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Adventure IV.
Fafnir, the Dragon.
Regin took up his harp, and his fingers smote the strings;
and the music which came forth sounded like the wail of the
winter's wind through the dead treetops of the forest. And
the song which he sang was full of grief and wild hopeless
yearning for the things which were not to be. When he had
ceased, Siegfried said,--
"That was indeed a sorrowful song for one to sing who sees
his hopes so nearly realized. Why are you so sad? Is it
because you fear the curse which you have taken upon
yourself? or is it because you know not what you will do
with so vast a treasure, and its possession begins already
to trouble you?"
"Oh, many are the things I will do with that treasure!"
answered Regin; and his eyes flashed wildly, and his face
grew red and pale. "I will turn winter into summer; I will
make the desert-places glad; I will bring back the golden
age; I will make myself a god: for mine shall be the wisdom
and the gathered wealth of the world. And yet I fear"--
"What do you fear?"
"The ring, the ring--it is accursed! The Norns, too, have
spoken, and my doom is known. I cannot escape it."
"The Norns have woven the woof of every man's life,"
answered Siegfried. "To-morrow we fare to the Glittering
Heath, and the end shall be as the Norns have spoken."
And so, early the next morning, Siegfried mounted Greyfell,
and rode out towards the desert-land that lay beyond the
forest and the barren mountain-range; and Regin, his eyes
flashing with desire, and his feet never tiring, trudged by
his side. For seven days they wended their way through the
thick greenwood, sleeping at night on the bare ground
beneath the trees, while the wolves and other wild beasts of
the forest filled the air with their hideous howlings. But
no evil creature dared come near them, for fear of the
shining beams of light which fell from Greyfell's gleaming
mane. On the eighth day they came to the open country and to
the hills, where the land was covered with black bowlders
and broken by yawning chasms. And no living thing was seen
there, not even an insect, nor a blade of grass; and the
silence of the grave was over all. And the earth was dry and
parched, and the sun hung above them like a painted shield
in a blue-black sky, and there was neither shade nor water
anywhere. But Siegfried rode onwards in the way which Regin
pointed out, and faltered not, although he grew faint with
thirst and with the overpowering heat. Towards the evening
of the next day they came to a dark mountain-wall which
stretched far out on either hand, and rose high above them,
so steep that it seemed to close up the way, and to forbid
them going farther.
"This is the wall!" cried Regin. "Beyond this mountain is
the Glittering Heath, and the goal of all my hopes."
And the little old man ran forwards, and scaled the rough
side of the mountain, and reached its summit, while
Siegfried and Greyfell were yet toiling among the rocks at
its foot. Slowly and painfully they climbed the steep
ascent, sometimes following a narrow path which wound along
the edge of a precipice, sometimes leaping, from rock to
rock, or over some deep gorge, and sometimes picking their
way among the crags and cliffs. The sun at last went down,
and one by one the stars came out; and the moon was rising,
round and red, when Siegfried stood by Regin's side, and
gazed from the mountain-top down upon the Glittering Heath
which lay beyond. And a strange, weird scene it was that met
his sight. At the foot of the mountain was a river, white
and cold and still; and beyond it was a smooth and barren
plain, lying silent and lonely in the pale moonlight. But in
the distance was seen a circle of flickering flames, ever
changing,--now growing brighter, now fading away, and now
shining with a dull, cold light, like the glimmer of the
glow-worm or the fox-fire. And as Siegfried gazed upon the
scene, he saw the dim outline of some hideous monster moving
hither and thither, and seeming all the more terrible in the
uncertain light.
"It is he!" whispered Regin, and his lips were ashy pale,
and his knees trembled beneath him. "It is Fafnir, and he
wears the Helmet of Terror! Shall we not go back to the
smithy by the great forest, and to the life of ease and
safety that may be ours there? Or will you rather dare to go
forwards, and meet the Terror in its abode?"
"None but cowards give up an undertaking once begun,"
answered Siegfried. "Go back to Rhineland yourself, if you
are afraid; but you must go alone. You have brought me thus
far to meet the dragon of the heath, to win the hoard of the
swarthy elves, and to rid the world of a terrible evil.
Before the setting of another sun, the deed which you have
urged me to do will be done."
Then he dashed down the eastern slope of the mountain,
leaving Greyfell and the trembling Regin behind him. Soon he
stood on the banks of the white river, which lay between the
mountain and the heath; but the stream was deep and
sluggish, and the channel was very wide. He paused a moment,
wondering how he should cross; and the air seemed heavy with
deadly vapors, and the water was thick and cold. While he
thus stood in thought, a boat came silently out of the
mists, and drew near; and the boatman stood up and called to
him, and said,--
"What man are you who dares come into this land of
loneliness and fear?"
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