for me; I shall need it.'

"'I cannot mend it for you.' the dwarf answers; 'only one who does not
know how to fear can do that.'

"'Then I must do it myself,' says the young man, and he sets about it
at once.

"The fire on that forge has never been so hot and the fire here on our
hearth has never been so bright as now when the young man who knows no
fear blows the bellows. While the coals under that eager blast shine
redder and redder and then whiter and whiter he begins filing the
pieces of the sword to powder. The dwarf cries out to him that that is
not the way to mend a sword; but this is not a common sword, and the
dwarf has shown well enough already that he knows nothing about mending
it. So the young smith pays no attention to him, but goes on with his
work. In mending magic swords, just as in some other things, knowing
how at the start does not count for so much as not knowing any fear.

"So without any fear the young man melts the filings of the sword with
the splendid fire which you can surely see just as well as anybody, and
pours the melted metal into a mould of the shape of a sword blade. By
this time the dwarf has found that it is of no use to interrupt him and
has begun to think about his own work. When the dragon has been killed,
he thinks, the hero will be hot and tired, and then he will offer him
something to drink. It will be poison, the hero will die, and then he,
the poor dwarf, who has worked and waited all these years for this day,
will have all the treasure, with the magic helmet and the ring. So he
sets himself to brewing the poison by the very same fire that the young
man is using to forge his sword.