"Thou hast brought Freïa's ransom," Fricka cried, joyously, looking at the great golden heap. "Already, she must be near, because see! Do we not all grow younger?" she asked tremblingly, looking at the others.
"It is true; we were dying and now I feel strength in all my limbs," Donner answered, looking in amazement at his brother Gods.
"Yes—here comes Freïa with Fafner and Fasolt." Freïa would have rushed into Fricka's arms, but the Giants still held her fast.
"She is not thine till we have the gold," they declared; and thrusting his staff into the earth, Fafner said:
"Thou shalt heap the Rheingold as high as my staff—which is as high as the Goddess, and the heap shall be made as thick and as broad as she. When this is done, she is thine." Wotan called out impatiently:
"Heap up the gold; make haste and be rid of them." So Loge and Froh fell to heaping the gold about the staff, while the Giants stood by and watched. When it all was piled, Fafner peered through the heap to see if there was an unfilled chink.
"Not enough," he cried; "I can still see the gleam of Freïa's hair—which is finer than gold. Throw on that trinket at thy belt," he signified the Tarnhelm which hung at the girdle of Loge. Loge threw it contemptuously upon the heap. Then Fafner peeped again. "Ah! I still can see her bright eyes—more gleaming than gold. Until every chink is closed so that I may no longer see the Goddess and thus behold what I have sacrificed for the treasure, it will not do. Throw on that ring thou wearest on thy finger," he called to Wotan.
At that Wotan became furious.
"The ring. Thou shalt never have the ring—not if thou shouldst carry away the Eternals, themselves." Fafner seized Freïa as if to make off with her.
"What, thou cruel God! Thou art going to let them have our sister," Fricka screamed, mingling her shrieks with Freïa's. Donner and Froh added their rage to hers, and assailed Wotan.