“Hey! Siegfried has now the Helm and the Ring!” sang the wood-bird in the tree. “Trust not in Mime! The Dragon’s blood will tell Siegfried what the treacherous Dwarf really means.” At this point, Mime himself appeared, smiling and bowing, and holding in his hands a horn of wine for Siegfried. He said that it would refresh the boy after his labors, but we know that it was poisoned. Thanks to the Dragon’s blood, Siegfried knew it too, and read all the cruel thoughts that were passing through Mime’s brain, and, in a burst of anger, he finally raised his sword and killed the treacherous Dwarf with one blow. So that was the end of the Nibelung Mime, the cleverest smith, they say, that ever lived in the world—even though he could not fashion Nothung, the sword. From a black crevice in the rocks came Alberich’s laugh, loud and mocking—the echo of his own wicked thoughts. Siegfried turned away wearily, and, seating himself under the linden, listened for the bird’s song again. As it did not come at once, he looked up into the branches and spoke: “You seem very happy, flying among your brothers and sisters, birdie. But I am all alone. I have no brothers nor sisters, and my father and mother are both dead. Tell me where I may find a loving friend. I have called one so often, but none ever comes.” He sighed. “Sing now, sing,” he begged; and again the bird’s twitter sounded from among the leaves above him. “Hey! Siegfried has slain now the wicked Dwarf. I know where he’ll find a glorious bride. On a rock she sleeps amid fire. If he passed through the blaze and awakened her, Brünnhilde would then be his.” Wild with excitement and joy, Siegfried sprang to his feet and asked if he would really be able to do this. “Brünnhilde is won only by him who knows not fear,” said the wood-bird, and flew off before him, guiding him through the woods. In a transport of joy Siegfried followed, and, shouting with delight, he began his journey to the far-away rock in its circle of flame, where the Walküre, in her long penance of sleep, waited for the hero brave enough to pass through the fire and awaken her. [Music: Song of the Wood-Bird “Hey! Siegfried has slain now the wicked dwarf! I know where he’ll find a glorious bride.”] [Music: Motif of the Wanderer] [Music: Erda Motif] CHAPTER III THE MOUNTAIN PASS A wild storm was raging among the mountains. Great winds swept down from the high peaks and up from the valleys and crashed roaring through the woods. The thunder rumbled, and flashes of blue lightning shot across the dark sky. The heart of the tempest seemed to be at a rocky pass just below the path that led up to the Walküres’ rock. Here, before a huge black cleft in the side of the mountain, stood the Wanderer, the wild storm all about him. With outstretched spear he was singing a strange chant, an awakening song, down into the black chasm before him; singing it to the wise woman of the world, Erda, the Earth Witch.