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Adventure I.
Mimer, the Master.
At Santen, in the Lowlands, there once lived a young prince
named Siegfried. His father, Siegmund, was king of the rich
country through which the lazy Rhine winds its way just
before reaching the great North Sea; and he was known, both
far and near, for his good deeds and his prudent thrift. And
Siegfried's mother, the gentle Sigelind, was loved by all
for her goodness of heart and her kindly charity to the
poor. Neither king nor queen left aught undone that might
make the young prince happy, or fit him for life's
usefulness. Wise men were brought from far-off lands to be
his teachers; and every day something was added to his store
of knowledge or his stock of happiness. And very skilful did
he become in warlike games and in manly feats of strength.
No other youth could throw the spear with so great force, or
shoot the arrow with surer aim. No other youth could run
more swiftly, or ride with more becoming ease. His gentle
mother took delight in adding to the beauty of his matchless
form, by clothing him in costly garments decked with the
rarest jewels. The old, the young, the rich, the poor, the
high, the low, all praised the fearless Siegfried, and all
vied in friendly strife to win his favor. One would have
thought that the life of the young prince could never be
aught but a holiday, and that the birds would sing, and the
flowers would bloom, and the sun would shine forever for his
sake.
But the business of man's life is not mere pastime; and none
knew this truth better than the wise old king, Siegmund.
"All work is noble," said he to Siegfried; "and he who
yearns to win fame must not shun toil. Even princes should
know how to earn a livelihood by the labor of their hands."
And so, while Siegfried was still a young lad, his father
sent him to live with a smith called Mimer, whose smithy was
among the hills not far from the great forest. For in those
early times the work of the smith was looked upon as the
most worthy of all trades,--a trade which the gods
themselves were not ashamed to follow. And this smith Mimer
was a wonderful master,--the wisest and most cunning that
the world had ever seen. Men said that he was akin to the
dwarf-folk who had ruled the earth in the early days, and
who were learned in every lore, and skilled in every craft;
and they said that he was so exceeding old that no one could
remember the day when he came to dwell in the land of
Siegmund's fathers. And some said, too, that he was the
keeper of a wonderful well, or flowing spring, the waters of
which imparted wisdom and far-seeing knowledge to all who
drank of them.
To Mimer's school, then, where he would be taught to work
skilfully and to think wisely, Siegfried was sent, to be in
all respects like the other pupils there. A coarse blue
blouse, and heavy leggings, and a leathern apron, took the
place of the costly clothing which he had worn in his
father's dwelling. His feet were incased in awkward wooden
shoes, and his head was covered with a wolf-skin cap. The
dainty bed, with its downy pillows, wherein every night his
mother had been wont, with gentle care, to see him safely
covered, was given up for a rude heap of straw in a corner
of the smithy. And the rich food to which he had been used
gave place to the coarsest and humblest fare. But the lad
did not complain. The days which he passed in the smithy
were mirthful and happy; and the sound of his hammer rang
cheerfully, and the sparks from his forge flew briskly, from
morning till night.
And a wonderful smith he became. No one could do more work
than he, and none wrought with greater skill. The heaviest
chains and the strongest bolts, for prison or for
treasure-house, were but as toys in his stout hands, so
easily and quickly did he beat them into shape. And he was
alike cunning in work of the most delicate and brittle kind.
Ornaments of gold and silver, studded with the rarest
jewels, were fashioned into beautiful forms by his deft
fingers. And among all of Mimer's apprentices none learned
the master's lore so readily, nor gained the master's favor
more.[EN#1]
One morning the master, Mimer, came to the smithy with a
troubled look upon his face. It was clear that something had
gone amiss; and what it was the apprentices soon learned
from the smith himself. Never, until lately, had any one
questioned Mimer's right to be called the foremost smith in
all the world; but now a rival had come forward. An unknown
upstart--one Amilias, in Burgundy-land--had made a suit of
armor, which, he boasted, no stroke of sword could dint, and
no blow of spear could scratch; and he had sent a challenge
to all other smiths, both in the Rhine country and
elsewhere, to equal that piece of workmanship, or else
acknowledge themselves his underlings and vassals. For many
days had Mimer himself toiled, alone and vainly, trying to
forge a sword whose edge the boasted armor of Amilias could
not foil; and now, in despair, he came to ask the help of
his pupils and apprentices.
"Who among you is skilful enough to forge such a sword?" he
asked.
One after another, the pupils shook their heads. And
Veliant, the foreman of the apprentices, said, "I have heard
much about that wonderful armor, and its extreme hardness,
and I doubt if any skill can make a sword with edge so sharp
and true as to cut into it. The best that can be done is to
try to make another war-coat whose temper shall equal that
of Amilias's armor."
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