Making Connections

As we have already discussed, it is difficult to draw a connection between the poetry of the Nibelungenlied and the Greco-Roman mythology with which we are all so familiar. The reason for this is that the mythology of Germany developed pretty much independently of the classical influence. Yet, we find ourselves seeing Charon in the ferryman, and it got me to wondering not about why we make the connections, but of what their value to us could be.

For example, we find in the myth of Perseus connections to Siegfreid. Both set out to do battle with great monsters, be they dragons, Gorgons, or sea monsters. Both did so not only in the hopes of earning greater glory, but with the knowledge that such glory would inevitably allow them a better choice of mate: Andromeda or Kriemhild. We know that Siegfreid had a cloak of invisibility, and that Perseus has a helm of invisibility, both of which allowed these heroes to not only achieve victory, but to walk away from the battle alive and whole. While Perseus slays Medusa in order to complete a challenge that will both free his mother from the unwanted attentions of a king as well as help him to secure his lovely bride, Siegfreid has no such obvious plan. The slaying of the dragon adds to his heroism and his reputation, which in turn allows him to seek and win the hand of Kriemhild. The relationship for Siegfreid is not as direct as that of Perseus, yet the means accomplish similar ends. They both, in their ways, establish dynasties from these unions, and the offspring, either the children of simply the products of the relationship, change the course of history. It is also interesting to note that Pegasus was said to have sprung from the decapitated corpse of Medusa, so that as from a monster comes great beauty, so does Brunhild, after her defeat, go from being rather monstrous/other in her not traditionally feminine nature to a beauty, a virtuous and obedient wife who all but disappears behind the walls of her husband’s home. This connection begins all because of one word: invisibility.

The other vibrant connection that can be made is between Brunhild and Atalanta. Both are strong women, more powerful than most, and they choose to remain single and unmarried. In order to keep their power from waning by being forced into the hands of an unworthy man, they concoct trials that, presumably, no one can win. We know of Brunhild’s trials and that her reputation for strength is directly related to her choice of contests. The same is true for Atalanta. As a skilled runner and huntress, she once participated in the Calydonian Boar Hunt, and she struck the first blow on the vicious beast. While she did not kill it, Meleager awarded her the hide to show that he knew that if not for her, the victory would have been different. But, she did not want to marry, so any suitors for her hand must engage in a foot race with her. The ;psers opf this race would be killed. But one intrepid man, Melanion, prayed to Aphrodite for help in winning Atalanta. The goddess gave him three golden apples, which he used during the race, dropping them so that she was distracted, which allowed him to win and become her husband, and heir to her father’s kingdom. Thus, Atalanta goes from being one of the most impressive women in history, powerful in her won right and more so than most men, to a wife. Though these women influence the tales simply by having been what they were, they are no longer themselves, they are their husband’s wives, and as such, not quite as heroic as they once were. Atalanta and Brunhild, once the wedding night is successful, fade from the stories, are no longer relevant.

When it comes down to it, our English system of education and knowledge can be tied back most accurately to classical times. We really did get a lot from the Greeks. So, even though we should refrain from making these connections, we do so because it is natural. It is what we have been taught to do. This does not eliminate the problem of their accuracy and value, but rather it indicates that we are products of the classical age. We make these connections because they better help us to understand what and who we are dealing with, so we line them up against the more familiar archetypes to see if that adds another level of meaning. It absolutely does, but the question becomes, what would a German student do? They too have the benefit/hindrance of classical themes as a part of their educational system, but they also have a unique perspective as, for this reading, they are looking within their own culture as well. How valid are our links and connections when lined up against those of an “authentic” audience?

Final Thoughts on The Nibelungenlied

After reading the ending of The Nibelungenlied, I have to say, I was pretty shocked at Kriemhild’s behavior. She becomes, perhaps, far more monstrous than Brunhild ever was, for although Brunhild killed her unsuccessful suitors with her monstrous strength, she did so because the suitors came to her and were under an unofficial contract. Knowing the rules of engagement, if you’ll forgive the terrible pun, Brunhild’s suitors still chose to continue with the competition, giving them the option to back out of the battle with their lives. Kriemhild, on the other hand, is responsible for the deaths of thousands of Burgundian knights, Hunnish knights, and the deaths of her kinsmen, all for revenge rather than defense of her kingdom, as in the case of Brunhild’s killings.

