All was stillness in the forest. The sun was now at its height. Only the soft, low hum of insect life filled the drowsy air.
Suddenly a flutter of wings overhead, and the clear note of the wood-bird piped out once more: “Hey, Siegfried the Victor! He has slain the treacherous dwarf. Now a glorious bride awaits him. But he must go through the flames to win and to wake her, for Brunhilda sleeps fast, guarded by Loki’s fiery arm.”
Siegfried started to his feet.
“Oh, sweetest song! How it fills my heart with joy and longing! Say, dear bird, how shall I find this bride, and break through the fire?”
Then the bird sang again: “Only he who knows not Fear can awaken and win the sleeping bride.”
At this Siegfried laughed aloud with delight; for had not even Fafnir failed to teach him fear? “Perchance, from Brunhilda shall I learn to know what is Fear,” he cried gaily. “Fly on before, sweet bird; point thou the road; I follow thee!”
The bird fluttered his wings joyfully and flew on ahead, Siegfried following with bounding step.