at best as Mimer, the master of smiths. At length my heart
grew bitter because of the neglect and ingratitude of men;
and the old longing for Andvari's hoard came back to me, and
I forgot much of my cunning and lore. But I lived on and on,
and generations of short-lived men arose and passed, and
still the hoard was not mine; for I was weak, and no man was
strong enough to help me.

Then I sought wisdom of the Norns, the weird women who weave
the woof of every creature's fate.[EN#6] and [EN#7]

"How long," asked I, "must I hope and wait in weary
expectation of that day when the wealth of the world and the
garnered wisdom of the ages shall be mine?"

And the witches answered, "When a prince of the Volsung race
shall come who shall excel thee in the smithying craft, and
to whom the All-Father shall give the Shining Hope as a
helper, then the days of thy weary watching, shall cease."

"How long," asked I, "shall I live to enjoy this wealth and
this wisdom, and to walk as a god among men? Shall I be
long-lived as the Asa-folk, and dwell on the earth until the
last Twilight comes?"

"It is written," answered Skuld, "that a beardless youth
shall see thy death. But go thou now, and bide thy time."

Here Regin ended his story, and both he and Siegfried sat
for a long time silent and thoughtful.