Whoever owns this hearth, here I must rest.

Who's there?  What man is this, lying by our fire?  Can he be ill?  Or has he
fallen from sheer weariness?  He breathes at least.  Then he merely sleeps.
How strong he seems however spent and tired.

A drink...

Yes.  Here, wafarer, water.  Relief for your parched lips.

Enough.  My thirst is quenched.  But who is this lovely one who comforts me?

This house and this wife belong to Hunding.  Rest here as his guest, until he
comes home.

I will stay.  Your husband will surely grant shelter to a wounded, weaponless
stranger.

You're wounded?  Quickly show me and I'll...

They're only scratches.  If my sword and shield had been half as strong
as my arm I'd have vanquished my enemy.  But both were splintered so I fled,
pursued by storm and foe alike.  At last, darkness covered me.
Yet now the sun laughs once more.