How Siegfried Killed the Dragon

When Sieglinda fled from the wrath of Wotan, she went eastward, as Brunhilda directed. For long days and nights she journeyed, and came at length to the country of the Nibelungs, where dwelt the great dragon Fafnir. Now the Nibelungs were a race of ugly dwarfs, who lived underground, burrowing in the depths of the earth for gold and treasure. They cared nothing for the free forest life, the sunshine, trees, and flowers, or pleasures of the chase. Like prisoners in a dungeon, they chose rather to pass their lives digging and toiling in the dark for gold, and hoarding it up with anxious care. A vast heap of this treasure, including a magic Ring, stolen from the Mermaids of the Rhine, and a Wishing Cap of strange powers called the Tarnhelm, had fallen into the hands of Fafnir the giant, who, in order the better to guard these precious possessions, transformed himself into a huge dragon, the terror of all the country round. Sieglinda lived a sad, lonely life in the forest. She avoided the caves where Fafnir dwelt, and as the dwarfs seldom came above ground, she saw nothing of them. There was one, however, whom it was fated she should meet. His name was Mimi, and of all the dwarfs of the Nibelung race he was the ugliest and the meanest. Notwithstanding this, he was a very skilful blacksmith, and could also do fine work in gold, silver, and steel. Like all the Nibelungs, he had a great dislike to fresh air, so he built his forge in a cave half sunk underground, with a great chimney in the roof. Mimi was working at his anvil one day, when he heard a deep groan outside the cave. On going out, he saw a woman with a baby in her arms lying on the ground. She was dying, and Mimi had only found her in time to hear her last words. “Have pity!” cried poor Sieglinda (for it was she). “Thy goodness shall be rewarded. I am dying. Take this my son and bring him up. Call his name Siegfried, for one day he will be the greatest hero in the world. Keep for him this broken sword—it was Siegmund his father’s—‘Needful,’ he called it!” Now Mimi was not a kind-hearted person, and nothing would have induced him to take care of a strange baby out of pity. But when Sieglinda said that her child was the son of the famous hero Siegmund the Volsung, and would one day himself be the greatest hero in the world, then a grand idea struck Mimi. He would bring up the boy as his own son, and when Siegfried was full-grown, he should be sent forth to kill Fafnir and win for his foster-father all the dragon’s treasure! So Mimi answered Sieglinda in a cracked voice, which he tried to make pleasant: “Be comforted, poor woman. I will take the child out of the kindness of my heart, and do my best for him.” Sieglinda died with a blessing on her lips, and Mimi took the little Siegfried to dwell with him in his cave. But the dwarf soon found he had no easy task in bringing up this son of a hero. Never was such a daring, fearless, mischievous infant. Many a time would Mimi have turned him adrift, or put an end to him with a blow from his smith’s hammer, but for the thought that this bold young imp was just the sort to delight in slaying a dragon, and pay no heed as to who took the treasure. As soon as he could walk, the boy would escape into the forest, and there run wild all day; chasing the bears and foxes, feeling no fear of any living creature. He grew so fast that in a few years he was bigger and stronger than Mimi, whom from the first he disliked, perceiving the dwarf to be false and cowardly in all his actions. Mimi always told the boy he was his father, and this was a great trouble to Siegfried. How he would have loved a father who was noble, fearless, and brave! But Mimi feared everything. He trembled and turned pale did a wolf but howl, or the thunder roll. He feared not only giants, but ordinary huntsmen and woodcutters, and always hid when they came in sight. He feared even Siegfried, so the boy soon became his master, and led him a sorry life. But creatures too small and weak to excite his fear Mimi would cruelly oppress and kill; and this, more than anything else, made Siegfried hate the very sight of him. Time went on, and Siegfried grew into a tall strong youth, with fair locks shining in the sun like burnished gold, and fearless blue eyes, which laughed danger in the face. At last the day came when Mimi hoped to be repaid for all his trouble with “the good-for-nothing cub,” as he called the boy. Siegfried had ordered him in a lordly way to make a sword fit for his use—“one that does not snap in two at the first stroke,” he said, and strode off to the forest for his day’s hunt. Mimi had undertaken the task more than once lately, for he was anxious on his own account that a sword should be fashioned strong and tough enough to slay the dragon. But as yet every weapon he welded had snapped in two at the first trial of its strength by Siegfried. With mighty effort Mimi hammered and wrought at his anvil all that