The Wayland-Dietrich Saga
How the three Brethren wedded the Swan-Maidens and dwelt with them in Wolfsdale, and how after seven years the Swan-Maidens hearkened to the Call of Odin.
Bringing their captives with them........Young Finn bare
The drooping Swanwhite, whose long tresses hung
Over his shoulder as he carried her;
She unresisting lay in his strong arms.
But Egil held proud Olrun by the wrist,
Who with disdainful frowns and scornful words
Taunted the Archer. Egil did but smile
Until she cursed his mother, nor would cease
Though thrice he bade her...... "Evil was the day
That Geirod had such daughter as that hag,
Thy mother Greipa".......Said the Archer, "Peace!
Nor speak thus, Swan-maid." Still she jeering raved,
Till he with a stern face, in sudden wrath
To hear his mother slandered, with his palm
Smote sharply her fair cheek, whereat she flushed;
Then paled and spake no more, but scowled at him;
And once she laughed, as though in mockery,
Yet in the end was to his will subdued.
Nor did she from that time reject his love.
Wayland the Smith led Elfwhite by the hand,
Who went with lagging steps unwillingly,
And oft she fought against him, until he,
Wearied of her vain struggles, picked her up
And slung her o'er his shoulder, so brought her
In joyful mood to his strong timbered hut,
That he had built close to his private forge,
Within a sheltered glen ringed round by trees,
Where could be heard the murmur of the fall,
And on rough nights the booming of the surge.
Here brought he his unwilling Swan-maiden,
In helpless wrath still striving 'gainst his might;
But ere the morn his will 'gainst hers prevailed,
And he had won her as his loving wife;
For Valkyrie, when mastered, loses all
Her fierce unnatural hate of human kind
And is as other women. The strong Smith
Had no cause then to grumble against Fate.
Had he not won a fair and fitting mate,
In whose great beauty his wild heart rejoiced,
As she his love accepted and returned,
Lying contented in his stalwart arms?
Said she one night, and kissed him tenderly,
"Wouldst keep me, Wayland, ever true to thee
And constant by thy side? I pray thee then
Hide from my sight my garment of swan-plumes.
Destroy it not lest I should pine and die.......
'Twixt it and me is some strange harmony
That I cannot explain or understand......
But hide it safely lest one day I should,
Holding it in my hand, be tempted sore
To fly from thee, forgetting all our love
In the wild passion of the Swan-maids' flight.......
For who has once on pinions through the air
Flown like a bird and known the joy thereof
May ne'er forget the longing......And who knows
Once I my wings did on I should not fly
Beyond thy reach, and we should meet no more?
This golden ring I'll from my finger draw
To give thee as a pledge, my husband dear,
See how its blood-red ruby flames and glows!
The day my mother bare me came a Norn
And gave her this for me.........It has strange power.......
The one who gives, the one to whom bestowed,
It links in an unfailing bond of love......
It has another curious property
In that by virtue of it I may wear
My feathered dress. In truth from woman's form
It doth change me to semblance of a swan.
Had I my plumes and lacked this ring, then I
Were all unable to wear them or fly."
Quoth Wayland wondering, "Tell me, little wife,
Have your two sisters also such strange rings?
And who are ye, and whence? Wilt tell me, love?"
Quoth she, "They also had such rings at birth,
But only for their changing qualities,
And not as love-charms, are their rings of worth."
"Give me thy ring," said Wayland with a laugh.
"Thou needst no glamour, witches' sorcery
Lies in thine eyes, my sweet, and is enough.
When I saw thee high up amongst the clouds
The heavenly vision dazzled so my sight,
That, ere I was aware, my heart was pierced
By the keen shaft of thy great loveliness........
Needs must I follow thee, I had no choice.......
Now tell me thy true name, for I know naught......
Are ye three sisters, who as Valkyries
Do serve great Odin?" Said his new-won bride,
"My name is Alvit, called Elfenwhite,
And sometimes Hervor, and my sister's name
Who wedded Finn is Hladgud Swanwhite called.
Daughters are we of Lodver, (2) a great King,
The third, our cousin Olrun, has for Sire
Kiar of Walland, (3) Snowwhite she is called
by Egil's loving lips........Our purpose here
Was but to rest us on our homeward way
To where my mother dwells...........Gunhild (4) her name,
King Isang's daughter of the Faroe Isles.
We had gone forth as Choosers of the Slain;
To ride the fields of battle we were bound,
Urging the warriors on to victory
Or to their deaths, while we ourselves immune
Rode high above the sword-storm. By ill chance
Our father Lodver was by Nithad slain
Not many summers since." Asked Wayland then,
"Was thy Sire Lord of Shetland? It was he
Whom Nithad fought with when he banished me."
