The saga of the house of the Volsungs is one stained with blood, betrayal, and the heavy hand of fate, and the final chapter regarding the fall of the Gothic King Jörmunrekk is perhaps the most tragic of all. The story begins not with a battle, but with the chilling silence of a grave. Svanhild, the daughter of Gudrun and Sigurd, was a woman of incomparable beauty, said to possess the piercing eyes of her father. She had been married to the mighty but aging King Jörmunrekk of the Goths, a ruler whose dominion stretched across the vast plains of the east, near the banks of the Dnieper. However, peace was never meant for the children of Sigurd. Through the treachery of a royal counselor named Bikki, Jörmunrekk was falsely convinced that Svanhild had been unfaithful with his own son, Randver. In a fit of senile rage and wounded pride, Jörmunrekk ordered the execution of both his son and his young queen. Svanhild’s death was particularly gruesome; she was bound to the earth and trampled under the hooves of wild horses. It was said that the horses would not touch her at first because of the divine light in her eyes, until her head was covered with a sack, allowing the beasts to crush her into the dust.
When news of this atrocity reached Gudrun, the mother of the slain girl, her grief was a transformative fire. Gudrun had already endured the loss of her husband Sigurd, the destruction of her brothers, and the deaths of previous children. This final insult from Jörmunrekk pushed her to the edge of sanity. She called upon her remaining sons, Hamdir and Sorli, and demanded that they avenge their sister. The brothers were reluctant at first, knowing that attacking the capital of the Goths was a suicide mission. They questioned their mother, asking how two men could hope to topple a king surrounded by thousands of warriors. But Gudrun, skilled in the ancient arts of the North, had prepared for this. She brought forth tunics and leggings of a strange, dark fabric, woven with protective spells. She told her sons that as long as they wore these garments, no iron would ever bite into their flesh. Swords would bounce off them like blades of grass, and spears would shatter against their chests. With this promise of invulnerability, Hamdir and Sorli accepted their doom.
As they departed, they met their half-brother Erp. When they asked him how he would help them, Erp replied with a riddle, suggesting that he would help them as a foot helps a foot or a hand helps a hand. The two main brothers, arrogant and blinded by their mother's magic, found this answer insufficient and, in a moment of reckless folly, slew Erp. This act of fratricide would be their undoing, for Erp was the 'third hand' they would later need to complete their task. They continued their journey through the wild lands of the east, eventually reaching the massive timbered halls of Jörmunrekk. The Gothic capital was a place of iron and wood, a fortress rising above the river, filled with the sounds of revelry and the clatter of arms. The brothers waited until the dead of night, when the king and his men were deep in their cups, before launching their assault.
They burst into the hall like a winter storm. The Gothic warriors, startled and half-drunk, grabbed their weapons and fell upon the intruders. Swords were drawn and swung with lethal intent, but to the horror of the Goths, the blades did nothing. Hamdir and Sorli moved through the crowd like spirits of vengeance, their mother’s enchanted armor turning every strike aside. Blood began to flow, but it was not the blood of the brothers. They reached the King’s high seat, where Jörmunrekk sat in shock. With a swift movement, they hacked off the King’s hands and feet, intending to leave him alive to suffer the same agony he had inflicted upon Svanhild. It was at this moment that they realized their mistake in killing Erp. Had Erp been with them, he would have taken the King’s head, ending the threat immediately. Instead, Jörmunrekk lay screaming, still conscious and still able to command his men.
The battle reached a stalemate. The Goths could not harm the brothers with any of their traditional weapons. The hall was littered with broken iron and bent spear-tips. The brothers mocked the soldiers, laughing at the impotence of their steel. It was then that a figure emerged from the shadows of the hall—a tall, old man wrapped in a wide-brimmed hat and a dark blue cloak. He had but one eye, which glinted with a cold, supernatural intelligence. This was Odin, the All-father, the god who favors the brave but also the one who ensures that fate is never cheated. He saw that the brothers had bypassed the natural order through Gudrun’s sorcery, and he stepped forward to restore the balance of Wyrd.
The old man did not draw a sword. Instead, he approached the wounded King and his trembling guards. In a voice that sounded like the grinding of tectonic plates, he spoke: 'You fools. If iron will not bite, then look to the earth. Steel is forged in fire, but stone is the bone of the world. Stone does not need a sharp edge to kill; it only needs weight and the hands of men who will throw it.' Odin pointed to the heavy stones that lined the hearth and the massive rocks used in the construction of the hall’s foundation. The Goths understood the wisdom at once. They dropped their useless swords and began to gather large stones and boulders. The brothers, realizing the danger, tried to close the distance, but the sheer volume of projectiles was overwhelming. Stones began to rain down upon them from every direction.