Both Brunhild and Kriemhild plot revenge in much the same way. They both plead their respective cases to able knights in their court. In Brunhild’s case, she pleads her case to Hagen, who is more than willing to take Siegfried out. In choosing Hagen, the cleverest and most vocal of the knights in Worms, Brunhild minimizes the bloodshed. Hagen, instead of approaching mighty Siegfried with brute force, finds a way to strike at his vulnerability. Enter Kriemhild and her naiveté. Once she reveals Siegfried’s weakness, no one but Siegfried has to die. Because of Hagen’s clever assassination plot, Brunhild’s plotting did not cause the death of more than one knight in Burgundy.

Kriemhild, however, doesn’t think her revenge strategy through as well. Instead of considering Hagen’s weakness or picking a worthy match for him, she pits all of her available forces against Hagen without regard to the consequences she or her knights must face. As a woman lacking great physical strength, Kriemhild’s ability to plot and to manipulate should be fairly keen as it one of the only political tools at her disposal. Kriemhild is unable to use her intellect to any great effect, and the lack of planning and strategy on Kriemhild’s part results in more deaths than Brunhild was responsible for, even in her armor-wearing, sword-swinging days.

But beyond her oversights in tactical issues or her underestimation of her kinsmen’s strength, it is Kriemhild’s attitude about the final revenge that is most monstrous. After Dietrich captures Hagen, he asks her to spare Hagen and Gunther because “He should not be made to suffer for standing bound before you.” (Nibelungenlied 289) Although she sends him away, he goes to a “cheerless dungeon” (289) Kriemhild relishes in the idea of torturing Hagen. According to the poet, “She kept them apart to add to their suffering.” (290) The poet hints at the fact that Kriemhild knows that keeping Hagen and Gunther separate will cause them pain, and she intentionally sets up their imprisonment in the most painful way possible.

The most monstrous image of Kriemhild is that of her carrying Gunther’s severed head by the hair. She brings it to Hagen, just to torture him. In this exchange, Kriemhild is at her most sadistic. She presents the severed head to Hagen as he is proclaiming his loyalty and devotion to his kinsmen. Taunting Hagen and making him look at the head of his king hanging by the hair in his mortal enemy’s hand embodies Kriemhild’s monstrousness better than her final act. While she kills Hagen with her own power with Siegfried’s sword, her derisive and contemptuous treatment of Hagen is what is most dangerous about Kriemhild.

The Nibelungenlied as a Feminist Text

In preparing to finish up the Nibelungenlied, I picked up a book called Brides and Doom by Jerold Frakes which has a really interesting take on the true focus of the a few different German epics. Of the Nibelungenlied, Frakes says that he attempts to "address issues of sexual politics as represented by the Nibelungenlied" through the analysis of the property and power exercised by both Kriemhild and Brunhild. (5) He says that the Nibelungenlied poet is "consciously [confronting] the problems of gender which were generated by the social changes of the eleventh and twelfth centuries." (177) He even goes so far as the call the situations inflicted upon Brunhild and Kriemhild exactly what they are in modern terms - rape, wife beating, theft, oppression and so on.

I see the point; I actually appreciate the point. When we look at the storyline in purely narrative terms, we have two men who trick and rape one woman, beat another one when she threatens to expose them, and kill a man who is a threat to exposing the whole thing. The men then steal, sink, or leave behind all the property the women own so they are totally dependent on their husbands and are completely perplexed when one of the women decides she got the short end of the deal and takes matters into her own hands.

But in order for the work to be consciously feminist, the poem needs to present the events in those terms or comment upon the events and it does neither. The only person to be presented as "robbed" of something is Kriemhild, and even then she is only robbed of her husband, instead of, say, her treasure, her autonomy, her vengeance and her selfhood. When she tries to enact her vengeance, she is literally demonized and killed for her trouble.

I would be more likely to suggest that the gender and property relations in the play are problematic, but I don't know if I could go so far as to say they are consciously problematized.

Thirsty?

We left off with the Burgundians/Nibelungs drinking (and enjoying) the blood of their enemies while Etzel's hall burns down around them. I'm not sure if any of us want or need to spend much more time with this, but there is one more analogue from earlier in the poem which might shed some light on this enigmatic and gruesome episode.

