the Branstock

While the wedding feast was in progress, and when the merry-making was
at its height, the entrance to the hall was suddenly darkened by the
tall form of a one-eyed man, closely enveloped in a mantle of cloudy
blue. Without vouchsafing word or glance to any in the assembly, the
stranger strode to the Branstock and thrust a glittering sword up to
the hilt in its great bole. Then, turning slowly round, he faced the
awe-struck and silent assembly, and declared that the weapon would be
for the warrior who could pull it out of its oaken sheath, and that
it would assure him victory in every battle. The words ended, he then
passed out as he had entered, and disappeared, leaving a conviction in
the minds of all that Odin, king of the gods, had been in their midst.

"So sweet his speaking sounded, so wise his words did seem,
That moveless all men sat there, as in a happy dream
We stir not lest we waken; but there his speech had end
And slowly down the hall-floor, and outward did he wend;
And none would cast him a question or follow on his ways,
For they knew that the gift was Odin's, a sword for the world
to praise."

Volsung was the first to recover the power of speech, and, waiving
his own right first to essay the feat, he invited Siggeir to make the
first attempt to draw the divine weapon out of the tree-trunk. The
bridegroom anxiously tugged and strained, but the sword remained
firmly embedded in the oak and he resumed his seat, with an air of
chagrin. Then Volsung tried, with the same result. The weapon was
evidently not intended for either of them, and the young Volsung
princes were next invited to try their strength.

"Sons I have gotten and cherished, now stand ye forth and try;
Lest Odin tell in God-home how from the way he strayed,
And how to the man he would not he gave away his blade.

Sigmund

The nine eldest sons were equally unsuccessful; but when Sigmund,
the tenth and youngest, laid his firm young hand upon the hilt, the
sword yielded easily to his touch, and he triumphantly drew it out
as though it had merely been sheathed in its scabbard.

"At last by the side of the Branstock Sigmund the Volsung stood,
And with right hand wise in battle the precious sword-hilt caught,
Yet in a careless fashion, as he deemed it all for nought;
When, lo, from floor to rafter went up a shattering shout,
For aloft in the hand of Sigmun