The story of Gudrun Gjúkadóttir is one of the most enduring and tragic epics in the entirety of Norse tradition. Having survived the death of her beloved Sigurd, the betrayal and slaughter of her brothers the Niflungs, and the horrific demise of her second husband Atli and their children, Gudrun found herself in the twilight of her life seeking peace in the hall of King Jonakr. In this third marriage, she bore three sons: Hamdir, Sorli, and Erp. However, the shadow of her past was never far behind, and the most beautiful remnant of her life with Sigurd was her daughter, Svanhild. Svanhild was described as the fairest of all women, possessing the bright eyes of her father, eyes that no man could look into without trembling.
Svanhild was eventually wed to the powerful and elderly King Jormunrek of the Goths. This union was intended to bring a semblance of political stability, but it became the catalyst for the final ruin of Gudrun’s house. King Jormunrek had a counselor named Bikki, a man whose heart was filled with malice and whose tongue was dipped in poison. Bikki sought the destruction of the king’s lineage and whispered into Jormunrek's ear that his young wife Svanhild was having an affair with the king's own son, Randver. Driven to a frenzy of jealousy and madness by Bikki’s lies, Jormunrek ordered the execution of both his son and his wife. Randver was sent to the gallows, and Svanhild was subjected to a death so cruel it shocked the North: she was bound in the gateway of the city and trampled to death by the hooves of a hundred horses. It is said that the horses initially refused to tread upon her because of the radiance of her eyes, and only after her head was covered with a sack did they finally crush her body into the earth.
When the news of this atrocity reached the hall of Jonakr in the cold reaches of the north, Gudrun was shattered. The last living link to her youth and her love for Sigurd had been extinguished in a display of senseless brutality. Her grief did not manifest in tears, but in a cold, piercing rage that had sustained her through decades of loss. She looked upon her sons Hamdir and Sorli and saw in them the only tools left for her vengeance. Thus began the ‘Guðrúnarhvöt’—the incitement of Gudrun.
She called her sons to the center of the hall and began to lash them with words sharper than any blade. She accused them of having the spirits of sheep rather than the blood of the Volsungs and the Niflungs. She reminded them of the greatness of their ancestors, of Sigurd who slew the dragon Fafnir, and of Gunnar and Hogni who faced their deaths with laughter in the pits of Atli. She called them 'living stones' and 'useless burdens,' mocking their refusal to immediately take up arms for their sister. 'If you had the hearts of your brothers,' she cried, 'you would already be mounted on your steeds, and the smoke of Jormunrek’s hall would already be rising to the clouds!'
Hamdir and Sorli, though stung by her words, were not cowards. They knew that a mission against the vast armies of the Goths was a suicide pact. Hamdir spoke back to his mother, reminding her of the heavy toll her vengeance had already taken on her family, noting that if they went, they would never return, and she would be left truly alone in the world. Yet, the code of honor and the relentless pressure of their mother’s scorn left them no choice. They agreed to go, but not before Gudrun performed a final act of maternal protection. Using her knowledge of ancient crafts, she prepared for them shirts of mail and enchanted armor that no iron or steel could pierce. No sword-edge could cut through the protection she provided, a final gift from a mother sending her children to their graves.
As the brothers set out on their long journey across the mountains and through the dark forests that separated the lands of the North from the Gothic empire, they were joined by their brother Erp. Erp was the son of Jonakr but perhaps not of Gudrun, or born of a different circumstance; accounts vary, but the tension between the brothers was palpable. When Hamdir and Sorli asked Erp how he would help them in the coming battle, Erp replied cryptically that he would help them as 'one hand helps the other' or 'as one foot helps the other.' The older brothers, frustrated and perhaps sensing an insult in the simplicity of his answer, or perhaps driven by a dark fate they could not control, drew their swords. Forgetting their mother’s counsel and the necessity of unity, they slew Erp on the road, a blood-sin that would haunt their final moments.
They continued their ride, the weight of their brother’s death hanging heavy over them. Upon reaching the magnificent hall of King Jormunrek, they found the Goths in the midst of a great feast, oblivious to the storm approaching. Because of their enchanted armor, the guards could not stop them. Hamdir and Sorli burst into the hall like wolves among sheep. The scene was one of chaos and terror. Following their mother’s specific instructions for a calculated revenge, they fell upon King Jormunrek. Sorli hewed off the king's hands, and Hamdir hewed off his feet. They intended to take his life slowly, to make him feel the agony of the loss he had inflicted upon Svanhild.