day. “A stouter sword I never shaped! It would defy a giant,” he said at last, looking on his day’s work. “Yet I sorely fear, when grasped by that fiery youth, it will twist up like a straw!” Mimi sat down exhausted and despairing. “Ah me! What is to be done?” he sighed. “If only Siegmund’s splintered sword could be welded together again! But no power on earth can do that! Never saw I such mighty steel—all my craft is powerless to melt it—the thing is magic!” “Oho! Come on, friend Bruin!” cried a voice from without, and Siegfried burst into the cave, driving a great grisly bear, which he held in tow with a rope. Mimi started up in terror, and hid behind the forge shrieking: “Take away the fearsome brute!” Siegfried burst into peals of laughter at Mimi’s fear. “Mr. Bruin is a friend of mine. He has come to ask for the sword—is it not finished yet?” “Yes, it is finished. There it lies yonder. Take away the beast!” panted Mimi. Siegfried seized the sword eagerly. “Go now, friend Bruin,” he said, loosing the rope, and the bear gladly escaped. “See how nice and bright is the sword,” said Mimi, creeping out of his hiding-place. “To what purpose is a sword bright if it is not hard?” asked Siegfried, with scorn. He struck it on the anvil, and the sword instantly flew to pieces. “What silly toy hast thou palmed off on me here?” he cried, flinging it away in disgust. “Dost call that a sword? Why talk to me of battles, and giants, and deeds of daring, if thou canst shape me no better weapon than that? Right well dost thou deserve that I break it on thy crazy old head!” “Ungrateful boy! Think of all my goodness to thee! When a wretched, troublesome cub, who was it warmed, clothed, and fed thee? Who patiently taught thee all thou knowest? And what is my reward? naught but abuse and hate!” Mimi pretended to wipe away a tear, as though overcome by grief; but he had done this once too often. “No doubt thou hast taught me much, and told me many lies,” answered Siegfried, who was in no mood for polite speeches. “But there is one thing,” he continued, “thou hast never taught me, and which I am now determined to know—Who and from whence are my father and mother? Long have I felt thou art no kin of mine. I see in the forest all the young resemble their parents; but thou and I are no more like than a toad and a bright shining fish!” Mimi did not like the comparison. His eyes gleamed with hate. “Tell me the truth, or I will shake it out of thee!” cried Siegfried, seizing him by the throat. “Let loose, or thou wilt murder me, wretched boy!” screamed the dwarf in terror. “I will tell thee all!” Then, trembling and quaking, he told Siegfried all he knew of his unhappy parents, with many comments on his own exceeding kindness, to which Siegfried listened impatiently. Finally, in proof of his tale (which, for a wonder, was true), Mimi produced the two pieces of splintered sword, saying dolefully—“Behold, as reward for all my toil and trouble, this had I from thy mother!—a broken sword thy father died while wielding—‘Needful,’ they called it—a foolish name, since it failed in time of need!” Siegfried rejoiced at learning that he sprang from a noble race. He thought with tenderness of his unfortunate parents, and wished he could have brought some comfort to his poor brave mother. Eagerly he seized the broken pieces of his father’s sword. “To me it shall be well named ‘Needful’,” he cried. “If thou hast any craft, show it now, Mimi. Up and forge me these fragments! My father’s sword I will wield to-day, and with it go forth into the world.” So saying, he went out of the cave, leaving Mimi looking disconsolately at the broken sword. “No furnace can melt this hard steel. No hammer can bend it. Yet this is the sword which alone can slay Fafnir!” When Siegfried returned Mimi had still done nothing. He seemed to have just awakened from some bad dream. “Ho, lazy fellow! Hast finished the sword?” he shouted. Mimi crept up slowly from behind the anvil, looking round cautiously, lest Siegfried had brought some wild beast with him. “The sword?” he exclaimed in dismal tones. “How can I mend such steel? But, hark ye, boy”; and Mimi came close up, peering into his face; “hast ever known Fear?” “Whom meanest thou by Fear? Never have I heard of him!” Siegfried answered impatiently. “Alone in the forest on a dark night, near some gloomy spot, when a sudden rustle or roar startled thee close at hand, hast never felt grisly shudderings, thy heart beating and bursting in thy breast?” The little dwarf’s description of his unknown feeling interested Siegfried greatly. He even forgot to be angry about the sword. “Right strange and wondrous must that be,” he cried. “My heart is ever firm and steady—how I long to feel sensations so new and curious—this shivering and shaking and beating and bursting! Tell me then, Mimi, how can I learn to know Fear?” “I will tell thee!” said Mimi, delighted. “There is one I know of who will not fail to teach thee. A monstrous dragon