Tolkien's Ring

David Day

• Publisher: Pavilion
• Year: 2012
• ISBN:
  9781909108493
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Literary Criticism
• Index: Literature

In Tolkien's Ring, David Dayshows how theLord of the Rings is the result of an ancient story-telling tradition; and how, by drawing upon the world's primary myths and legends, J.R.R Tolkien created his own mythology for the twentieth century.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE VOLSUNGA SAGA

The most famous ring legend of the Norsemen is told in the ‘Volsunga Saga’. The epic tale is one of the greatest literary works to survive the Viking civilization. Within the ‘Volsunga Saga’ is the history of many of the heroes of the Volsung and Nibelung* dynasties. In the nineteenth century William Morris wrote of the epic: ‘This is the great story of the North, which should be to all our race what the tale of Troy was to the Greeks.’

The fates of the Volsung and Nibelung dynasties were bound up with that of a magical ring called ‘Andvarinaut’. This was the magical ring that once belonged to Andvari the Dwarf. It seems to have been an earthly Draupnir. Its name means ‘Andvari’s loom’ because it ‘wove’ its owner a fortune in gold; and with that wealth went power and fame. The tale of Andvarinaut has become the archetypal ring legend, and is primarily concerned with the life and death of the greatest of all Norse heroes, Sigurd the Dragonslayer.

It is this legend of Sigurd and the Ring as told in the Volsunga Saga that in various forms survives in the modern imagination as the ring legend. William Morris brought the first satisfactory direct translation of the Volsunga Saga into the English language. His later long epic poem ‘Sigurd the Volsung’, Henrik Ibsen’s play The Vikings of Helgeland, and - above all - Richard Wagner’s great opera cycle The Ring of the Nibelung brought the epic tale into the popular European imagination in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

In this chapter, the Volsunga Saga is retold. It should be noted that the epic is a collection of over forty linked but individual saga tales. These were the final outcome of an oral tradition of diverse authorship composed over many centuries. The resulting texts therefore often result in a somewhat irregular plot structure, although the overall outline is clear. In this retelling, those parts of the saga concerning the ring are emphasized in detail, while peripheral adventures (particularly those that precede the appearance of Sigurd) are told in synopsis form.

Readers will find many parallels between the Volsunga Saga and Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. Rather than break up the tale with interjections, these parallels will be examined later, along with comparisons with the legends of King Arthur, Charlemagne, Dietrich von Berne, and numerous other heroes and traditions; including the medieval German Nibelungenlied and a score of fairy tales.

The Volsunga Saga begins with the tale of the hero Sigi, who is the mortal son of Odin. He is a great warrior who by his strength and skill becomes the King of the Huns. King Sigi’s son is Reric, who is also a mighty warrior, but cannot give his queen a child and heir. So the gods send to Reric a crow with an apple in its beak. Reric gives this apple to his wife, who eats it and becomes heavy with child. But the child remains in his mother’s womb for six years before he is released by the midwife’s knife. This child is Volsung, who becomes the third in this line of kings.

Volsung is the strongest and most powerful of all the kings of Hunland. He is a man of huge physical size and he sires ten sons and one daughter. The eldest of his children are the twin brother and sister, Sigmund and Signy.

One day a grey-bearded stranger with one eye appears in the great hall of the Volsungs in the midst of a great gathering of Huns, Goths and Vikings. Without a word, the old man strides over to Branstock, the great living oak tree that stands in the centre of the Volsungs’ hall. He draws a brilliant sword from a sheath and drives it up to its hilt in the tree trunk. The ancient stranger then walks out of the hall and disappears.

No mortal man could have achieved such a feat, and all know that this old man can be none other than Odin. All the heroes in the great hall desire this sword, but only Sigmund has the strength to draw it from Branstock. All know that, armed with Odin’s sword, Sigmund is the god’s chosen warrior.

With this sword, which can cut stone and steel, Sigmund wins great fame, yet terrible tragedy soon befalls the Volsung family. Sigmund’s sister is married to the King of Gothland, who treacherously murders King Volsung at the wedding feast. He then imprisons Volsung’s ten sons by placing them in stocks in a clearing in the wild wood. One son is torn to pieces each night for nine nights by a Werewolf, who is actually the witch-mother of the king. However, on the tenth night, Sigmund (with the help of his sister Signy) manages to trick the Werewolf and slays her by tearing out her tongue with his teeth.

Sigmund escapes and lives for many years as an outlaw in an underground house in the wild wood. Signy’s desire for vengeance is so great that, while remaining the wife of the King of Gothland, she casts a spell on Sigmund. When she comes to his underground house, he does not know it is his own sister and makes love to her. Months later, Signy has a child from this incestuous union. He is called Sifjolti, and when he is grown, Signy sends him to Sigmund in the wild wood, so together they may avenge Volsung’s death.

After many trials, including stealing and wearing Werewolf skins and being buried alive in a barrow grave, Sigmund and Sifjolti set fire to the great hall of the Goth king. Signy secretly returns Odin’s sword to Sigmund, and all who attempt to escape the fire are slain. Seeing the Goth king and his kin slain, Signy confesses the price she has paid to exact her revenge, including incest with her brother, and leaps into the flames.

