Sigurd now rode south toward Frankland and up to the top of Mount Hindarfjall. On the mountain he saw a great light, as if a fire were burning there; when he drew nearer he caught sight of a stronghold of shields, above which was reared a standard. On going within the stronghold he found a woman fully panoplied lying asleep. He attempted to remove the armor; but the byrnie clung tight as if it had grown fast to the flesh itself, and so he had to cut it loose with Gram. Sitting up, the woman asked who it was that had roused her from so profound a sleep. Sigurd told his own name and asked what her name might be. She was called Sigrdrifa and was a Valkyrie; on a certain occasion she had laid low a king to whom Odin had given a pledge of victory, and in punishment Odin had stung her with sleep-thorns, had declared that she should never more win victory in battle, and had foretold that in due time she should wed. She had vowed, for her part, that she would never wed a man capable of feeling fear. Thereupon she had sunk into her deep magic trance, from which Sigurd was the first to waken her. Sigurd now asked her to teach him wisdom, what lore she might have learned from all the worlds that be. Taking a horn filled with mead and turning her face toward the song of Day and the daughters of Night, toward the Æsir and the goddesses, she besought their favor; then she gave the horn into his hand, and said: “I bring you a drink, warrior champion, in which are blended power and glory; it is filled with songs and with tokens of strength, with goodly incantations and with gladdening runes. “Runes of victory you must carve if you desire to be victorious, some
on the blade and some on the haft; and twice you must speak the name of Tyr” (that is, the name of the rune for the letter T).
“Ale-runes you must know if you would not have the wife of another betray your trust; carve them on the horn and on the back of your hand, and mark on your finger nail the word ’need’” (that is, the rune for the letter N). “Bless the beaker, stand on guard against deceit, lay a leek in the liquor; then can mischance never be mingled with your mead.
“Birth-runes you must know if you would lend aid to a woman bearing a child; carve them on the palms of your hands, clasp the woman about her waist, then pray to the Disir to help her.
“Wave-runes you must know if you would save ships at sea; carve them on the prow and rudder and burn them into the oars; then will the waves never be so steep or the seas so black but that you shall safely reach the shore.
“Branch-runes you must know if you would learn healing and the treating of wounds; carve them on the bark and on the trunk of a tree whose branches lean to the east.
“Speech-runes you must know if you would take vengeance for your harms; twist them, twine them, wind them all together, at the judgment seats where all the counselors are assembled in judgment. “Thought-runes you must know if you would be wiser than all other men; them Odin devised from the sap that ran from Heiddraupnir’s head and Hoddrofnir’s horn. On the mountain he stood with Brimir’s sword and with a helmet on his head. Then spoke the head of Mimir for the first time and gave utterance of trusty tokens: these were carved on the shield that stands before the shining god, on Arvak’s ear, and on Alsvin’s hoof, on the wheel under Rognir’s (Odin’s) wagon, on Sleipnir’s teeth, on the runners of the sledge, on the paw of the bear and on Bragi’s tongue, on the claws of the wolf and the beak of the eagle, on bloody wings and on the bridge’s head, on freeing hand and on healing footprints, on glass, on gold, and on amulets, in wine, in simples, and on seats of joy, on Gungnir’s point and on Grani’s breast, on the Norn’s nail and on the owl’s beak. All those that were carved were shaven off again, mingled with holy mead, and sent forth on far ways; some are with the Elves, some with the Æsir, some with the wise Vanir, and some with the race of men. There are book-runes, birth-runes, ale-runes, and excellent magic-runes for every one who is able to use them without mischance, without misadventure. Turn them to your happiness if you have understood them, time without end. Now make your choice further, between speech and silence; for all harms have their destined bounds.” “I should not flee even if you knew me to be fated to die,” said Sigurd, “for I was born without fear.” Then she continued her discourse: “Be free from fault in your dealings with kinsmen, and seek not revenge if they wrong you. Swear no false oaths. At the assembly dispute not with fools, for the unwise man often speaks words of worse meaning than he is aware; yet there is danger in all things if you keep silence, for so you will appear to be afraid, or what is said will have the color of truth: rather kill him the next day, and thus reward men for their lies. Never take lodging with a witch, even if night has come upon you unawares. Let not fair women deceive you. Contend not with drunken men. Yet with brave men you must fight, rather than let them burn the roof over your head. Entice no maiden and no man’s wife. Give seemly burial to the dead. Put no faith in him who has lost a kinsman at your hand: a wolf lurks in a young son, even though he have accepted gold for wergild. Beware of guile in your friends.”