Quoth she, "He perished at King Nithad's hand......
He came to seek his right, the tribute due
That Nithad's sire had ever paid to him,
And lost his life in lieu of winning gold.
So we went forth from our far distant home,
The secret island that no mariner
Has ever seen, no ship may hope to find,
Far hidden lies it in the Western Sea.
We had it in our minds to kill this King
And send his soul to Nifflheim, but he owned
A magic spear and a charmed victory-stone.......
When he went warring with that mighty King,
Rother of Sweden, who doth claim to be
His Overlord, we thought our chance had come.
Alas! In vain we hovered o'er the hosts,
Striving to vanquish Nithad. Grimly he
Cast his charmed spear at Swanwhite, and her arm
Pierced 'neath the wing.........We fled then from the field
And through the Mirkwald flew we to the North.
The evil King gained thus the victory,
E'en Rother's self had quailed before his might.
But we came hither, thinking to find rest
And heal my sister's wound in secrecy......
Ye know what happened.......We found love instead,
And lost our magic power, no longer we
As Valkyries may cleave the upper air......
We are but mortal women and your wives.......
Yet think not I regret it".........Her slim arms
She flung round Wayland's strong white neck and leant
Her golden head against his sturdy breast.......
"Now am I thine and would for ever lie
In thy protecting arms.......May Freya grant
That Odin calls me not, and that his wrath
Be not enkindled 'gainst me that I brake,
Though not by mine own will, his binding yoke".......
Then Wayland felt her shudder as she pressed
Yet nearer to him, held in his strong arms.
So seven years passed by. The brothers three
Dwelt still in Wolfsdale, fished in the Wolfs-sea,
And hunted in the mountains and the woods.
To each of them their wives had borne a son.
Egil's wife Snowwhite had borne Orandel,
The famous singer of the days to come,
Who also was called Isung. Slagfeder
Was sire to Wildeber, a sturdy lad,
Ever a gallant fighter to the end.
Elfwhite bare Iran, (5) who was also known
As Wittich (6) of the Mead, and Wayland's heart
Rejoiced in his boy's beauty and his strength.
Sometimes his mind misgave him as he thought
Of Elfwhite's words of warning......Great his dread
Lest he should lose her, she who was so fair,
So sweet and gentle, her great loveliness
Unfaded with the years..........Like leaden weight
Her strange words bore him down.......Oh, what if she
Should one day feel wild stirrings in her breast,
And called by Odin's voice should fly from him?
He had with care concealed her feather-dress,
Yet burnt it not, as he had been inclined,
Lest she should perish with it, charm compelled.
The ring she gave him cost him anxious thought......
How if a thief should steal it? How if she,
Impelled by her keen longing, were that thief
And stole it while he slept? With muttered oaths,
Stung by his thoughts, he strode about the hut,
Till his sore troubled mind devised a plan.
He to his Smithy went, with cunning skill
He made of gold and rubies other rings.......
Seven hundred golden circlets his hand made,
So like to the Norn's gift that none might tell
Which was the magic ring with its strange spell,
And he himself but knew it by a sign,
A secret mark hid 'neath the blood-red stone.
These rings he hung with care upon the wall
Strung on a thread of bast, and hidden all
Behind a curtain made of reindeer skin.
Each night ere he lay down by Elfwhite's side
He counted o'er his rings, and marked withal
That the one ring that mattered was still safe;
So hoped he to evade the stroke of Fate,
Yet by this very means was he undone.
To get the gold and jewels for his rings
He dared not venture to the mountain caves
To seek them from the dwarf-kin, for fear they
Should take some dire revenge for those two dwarves
That as a lad he slew in Kallaberg.
He knew the Black Elves have long memories,
Who ne'er forget nor yet forgive a foe.
So he went south and bargained with such folk
As had rich gems to sell........In market-towns
And cities' forums had he chaffered long,
And sold his own good smith's gear. Thus his name
Was often on men's tongues. His fame was known
In Norway, Sweden and in Denmark's realm.
South was he heard of through all Germany,
Even to Frankland and the southern lands.
In Britain's realm as in far Muscovy
Was Wayland's name a proverb, such his fame,
And so much men desired his handiwork.
It came to Nithad's ears, the Niaring's Lord,
That Wayland dwelt in Norway, in Wolfsdale,
And but two men of his own kin with him;
Lonely and unprotected, unafraid,
For they harmed none and lived at peace with all.
The King heard news of Wayland's wondrous skill
In forging harness and all smithy craft,
How it was ten times greater than before.