The burning of the hall and the drinking of blood marks the transition to the sustained dramatic height of the poem's second half: the disastrous and emotionally fraught encounters with Rudiger and his vassals, Dietrich's vassals, and Dietrich, and the final face-to-face of Hagen and Kriemhild. In the first half of the poem, the hunting trip with Siegfried occupies a structurally equivalent position: after the inciting incident (quarrel of the queens - slaughter of squires/killing of Ortlieb), past the point of no return (decision to murder Siegfried - refusal to surrender Hagen and accept a truce), but before the final crescendo of connected catastrophes (in the first half of the poem, the murder, alienation of Kriemhild, and theft of the treasure, ending with the conspicuous lack of a direct encounter between Hagen and Kriemhild - "Hagen dared not enter her presence" [146]).

At the end of his hard day's hunting, "Siegfried was tormented by thirst" (129), there being no wine to be had in the camp. Actually, this is because Hagen has deliberately sent the wine elsewhere in order to inveigle Siegfried into a vulnerable position, occasioning "perfidious" Gunther's remark: "This is Hagen's fault - he wants us to die of thirst" (129). Siegfried's thirst might also remind us of the ritual performed to integrate Siegfried into the Burgundian court after his first truculent arrival: "Word was given to pour out Gunther's wine in greeting" (31). Now, as part of the severance of these ties of service and alliance, Hagen directs Siegfried not to the missing wine that would convey and symbolize it, but to "a cool spring nearby" (129), which becomes a stream on the next page, "cool, sweet, and clear" (130). In other words, Hagen has maneuvered Siegfried out of the Burgundian sociopolitical orbit and back into the natural world from which he emerged, his own world - except without its mythic, magic, monstrous element. Instead of dragon's blood in which to bathe and become invulnerable, Siegfried only has streamwater to drink to quench his very human thirst. (Is it too much of a stretch to quote the Bible at this juncture: "After this, Jesus...saith, 'I thirst'" [John 19:28]?) Deprived of his shield and weapons by another trick, Siegfried bends to drink and is speared in the back.

This scene very elegantly accomplishes Siegfried's transition from monster/hero/other to man - his humanization, which is as much as to say, his death. In Northrop Frye's terms, we move from a romance to a high mimetic register. Before killing him, Hagen reads and (re)interprets Siegfried, identifying his human points. (Siegfried has been depicted in explicitly textual terms, as a book to be read, at a previous vulnerable moment, his introduction to Kriemhild: "Siegfried son of Siegmund stood there handsome as though limned on parchment with all a master's skill" [48].) Hagen steers thirsty Siegfried to the brook and then "searched for the sign on the brave man's tunic" and "hurled the spear at the cross" (130). (Hatto is convinced that the use of "cross" here is a slip-up, and he may be right, but it would not be the first time in literature that a spear is driven into a cross to enormous emotional and thematic effect.) The stabbing fixes Siegfried, pinned like a butterfly in a display case, to his human identity. It also lines Siegfried up with Brunhild; just as the loss of Brunhild's virginity diminished her monstrous otherness and deprived her of her power, so Siegfried, when penetrated, lapses into humanity and loses his superhuman power: "The hero's face had lost its colour and he was no longer able to stand. His strength had ebbed away" (131). Symbolically deflowered, he falls "among the flowers" (131), which become "drenched with blood" as he breathes his last (132). Siegfried's superhumanity bleeds out into the fragility of the natural world. Nor, to conclude the discussion of this scene, are these flowers the only things stained by Siegfried's blood: "the hero's heart's blood leapt from the wound and splashed against Hagen's clothes" (130). As Siegfried, humanized, dies, the otherness or monstrosity into which he was baptized by the dragon's blood passes to Hagen as he in turn is bathed by the blood of an Other.

At the equivalent structural point of the poem's second half, the blood-drinking episode recycles many elements and motifs from Siegfried's death by the stream: thirst, wine/water/blood, the gain or loss of strength, human/natural spheres, Christian associations, and the movement between humanity and monstrous otherness carried by the flow of blood. This time, instead of in the natural world of forest and stream, the action takes place at the heart of the human sociopolitical sphere, Etzel's hall. The hall, however, is burning down, and indeed these sections of the poem show us a social order in total collapse: sovereigns beg their vassals to fight for them, warriors bound by friendship and marriage kill each other nevertheless, and entire feudal and kinship societies meet their annihilation. Amid this universal collapse of the human and social, a Burgundian knight complains, "This fierce heat has given me such a terrible thirst that I fear I shall soon expire amid all these perils," to which Hagen responds, "if any of you are plagued with thirst let them drink the blood here - in such heat it will be better than wine!" (261)