From Hindarfjall Sigurd journeyed to the home of Heimir in the Dales of Lym and abode there for a time. Here he chanced to see Brynhild, daughter of king Budli and foster daughter of Heimir, and was taken with an overpowering love for her. She was a shield-maiden, and when Sigurd paid court to her she answered that the fates would not permit them to live together; yet at length she gave her consent, and he placed the ring of Andvari on her finger. Afterward she bore him — according to a late legend1 — a daughter, who was named Aslaug.
Thereafter Sigurd rode farther on his way until he came to the court of king Gjuki, whose kingdom lay south of the Rhine. The children of Gjuki, the Gjukungs, were fairer and stronger than all others; the sons were named Gunnar, Hogni, and Guttorm, and the daughter’s name was Gudrun. Gjuki’s wife, a woman skilled in magic, was called Grimhild. Here Sigurd was received as a welcome guest; it was Grimhild’s greatest wish that he should become her son-in-law, but he loved Brynhild too dearly and all his thoughts were bent upon her. Grimhild accordingly had recourse to magic; she made a drink capable of stealing memory away, and this he gave to Sigurd. No sooner had he drunk of it than he remembered Brynhild no more; soon he came to love Gudrun instead, wedded her, and entered into a compact of sworn brotherhood with her brothers. Sigurd gave Gudrun to eat from Fafnir’s heart, which he had carried with him, whereupon she grew even more grim of mood than before.
Grimhild now counseled her son Gunnar to pay court to Brynhild, daughter of Budli. King Budli making no objection, the Gjukungs journeyed together with Sigurd to the Dales of Lym, where Brynhild still had her abode. Heimir, who received them kindly, declared that Brynhild should choose according to her own desire. Round about her hall there burned a ring of fire, and she had made known her intention to marry none but that man who could ride through the flames. When Gunnar rode his horse Goti toward the fire, the horse recoiled. Sigurd made him a loan of Grani, but Grani would not stir a pace. Sigurd and Gunnar now each took upon him the likeness of the other, whereupon Sigurd in the guise of Gunnar mounted Grani, with Gram in his hands and golden spurs on his feet. Grani at once ran forward, while the fire crackled, the earth shook, and flames darted up to the very heavens. Sigurd thus made his way into Brynhild’s hall and there wedded her, but during the night he laid the sword Gram between her and himself. They exchanged rings, so that Sigurd once more got possession of the ring of Andvari and gave her another ring in its stead. When three nights had passed, he rode out again and restored Gunnar’s likeness in return for his own. Brynhild gave into the charge of Heimir her own and Sigurd’s daughter as a foster child; later she went with them to the realm of Gjuki, where her wedding with Gunnar took place. Yet Sigurd’s deception brought its revenge; he now remembered the oaths he had sworn to Brynhild, but in no wise betrayed his true feelings.
Once upon a time Brynhild and Gudrun went out into the river Rhine to wash their hair. Brynhild waded out the farther of the two, saying that since she had the braver husband she would not wash herself in the rinsings of Gudrun’s hair. Gudrun followed her, maintaining that it was her right to stand the farther up stream, inasmuch as no man could compare with Sigurd Fafnirsbane. “A braver deed it was,” said Brynhild, “of Gunnar to ride through the fire, a thing which Sigurd dared not do.” Gudrun laughed and answered, “Do you think it was Gunnar who rode through the fire? No, it was Sigurd; he slept with you and took the ring of Andvari from your hand—here it is.” Brynhild recognized the ring aid how understood all that had happened; she grew pale but spoke no word. During that evening and throughout the following day Brynhild was silent and downcast. Gudrun bade her be of good cheer, but Brynhild replied, “You are passing cruel toward me.” “What is it that troubles you?” Gudrun asked. “You shall pay dearly for the winning of Sigurd in my stead, for I do not yield him to you with good grace.” Gudrun answered, “You have made a better marriage than you deserve.” “I might have rested content,” said Brynhild, “if your husband had not surpassed my own; Sigurd has no peer, he won the victory over Fafnir, and that deed is worth more than the whole of Gunnar’s realm. Sigurd killed the serpent, and that stroke will be known as long as the world shall stand; but Gunnar dared not ride through the flames.” “It was Grani who would not stir with Gunnar on his back,” answered Gudrun; “Gunnar himself had courage enough.” Brynhild said: “Grimhild alone is to blame; may you find joy in Sigurd just so much as I shall find joy in a life marred by treachery.”
