Sigurd and the Dragon

Sigurd was the son of a King. That’s a good start in life, but Sigurd’s Dad had been conquered and killed which was not so good. His wife kept the bits of his old sword, because she had been told they would make a brilliant new one.

Then Sigurd’s mother married another King. This new one looked after her and her son very well. But life was not easy for Sigurd. He knew his mother expected a lot of him. It is one thing to be a hero, and quite another, when that is expected of you.

When he was grown up, his step-father said:
“My boy, it’s time for you to go and see the world. Get yourself a horse.”
Sigurd thanked the King and went to choose a horse. On the way to the royal stables, he met an old man.

“Are you going to choose a horse?” said the old man. It was Odin, King of the Norse gods, who knew everything. “Would you like my advice?”
Sigurd looked at the old man. He didn’t look like the sort of person who knew about horses. But he had known what Sigurd was going to do. “I’ll listen to what he has to say,” he thought.

It was a good decision. The old man told Sigurd to drive the horses to a river and to choose the one that swam across. So he did. It was a beautiful grey, with a tail and mane that flowed with the wind. Sigurd stretched out his hand flat with a carrot, and the horse whinnied and took it. “That’s my girl,” said Sigurd. He walked the horse back to the Palace stables. “Good luck,” said the old man.”

At dinner he sat next to his old tutor, Regin. “Now you’ve got a horse,” said Regin “why don’t you go and find some treasure?”
“Well,” said Sigurd “that’s easier said than done. The only treasure I know about is guarded by the dragon, Fafnir.”
“Are you a coward?” said Regin.
“Why are you so keen for me to kill this dragon?”

Regin said it was because of a family quarrel: Fafnir was actually his own brother! They had been three brothers, but the middle one was murdered. Regin’s Dad had demanded a lot of gold as the blood price. But the gold was stolen from a Dwarf. “A curse on you forever,” said the Dwarf to the murderer who stole his gold. “This gold will bring bad luck.”

It did. Fafnir killed his own father for the gold, would not share it with anyone, and became a dragon to guard it. Regin had loved his father, and he also loved gold: he wanted vengeance and the gold. “That’s why I want you to kill Fafnir,” he said. “I’ll help you. You know me as a tutor, but before that I was a great smith. I will make you a sword to kill the dragon with.”

Sigurd thought it would be good for him to have some treasure. He asked his mother for the broken pieces of his father’s blade. Regin made them into a shining and great new sword. Sigurd tried this blade on the lump of iron, and it did not break, but split the iron in two. Then he threw some wool into the river, and when it floated down against the sword, it was cut into two pieces.

A few days later, Sigurd rode out with Regin to the heath where the Dragon lived. It was very bleak. There was a valley, but definitely not a green and pleasant valley. Along the bottom, there was a strange white trail which looked like slime.

“There,” said Regin “that’s the dragon’s slime! That’s the way it goes to drink.” The trail was very broad, and the weight of the Dragon had made a huge indent in the ground. “The Dragon must be enormous,” Sigurd said. “Yes,” said Regin “and that big rock – it’s not a rock, it’s the Dragon’s turd!”

“Wow!” said Sigurd. There was nothing else to say, and he gripped his sword tightly. “When you go down,” said Regin, “make sure you stand at the side. If you go in front of Fafnir, his breath will poison you, and if you go behind him, he’ll knock you over with his tail.”

Sigurd clambered down into the valley. His idea was to ambush the Dragon, dig a pit, climb in and hide. When it slithered across the pit, he would drive his sword into the Dragon’s heart from underneath. It was a brave plan.

Sigurd was terrified when he heard the Dragon crawl along the path. He had to wait till it was in the right place. Then he thrust the sword deep into the Dragon’s heart. Fafnir lashed his tail till stones broke and trees crashed about him. Then he croaked and said `Whoever you are, my gold will bring you death…’
Sigurd said: “I will die anyway, Fafnir, but now it is your turn.” He twisted and thrust the sword deeper and deeper till Fafnir died.

It was very difficult for Sigurd to climb out of the pit over the dragon, but at least it was dead. Regin came down and asked him to roast Fafnir’s heart for him. Sigurd didn’t much like the idea, but he was a nice chap and always obliged people if he could. Regin built a little fire, and Sigurd cut out Fafnir’s heart, and skewered it. He found this disgusting, and while he was putting it on to grill, he burnt his finger. He licked it, and all of a sudden, he could hear what the birds were saying.

One bird said “There is Sigurd roasting Fafnir’s heart for someone else. He should eat it himself and gain wisdom.” Another one said, “And he’s doing it for Regin, who will betray him!” A third bird said, “He should cut off Regin’s head, and keep the gold himself.”

When Sigurd heard this, he thought of all he had done for Regin. He took out his sword again and cut off his head with a single blow.

Then he heard a fourth bird sing:
“Sigurd kills a dragon
a hero and a man.
Now he ought to find a bride
Brynhilde, if he can.”

And that is how Sigurd got the idea of going to look for Brynhilde, – but that is another story.

If you want to listen to the Audio version of this story, here is the link:
https://charlotteswonderfulstories.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/07/sigurd-and-the-dragon.mp3