The Helgi of the next two poems is the son of the hero Sigmund and his wife Borghild. This, the first of these two poems, begins with Helgi’s birth, which is attended by the Norns (goddess-like figures who determine fate). The Norns predict Helgi will be famous and rule a wide kingdom; a raven also predicts his success as a warrior. Helgi lives up to these expectations and kills King Hunding while he is still only fifteen years old. He refuses to compensate Hunding’s sons for their father’s loss, and he kills them in a subsequent battle.
After this battle, he sees Valkyries in the sky, and he desires Sigrun, their leader. She tells him, however, that she has been promised by her father Hogni to marry King Hothbrodd. She asks Helgi to fight him for her hand in marriage, which Helgi eagerly agrees to do. He sails with a great navy to do battle with Hothbrodd. Upon arriving at his kingdom, Hothbrodd’s brother Guthmund interrogates them from the shore, and becomes embroiled in an exchange of insults with Helgi’s half-brother Sinfjotli (this exchange comprises st. 32–44). Helgi finally stops the banter by entreating them to fight with weapons like men. Helgi and Sinfjotli win the ensuing battle, and Sigrun congratulates Helgi, telling him he has won Hothbrodd’s lands as well as her hand in marriage.
Here begins the poem of the Volsungs, the poem about Helgi, the killer of Hunding and Hothbrodd:
IT WAS IN ANCIENT DAYS when eagles cried, and holy waters fell from the mountains of heaven. Then Helgi, the bold man, was born to Borghild in Bralund.
It was night in the house when the Norns came in, the ones who make fate for the noble-born. They said the boy would be a very famous king, he would be considered the best of all rulers.
They decided his fate with their power, when they broke the walls of Bralund. They had bands made of gold; they laid them down under the night-time sky.
They hid their ends in the east and west, to show the borders of the lands this king would rule. One of the Norns hid the third end in the north; she said it would hold forever.
One thing grieved Sigmund, Helgi’s father, and his wife Borghild, Helgi’s mother. One raven said to another raven, expecting a feast: “I know something:
“Sigmund’s young son will wear armor! He’s just a day old; his first day has just dawned. But he has sharp eyes like a war-king; that boy’s a friend of wolves— we’ll be happy and well-fed!”
The boy grew up and was warlike at a young age; they said he was already reckoned as a man. King Sigmund himself returned from battle to give the young prince a worthy sword.
Sigmund named him Helgi, and gave him lands— Solfjoll, Snofjoll, Sigarsvellir, Hringstath, Hringstoth, Hatun, and Himinvangar— young Helgi held a ready sword.
Then the young king began to grow up, a noble tree in the company of his kinsmen. He paid his men in gold—he was no miser with the loot from his campaigns.
He did not have long to wait for battle. When the young man was just fifteen years old, he killed the brave King Hunding, who had ruled lands and men a long time.
But the sons of Hunding sent him a message, they demanded compensation in the form of money. They had much to avenge— Helgi had killed their father, and taken much wealth.
Helgi paid them nothing of what they asked; he would not compensate them for the loss of their father. Instead he called for stormy weather, for a rain of gray spears and the wrath of Odin.
Those kings rode to battle; the battle was held at Logafjoll. They broke the peace of King Frothi’s time; Odin’s wolves did not go hungry.
Helgi rested after he killed them beneath Arastein— Alf and Eyjolf, Hjorvarth and Havarth, all the sons of Hunding. He destroyed the whole family of that warrior.
Then light shone from Logafjoll, and in those lights he saw lightning. He saw Valkyries wearing helmets in the high heavens; their armor was bloody, and banners waved from their spears.
Right away King Helgi asked those armed women, those southern Valkyries, if they would go home with the warriors that night. Battle raged all around.
And Sigrun, daughter of Hogni, said to that king from her horse as the battle died down: “I think we have other business than drinking beer with warriors tonight.
“My father promised me to Hothbrodd, the grim son of Granmar. But I tell you, Helgi, I said to that good king that he seemed no better to me than a tomcat.
“Now he will come for me in a few short nights, unless you invite him to battle, or take me by force from my father.”
Helgi said, “Do not fear for Helgi, enemy of Hothbrodd! There will be a battle before I fall dead.”
King Helgi sent messages by air and sea to summon an army. He promised his men and their sons that there was plenty of gold to be won.
He said, “Tell my men to go straight to their ships, be ready to sail out of Brandey!” The king waited there till hundreds of men came to him from Hethinsey.
His own ships left their moorings at the docks of Stafnsnes, decked with gold. Helgi asked Hjorleif then: “Have you taken count of our brave men?”
Hjorleif said to Helgi, after he began to count the serpent-headed ships out of Tronueyri and the men on them, as they entered Orvasund:
“I count one-thousand, four hundred and forty trusty men, and still twice as many of the king’s men are in Hatun. I expect a battle.”
The captain drew the covers back, woke up the king’s men on board to see the dawning sun, and the kings hoisted up their sails in Varinsfjord.
