Brünnhilde took another step back:

"What do you mean?"

Waltraute repeated Wotan's words. Then she added:

"We saw that Fafner had lost his dragon form and that the gold was carried away all round the forest. Now it's safe to…"

"Well!" her sister cut her short. "Are you insane? You are offering me – me! – to kill off Nibelungs and retrieve the ring! The ring, Waltraute, belongs to the Rhinedaughters, and we'll return it to them as soon as we find it. The treasures, by the way, are lawfully the property of Nibelheim, but they can be shared, fine, if you insist."

"Father says… the ring's most important… Oh, dear sister! Do you want him to disown you forever and forbid us to see you?"

Brünnhilde's heart skipped a beat. Even after the horrible scene ten years ago she had cherished the hope to reconcile with her father one day. What would it be like to feel it's never going to happen?

"Look at yourself!" Waltraute continued scornfully. "How degraded you've become, away from the family! You've lost your magic powers, your skin is rough, there is dirt under your nails… And you obey this disgusting, repulsive, vile Nibfffff…"

Brünnhilde smacked her. It wasn't a smack of the sort that she playfully exchanged with Mime a hundred times a week, this was a real one. Now it was Waltraute who retreated.

"Don't you dare speak of him like that!" hissed Brünnhilde. "You should know: I am happy, completely happy, happier than I've ever been in Valhalla. I see through you all now: you hide behind your pathos, behind your eloquent speeches as if it were a wall of stone! But as I notice it, I can also notice that actually you have nothing else to boast of!"

Her sister looked at her silently, licking her bleeding lips. Brünnhilde felt sick, but she knew she'd feel even worse should she keep that all to herself. She grew more enraged:

"All your haughty ways, all your talk of heroism bring nothing but suffering! Anyone can see that – except for yourselves! Are you suggesting I join your lot, stuffed with pride, once more?"

She burst into tears, hugging Grane by neck, and suddenly heard chirping. The flock of the white birds, making a turn above her, divided in two – one half bolted off in the direction of the forest hut, another to Gibich's castle.

"B-but our father will rule the world if he gets the ring," Waltraute managed to utter. She didn't understand much from her sister's hysterical rambling.

"He saw how one rules with the ring. It should have frightened him," said Brünnhilde sharply. "Oh, sister, I'm afraid I said many things that are hard to forgive… But do understand me. While I live I'll never agree to such terms. Now that you've mentioned it, I don't obey Mime. Neither does he obey me," she smiled through tears.

Just at the moment Mime himself appeared ahead of her on the path. He was yawning widely and shaking his fist at the tweeting birdies.

"They wouldn't let me sleep!" he complained to Brünnhilde. "So, what have you gotten yourself into?"

His wife got off the horse.

"Mime, let me introduce you. My sister Waltraute."

The expression of the black mare's rider made it clear to Mime that Waltraute was done being friendly. He firmly clasped Brünnhilde's hand and gave her a reassuring nod. Her face sour, Waltraute clicked her tongue, and her Erly rose upwards and disappeared in the skies.

"I think she'll soon come back," Brünnhilde whispered. "And we don't have a single weapon!"

One of the birds sat on Grane's head and whistled something – the stallion turned back and galloped away. His masters barely realized what happened.

"What did they say to him?" Mime said, amazed. "He's never been like this before."

A short while later Brünnhilde stirred:

"He's back!"

Indeed, there was the sound of hooves beating earth. But there were several riders, and they rushed past Mime and Brünnhilde along another path.

But quite soon a whole army descended from above. The Valkyries on their winged horses, the ravens, the fallen heroes, all led by a furious Wotan.

"Where is the ring, you traitorous wench?" he bellowed, pointing his spear at Brünnhilde. Mime sneaked in-between the spearhead and the former Valkyrie:

"Had we known it, good man, we'd have had it on one of our fingers."

Wotan raised the spear…

"Don't touch them!" a shout came from the left, and Siegfried on Grane's back stormed onto the meadow. He was waving… Brünnhilde and Mime shared a happy smile… he was waving a shiny, freshly forged Notung.

"Youngster, you don't have long to live," Wotan chuckled. "Do you see the Valkyries?"

"I see a Valkyrie every day," Siegfried countered. "Besides, my sword was made by you. Try breaking it this time!"

The spear and the sword crossed. Brünnhilde hid her face on Mime's shoulder – she was afraid the sword would snap in halves again.

But the jingle continued. Siegfried was still attacking.

The Valkyries looked doubtfully from Brünnhilde to Siegfried and back, and they obviously didn't want to openly fight their sister and their nephew. However, the heroes decided to help Wotan, moving ahead in a dull horde.

Suddenly a double stripe seemed to cut off their way. Looking closer, Brünnhilde saw that it was in fact Gunther and Hagen, both in horseback.

"Do you want the ring! Get this, this, this instead!" Hagen spoke, throwing Valhalla's dwellers away with his spear.

"For my blood brother!" Gunther shouted. When did the boys find the time to swear brotherhood?

If Wotan's fighters had been a bit more sapient and self-sufficient, they would have crushed the two opponents down in mere moments. But Brünnhilde knew perfectly that Wotan, frightened of revolts in his own palace, left them none of their own willpower.

Additionally, if it wasn't messy enough already, Fafner came from the right and with an extremely bored look started to push the heroes that managed to get past Gunther and Hagen.

"There! And you were afraid of him!" said Brünnhilde triumphantly. "I hope Siegfried doesn't try killing him…"

But, fortunately, Siegfried was fully occupied with Wotan's spear and, besides, probably didn't recognize the dragon in the new guise – or in the old one, to be exact.

"I'd like to teach them some manners too…" said Mime dreamily, gesturing at the heroes. Brünnhilde stared at him. Was it Mime? The one who was so proud of his carefulness, as he named it?

The birds, circling the battlefield, heard him, and in ten minutes the gold helm fell into his hands – the one Mime promptly forgot about when he was woken up and hurried to help Brünnhilde.

Immediately an enormous giant with a hammer to rival Mjöllnir came to Fafner's aid. Brünnhilde smiled victoriously. She felt a bit awkward that she was weaponless and unable to take part in the fight, but, after all, more often than not she had been only watching the battles. At present all her feelings were overtaken by the sudden joy and pride for her husband.
And then she heard malicious croaks right above her head.

Brünnhilde looked up and froze. Everybody had forgotten the ravens – and she had known since childhood how vengeful they are…

The white birdies vanished in the bushes, but this time the leader raven wasn't interested in them. Opening his beak, he aimed at Brünnhilde. In despair she picked up a stick lying nearby, knowing that it wouldn't last a single moment… It was useless to cry for help, in the noise no one would hear her…

Finally she wearly cried out:

"He-e-elp!"

The raven flew down. Brünnhilde fell on her back – and instantly Mime dropped on top of her, once more in his Nibelung form. The helm that got blown off as he ran was lying several feet away in the grass.

The last things that Brünnhilde heard before fainting were the sound of claws tearing fabric and the Nibelung's pained cries.