Brynhild took to her bed sick at heart; Gunnar went to her side to comfort her and prayed her to confide in him, but she would not. He then asked Sigurd to try what he might do. Sigurd spoke with her, confessed his love for her, and even promised to put Gudrun away and marry her instead. But she was too proud to listen to his entreaties, whereat Sigurd was so stricken with grief that the rings of his byrnie burst at both sides. Rather than wed with him on such terms she would prefer to see him lying dead, so that neither she nor Gudrun should rejoice in him again. She egged Gunnar on to kill Sigurd; he had, as she said, betrayed them both. Gunnar, being readily swayed to her purpose, sought counsel with his brother Hogni, but Hogni was unwilling that they should lay violent hands themselves upon Sigurd, since they were bound to him by oaths of brotherhood. He proposed instead that they should persuade the thoughtless Guttorm to undertake the deed, a youth who had no part in their oaths. To heighten his courage, they gave him to eat the flesh of serpents and wolves. Having eaten, he became so fell of mood that he was at once ready to do his dastard’s work. Coming upon Sigurd asleep at Gudrun’s side, he pierced his body with a sword. Sigurd always kept his own sword Gram by his side; when he felt the wound, he threw the sword after Guttorm with such force that it cleft him through the middle. The young son of Sigurd and Gudrun lost his life at the same time.
Gudrun sat by the body of Sigurd, unable to weep, though her heart was ready to burst. Men and women coming to comfort her could do nothing. Not until Gullrond, daughter of Gjuki, drew aside the cloth that had been spread over Sigurd, so that Gudrun once more beheld his glazed eyes and his bloody head, did she sink back weeping; as the tears ran down her cheeks, she found words to utter her grief. Brynhild on her part laughed when men told her of Sigurd’s death, till the whole house rang with her mirth:
Long may you revel
In lands and men,
You who laid low
The boldest of princes.
Then she said furthermore: “Once I lived honored and glad with Atli, my brother. No man did I desire until the Gjukungs rode into the courtyard. Then gave I my troth to the hero who sat on the back of Grani; he was a man, Gunnar, unlike you. This you shall know, that Sigurd was never false to you; the sword Gram, its edge tempered in venom, he laid down between me and himself; but you have broken your oath. Now I will live no longer, for Sigurd alone did I love, and desperation drove me on all my ways. My brother Atli will know what vengeance to take for me and my sorrows; and he shall remain a mightier man than you.” Gunnar earnestly prayed her not to seek death; but Hogni said that nothing could hold back one born, like her, to misfortune. Brynhild then took a sword, turned the point against her side, and sank down among the pillows. Before she died she be sought Gunnar to lay her and Sigurd on one and the same funeral pyre, and to deck it with draperies and shields, to cover it over with splendid garments and with thralls. “Burn,” she said, “at Sigurd’s other side my retainers, adorned with amulets, two at the head and two at the feet, and my two falcons with them; once more lay Gram between us, even as on the wedding night. In such wise shall Sigurd go forth proudly; since there follow him so many, five bondwomen and eight henchmen, the portals of the hall shall never clang shut at his heels.” The pyre was made ready as she had given command, and on it she and Sigurd were burned. As Brynhild passed along the Hell-Ways in a magnificent chariot, a certain Giantess meeting her on the road made as if to deny her passage, and derided her for the life she had lived. But Brynhild charged Gudrun with all the blame; Gudrun had egged her to evil, speaking falsehoods of her and of Sigurd.
All too long
Life endures
For man, for woman,
Burdened with sorrows;
Yet shall we live
Our lives together,
Sigurd and I.
Sink, witch, from sight.
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