ans. It was in this
place, midway between the shops of Mimer and Amilias, that the great
trial of metal and of skill was to be made. And here were already
gathered great numbers of people from the Lowlands and from Burgundy,
anxiously waiting for the coming of the champions.

When everything 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 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 a giant in size,
and his coat of mail 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, tolled 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 or
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 Siegfried's father, the king, 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 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 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 touc