Wotan himself, and by some
other mysterious beings, also raised up by Wotan, one of whom, _the_
Valkyrie, Bruennhilda, is condemned in the final scene to become human.

Two dramas, the huge encircling tragedy of Wotan in conflict with his
wife Fricka, the goddess of laws and covenants, especially the
covenant of marriage, and the subsidiary tragedy of Siegmund and
Sieglinda, are combined in perfect proportions in the _Valkyrie_. The
story at first sounds a little complicated; but the reader, bearing in
mind what has already been said of Wotan's Master-idea, can have no
difficulty whatever in following it. The Master-idea, we know, is to
raise up a hero who, acting freely, independent of and ever defying
the gods, will wrest the Ring from Fafner. Wotan, then, has descended
from his Valhalla, and, taking an earthly wife, begotten two children,
Siegmund and Sieglinda, who know themselves to be of the tribe of the
Volsungs. These he deserts. Sieglinda is taken captive and made the
loveless wife of Hunding; Siegmund, alone in the world, wanders hither
and thither, meeting ill-luck everywhere--ill-luck prepared by his
father. At last, in attempting to rescue a maiden from some raiders,
he is forced to fly. As he runs through the depths of an unknown
forest a storm breaks upon him, and he takes shelter, utterly
exhausted, in the house of Hunding. At this point the curtain rises.

The scene is the inside of Hunding's dwelling, built round a great
ash-tree; on the right the fire burns on the hearth. The steady roar
of the storm outside is heard, broken by shocks as the wind buffets
the trees and the house and by the plashing of the rain. The room is
empty; presently the door is roughly dashed open from outside and
Siegmund staggers in. "Whatever this house may be, I must rest here,"
he says, and throws himself on the hearth. (We must bear in mind that
the hearth was sacred: if my enemy took refuge on mine I might starve
him out, but so long as he stayed there I might not hurt him.)
Sieglinda enters; the two do not recognise one another; he calls for
water; she brings him mead. Presently they fall to talking; and it is
seen that the inevitable must happen. Hunding enters abruptly; they
sit down to supper; Siegmund discloses his identity, so far as he
knows it--all but his name; Hunding recognises the very man he has
been chasing, and gives him shelter for the night, but warns him that
in the morning he, without a weapon, must fi