As it did upon Siegfried's arrival at Worms, sharing wine in this case would have symbolized and enacted the strengthening of the human social order, retying the feudal/kinship bonds among the Burgundians. However, this very humane order is being visibly destroyed, and in Hagen's eyes, at least, it is too late to save it. By consuming, instead, the blood of their enemies, the othered Huns, the Burgundians/Nibelungs move to a superhuman (inhuman?), monstrous level themselves - joining Hagen in the otherness he acquired through his baptism in Siegfried's blood. Ingesting this blood also gives them the exceptional strength lost by Siegfried when his blood was spilled: "their bodies were greatly strengthened by it" (262). The Burgundians began their day of slaughter by receiving a traditional Christian mass; during the night after it, they now observe a sinister heroic mass, celebrating not Christ's humanity but their collective inhumanity.

This barbarous scene ends with a poignant detail, though: Giselher's remark that "it will soon be dawning, for a cool breeze has sprung up" (262). Such breezes, clean and refreshing, waft intermittently through this part of the poem, usually seeming to blow just over the heads or in front of the faces of the characters describing them. They carry over the associations of the stream in the first half, "cool, sweet, and clear," translating these characteristics from water to air. The stream from which Siegfried quenched his thirst before his death now flows outside the ruined hall in which the Burgundians have been trapped, or have trapped themselves. It subtly comes to represent an unobtainable relief, sought by whatever remains human among the Burgundians even after their monstrous ritual (usually voiced, as above, by Giselher, one of the least othered among them): "'Death has robbed us mightily,' said Young Giselher. 'Now leave your weeping and let us go out into the air so that, battle-weary men, we may cool our armour. I fear God will not grant us longer life here'" (274). Siegfried's humane death by the stream among the flowers, however mutable and fragile its associations, seems to be a death that Gunther (beheaded in captivity by his sister's orders), Hagen (cut down, "powerless" [290], by a woman), or any of the hordes killed in the claustrophobic slaughter in the hall, might otherwise have envied. But Hagen, who offered water for Siegfried's thirst, humanizing him in order to kill him and shore up the social order, has now given his thirsty companions blood, turning away from the collapsing social order to choose monstrous otherness and deaths to match.

Anyway, so much for the Nibelungenlied and its beverages. In the future, when I want to imagine blood-wine I'll just watch Star Trek.

The Puppet Master Hagen

In our texts thus far we have most often discussed the characters in terms of strength, power, beauty and chivalric courtesy. Our heroes most often excel in these characteristics often othered or perceived as monstrous as a result. Beowulf is strong and handsom, Gawain carries himself with utmost chivalry and strength, Roland is brave and strong to the point invincibility, but never have we ever had a character who truly excelled in intelligence to the point that it really othered them as a character. Roland's pal Oliver seems to be the closest to that standard, but he is rather short lived as he easily succumbs and is overridden by Roland. This has held true for the most part until now when we have met Hagen.

His intelligence, influence and role within the court at Worms is desperately understated in the first half the text, and yet he is actually in control of all the events that occur. He is the dark puppet master who does not receive the glory associated with physical prowess, chivalric nobility and beauty. So I will expose his intelligence and give him the due he deserves.

First off we must notice his wealth of knowledge. He is the one that knows who Siegfried is and knows the stories and lore behind him. No one else has a clue. This knowledge and lore seems to carry beyond Siegfried as well as in later chapters he recognizes the minstrels of Etzel's court. "But nobody knew until Hagen of Troneck saw them" (182). The court is basically beholden to Hagen for information on anyone who arrives. He is always the first person consulted. The knowledge in and of itself is powerful, but then Hagen adds another element of conniving intelligence when pulling the strings behind decisions.

