Soon after Grim and Hilde had fallen under Dietrich’s sword, their
nephew, strong Sigenot, a giant who lived in the Western Mountains,
came down into the forest to visit his relations. When he discovered
their dead bodies in the cave, he howled with rage and swore to avenge
their death. A dwarf for whom he called told him of the fight between
his uncle and aunt and the heroes, but Sigenot would not believe the
story. He thought that Grim and Hilde had been murdered in their sleep
by Dietrich and his comrade for the sake of their hoard.
Years passed on. One evening the heroes were seated together in the
great hall of the palace, drinking their wine and talking.
“Master,” said King Dietrich, “I never saw a living wife embrace her
husband so passionately as Hilde did you that day in the cave. I think
the Lady Ute would be angry if she heard how the giantess hugged you.”
“What a monster she was,” answered Hildebrand with a shudder, “and you
freed me from her clutches.”
“Yes,” said the king, laughing, “it showed my generosity. I returned
you good for evil that time, for you know I might have remembered how
many thrashings and floggings you had given me when a boy. Now,
confess, was I not generous?”
“I am quite willing to do so,” replied Hildebrand with a smile, and
then added gravely; “but do not pride yourself too much on the past,
for the giant Sigenot has long been watching for us in the mountains,
that he may fall upon us and avenge his uncle Grim’s death. From what I
hear, he is so strong that no mortal man can withstand him, and even an
army would fall before him like corn under the sickle.”
“Hey! what new story is this?” cried the king. “So Grim’s avenger is
lying in wait in the mountains? Why did no one tell me before? I will
start to-morrow in search of him, and free my realm from the monster.”
“What!” cried one of the guests.
“Are you going to attack the giant?” asked another.
“The murderous Sigenot!” added a third.
“Listen to me, Dietrich, my pupil,” said Hildebrand solemnly, “he is
not heroic, but foolhardy, who undertakes to do the impossible, and it
is impossible to conquer that giant.”
“Listen, dear master,” answered Dietrich; “do you remember how you
taught me that he is a hero who undertakes what is apparently
impossible, because he trusts in his strength, and in the justice of
his cause? He is a hero, whether he gains the crown of victory or meets
with death. My cause is just, because I go forth to free my realm and
my people from the power of the monster.”
“Sire,” cried Hildebrand, “you are no longer my pupil, but my comrade,
and as your comrade I will accompany you to the great battle.”
The king answered after a short pause, “My master used to say, ‘One
against one is the way of true warriors; two against one is the way of
cowards’—so I must go alone.”
“If you do not return in eight days,” returned the master, “I will
follow you, and be your liberator, or your avenger, or your companion
in death.”
“Why make so much ado?” cried Wolfhart; “the king will strike old
Long-legs dead, or else uncle Hildebrand will do it, and if they both
should fail, I will follow them, and I wager my head that I will lead
him like a captive bear by a rope to the castle here, and then hang him
over the battlements, where he may stay till his gossips in hell come
to fetch him home.”
[Illustration: DIETRICH CHASING THE ELK.]
Dietrich then set out on his journey. On the evening of the third day
he came in sight of the Mountains. He felt so cheery and so strong that
he would not have feared to offer battle to all the giants in the
world. As he was lying on the grass, sunk in happy reverie, he saw a
stately elk, sprang on his horse, and followed it until he came up with
it, when drawing his sword he stabbed it in the neck, so that it fell
dead. He lighted a fire, roasted a bit of the elk for his supper, and
ate it, washing it down with some cups of wine he drew from the skin at
his saddle bow.
A cry of agony disturbed him in the midst of his enjoyment. He looked
up, and saw a naked giant covered from head to foot with bristly hair,
who was holding a dwarf firmly bound to the end of his iron club. The
mannikin shrieked to the warrior for help, affirming that the monster
was about to eat him alive. Dietrich at once advanced towards the wild
man, and offered him a fair exchange. He said he might have the elk
instead of the dwarf, and that he would find it a larger and juicier
mouthful.
“Get out of the way, you dog,” bellowed the giant. “Get out of the way,
or I will roast you at your own fire, and eat you up, armour and all.”
The hero’s anger was stirred at this address, and he drew Nagelring
from its sheath, while the giant swept the dwarf from off his club as
easily as a snowflake. Then the battle began, and raged until both
combatants were so weary that they had to rest awhile. The king again
offered to make peace with the monster, because he had come out to
fight with the master and not with the servant. A shout of scornful
laughter was the answer he received, and then the giant cried in a
mighty voice that made the trees tremble to their roots, “Do you think
that a little smidget like you could conquer Sigenot? He would bind you
to a stake as easily as I should that dwarf, and would leave you to die
in agony.”
And now the fray was renewed. The dwarf, who had freed himself from his
bonds, kept well behind Dietrich, and advised him what to do.
“Hit him over the ear with the hilt of your sword, the blade is of no
use with him.”
Dietrich did as he was advised, and the monster fell with a crash
beneath his blow. The sword-hilt had penetrated deep into his skull; a
second and a third blow put an end to him.
“Now quick, let us away,” cried the dwarf, “before Sigenot, king of the
Mountains, comes down upon us. Should he find us here, we are lost.”
Proud of his victory, Dietrich explained the object of his quest.