he is, Fafnir by name. I will guide thee to his hole.” “Where is it? Let us be gone at once. Give me the sword, I will mend it myself. Verily thou art but a bungling smith.” Heaping a mass of wood on the fire, Siegfried blew it up till the flames roared like hungry lions. Then, fixing the sword-splinters in a vice, he proceeded to file them to powder. Mimi watched in wonder and envy. Now and then he timidly offered his advice, to which Siegfried paid as much heed as though it were the squeaking of a mouse. Working away with a will, Siegfried performed the mightiest feats of strength with no more exertion than if he were shaping a toy for a child. When the sword was all in powder, he put it in a pot on the forge. Then, blowing up the flames afresh, he sang in a voice strong as a clarion a joyful song of freedom and victory. The steel sword of his father seemed to understand the song, for it bubbled and spluttered all liquid in the pot, as though it would leap out for very joy. Mimi listened, too, but he did not enjoy the song. His wily brain was hard at work planning his own ends. That Siegfried should remake the sword was very well, for without it Fafnir could not be slain—but supposing he took the Ring, the gold, and all?—what then would become of poor Mimi? So he prepared a wonderful draught of such powerful poisons, that one drop was enough to make a giant fall senseless to the ground. “When he comes home weary from his fight with the dragon, I will give him this refreshing cup,” said Mimi, with a malicious chuckle. Meanwhile Siegfried poured the molten steel into a mould, which he forthwith plunged hissing into a tank of cold water. “Ha, ha, Mimi!” he cried. “So you have turned cook, and brew sauces while I brew swords! Methinks,” he added to himself, “I would rather taste of my cooking than his!” The dwarf’s sharp little eyes glistened with hate as he stirred the potion, and crooned low his song of hope and vengeance. “So the pupil puts the craftsman to shame, does he? Only let him wait till this draught is duly prepared!” “Now, Needful, come forth, and see what the hammer can do for thee!” cried Siegfried. He took the sword hard and cold from the water, and thrust it in the red-hot coals till it glowed like a sword of flame. Then with a huge smith’s hammer, he beat it out on the anvil. The sparks flew right and left like fireflies, and Siegfried sang again: “Ha, Needful! So do I tame thy spirit! At my command thou glowest fiery red—then in the water I cool thine anger till thy sides gleam steely blue! Now with stalwart strokes I beat thee out, Needful, my famous sword—so does my spirit enter thee! Soon thy cold blade shall glow red again with the blood of traitors! Dead didst thou lie, but I, Siegfried, give thee life once more. Needful, come forth!” Brandishing the sword, Siegfried brought down a mighty stroke across the anvil. With a crash it split from top to bottom, giving Mimi such a shock he nearly upset his precious pot. So the sword was remade, and Siegfried forthwith started out, guided by Mimi, to find the dragon. Darkness had fallen, but Siegfried was too impatient for his first lesson in fear to wait till morning. All night they tramped through the forest. At every rustle of the branches, every snapping of a twig, Mimi started as though he were shot. Siegfried watched him with scorn; his mocking laughter re-echoed through the stillness. And the dwarf’s hatred grew more bitter with every step. Many a time he longed then and there to force down Siegfried’s throat the draught he carried so carefully under his cloak. On they went, Siegfried scarcely heeding the way, so high bounded his heart with thoughts of adventure. To fight and conquer giants and dragons—to go out into the wide world and be free as air—free from the false, cowardly Mimi—free to choose brave and noble companions whom he could honor and love! What unknown joys might not life he waiting to give him who dared to win them! Day was dawning when at length they reached some rocky caverns at the foot of a mountainous chain. “This is the spot,” said Mimi in a trembling whisper. “Seest thou yonder dark, yawning hole? Inside lies Fafnir. Day and night he guards his treasure—the gold, the Ring, and the Tarnhelm.” “So he is the master who will teach me Fear?” cried Siegfried joyfully. “Thou canst leave me now, Mimi—I need thee no more.” “Ungrateful boy!” sighed the dwarf. “But I will not go far. My heart will be torn with anxiety for thy safety. Fafnir is no common foe—with a single snap he could swallow thee whole!” Siegfried laughed. “I shall be careful not to thrust myself down such a wide throat!” “Eh, but his very breath is potent poison,” continued Mimi, “and the foam of his mouth, if it but touch thee, will shrivel up both flesh and bones on the spot. While as to his tail, ’tis like a huge snake, which, once thou art in its coils, will grind thy limbs as though they were powdered glass!” Mimi hastened away, muttering to himself, “Would