"why don't you tell Siegfried?"(34) is Hagen's advice upon learning of the Saxon threat. It is at his prompting that Gunther recruits the warrior to his bidding. Hagen's role in this is underplayed. After he initiates the idea, he disappears from the text and the actual action is carried out by Gunther in our eyes and as such more readily attributed to him. This happens again when Gunther desires Brunhild. He declares in the presence of Siegfried, "I should advise you to ask Siegfried to share these perils with you, seeing as he is so knowledgable about Brunhild's affairs" (53). It is his only contribution to the conversation and the only mention of him until it is revealed that he is accompanying them. And once in Iceland his puppetry continues as on page 69 he expresses fear after Gunther and Siegfried have bested Brunhild that Brunhild's coming vassals will destroy them. As a result of this Siegfried declares "I will prevent it" and sets off to get his vassals. All of these instances prove Hagen's subtle impetuous force the characters to dance while the poet seemingly hides him from view refusing to give the man's cunning it's due glory making it all the more underplayed and in a sense sinister. Hagen's next acts are less subtle, but again his cunning is involved as he tricks Kriemhild into revealing Siegfried's weakness. And his subtle power over the rest of the Kings who are supposed to be his masters is revealed as they fail to stop him despite their misgivings and desire for Siegfried to live on.

Hagen is in fact the greatest hidden power in this story and is comparable to Siegfried's cloak, which gives power to the invisible. Hidden in the shadows forcing events, controlling the scenes and always forcing the course in his vision. The story indicates that he will be undone by Kriemhild's trick in getting the Burgundians to come to Etzel's court. And yet though it was against his will, Hagen has provided that he be prepared not to go down without a fight. He has convinced his Kings of an honor guard and even at Etzel's court has put Kriemhild off her game by connection with Dietrich. He is othered by his intelligence and prudence which excels beyond all others and his own physical prowess. As an example, in his battle with Gelpfrat he understands his own tenuous grip in the face of overwhelming power and calls for support from his brother to finish his foe. He is a man of the shadows who subtly manipulates everyone else to do his bidding. As such it is easy to see that many shall perish for his sake though he be not the king, for in fact he is greater than the kings. He is the puppet master and all his puppets must die before him.

Isolation and Proximity as indicators of Otherness and Power

Transitioning to The Nibelungenlied from Sir Gawain romances, I’m noticing some big differences in the way women are portrayed. For me, the women of Sir Gawain function as another force determining his actions and highlighting his lack of agency. As soon as he meets a woman, be it Ragnelle or the Green Knight’s wife, he ceases to assert his own will, defaulting to the lady out of courtesy. Particularly Ragnelle. She asks him to choose which he would rather have: a wife fair by day, hideous at night or a wife hideous by day, fair at night. Rather than assert his wish, Gawain considers it for a moment and then basically says “Yes, dear. Whatever you want, dear.” Even when Gawain refuses and attempts to stand his ground, his will is still subjugated by the will of the lady of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. He refuses to take the belt/girdle, but the lady insists and eventually he gives.

In the Gawain romances, it’s the woman’s appearance that changes Gawain. The lady’s goodly appearance influences Gawain’s actions, and Ragnelle’s beauty at the end of the romance compels Gawain to give up jousting. However, more specifically, her proximity to Gawain is what sways Gawain. In both instances when Gawain’s will is melded to the wishes of Ragnelle and the Lady respectively, they are in their shared bedchamber.

In The Nibelungenlied, however, women are rarely in close quarters with men, owing to the strict societal codes of behavior. Women are kept hidden and secret from men. Brunhild expresses this best with her interactions with her troop of maids. “Then the Queen told her superb young ladies to move away from the windows—they were not to stand there as a spectacle for strangers.” (Nibelungenlied 60) While the seclusion speaks to the maintenance of women’s secrecy, the maids turn the idea of spectacle on its head. Unlike the women of Gawain romances, the ladies are not displayed, but they spy on showy Sigfried and Gunther, dressed in their fine new clothes.

Proximity with ladies in Gawain’s case made him subject to the will of women, whereas in Sigfried and Gunther’s case, separating women, literally behind walls, makes the men the object in the relationship. Gawain is passive because of the sway of the lady’s presence. Sigfried and Gunther are not aware of the maid’s voyeurism, which gives the women the power of the gaze. The act of secluding the Other, in the case of The Nibelungenlied, allows the maids, a usually passive and peripheral position for a woman, to become powerful in a way unlike the women of Gawain.