“Noble hero,” said the mannikin, “you cannot escape your fate. If by a
miracle you are victorious, we poor dwarfs will be freed from an
intolerable tyranny, in gratitude for which boon we will be your
faithful friends as long as you live. Our father, Alberich, left the
rule over thousands of our people in equal portions to me, his eldest
son, Waldung, and to Egerich, his younger son. But in spite of our caps
of darkness, and all our magic arts, Sigenot has enslaved us, and holds
us now in such vile bondage that many die of hardships, and many more
are devoured by him.”
“Well,” said Dietrich, “show your gratitude by pointing out the way to
Sigenot.”
The dwarf showed the hero the snow-topped mountain where his enemy
lived, drew the cap of darkness over his head, and disappeared.
Dietrich set out, and about mid-day arrived at the regions of ice and
snow. Long grey moss hung pendant from the branches of the pines, and
covered the stems to the root. A thick mist suddenly rose, and hid the
mountain. All at once the mist parted like a curtain, and Dietrich saw
a beautiful woman in snow-white garments, a diadem of precious stones
on her head, and round her throat a necklace that shone like the stars.
She raised her finger warningly, and said, “Ride back, hero of Bern, or
you are lost. The destroyer is lying in ambush for you.”
She glided past with inaudible steps, and vanished among the glaciers,
leaving Dietrich lost in astonishment, and wondering whether it were
the goddess Freya, or the elf-queen Virginal that he had seen.
He was startled out of his reverie by a shout, and at the same moment
perceived the gigantic warrior hastening to meet him.
“So you have come at last,” he cried, “to give me an opportunity of
revenging the murder of Grim and Hilde.”
They began to fight without more ado. As Dietrich tried to make use of
what he thought a favourable chance, the blade of his sword Nagelring
was caught in an overhanging bough. All his efforts to withdraw it were
in vain. At last the steel broke, and at the same moment a blow of the
giant’s club stretched the hero senseless on the ground. His helmet was
unhurt, but the blow had been so heavy that it left him unconscious.
The giant now fell upon him, kneaded his defenceless body both with his
hands and his knees, and then dragged him away into his dismal den.
Master Hildebrand waited for eight days with great impatience; then,
finding that the king did not return, he took leave of his wife, and
set forth in search of him.
In the wood near the snow-capped mountain Hildebrand found the king’s
horse, and further on the broken sword. He could no longer doubt what
his friend’s fate had been. Vengeance, not deliverance, was now alone
what he hoped for, and he rode on unheeding the warning that the little
dwarf Waldung called after him.
On perceiving the new comer the giant rushed upon him. The battle
between them was long and fierce, and Sigenot disdained no weapon of
defence. He tore up bushes and even trees, and threw them at the hero.
When Hildebrand at last tried to defend himself by a ruse, the club
came down upon his head, and struck him senseless to the ground. “Come
on, long beard,” shouted Sigenot, “Hilde and Grim are avenged at last.”
So saying, he bound the fallen warrior hand and foot, and seizing him
by the head, flung him over his shoulder, and bore him to his cave,
singing loudly the while.
The giant’s dwelling was large and lofty. The roof was supported by
stone pillars, and a carbuncle in the centre shed a pleasant light over
the foreground, while the back of the cavern was dark and gloomy in the
extreme. On entering, the giant threw down his burden with such force
that Hildebrand thought every bone in his body was broken. Sigenot then
went to a side cave to fetch an iron chain with which to bind his
prisoner, saying that he would not be long away.
When a weak man is in sore straits, he at once gives himself up for
lost. Not so the hero. He never abandons hope until he has tried every
mode of rescue, however poor. It was thus with Hildebrand. Looking
round him, he perceived his good sword, which the giant had seized as
rightful booty, lying in a distant corner, and he thought that he might
yet fight and gain the victory, if he could only cut the cords that
bound his wrists. He was fastened to a square pillar with sharp
corners. He sawed the cords on his wrists against the pillar, and cut
them through. No sooner were his hands free, than he undid the ropes
and cords about his feet, and snatching up his sword, hid behind the
pillar, which he intended to use as a protection, his shield having
been left in the wood.
Sigenot returned with the chains, and looked about in astonishment. His
prisoner was gone. Suddenly he caught sight of him behind a pillar, and
the battle raged anew. The ground trembled beneath the giant’s tread,
and the rocks re-echoed the sound of blows. The combatants were now
fighting in the dark background of the cave, led there by the gradual
retreat of Hildebrand, when suddenly the hero heard his name called
from the depths beyond. He recognised the king’s voice, and the
knowledge that his friend yet lived gave added strength to his arm. A
few minutes more, and the giant was stretched at his feet.
The victory was won. He cut off the monster’s head, and whilst resting
for a moment after his exertion, he heard Dietrich’s voice exclaiming:
“Hildebrand, dear master, help me out of the serpent’s hole. There are
still some adders here, alive, though I have slain and eaten many more.”
Finding that the king was confined in a deep hole, Hildebrand looked
round for a rope or a ladder, with which to help him out. Whilst
engaged in this search, he was joined by the dwarf Waldung, who gave
him a ladder of ropes, by means of which the king was restored to the
light of day.
“Hildebrand,” said Dietrich, taking a long breath of the fresh pure
air, “you are not my comrade, but my master.”
After this, the heroes followed the dwarf into his subterranean
kingdom, where he provided them with food and drink, and offered them
costly treasures. The noblest gift that Dietrich accepted was his sword
Nagelring mended, hardened, and newly adorned with gold and precious
stones, so that it was more beautiful as well as stronger than before.
The heroes now returned to Bern, where they were received with great
joy.