In 'The Second Lay of Guthrun,' the poet makes sure to remark that Guthrun does not cry over Sigurth's body. In... was it the First Lay?... she does not cry, until another woman suggests that she kiss Sigurth's dead lips. She does, and then she weeps.
In my telling, I've been sticking with her 'not crying,' and extending that motif - she doesn't cry when she prophesizes her brothers' death, doesn't cry when she sees them die, and doesn't cry as all the Huns mourn the death of her sons. And the meaning of that seems to change over the course of the piece, and I'm not sure if it's in a good or a bad way.
It seems to me that, the first time we hear that Guthrun does not weep or tear her garments as other women do, it's meant... positively. She is strong, like a man is strong. It's the old dichotomy of women/weak, men/strong; women/cry, men/stoic; ergo cry/weak, stoic/strong.
Yet by the end, as she watches the hall burn with all its dead within and still does not cry, she really seems more like a sociopath. Women/cry, not-cry/not-woman - what was laudable earlier suddenly gets twisted into unnatural woman. It's good to have manly qualities, until it's not. Motherhood, ur-womanhood (or so it is assumed), should trump whatever manly virtues she possesses. When it doesn't, she's not-a-woman, or wrong-woman, or broken-woman.
I am trying to address this by specifically calling out her love for her children, even as she killed them. She loves them, but she hates Atli more. It hurts her, but her desire to hurt Atli is greater. I am trying to show that she is not a soulless monster - no more than her jealous brothers who killed Sigurth. She is human and frail and does a horrible thing, but not without regret or remorse or pain.
Just not sure it comes through. What if... what if she did cry?
Oh oh! When she jumps into the sea, I can say something about the ocean being her tears! Suggesting her deep and boundless grief while maintaining her eerie tearlessness! Ooo, I think I like that!