"This is the best I can do," said Siegfried. "Good master, my sword is
done!" Then Mimer sent his swiftest messenger to the king to tell him
that he was ready to meet the giant.
The day of the contest came. Mimer's friends sat on one side of the
road, the giant's friends on the other. At the top of the hill the two
masters were to meet, the giant with his armor, Mimer with his sword.
Soon a mighty shout arose! The giant, wearing the wonderful coat of
glittering steel, came up the hill. He sat down on a huge rock at the
top of the hill. As the people waited, a queer little man was seen
coming slowly up the hill. His back was bent, and his white hair hung
about his shoulders. At his side he carried a sword so bright that the
lightning seemed to play about its edge, as he walked.
Slowly he went to the top of the hill and stood before the giant. It was
Mimer, the master. He loosed the sword from his side and raised it above
his head. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Yes; strike," said the giant,
laughing, for he was not afraid. One, two, three times the sword flashed
about Mimer's head.
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