"I'll keep my ring," Wotan shouted, being overcome with the power it would give to him, and determined rather to lose his life.
"Thou wretched God! Thy wickedness means the doom of the Eternals," Fricka again screamed, beside herself with the shrieks of Freïa. As the Gods were about to curse Wotan, a bluish light glowed from a fissure in the earth.
"Look," cried Loge, and all turned to see, while Fafner, certain of one treasure or the other, looked and waited.
The bluish light grew and grew, and slowly from the ground rose a frost-covered woman, her glittering icy hair flowing to her waist, the blue light about her causing her garments of frost to glance and shimmer and radiate sparkles all about her.
"Wotan," she spoke, "give up thy ring." All were silent, the Gods and Giants dumb with amazement.
Again she spoke: "It is Erda, she who knows the past, present, and the future. Thy ring is accursed. Ruin and disaster follow its possession. Give up thy ring!"
"Who art thou?" Wotan asked in amazement.
"I am mother of the three Fates—of her who weaves—her who watches—and her who cuts the cord of life. They are my daughters. Thy fate is spread out before me; give up thy ring." The Gods trembled before one who knew both good and evil. Erda had sunk into the earth as far as her breast.
"Give up thy ring," she sighed again, and disappeared in the earth, as Wotan rushed toward her. Donner and Froh held him back.
"Touch her not—to touch her would mean death!" they cried. Wotan stood thoughtfully, looking at the spot where Erda had been, till presently, with a quick movement, he threw the ring upon the Rheingold.