od before the door. Thus they cared for
the guests in faithful wise. The doughty Folker leaned his good shield
against the side of the hall, then turned him back and fetched his
fiddle and served his friends as well befit the hero. Beneath the door
of the house he sate him down upon a stone; bolder fiddler was there
never. When the tones of the strings rang forth so sweetly, the proud
wanderers gave Folker thanks. At first the strings twanged so that the
whole house resounded; his strength and his skill were both passing
great. Then sweeter and softer he began to play, and thus many a
care-worn man he lulled to sleep. When he marked that all had fallen
asleep, the knight took again his shield and left the room and took
his stand before the tower, and there he guarded the wanderers against
Kriemhild's men.

'Twas about the middle of the night (I know not but what it happed a
little earlier), that bold Folker spied the glint of a helmet afar in
the darkness. Kriemhild's men would fain have harmed the guests. Then
the fiddler spake: "Sir Hagen, my friend, it behooveth us to bear these
cares together. Before the house I see armed men stand, and err I not, I
ween, they would encounter us!"

"Be silent," quoth Hagen, "let them draw nearer before they be ware
of us. Then will helmets be dislodged by the swords in the hands of us
twain. They will be sent back to Kriemhild in evil plight."

One of the Hunnish warriors (full soon that happed) marked that the door
was guarded. How quickly then he spake: "That which we have in mind may
not now come to pass. I see the fiddler stand on guard. On his head he
weareth a glittering helmet, shining and hard, strong and whole. His
armor rings flash out like fire. By him standeth Hagen; in sooth the
guests be guarded well."

Straightway they turned again. When Folker saw this, wrathfully he spake
to his comrade-at-arms: "Now let me go from the house to the warriors. I
would fain put some questions to Lady Kriemhild's men."

"For my sake, no," quoth Hagen. "If ye leave the house, the doughty
knights are like to bring you in such stress with their swords, that I
must aid you even should it be the death of all my kin. As soon as we
be come into the fray, twain of them, or four, would in a short time run
into the house and would bring such scathe upon the sleepers, that we
might never cease to mourn."

Then Folker answered: "Let us bring it to pass that they note that I
have seen them, s