Unlike the women of Gawain, the maids of The Nibelungenlied are not to be looked at. In fact, Sigfried and Gunther fall in love with Kriemhild and Brunhild not because they have gazed upon the most wondrous beauty of their generation. They “fall in love” with them because they hear about their beauty. Once again, Kriemhild and Brunhild exist in the story behind a wall, and in the case of Kriemhild, only she has the power to gaze upon Sigfried. “Had Siegfried but known that his beloved was observing him, it would have been a source of unending delight to him, and if he could have seen her I dare assert no greater pleasure could ever have befallen him.” (Nibelungenlied 31-32) Kriemhild wields the power to bestow great pleasure on Siegfried by showing herself, but she can hold back because she is in the position to watch but not be watched. Unlike Gawain’s ladies who rely on their appearance and proximity, using intimacy to win Gawain over, Kriemhild and the other maids use distance to create a mystique, which gives them more power and puts them in the position of observer, a place normally reserved for men.

Kriemhild’s & Brunhild’s Promise of Love & Damnation.

After reading Francis G. Gentry’s essay, I revisited the opening of, “ The Nibelungenlied.” Gentry focuses on the ‘conceptual pair of love and sorrow’ that seems to be invoked, and foreshadowed through Kriemhild’s character,and I think this theme is readily felt on the first page of the story. Despite this, Gentry fails to assert how a profound female power drives this theme or motif in the story.

The fact that the story first focuses on Kriemhild’s before anyone else, instills weight and significance to her actions, words, and presence within the story; in first introducing us to her, she is already given an authoritative voice in the story. Kriemhild seems to possess a profound feminine power, or at least a profound access to a feminine power. Not only is she ‘beyond all measure lovely,’ but she is described as ‘the adornment of her sex.’ Here, Kriemhild is simultaneously reduced to her sex, and instilled with a kind of power, for her sex, her femininity or any notions attached to ‘female,’ is something that adds to her attractiveness, allure, or one could even say, her influence over men. With this in mind, after Kriemhild’s initial introduction, the poet reveals, ‘She came to be a beautiful woman, causing many knights to lose their lives.’ The poet also describes how she was ‘made as if for love’s caress.’ Thus, Kriemhild seems to promises both love and death; this illustrates Gentry’s examination of the relationship between love and sorrow in the story, for one could argue, that Kriemhild’s love for Siegfried is damning, or, will produce sorrow/grief. As Gentry points out, Kriemhild’s conversation with her mother, on the first page of, “The Nibelungenlied,” reinforces the ‘leitmotif of love/sorrow.’ Yet, I think Gentry fails to assert that there is a profound feminine power or element within the story, at the root of this love/sorrow motif.’

Shortly after Kreimhild’s introduction, it states: “They (Lords) held sway at Worms beside the Rhine…were served in high honour by many proud knights…till their dying days, when the enmity of two noble ladies was to bring them to a sad end.” This line seems to determine Siegfried’s, as well as Gunther, Gernot, and Giselher’s fate. The line quite literally states that feelings of hostility, hatred, ill will, animosity manifest themselves between two women, who I think after reading the first section of this book, we can assume are Kreimhild and Brunhild; despite the fact that this ‘enmity’ has not yet developed in the first section of this book, they are the most prominent of all the female figures that appear. Also, although Brunhild does not literally appear on the first page, , she seems to possess a certain power over Gunther, who motivated by his ‘love’ for her, with the aid of Siegfried, ‘wins’ her over; this mirrors, to a degree, Kreimhild’s ‘love’ and how it motivates Siegfried’s actions. Like the women in, “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,” Kriemhild and Brunhild seem to be the driving forces behind the events that will take place in the story; both seem to promise damnation, while motivating the knights’ actions through the ‘love’ that they are believed to promise. The fact that they are both women, and are prominent figures whose relationship seems to damn the knights’ in the story, reinforces how this motif of love/sorrow is closely connected to a profound female force.

I think it’s curious how Brunhild seems to possess both feminine and masculine attributes. Brunhild possesses the same political status of a man or ‘Lord,’ for the fortress of Isenstein is in ‘Brunhild’s land (page 59), and her territory is also described as the ‘Lady’s (Brunhild’s) country.’ It almost seems as if Seigfried, Gunther, Hagen, and Dancwart enter a profound feminine realm; not only is this ‘Brunhild’s land,’ but the repeated images of beautiful maidens seems to reinforce this. Complicating this, is Brunhild’s surprising ‘tremendous strength (page 66), which Hagen at two points in the story, describes as emanating from the devil. It was interesting also, how the story of Eve is invoked on page sixty-five with Hagan’s words; the allusion to Eve and the devil, as well as Brunhild’s ‘masculine strength,’ seem to not only illuminate or enhance the queens physical power or influence, but her ability to damn. Hence, illustrating the motif of ‘love/sorrow,’ and adding a new element to the feminine driving factor behind it – evil. Kriemhild has yet to be equated with evil, although her prominence, femininity, and promise of both ‘love and death,’ associate her with Brunhild. It will be interesting to see how this story develop, and more importantly how Kriemhild may embody the ‘evilness’ that is attached to Brunhild’s femininity or female power. Also, I’m interested to see the repercussions that are given birth to when Gunther and Siegfried ‘deceive (page 63)’ Brunhild, for they seem to have directly violated her trust, and infringed on the power she possesses.