Sigmund returns with Sifjolti to his homeland and claims his father’s throne as King of Hunland. He rules successfully for many years, although his son Sifjolti dies by poisoning. Shortly after King Sigmund marries the Princess Hjordis, two armies of Vikings ambush Sigmund. However, they fail to slay him because of his supernatural sword. Into the fray of battle comes an ancient, one-eyed warrior. When Sigmund strikes this old man’s spear shaft with his sword, the blade shatters. Sigmund knows his doom has come. The ancient warrior can be none other than Odin. Sigmund’s enemies strike him down.

Sigmund is given mortal wounds by his enemies, yet he does not despair for he has lived long and he knows that his queen is heavy with child. The dying Sigmund tells his wife she must take the shards of Odin’s sword. For Sigmund knows the prophecy that he will sire a son who, with the sword reforged, will win a prize greater than that of any mortal man.

Sigmund’s queen flees the battleground and after a long journey finds refuge in the Viking court of the King of the Sea Danes. There, the exiled queen gives birth to her son, Sigurd, and raises him in secret under the protection of the Danes.

Now in the realm of the Sea Danes is a master smith. He is called Regin, and from his long, toiling hours at the forge, his powerful body is hunched and stunted like a Dwarf’s. Yet from his fire and forge comes much beauty in jewels and bright weapons. Swords, spears and axes shine with a bright sheen. None know their equal.

No one knows Regin’s age or his past. He entered the land of the Danes before the memory of the oldest king. He is no lord of fighting men, but a smith and a master of other crafts as well. He is filled with the wisdom of runes, chess play, and the languages of many lands.

But Regin casts a cold eye on life, and none knows him as a friend. So the Sea-Dane King is much surprised when Regin fosters Sigurd and becomes his tutor. There never was a pupil like Sigurd, so quick and eager to learn. He is well taught by the smith in many arts and disciplines, though in the warrior’s skills he excels most. Teacher and pupil are a strange pair. Some say Regin is too cold-tempered, and Sigurd born too hot. Whatever the reason, over the years of learning, master and apprentice never form a bond of love or close friendship.

Wise though Sigurd becomes with Regin’s teaching, there is something in his blood that beckons him to learn matters that are even beyond the smith’s teachings. So Sigurd often goes to the forest for many days of wandering. On one such solitary journey, Sigurd meets an ancient man in a cape and a wide-brimmed slouch hat. The old man’s bearded face has but one eye, and he uses a spear as a walking-stick. This man tells Sigurd he may choose whatever horse he wishes for himself from his herd in the meadow.

When Sigurd chooses a young grey stallion, the old man smiles.

‘Well chosen. He is called Grani, meaning grey-coat, and he is as sleek as quicksilver and will grow to become the strongest and swiftest stallion ever to be ridden by a mortal man. For Grani’s sire was the immortal Sleipnir, the eight-legged stallion of Asgard, who rides stormclouds over the world.’

Not long afterwards, Regin sends for the youth.

‘You have grown large and strong, Sigurd. Now is the time for an adventure,’ says Regin. ‘I have a tale to tell.’

The two then go out onto the green grass before Regin’s hall. By an oak tree there is a stone bench on which the smith settles, while the huge youth sits on the grass at his feet.

‘Know me now, young Sigurd, for what I am. Not a man, but one born in a time before the first man entered the spheres of the world. This was a time almost before there was Time. Giants and Dwarfs were filled with terrible strength, and there were Magicians of such power that even the gods feared to walk alone across the lands of Midgard.

‘In this time, the gods Odin, Honir and Loki went on an adventure into Midgard and dared to enter the land of my father, Hreidmar, the greatest Magician of the Nine Worlds. On the first day, the three gods came to a stream and a deep pool. Resting a while, they soon saw a lithe brown otter swimming in the pool. Diving deep, the otter caught a silver salmon in its jaws and, reaching the far shore, struggled to drag his prize out of the water. It seemed an opportunity not to be missed. Without a word, Loki hurled a stone and broke the otter’s skull.

‘Loki rejoiced at having won both otter and salmon with a single stone. He went to the otter and skinned it. Taking up their double prize of salmon and otter skin, the three gods walked on until evening, when they came to a great hall upon a fair heath. This was Hreidmar the Magician’s hall, which stood on the Glittering Heath just above the dark forest called the Mirkwood.

‘When the three gods entered the hall, they made a gift of the salmon and the otter skin to their host. The Magician immediately flew into a rage, and bound the gods at once with a deadly spell. Then he called to me, to bring my fire- forged chains of unbreakable iron; and he called to my brother, the mighty Fafnir, to bind these gods tightly with my chains and his pitiless strength. Once this was done, no one but the Magician-King might ever free those three gods.

‘Although my father much admired my craft and Fafnir’s strength, it was his third son that he loved best. This son was the Magician’s eyes and ears. He was a shape-shifter who travelled often in many forms of bird and beast, and told my father what went on in the wide world. He was called Otter after his favourite guise.