Eagles cried, and swords clashed, shield struck shield, Vikings rowed. That fleet of kings traveled swiftly far from land.
It was like hearing the hills, or the ocean breaking apart, to hear the waves breaking against those long ships’ keels.
Helgi commanded them to raise the sails yet higher; the waves of the storm would not swallow them, though the shipwreck-god’s daughters might try to drown the ships.
But bold Sigrun protected them, she flew above their danger. With the strength of Ran in her hand, she saved the ships at Gnipalund.
The fleet of beautiful ships moored in the evening at Unavagir, and then the people of Svarinshaug could count their enemies with worry in their thoughts.
Among them, half-god Guthmund asked: “Who is the king who leads this army and directs this force against our land?”
Sinfjotli, Helgi’s brother, spoke up from his ship with a red battle-shield rimmed with gold. He was a leader of men, who knew how to answer and exchange words with noble men:
“Tonight, when you feed your pigs, when you throw some food in your dogs’ bowls, tell them this: The Volsungs have come from out of the east, eager warriors from Gnipalund.
“In the middle of the fleet, Hothbrodd will find Helgi, a warrior who is reluctant to flee. He is a man who has often fed eagles while you sat on millstones kissing slavegirls.”
Guthmund said, “My lord, you don’t know much about old stories, if you mock noble-born men with lies. You have eaten dead men’s flesh, you have killed your own brothers, your cold mouth has often sucked wounds— you’ve lived, hated by everyone, in a stone pile.”
Sinfjotli said, “You were a witch-woman on Varinsey, a crafty woman, a teller of lies, you said you would never accept any man as husband— except me.
“You liar, you were a Valkyrie— a fierce, foul female in Odin’s service. You self-righteous woman, you wanted all the men in Valhalla to fight over you.
“You and I had nine wolf-children on Sagunes; I was the father of them all.”
Guthmund said, “You weren’t father to any wolves, you’re older than all of them; and I remember when some giant women castrated you at Gnipalund on Thorsnes.
“You were Siggeir’s stepson, you slept in the straw at home, you were used to hearing wolves cry in the woods outside. All your misfortune came to you when you cut open the chests of your brothers; you’ve won a famous name for your evil deeds.”
Sinfjotli said, “You were the mare of the stallion Grani at Bravoll, you wore a gold bit, and you were used for racing. I’ve often ridden on you on downhill races— you were a tired, skinny mare, a troll beneath my saddle.
“No one thought you were any kind of man when you milked the goats of Gullnir, or when you were the daughter of Imd, wearing a ratty dress. Should I say any more?”
Guthmund said, “I would rather feed your carcass to the ravens at Frekastein than feed your pigs, or throw food in your dogs’ bowls. Let’s exchange sword-blows.”
Helgi said, “It would be better for both of you, Sinfjotli, to fight, to feed flesh to the eagles, than to exchange these pointless words, even if you hate each other so immensely.
“Granmar’s sons seem no good to me, but it’s appropriate for nobles to speak truth only. They showed us at Moinsheim that they have the courage to draw swords.”
Guthmund and his brothers rode their horses, named Sviputh and Sveggjuth, to Solheimar, over valleys wet with dew, over dark hillsides; the earth shook where the men rode.
They met Hothbrodd at his gate, they said that Helgi had come to bring war. Hothbrodd was there with a helmet on his head, he wondered about the way his brother was riding. He asked, “Why have you come with this worried expression?”
Guthmund said, “Swift ships are here, sailing ships with long oars, carven oars and many shields, a great army of kings, the valorous Volsungs.
“Fifteen armies are coming up on land; eight thousand, four hundred are still out in Sogn. Blue-black ships, decorated with gold, lie at anchor at the gates of Gnipalund. That’s where the biggest part of their armed force is. Now Helgi will strike without delay.”
Hothbrodd said, “Let our saddled horses run to the battle; let Sporvitnar run to Sparinsheith, and Melnir and Mylnir to Mirkwood. Let no man who can draw a sword stay behind.
“We’ll invite Hogni and the sons of Hring, Atli and Yngvi, and Alf the Old, the ones who are eager for battle, we’ll show strong resistance to the Volsungs.”
There was a storm there when the pale spears started to fly at Frekastein. Helgi, the killer of Hunding, was always at the front when men were fighting. He was always at the front, he never thought of fleeing— that warrior had a hard heart.
Then the Valkyries came down from heaven, they defended their princes, the roar of war grew greater. Then Sigrun, the flying Valkyrie, spoke as the wolves began to tear the fallen:
“Hail to you, Helgi, son of Volsungs— enjoy these victories, and live well now that you have killed that unfleeing prince who killed another.
“Now it’s fitting for you, King, to take the golden rings, and take me to be your powerful wife. Hail to you, King, enjoy both the daughter of Hogni and the lands of Hringstath, both the victory and the lands. Now the battle is done.”