Sigurðr and the Dragon

Sigurðr and Reginn climbed to Gnitaheiðr and found the track Fáfnir used when he crawled from his treasure to the water. Sigurðr dug a trench across it and waited below the level of the ground. The dragon came down the path breathing venom, which fell over the concealed man. As Fáfnir passed above him, Sigurðr drove Gram into his body toward the heart.

Fáfnir lashed with head and tail. Sigurðr sprang from the trench, and the wounded dragon looked at the man who had struck him. Their encounter became a conversation. Fáfnir wanted his name and parentage. At first Sigurðr answered evasively, claiming to have wandered without parents. The prose explains that he feared a dying enemy might use his name to place a curse upon him.

The dragon challenged the evasion. No man came into the world without parents. Sigurðr then named himself, Sigmundr’s son, and acknowledged the stroke. Fáfnir asked who had urged him forward. Sigurðr credited his own courage, hands, and sharp sword. The dragon tried to diminish him as a captive far from his inheritance, but the young man insisted that the deed had shown him free.

Fáfnir warned him about the gold. The ringing treasure and red rings would become his death. Sigurðr answered that someone must possess wealth until the appointed day, and every man must eventually depart for Hel. The exchange did not turn the treasure harmless. It showed that its danger was insufficient to make him abandon the victory for which he had risked his life.

He questioned the dying creature in return. Which norns helped mothers bring children into the world? Fáfnir answered that the norns came from different families: some from the gods, some from elves, some from Dvalinn’s descendants. What was the place where the gods would fight Surtr? The dragon named it and spoke of the bridge breaking when the divine hosts crossed. Even in defeat he possessed knowledge extending far beyond his hoard.

Fáfnir recalled the terror by which he had guarded his wealth. He had thought himself stronger than all others and found no opponent he feared. Sigurðr answered that a fear-helm could not protect its owner against everyone. A man who met many enemies would eventually discover someone stronger. The creature who had seemed invulnerable now had a wound proving the limit of his confidence.

Once more Fáfnir urged him to ride away without the treasure. Once more Sigurðr refused. Then the dragon named the danger nearest at hand: Reginn had betrayed his brother and would betray Sigurðr too. They would both be brought to death through him. Fáfnir conceded that the young man had proved the stronger fighter, but his last warning reached past the fight toward the companion who had arranged it.

Reginn had kept his distance while Sigurðr faced the dragon. He returned as the victor wiped blood from Gram and praised him as the bravest man alive. Sigurðr resisted that easy judgment: no one could know who was bravest until people were tested together, and courage was not found only in those who reddened swords. Reginn then reminded him that he had killed the smith’s brother—and that the smith had contributed to the success.

Sigurðr pointed out where each had been during the danger. He had faced Fáfnir while Reginn hid in the heather. Reginn answered that without the sword he forged the dragon might still be alive. Sigurðr valued courage above even a good blade. The argument divided a shared achievement into rival claims: the maker of the weapon and the hand that used it were no longer speaking as an uncomplicated teacher and pupil.

Reginn cut the heart from Fáfnir’s body with his sword Riðill and drank blood from the wound. He told Sigurðr to roast the heart while he rested. The victor became a servant at a small fire beside the enormous dead creature. When the blood foamed from the heart, Sigurðr touched it with a finger to test whether it was cooked.

He burned himself and put the finger into his mouth. As the dragon’s blood touched his tongue, he understood the birds speaking in the thicket. They saw a bloodstained young man roasting food that would make him wiser if he ate it himself. More urgently, they saw Reginn lying nearby, planning to betray the person who trusted him and avenge the brother he had sent him to kill.

Bird after bird pressed the warning. It would be foolish to spare one hostile brother after killing the other. Reginn’s outward words concealed an intention Sigurðr could not safely ignore. The birds advised him to take the smith’s head and become sole possessor of the treasure. Fáfnir’s accusation had now been repeated by voices Sigurðr could understand only because of the dragon’s blood.

He declared that Reginn would not live to tell the story of his death. He cut off the smith’s head, ate Fáfnir’s heart, and drank the blood of both brothers. The foster-relationship ended beside the brother whose death had been its great shared project. Sigurðr survived the treachery described to him, but the hoard still came to its new owner through another killing.

The birds’ speech turned from immediate danger toward the road ahead. Green paths led to Gjúki’s house, where a king had a beautiful daughter. On Hindarfjall stood a hall or enclosure associated with flame, and an armoured woman slept there. Odin had punished her with a sleep-thorn after she gave victory contrary to his will. The poem points toward more than one strand of the marriages and encounters that will follow.

Sigurðr traced Fáfnir’s path back to the treasure’s dwelling. It was dug into the ground, with iron doors, doorposts, and structural timbers. Inside he found a great quantity of gold and filled two chests. He took the terror-helm, a golden coat of mail, the sword Hrotti, and other precious objects, then loaded everything onto Grani.

The horse refused to move until Sigurðr mounted. Only then could the treasure leave its underground house with its new master. The dragon and the smith lay dead behind him. Ahead were the people and promises the birds had named, and the warning neither victory nor sudden wisdom had erased: the gold could pass from one owner to another without ceasing to carry danger.