that the dragon and the boy might slay one another!” Siegfried threw himself down under the trees to wait for Fafnir. A bird began to sing in the branches overhead. Siegfried listened, and wished he could understand the bird’s language. “Perchance if I but knew it, he sings to me of my mother, and of all I wish to know!” Siegfried gazed up between the leaves at the bird, which paused for a moment, and fixed on him a pair of little black eyes; then started afresh, gurgling forth his liquid notes and trills. “The language of the birds may be learned, so I have heard tell!” cried Siegfried, and swinging up, he went down to the stream and cut a reed with his sword. With much trouble he fashioned a pipe, and returning to his friend in the tree, tried to imitate his music. The bird stopped to listen, much surprised. But it was a sorry performance, and though this bird was too polite to laugh, Siegfried distinctly heard a tittering and fluttering from other listeners. Much disheartened, he flung away the reed. “It is no use!” he cried. “I alone in all the world have no friend, no companion with whom I can speak. Well, at least, I will try if there is anyone will understand _this_ language.” He took the silver horn slung round his neck and blew a ringing challenge. It was answered in a moment by a low roar from the distant cave, followed soon by slow, crashing steps and deep-drawn snorts coming nearer and nearer. Presently Siegfried beheld an enormous wriggling mass of shining scales advancing toward him. “So my call has awakened this lovely creature,” he laughed, as the hideous monster came full in view. “What is that?” asked a thick, guttural voice, and the dragon paused to gaze in wonder and contempt at the youth who faced him with such bold laughing eyes. “So thou hast the gift of speech, Mr. Dragon? That is well!” remarked Siegfried lightly. “I have come to learn from thee, what is Fear.” “Overbold art thou,” growled the voice, while from enormous jaws issued a volume of fire and smoke, filling the air with a noisome vapor. “Bold or overbold, here am I to learn my lesson—so teach me without delay!” answered Siegfried. Fafnir opened his yawning jaws and showed two rows of jagged, pointed teeth, enormous in size. “Verily thou hast a fine row of grinders, Mr. Dragon!” laughed Siegfried. “A most dainty little mouth!” “I open not my jaw for senseless gabble, but for food!” growled Fafnir, and gave his tail a sudden switch round, which would certainly have caught Siegfried in its toils, had he not sprung alertly to one side. “Ho, ho! so that is the game, is it? Come on then, Mr. Dragon!” and Siegfried drew Needful sharply from the scabbard. “Bah! Come on, thou boasting young cub! I will give the lesson thou cravest!” Fafnir drew himself together and sent forth from his nostrils a venomous steam. Whatever it touched, whether trees or grass, shrivelled up instantly, as though scorched by fire. But again Siegfried was too quick for him, and Fafnir, who hoped to see a burnt-up body on the ground, was enraged to hear a cheerful voice behind him—“Look out, old growler! the ‘boaster’ is upon thee.” Then Fafnir set to work in good earnest, and Siegfried found that after all it was no child’s play to fight a dragon. But though blinded and well-nigh choked with the poisonous smoke and steam, Siegfried fought on, nothing daunted. The only vital spot was, he knew, the dragon’s heart, the back and sides of his huge carcass being entirely covered with scaly armor. Nearer and nearer they closed on one another, till at last Fafnir, with a sudden twist, caught Siegfried in his serpentine tail. But before the coils had time to tighten round him, Siegfried had pierced Needful through a joint of the scaly tail. Fafnir sent up a howl of rage and pain, and for a moment relaxed his grip. With a bound Siegfried leapt on the back of his foe. Fafnir instantly prepared to roll over on one side and so crush Siegfried with his mountainous weight; but in turning, his breast for a brief moment was exposed, and in the twinkling of an eye down swept the sword of Siegfried, burying itself up to the hilt in the dragon’s heart. With a terrific groan Fafnir rolled over, while Siegfried sprang lightly to one side, crying: “Lie there, old growler, with Needful in thy heart!” In great puffs of smoke and fire, like an overturned steam-engine, came Fafnir’s dying breath. His eyes rolled horribly; fixing them at last on Siegfried, he gasped, “Who art thou, clear-eyed youth?” “In truth,” replied Siegfried, “I know but little of myself or of my kin.” “A strange fate is mine!” groaned the dragon. “I, the great giant Fafnir, to die by the hand of a youth unknown even to himself! Young hero, heed well the dying words of him whom thou hast slain. The treasure I guarded is accursed. Death it brought to my brother, and now to me. If thou touch aught of it, the curse rests also on thee. Heed what I say!” “Oh, tell me more, wise monster!” Siegfried entreated. “Tell