One by one they alighted from their winged steeds, shouting the Valkyries’ war-cry greeting to each other, “Hei-a-ha! Hei-a-hei! Hoyoto-ho!”
From the north came Helmwiga and Gerhilda well-laden; the fierce Norsemen never failed to supply fresh recruits for Wotan’s bodyguard. From east and west and every quarter came some tribute to Wotan, borne on the Valkyries’ saddle-bows.
“Where tarries our sister Brunhilda?” asked several eagerly. “She is late to-night. Ah, see, in the distance, who is that speeding hither like a cloud driven before the storm? Surely not so rides our queenly Brunhilda!”
With the fainting Sieglinda in her arms, it was indeed Brunhilda who came in sight at last, flying on the wings of the wind.
“Faster! oh, faster, Grani my steed!” she cried to the panting horse.
And Grani, his strong head downward bent, with his winged feet cleft the rolling clouds till they hissed like water meeting fire, while his breath came in great snorting gasps, and the foam flew from his mouth in big flakes like snow. Never before in his long service with his noble mistress had Grani been urged to flight, and he knew that dire indeed must be the danger which Brunhilda dare not stand and face.
“Well striven, good Grani, faithful steed!” cried Brunhilda, as the horse alighted on the mountain and dropped exhausted to the ground. Lifting Sieglinda, now fully conscious, from the saddle, Brunhilda hastened toward her sisters.
“She brings no hero! It is naught but a maiden!” they exclaimed in wonder and disappointment.
“Help me, O sisters! Shield me and this poor woman, I beseech you!” implored Brunhilda breathlessly.
“Why this furious haste? From whom fliest thou?” asked the Valkyries, crowding round her in amazement.