Thought Nithad he would further tidings learn
Of him who once had served him faithfully,
For he was wrath that he had let him go.
He had it in his heart to seize the man
Against his will and bring him secretly
Back to Niaraland. As captive he
Might work for him and make him good smith's gear
Such as no other King had.........In his mind
He turned the project over, but as yet
Thought not the time was ripe. So he sent spies
Who pried into the manner of the life
Of those in Wolfsdale. This they told the King,
Who thereon mused long time, yet acted not.
The brothers marked the strangers in their dale,
Yet thought naught of their presence, deeming them
Hunters or traders, as indeed they seemed......
One man in truth, whom Wayland found one day
Lurking about his farmstead, he had chased
On his long snow-shoes....... it was winter-time,
And Wayland was a skilful ski-runner.......
The knave when caught confessed he was a thief,
Fearing to tell the truth. The sturdy Smith
Gave him a drubbing with his leathern belt,
And drave him from the dale a half-dead man.
This too was told the King, who did but laugh,
And bade the victim wait till came the Spring......
"Then," quoth he, "shall the Smith pay all he owes"........
Spring came and passed, and Summer faded too,
Yet Nithad still did naught, and Autumn came.
Now in the mellow sunshine on the strand,
Hard by a little oak copse that grew down
E'en to the water's edge, and shelter gave
From the bleak north-west winds, sat the three wives
Busily spinning their good linen gear.......
And as they span the flax with deft swift hands
Thier tongues were busy too.......Fair Olrun said,
She who had taken Egil to her breast,
"Ah! Sisters, it is time.......Our threads of life
E'en now the Norns are spinning, an we wait
The appointed hour will pass.........Oh! We must go
To where our Fate doth call us........Feel ye not
The impulse strong within your panting breasts?
'Tis Odin calling in the blustering wind
That blows down from the North ..... I hear his voice
In every gust, I feel him in each blast......
How shall we dare resist his awful Will?
We who are vowed........ We, Choosers of the Slain,
Again, again the battlefields must roam,
And for our duty, leave the joys of home ......
The daily task, the slavish common round,
Is not for us ...... Our office is far higher......
We must be free and to the stars aspire ........
No longer here contented dwell as slaves .....
Why should our mates think we are helpless things ?
Are we not wise as they? Have we not wings?
And why not use them, why not prove to them
We are as strong and able as themselves?
We will fly South to freedom...... Sisters, come!"
Said Swanwhite sadly, "Ah! that we must go
And leave our dear ones! Yet the voice within
My heart doth answer, 'Leave it all,
Leave the soft joys of love, thy husband's care,
The household duties shall be thine no more
Thy path lies through the misty realms of air,
Thy way is o'er the restless heaving sea .....
So, Cousin, I will go with thee, but yet
I will not leave my child, by little son ......
We'll take the pledges of our sojourn here,
Or I go not" ...... Said Olrun hurriedly,
"Oh, we will take our children, that of course,
But we must leave at once. Last night I heard
My husband Egil speaking unto Finn,
And these two planned to steal our swan-dresses
And rob us of our rings ...... We are betrayed
By those we trusted ....... We must fly from them,
Or be for ever captives at their will,
Even as mortal women ...... Fly, say I,
Ere yet it is too late ....... What then thinkst thou?"
She turned to Elfwhite, who said mournfully,
"How can I leave my Wayland? I must stay ......
Go ye without me, Sisters ........ For see ye
I have no swan's plumes and my ring I gave
Unto my mate and it is hid from me."
Said Swanwhite quickly, "Have no care for that ......
My ring I can divide. Oh, knowst thou not
Of its strange virtue, that from one comes two,
If we but touch it with a swan's feather?
And thou shalt wear it ...... As for thy Swan's dress
t lieth hidden in a hollow oak.
We saw thy husband hide it stealthily,
Not knowing he was spied on ....... We had perched
High in the branches of a lofty beech,
Our white swan-plumes concealed by its green screen,
And thought how foolish men are 'spite their strength."
Said Elfwhite weeping. "Nay, I cannot go .....
I love my husband, he is good to me,
He loves our child, I know he loveth me .....
How can I do this thing, how rob him thus
Of all that he holds dear? I will not go."
Said Olrun mocking. "Dost thou call it love
That holds thee closely pent as is a lark
Thrust in a wicker cage that blinded sings?
E'en so art thou; for look ye, Cousin, how
Thy husband doth mistrust thee. Thy swan's gear
He took from thee, and now thy magic ring
He hath destroyed or hidden ....... He loves not
Who has no faith ....... It is but tyranny,
And thou a slave at Wayland's beck and call.
