA. Where now?
HOTHER. I go to dare the wrath of Balder.
NANNA (affrighted). Ah!
HOTHER. His stern look may teach me how to tremble.
NANNA. O Heaven!