Sigurd
15 ‘With kin unkindly
wert thou cursed Regin!
His fire and venom
affright me not!
Yet why thou eggest me,
I ask thee still –
for father’s vengeance,
or for Fáfnir’s gold?’
Regin
16 ‘A sire avenged
were sweet to Regin;
the gold thy guerdon,
the glory thine.
A sword for Sigurd
will the smith fashion,
the blade most bitter
ever borne to war.’
*
17 The forge was smoking,
the fire smouldered.
Two swords there fashioned
twice he broke them:
hard the anvil
hewed he mightily –
sword was splintered,
smith was angered.
{J.R.R. Tolkien, The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún, Sigurd Fafnesbane by davidstill on DeviantArt}
-Ancalagon