We shall return ...... I too love well my mate,
And willingly I leave him not, but go
Because I hear and dare not disobey
The voice of Odin. We shall come again
And live in loving-kindness as before;
But if we go not now, who knows what fate
Shall fall on us rebellious to the Gods?"
Elfwhite still wept and sobbing shook her head.
Said Swanwhite coldly, "Sister, wilt thou be
Cursed by the Gods, losing perchance thy son,
Thy husband and thy happiness as well?
This is but selfish folly!" Elfwhite cried,
"I will not go. My husband trusteth me......
What if he keep my faery plumes safe hid?
It was at my desire. If now I ask
Sure he will give them back right willingly
To shew his love." Said Olrun laughing, "Try .....
And if thou dost succeed we'll leave thee here,
But if he trusts thee not" ....... Said Elfwhite, pale,
But with her head held high, "Then will I come .....
I would not live with one who treated me
After the fashion of a bond-slave ...... Ah!
But not thus doth my Wayland treat me ..... No!
He loves me well, as ye shall shortly see."
That night as Elfwhite sat before the hearth
Playing with Iran, came Smith Wayland home
From his day's hunting. A dead bear brought he
Slung o'er his sturdy back, which he cast down,
Laughing to see his little son leap up
And jump upon the great beast's mighty flank,
Pulling its ears and looking in its jaws
To see its huge white teeth ..... Then with a smile
He flung himself before the fir-log fire
To play with his young son, while Elfwhite laid
The supper-board, bringing in fish and meat
And crisp oat-cakes, with butter she had made,
And honey from the wild bees' plenteous store .....
Brown ale that was home-brewed and mead brought she,
So served her Lord and ate herself, and all
Did she with loving looks and gentle pleasing words.
When they had supped, soon cleared she all away,
Then put the child to bed and singing low
Soothed him to sleep ..... Now came she to her Lord
And sat down at his feet, as he reclined
On a low settle drawn close to the glow
Of the bright blazing fir-logs ..... Quoth she then,
And her soft voice was like the summer breeze
That rustles murmuring through the leafy trees,
"Dost love me truly, Wayland, husband mine,
For I would ask of thee a boon, dear heart?"
Gently he stroked her golden hair, and said,
"Thou knowest that I love thee, Elfin wife......
What need to ask? All that I have is thine."
Said she, and raised her bright eyes unto his,
That fondly looked in hers, "It is not thine
That would have, but something of mine own
That I gave in thy keeping, husband dear ......
I would have back my ring for one short hour,
Therewith my swan's dress. Fain am I to fly
Out in the sunshine, o'er the Wolf-sea float,
And race the swallows that are going south,
So come again to thee and to our child.
Wilt grant this, Wayland, for our love's sake, dear?"
Said he, half frowning, for his eyes looked stern,
Though a slight smile yet played around his lips,
"What ails thee, wife, and why dost thou ask that?
Thou wouldst fly south with the swift swallows, love,
Nor come again...... Ask not this thing of me" .......
Then said she pleadingly, "Is this thy love?
Canst thou not trust me, Wayland? I'll not go ......
I would not leave thee so thou dost trust me......
Thou art too dear, O husband of my heart!
I gave thee all I had when I loved thee,
And thy compelling strength did master me."
Said he with a short laugh, "Ask this no more.
Thou shalt not have the chance to try thy wings .....
Why thou thyself didst beg me to keep back
Thy magic ring, thy swan's gear........ Ah! I see,
It is thy sister's and thy cousin's minds
That prompt thee to this folly ...... But soon, soon
They will not have the chance, for Egil fears
That Olrun groweth restless, and Finn says
That Swanwhite gazes ever out to sea,
And hears him not when he is calling ....... So
My brothers will take measures, little wife,
To guard their Swan-wives safely ....... Their wings clipt,
They cannot fly so far, and as for thee,
With my free will thou shalt not fly again.
Come, fret not, sweet, but help me to prepare .....
We start for three days' hunting in the morn,
Over the foot-hills yonder, up the vale,
In the Mirkwald we go to chase the bears ......
So put my gear together ...... Soon I'll come
And bring thee a white bear-skin ...... And I swear
Thou shalt not lack for joy when we return .......
I'll take thee and the boy to Drontheim town;
To the King's Court of Norway we will go.
King Amund asked for thee the other day,
When I went thither to bear him his mail,
And bade me bring my pretty wife to Court."
Said Elfwhite, drooping her fair head full low,
"Wilt thou not hearken, Wayland? Wilt thou go
And leave my boon ungranted ...... Thou art hard,
Yet I did think thou lov'dst me" ...... Wayland cried,
Half wrathful, half in mirth, "Why so I do,
And therefore will not grant thy foolish wish."