me of my parents, and the race from which they sprang. Siegfried is my name!” Fafnir heaved himself upwards in a last effort to speak. “Siegfried”—he began, gasped for breath and then with a deep groan fell back dead. As he rolled over on his side, Siegfried drew the sword out of his breast. He felt sorry the giant was dead, and had now quite a kindly feeling for him. Those last words had shown him to be a wise and thoughtful monster. But still, Siegfried was not sure he would take his advice. In drawing out the sword, some of the dragon’s blood chanced to touch Siegfried’s hand. It burnt like a red-hot coal, and he put it quickly to his mouth. As he did so, the song of the bird again fell on his ear. He listened in amazement—for now every note was a word which he understood! This was what the bird sang in his sweet piping voice: “Hey, Siegfried! Siegfried the Victor has slain the dragon! Now to him belongs the gold, the Ring, and the Tarnhelm. With these he can conquer the world if he will.” “Thanks, little feathered friend, for thy good news—I will go and seek for these treasures!” and nodding to the bird, Siegfried descended into Fafnir’s dark cave. Mimi, from a safe hiding-place in the trees, had watched the fight between Fafnir and Siegfried. He now crept out, and anxiously peeped after Siegfried as he disappeared into the dragon’s hole. “Grant, O ye gods, that he take only the gold, and leave the Ring and the Cap for me!” prayed Mimi fervently. Little did he guess how the singing bird had told Siegfried all he desired to keep most secret. He thought, “The bright, glittering gold will be sure to attract the youth more than a plain simple ring and a small cap of wrought chain.” Presently Siegfried came out of the cave. Mimi crawled stealthily back to his hiding-place and peered out through the leaves. “A curse on him!” he muttered, grinding his teeth with rage. “The Ring is on his finger, and the Cap hangs from his belt!” Siegfried looked round for his piping friend; perched on the branch of a lime tree the bird awaited him. “Hey! Siegfried has now both Ring and Cap! Siegfried the Victor! But oh, he must beware of the treacherous dwarf! The dragon’s blood will reveal to him the hidden meaning of all words—both true and false. His _thoughts_ shall Siegfried hear when the dwarf Mimi speaks.” Carefully carrying his poisonous draught, Mimi now approached. “Thou art tired after thy mighty conflict. See what I bring to restore thee! Take but a sip, and all I have worked and waited for will be mine—sword, treasure, and all.” Mimi thought he was saying something very pleasant. He smiled and cringed as he offered the drinking-horn. But these were his thoughts as Siegfried heard them, in virtue of his newly gained power. “So thou wouldst rob me of everything, even of life?” asked Siegfried sternly. “How falsely dost thou distort my kind words!” replied Mimi in an injured tone. “Yet I give myself much trouble to disguise my true thoughts. Dear heart, thee and thy kin have I ever hated.” (Mimi here looked lovingly at Siegfried.) “All these years I fostered thee, that thou mightest win for me the dragon’s hoard. Come, now, take the draught; thou wert ever easy to fool.” [Illustration: SIEGFRIED SLAYS THE DRAGON—page 128 _From the painting by K. Dielitz_] Siegfried looked at the little dwarf and smiled ominously. “I should be right glad of a goodly draught,” he said. “Of what didst thou make this?” “Only drink and see, dear sonny. Trust to my skill. Soon wilt thou be lying in a deathly swoon at my feet. Then, with thine own brave sword, off goes thy head! And Mimi will rest in peace with the hoard.” “So—I am to be murdered in my sleep?” asked Siegfried. “What folly dost thou talk! Who spoke of murder? All I thought of doing was just to chop off thy head when thou liest insensible. A small return for the shameful treatment I have so long suffered at thy hands. Come, drink and die, thou hateful Volsung cub;” and Mimi, still smiling and leering, thrust the drinking-horn near Siegfried’s lips. “Taste thou my sword, false snake!” cried Siegfried. With a sudden movement of disgust and fury he struck at the dwarf with his sword. The next instant Mimi lay dead on the ground. Siegfried threw his body inside the dragon’s cave, crying: “Lie there with the gold thou so lovest. I make thee a parting gift of it. And here is a famous watch-dog to scare away all thieves.” With this Siegfried dragged the body of the dragon to the mouth of the cave, thereby entirely blocking up the entrance. Then he turned away from the spot with a sigh of relief, and went back to the lime tree, where first the bird had sung to him. Throwing himself down under the shady branches, he called to his little friend: “Come, sing to me, happy bird. Alone am I in all the world. Never have I known a comrade save the hateful dwarf yonder. Tell me, O wise little prophet, where shall I find one I can love?” 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.