‘This was the reason for the Magician-King’s terrible wrath. The otter that the gods slew at the pool, then unknowingly offered as a gift, was the flayed skin of their host’s favourite son.

‘For this outrage, the Magician was intent on the destruction of all three who slew his son. But Odin spoke persuasively, saying truthfully that Otter was slain in ignorance; and that in such cases, payment of weregild instead of blood was just and honourable compensation. Though much grieved, the Magician-King laid the terms.

‘“Fill my son’s skin with gold and cover him with it too. Do that and I will spare you,” he demanded, grimly.

‘Since Loki had cast the fatal stone, he was chosen to find the weregild, while the others remained bound. Odin advised him to quickly find the Dwarf Andvari, who was renowned for his wealth. This hoard of gold he hid in a mountain cavern beneath a waterfall. Yet Odin warned that Andvari the Dwarf was also a shape-shifter who hid his identity. Most often, he took the form of a great pike who lived in the pool beneath the falls, so he might better guard his watery treasury door.

‘Loki was not long in finding the waterfall. He stared hard into the clear pool and saw the great pike hiding in the eddies under the rocks. He dragged the pike to the land where, gasping, it took on Andvari’s true shape and begged for mercy. Loki was not gentle. He twisted the Dwarf until his screams drowned out the sound of the water. Finally Andvari gave up his golden treasure to Loki, but the Dwarf begged that he might be allowed to keep just one red-gold ring for himself. Guessing at the ring’s importance, Loki snatched the ring from Andvari as well, and hurried on his way.

‘Now this was the ring called Andvarinaut, which means “Andvari’s loom”, for by its power gold comes, and treasure increases ever more. This golden ring breeds gold, though this was but one of its powers; many of its other powers are unknown. This one small red-gold ring that Loki stole was worth all the rest of treasure together.

‘The Dwarf screamed after him: “I curse you for this! The ring and the trea- sure it spawned will carry my curse forever. All who possess the ring and its treasure for long will be destroyed!”

‘Loki returned to the Magician’s hall with the gold hoard and stuffed Otter’s skin tight with it, and piled gold over all. The price in weregild seemed to be made, but the Magician-King looked keenly at the treasure and pointed to one whisker that still protruded. Loki smiled grimly then, and let fall the ring Andvarinaut which he had held back. The ring covered the last hair and the payment was made.

‘The Magician-King packed up the treasure in great oak chests, but took the ring Andvarinaut and placed it on his hand. Then he released the bonds of his spell, commanded Fafnir and me to unlock the chains, and the gods were given safe passage out of his land.

‘For a short time, all seemed well, but the mere sight of the ring was a torment to Fafnir. And so, one night Fafnir crept to our father’s bed and cut his throat while he slept. He placed Andvari’s ring on his own hand, then appeared at my bedside with his bloody dagger.

‘“Come,” he said, “I have need of you.”

‘Fearfully I did as I was told and dragged the treasure out across the Glittering Heath and beyond to a cavern under a mountain deep in the Mirkwood.

‘“You make a good porter, my brother. You’ve earned your life, but little else.

If you turn now and run, I will not slay you. Put this gold from your mind, for it shall never be left unguarded.”

‘So it was that Fafnir won the ring and the treasure of the Dwarf Andvari with the blood of our father. Over that treasure, he ever after brooded. Hateful lust has poisoned his heart and mind, and all who have come his way by chance or intent, he has murdered. For now his outward form has matched his inner evil, and he has become a serpent: a huge dragon, the mightiest of this or any age.’

Sigurd now sees his destiny and takes up Regin’s challenge.

‘Slay me this dragon to avenge my father, and win for yourself great glory,’ commands Regin. ‘Help me to my share of the weregild, and besides glory you shall have Andvari’s ring and the greater part of the treasure, as well.’

For such a mission, the valiant Sigurd desires a weapon to match his strength, and so goes to his mother and claims the shards of his father’s sword that had been the gift of Odin. These shards he gives to Regin in his smithy. Regin sets furiously to work, heating them in the hottest fire, reforging the blade and tempering it in the blood of a bull. The sacred runes above the hilt recover their brightness, the rings engraved on the steel gleam like silver, and as the smith carries the sword out into the daylight, it seems that flames play along its edge.

Sigurd takes the weapon in his strong hands and swings it fiercely at the smith’s anvil. The sword slices clean through the ir...

Table of contents

• Cover
• About the Author
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• CONTENTS
• TOLKIEN’S MIND
• WAR OF THE RINGS
• NORSE MYTHOLOGY
• THE GOD OF THE RING
• THE VOLSUNGA SAGA
• ARTHURIAN LEGENDS
• CAROLINGIAN LEGENDS
• CELTIC AND SAXON MYTHS
• GERMAN ROMANCE
• THE NIBELUNGENLIED
• GREEK AND ROMAN MYTHS
• BIBLICAL LEGENDS
• ORIENTAL MYTHS
• THE ALCHEMIST’S RING
• WAGNER’S RING
• TOLKIEN’S RING