mind (Alberich) prisoner, Wotan and Loge will transform Mime’s practical, prosaic needs and desires and fears into the illusion of transcendent value.
[R.3: F]
Alberich now reappears, demonstrating the power he wields over the Nibelungs with his Ring. Clearly, he holds his fellow Nibelungs (and therefore presumably even himself) in contempt, as a downtrodden, craven herd:
Mime: Be on your guard! Alberich’s coming. (He runs to and fro in fear.)
Wotan: (seating himself calmly on a rock) (#20a:) We’ll wait for him here (:#20a).
(Alberich, who has removed the Tarnhelm from his head and hung it from his belt, enters brandishing a whip, with which he drives a group of Nibelungs before him, urging them up from one of the deeper-lying shafts beneath them: they are laden with gold and silver trinkets which, under Alberich’s constant coercion, they add to a pile which thus turns into a hoard.)
Alberich: (#5:; #41:) This way! That way! (…) You idle herd, there in a heap pile up the hoard (:#5; :#41)! (…) Contemptible creatures, put down the trinkets! (…) (He suddenly becomes aware of Wotan and Loge.) [[ #50 embryo: ]] Hey! Who’s that there? Who’s broken in here (:#50 embryo)? Mime! To me, you scurvy wretch! Have you blabbed all to this pair of vagrants?
[Alberich forces Mime to join the Nibelungs in smelting and smithing] (…)
Alberich: (#7?:) Get down there at once! Gather the gold from the newly-sunk shafts! You’ll taste my whip if you don’t dig quickly (:#7?)! That none shall be idle Mime shall answer, or else he’ll not scape the swing of my scourge: that I’m lying in wait where no one expects me – he knows, I think, well enough. (…) You dare to delay? (He draws the ring from his finger, kisses it and holds it out threateningly: #19) [[ #45: ]] Tremble and quail, downtrodden herd: be quick, and obey the lord of the ring (:#45)! (amidst howling and shrieking the Nibelungs – Mime among them – scatter and slip away into the shafts all around them.)
