Etzel’s liegemen warded them well, but the guests hewed their way with their bright swords up and down the hall. From all sides came the sound of wailing. They that were without would gladly have won in to their friends, but could not; and they that were within would have won out, but Dankwart let none of them up the stair or down. Then a great crowd gathered before the door, and the swords clanged loud upon the helmets, so that Dankwart came in much scathe. Hagen feared for him, as was meet, and he cried aloud to Folker, “Comrade, seest thou my brother beset by the stark blows of the Huns? Save him, friend, or we lose the warrior.” “That will I, without fail,” said the minstrel; and he began to fiddle his way through the hall; it was a hard sword that rang in his hand. Great thank he won from the knights of the Rhine. He said to Dankwart, “Thou hast toiled hard to-day. Thy brother bade me come to thy help. Do thou go without, and I will stand within.” Dankwart went outside the door and guarded the stair. Loud din made the weapons of the heroes. Inside, Folker the Burgundian did the like. The bold fiddler cried above the crowd, “The house is well warded, friend Hagen; Etzel’s door is barred by the hands of two knights that have made it fast with a thousand bolts.” When Hagen saw the door secured, the famous knight and good threw back his shield, and began to avenge the death of his friends in earnest. Many a valiant knight suffered for his wrath. When the Prince of Bern saw the wonders that Hagen wrought, and the helmets that he brake, he sprang on to a bench, and cried, “Hagen poureth out the bitterest wine of all.” The host and his wife fell in great fear. Many a dear friend was slain before their eyes. Etzel himself scarce escaped from his foemen. He sat there affrighted. What did it profit him that he was a king? Proud Kriemhild cried to Dietrich, “Help me, noble knight, by the princely charity of an Amelung king, to come hence alive. If Hagen reach me, death standeth by my side.” “How can I help thee, noble queen? I cannot help myself. Gunther’s men are so grimly wroth that I can win grace for none.” “Nay now, good Sir Dietrich, show thy mercy, and help me hence or I die. Save me and the king from this great peril.” “I will try. Albeit, for long, I have not seen good knights in such a fury. The blood gusheth from the helmets at their sword-strokes.” The chosen knight shouted with a loud voice that rang out like the blast of a buffalo horn, so that all the castle echoed with its strength, for stark and of mickle might was Dietrich. King Gunther heard his cry above the din of strife, and hearkened. He said, “The voice of Dietrich hath reached me. I ween our knights have slain some of his men. I see him on the table, beckoning with his hand. Friends and kinsmen of Burgundy, hold, that we may learn what we have done to Dietrich’s hurt.”