fair ladies. On the other side were the three
Burgundian kings, Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher, and a mighty retinue of
warriors, led by grim old Hagen, the uncle of the kings, and the wariest
chief in all Rhineland.

When every thing was in readiness for the contest, Amilias, clad in his
boasted war-coat, went up to the top of the hill, and sat upon a great
rock, and waited for Mimer's coming. As he sat there, he looked, to the
people below, like some great castle-tower; for he was almost a giant
in size, and his coat of mail, so skilfully wrought, was so huge
that twenty men of common mould might have found shelter, or hidden
themselves, within it. As the smith Mimer, so dwarfish in stature,
toiled up the steep hillside, Amilias smiled to see him; for he felt
no fear of the slender, gleaming blade that was to try the metal of
his war-coat. And already a shout of expectant triumph went up from the
throats of the Burgundian hosts, so sure were they of their champion's
success.

But Mimer's friends waited in breathless silence, hoping, and yet
fearing. Only King Siegmund whispered to his queen, and said, "Knowledge
is stronger than brute force. The smallest dwarf who has drunk from the
well of the Knowing One may safely meet the stoutest giant in battle."

When Mimer reached the top of the hill, Amilias folded his huge arms,
and smiled again; for he felt that this contest was mere play for him,
and that Mimer was already as good as beaten, and his thrall. The smith
paused a moment to take breath, and as he stood by the side of his
foe he looked to those below like a mere black speck close beside a
steel-gray castle-tower.

"Are you ready?" asked the smith.

"Ready," answered Amilias. "Strike!"

Mimer raised the beaming blade in the air, and for a moment the
lightning seemed to play around his head. The muscles on his short,
brawny arms, stood out like great ropes; and then Balmung, descending,
cleft the air from right to left. The waiting lookers-on in the plain
below thought to hear the noise of clashing steel; but they listened in
vain, for no sound came to their ears, save a sharp hiss like that which
red-hot iron gives when plunged into a tank of cold water. The huge
Amilias sat unmoved, with his arms still folded upon his breast; but the
smile had faded from his face.

"How do you feel now?" asked Mimer in a half-mocking tone.

"Rather strangely, as if cold iron had touched me," faintly answered the
upstart