|
Nothung! Nothung! conquering sword! What blow has served to break thee? To shreds I shattered thy shining blade; the fire has melted the splinters Ho ho! Ho ho! Ho hei! Ho hei! Ho ho! Bellows blow! Brighten the glow. |
As the Mime watched that easy forging of the mighty weapon, he believed that Siegfried was the one who would slay the dragon as Wotan had foretold. If he did that then he surely would possess himself of the treasure and the ring. So the Mime fell to planning how he could get the gold into his own hands. Siegfried knew nothing of gold and power, and so, why should he not willingly hand the treasure over to the Mime? Then the Mime would determine that Siegfried should perish, and by the ring's magic his destruction would come about, leaving the Mime lord of all. So the Mime decided it was well that Siegfried should forge the sword, because the Mime, even if he had such a sword, had known fear, and therefore, could not kill the Dragon with it. Siegfried must do this and the Mime should profit by it, and afterward kill Siegfried. Thus he reasoned. All this time Siegfried had been at work upon his sword. He had poured the molten metal into a mould, and held the mould high above his head. Presently he plunged it into cold water, and a great hissing of steam occurred. Again he thrust the sword into the fire to harden it the more, and meantime the Mime was fussing about the fire, making a broth.
"What is the devil's brew thou art making," Siegfried demanded giving him a lowering look.
"Something to take with us upon the journey to the Dragon's lair."
"None of it for me," Siegfried shouted. "I'll have none of thy brew."
But the Mime reasoned that by the morrow, when Siegfried would have slain the Dragon and have found himself weary, he would gladly drink of the broth. As it was poisoned, it would kill Siegfried as soon almost as he had killed the Dragon.
At last the broth was finished and poured into a bottle ready for taking, while the sword was done at the same time, Siegfried having tempered it and tested its point and its strength a little.
"Now," shouted Siegfried, "if the good sword will stand, let us go." He stood before the anvil, swung Nothung about his head, and with a frightful blow he cleaved the anvil from top to bottom so that the halves fell apart with a great crash. The sight was more than the Mime could bear and he stood palsied with fear of such tremendous strength.
"Yes, yes, let us be off," he cried, when he could speak again. He longed to have the Dragon dead and Siegfried dying; only then would he feel safe.
Swinging the great sword about his head, Siegfried started off into the forest, in search of adventures.