The Hacking of Helmets

I know now that whenever I hear of medieval battle I shall always remember that it is merely a hacking of helmets. It was very interesting to me to see the words that were repeated over and over again in the Nibelungenlied. Of armor it was mostly helmets and shields that were discussed. "Numberless helmets" that gleam and stream with blood (39) and "countless shields" that are often pierced through and through. And I also always enjoy a good sharp and keen sword which has been laid about with so well.

For me these words and recurring descriptions are pretty funny and seem in such good blatant cheer that I can't help but enjoy them. But I also think they are indicative of the trend so far to be very showy and upfront. It produces in the story a forcible nature that seems to be driving ahead to its goal. And again I think this is linked and in a way mirrors the actions and character of Siegfried. His brashness and almost complete disregard for anyone else's desires seem in tune with he tone of the novel and remind me of another such character.

Of all the other characters we've read so far, Siegfried actually reminds me most of Roland. They cut a similar figure. They both are loyal to their friends, magnificent in battle and similarly are invincible in battle. As it stands so far I can not see Siegfried being defeated in combat. It seems that, in fact, he must fall victim to some other nefarious plot, much as Roland does, for Roland does not die of wounds in battle but of self-inflicted wounds in response to treachery. The are both brash as well, Roland declaring they will fight a futile fight and win, and Siegfried entering Worms acting as though he owned it.

Annie has said in a previous post that Siegfried is a fairly monstrous character, at least more monstrous than othered. In response, I think that Siegfried is actually less monstrous in this story. I think he is much more of a Roland figure instead. His super protection by dragon's blood may be considered demonic, but I think that the story is very clear that the blood is a separate entity in relation to Siegfried. I agree that the act of the blood bath is in a sense monstrous, but I feel that in Siegfried's view it is like putting on a permanent coat of armor, and of course this armor has one flaw. It is also similar to the cloak that he uses to multiply his strength and turn invisible. The text is very clear to separate the cloak and Siegfried in terms of whose strength is whose. It makes sure to state that without the cloak Siegfried can not stand up to the monstrous devil character of Brunhild: "But for the magic cloak they would have died there and then. Blood spurted from Siegfried's mouth" (67). In my opinion, Siegfried is othered by his use of these instruments and his own prowess that becomes enhanced by them, but he is not monstrous in the use of them. Again in my parallel to Roland, Roland is also in procession of a sword that is comprised of holy relics that appear to enhance his power.

I would also like to discuss the cloak's power in minute detail. It provides him with the abilities of strength and invisibility. The two powers do not seem to match in this story's world. Power is respected and glorified, but if one can not see the person doing the powerful deed then there is a lessening of the glory and power itself, since part of the power is in the respect garnered by the viewing. Siegfried would never be able to overcome Brunhild on his own. He would be forced to remove his cape during the festivities, and in doing so lose the physical power with which to compete with the monstrous queen. I find this combination to be thoroughly intriguing and I wonder how others feel about it?

The Interjecting Narrator

I noticed that in almost every chapter of the text, we have the narrator butting in and letting us know that something very bad is going to happen. Every time the narrator appeared I kept asking myself if these constant interjections were changing the way I was reading the text. From the third page of the text, we know that this will not be a tale with a happy ending. We know that the beautiful princess (Kriemhild) will find her prince charming (Siegfried), but the narrator reminds us that they will certainly not live happily ever after. “What terrible vengeance she took on her nearest kinsmen for slaying him in days to come! For his life there died many a mother’s child” (p.19). The next interjection occurs six pages later when the narrator proclaims (as Siegfried departs for Worms and many of his people weep), “I imagine their hearts had truly foretold them that it would end in death for so many of their friends” (p.25). Moreover, these interruptions occur again on pages 32, 42, and 61.

