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