The saga of Sigurd begins long before his birth, rooted in the tragic and glorious history of the Volsung clan. After the fall of his father Sigmund, the young Sigurd was raised in the court of King Alf, where he was tutored by Regin, a man of immense skill in smithing but possessed by a subtle, simmering ambition. Regin was no mere mortal; he was the son of Hreidmar and the brother of Fafnir and Otr. He viewed Sigurd not just as a pupil, but as a living weapon—a hero whose strength could be harnessed to reclaim a lost inheritance that Regin could not seize himself.
One evening, over the glowing embers of the forge, Regin told Sigurd the story of his family's ruin. He spoke of the day the gods Odin, Loki, and Hoenir had traveled to a waterfall and accidentally killed Regin’s brother Otr, who was in the shape of an otter. To pay the life-price demanded by Hreidmar, Loki had journeyed to the depths of the water to seize the gold of the dwarf Andvari. Among this gold was a magical ring, Andvaranaut, which the dwarf cursed as it was taken from him, swearing that the gold would bring death to whoever possessed it. This curse immediately bore fruit; Fafnir, the eldest brother, murdered their father Hreidmar to claim the gold for himself. Driven by greed and the dark magic of the hoard, Fafnir fled to the desolate Gnita-heath, where he transformed into a monstrous dragon, his body becoming a reflection of his twisted, hoarding soul.
Regin, left with nothing but his skills and his resentment, incited Sigurd to seek out the dragon. Sigurd, possessing the noble spirit of the Volsungs, agreed to the quest but demanded a sword worthy of such a feat. Regin forged two swords for the youth, but Sigurd, testing their strength, struck them against the anvil and watched as they shattered into a thousand pieces. Realizing that only a weapon of divine provenance would suffice, Sigurd brought to Regin the broken shards of Gram, the sword that Odin himself had once thrust into the tree Barnstokkr for Sigmund. Regin worked the forge with ancient songs and unmatched precision, welding the shards into a blade so sharp that when Sigurd held it in the running stream, it sliced through a tuft of wool as it drifted against the edge. When Sigurd struck the anvil with Gram, the sword did not break; instead, it clove the iron down to the base.
Mounted on his horse Grani, a descendant of Sleipnir, Sigurd rode with Regin toward the wasteland of Gnita-heath. The air grew heavy with the scent of sulfur and rot as they approached the dragon's lair. As Sigurd walked the path where Fafnir traveled daily to drink from a nearby stream, an old man with a long beard and a wide-brimmed hat—Odin in disguise—appeared before him. The stranger warned Sigurd that simply digging one pit to hide in would be a fatal mistake, as the dragon’s blood would fill the hole and drown him. He advised Sigurd to dig multiple trenches to allow the blood to drain away. Sigurd followed this counsel, laboring in the earth until the ground trembled with the approach of the beast.
Fafnir was a mountain of scales and malice, his breath a cloud of poison that withered the grass and blackened the stones. As the dragon crawled over the trench where Sigurd lay hidden, the hero thrust Gram upward with all his might, piercing the dragon’s soft underbelly and driving the blade deep into its heart. Fafnir thrashed in agony, his lifeblood pouring into the trenches Sigurd had dug. Before he died, the dragon spoke to his slayer, warning him that the gold was cursed and that Regin would surely betray him. Fafnir’s voice was like the grinding of stones, a final attempt to sow discord even as his spirit departed.
When the dragon lay still, Regin emerged from his hiding place. Pretending to be grief-stricken by the death of his brother, Regin asked Sigurd to cut out Fafnir's heart and roast it over a fire while he slept. Sigurd complied, building a fire and skewering the heart. To test if the meat was cooked, he touched it with his thumb and burned himself. Instinctively, he thrust his thumb into his mouth. As soon as the dragon's blood touched his tongue, the world changed. The chatter of the nuthatches in the trees above suddenly became intelligible speech. The birds were discussing Regin’s plan to kill Sigurd once the meat was ready, advising the hero to strike first.
Guided by the birds' warning, Sigurd looked at Regin and saw the murderous intent hidden behind the smith's eyes. Without hesitation, he drew Gram and beheaded Regin, ending the cycle of treachery that had started with the death of Hreidmar. Sigurd then ate some of the dragon's heart himself and drank the blood, absorbing the wisdom and strength of the beast. He entered Fafnir’s cave and found the hoard: piles of red gold, the Helm of Awe which struck terror into enemies, and the cursed ring Andvaranaut. Though he knew of the curse, Sigurd loaded the treasure onto Grani. The horse, though burdened with the weight of empires, did not stumble.
Sigurd rode away from Gnita-heath not just as a warrior, but as the 'Fafnesbane,' the dragon-slayer whose name would be sung for generations. However, the shadow of the gold followed him. The ring remained on his finger, a symbol of the destiny that would eventually lead him to the court of the Burgundians, the meeting with the valkyrie Brynhild, and the tragic web of love and betrayal that would ultimately claim his life. The carving at Ramsund stands as a permanent testament to this moment—depicting Sigurd in the pit, the dead dragon, the horse Grani, and the birds in the tree—capturing the point where human courage met ancient magic and changed the course of Northern history forever.