While the first part of the text is essential to set up the exposition of the tale, these interjections provide us with a different reading of the text. We know from the beginning that Kriemhild will be the downfall of the epic’s hero, Siegfried. We know that she will cause his and many others destruction, yet we don’t know how.

What is also important to note is that these interjections are focused around the future for Siegfried and Kriemhild. Yet while these two are the text’s protagonists thus far; Gunther, Brunhild, and Hagen also play a significant role in the first eight chapters. The only indication we have of Gunther’s future is that we are told he will eventually forget how loyally Siegfried served him when he helps Gunther win Brunhild’s hand in marriage (p.61). Of Brunhild’s future we learn that she will never return to Isenstein (p.75). As to Hagen’s future it is unclear. On page 65, Dancwart (Hagen’s brother) notes, “what a shameful way of dying if we are to perish at the hands of women!” Although the narrator does not explicitly tell us that Hagen (and possibly Dancwart) are going to die because of a female, his interpolating indicates that this will be the case. The narrator has repeatedly reminded us that many men (the important character’s in this text) will perish because of Kriemhild’s “vengeance” (p.19).

In other words, are we just waiting for these horrible things to happen? Does the beginning of the text feel like a long digression? Inevitably, these questions have led me to others. How will this text survive without its hero, Siegfried? And most importantly, what role will these women really play? I can’t wait to find out.

Siegfried's monstrousness

In beginning to read The Nibelungenlied, I would like to discuss the status of Siegfried in this story. Certain key descriptions of him make us wonder about his status as either ‘monstrous’ or ‘other.’ Some textual descriptions into his appearance and deeds convey a darker being than what we initially expect. The more we hear about the deeds of Siegfried, the more he turns ‘monstrous.’ In most conquests, the victor takes over that land and the defeated is now under their control. In a way, the victor takes the identity of his foe. In the same manner, Siegfried wins many challenges and take on the identity of the defeated, which is sometimes ‘monstrous.’

When the court of Worms is aware of the coming of Siegfried, Hagan exclaims, “this hero slew a dragon and bathed in its blood, from which his skin grew horny so that no weapon will bite it” (28). Siegfried’s encounter with a demonic presence has begun to make him demonic and ‘monstrous.’ The conquering of this dragon not only made him stronger, but it also provided him with this monstrous skin. Though Siegfried is still a mortal, his monstrous actions of immersing himself in the blood of the dragon, similar to a second baptism, and instead of coming out cleansed, Siegfried comes out with an advantage over normal warriors.

Another unique point in the story is when a messenger informs Kriemhild of their victory over the Saxons. The messenger describes the heroic deeds of Siegfried, but they are told in an unorthodox manner. The messenger states, “such sorrow did he bring to the ladies by slaying their kinsmen! The lovers of many ladies fell there too, never to rise again” (42). When one talks of the great deeds of another, they do not usually harp on the negative points. However, here, the negative points are seen as positive. We hear of the deaths of many men, but more on the level of the pain Siegfried has brought by destroying relationships between loved ones. When descriptions of deeds are depicted as such, one sees the damage this warrior has caused to others. However, the messenger states, “he has all the qualities that go to make a brave, good knight” (42). This monstrous behavior is the norm for warriors, just as we discussed for Roland.

Nonetheless, there is something unique to Siegfried that ostracizes him from the rest of the community. He is the only man who can fight against Brunhild. Brunhild herself is described as somewhat monstrous and Hagen exclaims to Gunter, “the woman whose love you desire is a rib of the Devil himself!” (65). Instead of woman being made from the rib of Adam, as stated in Genesis, Brunhild is considered made from the devil. As her ‘monstrousess’ is emphasized, it is also noted that Siegfried is the one who secretly fights her. In these scenes, the reader notices that it takes a monster to fight a monster. This appears to be the issue that stems the rest of the story. Since Siegfried has conquered Brunhild, she technically belongs to him. However, Siegfried’s actions were concealed, and Brunhild is tricked into thinking Gunter had proved himself victor. Also, since Siegfried is the one who defeated the demonic woman, he would then be considered somewhat demonic as well.

There are no clear monsters in this story, but Siegfried is the only character that comes close to this categorization by his identification with his winnings. In this manner, Siegfried could be considered the court of Gunter’s ‘monster’ just as Beowulf was for the Danes. Also, it is important to note that Siegfried only developed this ‘monstrousnes’ over time, with his encounters with greater beings.