Cried she in anger, "Is this then thy love?
And this thy trust?" ....... She turned from him and wept.
Nor would be comforted....... The hour was late;
Wayland replenished well the fire and went
Unto his down-lined berth set in the wall,
There slept or seemed to sleep; but Elfwhite sat
Long o'er the fir-wood fire, until the logs
Crumbling sank into embers glowing red,
So smouldered out and the night air grew cold.
Then crept she to the alcove and lay down
By her mate's side, nor when she felt his arm
Around her gently stealing said she aught,
Nor yet repulsed him, but on his broad breast
Lay softly sobbing, speechless. Wayland then,
Not knowing how to soothe her, spake no word
Lest he should vex her further. Ere long he,
Worn out with his day's toil, slept peacefully,
But she lay sleepless till brake the grey dawn;
Then rose and made all ready for her Lord;
Nor seemed she sad, but cheerfully prepared
What food and gear he needed for his hunt.
Nor when the brothers bade their wives farewell
Did Elfwhite falter, but let Wayland kiss
Her brow and lips, yet met she not his eyes,
And said no parting word, but held him close
In her white arms a moment, then drew back
And took young Iran by the hand, so went
Within the hut. Wayland saw her no more.
She waved no fond farewell as she was wont,
And he, his shoulders shrugging, hastened down
To where his brothers waited with the boat .....
They sailed off gaily, making for the head
Of the broad loch, where Wolf's flood doth come in
Down 'tween the mountain's cleaving narrow way .....
To seek the Glisten Heath was their intent,
And thence the Mirkwood that lay further south.
When the boat glimmered but a tiny speck,
Scarce visible in the grey haze of dawn,
Came Olrun smiling, and fair Swanwhite came,
With them their little sons, and Iran ran
Shouting to greet his playmates. Olrun cried,
In merry scorn, "Where now is thy gold ring,
Where thy Swan's dress, my Cousin? Own to us
Thy husband is no wiser than are ours,
Nor trusts thee e'en so much, but loves thee less,
For we at least do wear our magic rings,
Our swan's feathers we still may call our own."
Said Swanwhite, "Taunt her not ..... See Elfwhite, here
Is half my ring into an whole one grown.
Here is thy swan's dress. Wilt thou fly with us,
Or live as bond-maid, bound by Wayland's whims,
His slave and not his wife?" Said she, "I come......
I knew not Wayland ...... I have now no home,
No husband more ....... I live not with distrust .....
He loves me not and I am desolate."
Swanwhite her slim arm wound round Elfwhite's neck,
And Snowwhite Olrun took her by the hand;
So went the three from Wayland's house and came
By a short way thence to the water's edge.
They stood there on the strand and looked around.
Quoth Olrun thoughtfully, "Not joyfully they (7)
When they come from the wood" ........ But Swanwhite sighed
And Elfwhite flushed deep crimson, then turned pale,
As she stood on the beach and watched the sail
Just ere it vanished in the river's mouth,
Leaving the loch's smooth surface void and bare.
Then the three Swan-women did on their plumes
And took their little ones, who gaily rode
On the broad Swans' backs, nor were aught adread.
So flew they south o'er Mirkwood, then due west,
Over the swans' bath setting their swift course,
And came ere thrice the sun had girdled earth
Unto the Western Isles of Mystery......
The Secret Islands where they fain would be .......
Somewhere beyond the Faroe Isles these lie,
But where is known to none of mortal birth.
Some sail there in their dreams and stay awhile,
But when they wake, their tongues refuse to tell
What they have seen, and soon fades quite away
From most men's minds the distant memory
Of those fair Islands of strange Fantasy;
They have no chart, forgotten is the way
By which they reached that country ....... All is lost.
Notes:
1. Cf. Simrock Amel. Lied. I. (Wieland d. Schmied) Abent. 2. [Back]
2. Cf. Elder Edda Völundarkvitha, ed. Hildebrand and Gering, p. 212. [Back]
3. Brittany. [Back]
4. Simrock Amel. Lied. I. (Wieland d. Schmied) Abent. 2, st. 16 [Back]
5. Simrock Amel. Lied. II. (4), Abent. 16, p. 125. [Back]
6. Cf. Anhang des Heldenbuchs: Grimm. D. Heldensage, 3rd ed., p.
218 (b). [Back]
7. Elder Edda Völundarkvitha, st. 17 (p. 217), but cf. Raszmann Deutsche Heldensage
II., p. 255, and note 9 (p. 256). [Back]
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