One day the Emperor Ortnit went to his wife and asked her to help him
to put on his armour, for he had to go out and fight a hard battle. She
could hardly pronounce the words “with whom?” she trembled so.
“Well, Liebgart,” he said, “you must know that the dragons which are
doing so much harm to the country are the toad-stones your father sent
me. I am the guardian of my people; and as they helped me when I went
to Syria to win you, I must now help them in my turn by going out
against these monsters to slay them,—or myself be slain, I know not
which.”
The empress wept and told her fears, but her husband comforted her by
reminding her that he still had the good sword Rosen, that could cut
through steel and iron, and even dragon’s scales. “Should I not
return,” he continued, “an avenger will come. If any one brings you
back this ring that you once gave me, you may know that he is my
avenger, and give him your hand in marriage.”
He then kissed her and tore himself away. She gazed after him with
tearful eyes as long as he was in sight, thinking sadly how many noble
warriors had preceded him in his quest, and how none of them had ever
returned to home or friends.
Ortnit at length reached the rock where he expected to find the
lind-worms. Seeing them nowhere, he dismounted, blew his horn, and
loosed the faithful dog that he had taken with him to help him to hunt
the monsters down. Suddenly a door in the rock opened, and the giant
Welle came out, shouting to him to come on, and calling him opprobrious
names; but the king cut his great club in two with one stroke of his
sword. The giant sprang back, and in a moment had unsheathed a sword
six yards long, whirled it round his head, and struck Ortnit so hard a
blow upon the helmet that he fell senseless to the ground.
“Well hit, old moon-calf,” cried Ruotze, putting her head out at the
door; “let me go to him now and wring his neck, and throw his body into
the dragons’ den.”
At this moment the setter, which had disappeared in the wood, began to
bark furiously, and Ruotze rushed away to see what was the matter. Upon
this, Ortnit started to his feet, and with a swing of his sword cut off
one of the giant’s legs. The monster howled with pain, and defended
himself resting against the rock, but his opponent immediately cut off
his other leg. Hearing the noise, the giantess returned. Arming herself
with an uprooted tree, she hit out at the hero with all her strength;
but, blinded by passion, she miscalculated the distance, and brought
the tree down so hard on her husband’s head that she split it open.
Ortnit then slew the giantess, after which he rested awhile from his
labours; ate and drank some of the provisions he had brought with him,
and let his steed graze at will on the short sweet grass of the upland
meadow. Rested and refreshed, he once more set out on his quest. Riding
through a wood, he came up with some charcoal-burners, and asked them
where he should find the lind-worms. They tried to persuade him to turn
back, but in vain. Then they told him that the monsters had set out to
travel west; that one of them, having a nest of young ones, had stayed
somewhere on the road hidden in a cave, while the other had gone deeper
into the mountains, perhaps even into another land.
Unheeding the warning he had just received, Ortnit rode away towards
the west. When evening came, he rested for a short time; but as his
food was nearly finished, and he wanted to reach an inhabited spot as
soon as possible, he set out again, and rode all night long. Next day
he reached a meadow, and there he saw little Alberich seated under a
tree. The dwarf looked very sad, and when Ortnit drew rein beside him,
said:
“My dear son, you are going to your death. Return to Garden, for I have
no power over the diabolical monsters you are seeking. I cannot help
you.”
“I need no help,” replied the hero. “Have I not the sword Rosen? It
will help me to conquer the powers of hell that are arrayed against my
poor people.”
“May you be successful!” said the little creature, and springing into
the saddle he kissed his son. “May you be successful! and to that end,
watch and slumber not. Remember that it is the last advice I can give
you. Now give me back the ring you got from your mother. You shall have
it again if you return to Garden safe and sound.”
Scarcely had Ortnit returned the ring when he felt a kiss upon his
lips, and the dwarf had disappeared.
The hero rode on unfalteringly over hill and dale, and through many a
wild glen. At last he unexpectedly reached the very lime-tree under
which he had had his first interview with Alberich. The birds were
singing as before. All looked peaceful and still. Both Ortnit and his
horse were worn out, so he dismounted, and letting his steed graze,
laid himself at full length on the soft grass, his faithful dog at his
side. He thought over his project, and was strongly tempted to return
home to Garden and sweet Liebgart; but he put the desire from him,
“for,” he reasoned within himself, “the prince and people are as one
person, of which the people form the body and the prince the head; so
the prince, to be worthy of his high calling, must as far as in him
lies protect his people from all injury. And I have every right to
trust to my strength, my sword and my good cause for victory.” It
seemed as though the birds in the linden-tree had read his thoughts,
and were singing a pæan of joy and encouragement over him and them. He
watched them quietly, but soon fatigue gained the upper hand—his
eyelids closed, and he fell asleep.
[Illustration: THE DRAGON FINDS ORTNIT ASLEEP.]
All at once the birds ceased their song, the branches stopped their
soft waving to and fro, and the flowers bent their heads as though a
breath of poisoned air were passing over them. Crawling through the
thicket, trees and bushes breaking with its weight, came the terrible
lind-worm, its jaws wide open, showing its long pointed teeth. The
faithful dog, with a howl of mingled fear and anger, pulled at his
master, hoping to wake him; but in vain, for Ortnit was as though in a
charmed sleep. The dog then sprang upon the dragon, but could not touch
it because of the way it slashed about with its tail. At this moment
the horrible creature caught sight of Ortnit, flung itself upon him,
carried him into the thicket, and then broke all his bones by dashing
him again and again upon the ground. But though his bones were broken,
his armour remained whole as at the first. Then taking the dead body up
in its powerful jaws, the lind-worm bore it home to its nest in the
noisome cave, where its young ones fell ravenously upon their favourite
food, and devoured as much as they could get at through the steel rings
of the coat of mail. The dog, which had followed the dragon home in
hopes of saving his master, watched all night by the cave, but finding
himself powerless to help, set out early next morning on his way back
to Garden.