In the darkest hour before the dawn of that night, we find ourselves
before the cave of Fafnir, and there we find Alberic, who can find
nothing better to do with himself than to watch the haunt of the dragon,
and eat his heart out in vain longing for the gold and the ring. The
wretched Fafnir, once an honest giant, can only make himself terrible
enough to keep his gold by remaining a venomous reptile. Why he should
not become an honest giant again and clear out of his cavern, leaving
the gold and the ring and the rest of it for anyone fool enough to take
them at such a price, is the first question that would occur to anyone
except a civilized man, who would be too accustomed to that sort of
mania to be at all surprised at it.
To Alberic in the night comes the Wanderer, whom the dwarf, recognizing
his despoiler of old, abuses as a shameless thief, taunting him with the
helpless way in which all his boasted power is tied up with the laws and
bargains recorded on the heft of his spear, which, says Alberic truly,
would crumble like chaff in his hands if he dared use it for his own
real ends. Wotan, having already had to kill his own son with it, knows
that very well; but it troubles him no more; for he is now at last
rising to abhorrence of his own artificial power, and looking to the
coming hero, not for its consolidation but its destruction. When Alberic
breaks out again with his still unquenched hope of one day destroying
the gods and ruling the world through the ring, Wotan is no longer
shocked. He tells Alberic that Brother Mime approaches with a hero whom
Godhead can neither help nor hinder. Alberic may try his luck against
him without disturbance from Valhalla. Perhaps, he suggests, if Alberic
warns Fafnir, and offers to deal with the hero for him, Fafnir, may give
him the ring. They accordingly wake up the dragon, who condescends
to enter into bellowing conversation, but is proof against their
proposition, strong in the magic of property. "I have and hold," he
says: "leave me to sleep." Wotan, with a wise laugh, turns to Alberic.
"That shot missed," he says: "no use abusing me for it. And now let me
tell you one thing. All things happen according to their nature; and you
can't alter them." And so he leaves him Alberic, raging with the sense
that his old enemy has been laughing at him, and yet prophetically
convinced that the last word will not be with the god, hides himself as
the day breaks, and his brother approaches with Siegfried.
Mimmy makes a final attempt to frighten Siegfried by discoursing of the
dragon's terrible jaws, poisonous breath, corrosive spittle, and deadly,
stinging tail. Siegfried is not interested in the tail: he wants to know
whether the dragon has a heart, being confident of his ability to stick
Nothung into it if it exists. Reassured on this point, he drives Mimmy
away, and stretches himself under the trees, listening to the morning
chatter of the birds. One of them has a great deal to say to him; but
he cannot understand it; and after vainly trying to carry on the
conversation with a reed which he cuts, he takes to entertaining the
bird with tunes on his horn, asking it to send him a loving mate such
as all the other creatures of the forest have. His tunes wake up the
dragon; and Siegfried makes merry over the grim mate the bird has
sent him. Fafnir is highly scandalized by the irreverence of the young
Bakoonin. He loses his temper; fights; and is forthwith slain, to his
own great astonishment.
In such conflicts one learns to interpret the messages of Nature a
little. When Siegfried, stung by the dragon's vitriolic blood, pops his
finger into his mouth and tastes it, he understands what the bird is
saying to him, and, instructed by it concerning the treasures within his
reach, goes into the cave to secure the gold, the ring and the wishing
cap. Then Mimmy returns, and is confronted by Alberic. The two quarrel
furiously over the sharing of the booty they have not yet secured, until
Siegfried comes from the cave with the ring and the helmet, not much
impressed by the heap of gold, and disappointed because he has not yet
learned to fear.
He has, however, learnt to read the thoughts of such a creature as poor
Mimmy, who, intending to overwhelm him with flattery and fondness,
only succeeds in making such a self-revelation of murderous envy
that Siegfried smites him with Nothung and slays him, to the keen
satisfaction of the hidden Alberic. Caring nothing for the gold, which
he leaves to the care of the slain; disappointed in his fancy for
learning fear; and longing for a mate, he casts himself wearily down,
and again appeals to his friend the bird, who tells him of a woman
sleeping on a mountain peak within a fortress of fire that only the
fearless can penetrate. Siegfried is up in a moment with all the tumult
of spring in his veins, and follows the flight of the bird as it pilots
him to the fiery mountain.