Early History of the Danes Listen: You have heard of the Danish Kings in the old days and how they were great warriors. Shield, the son of Sheaf, took many an enemy's chair, terrified many a warrior, after he was found an orphan. He prospered under the sky until people everywhere listened when he spoke. He was a good king! Shield had a son, child for his yard, sent by God to comfort the people, to keep them from fear-- Grain was his name; he was famous throughout the North. Young princes should do as he did-- give out treasures while they're still young so that when they're old people will support them in time of war. A man prospers by good deeds in any nation. Shield died at his fated hour, went to God still strong. His people carried him to the sea, which was his last request. In the harbor stood a well-built ship, icy but ready for the sea. They laid Shield there, propped him against the mast surrounded by gold and treasure from distant lands. I've never heard of a more beautiful ship, filled with shields, swords, and coats of mail, gifts to him for his long trip. No doubt he had a little more than he did as a child when he was sent out, a naked orphan in an empty boat. Now he had a golden banner high over his head, was, sadly by a rich people, given to the sea. The wisest alive can't tell where a death ship goes. Grain ruled the Danes a long time after his father's death, and to him was born the great Healfdene, fierce in battle, who ruled until he was old. Healfdene had four children-- Heorogar, Hrothgar, Halga the Good, and a daughter who married Onela, King of the Swedes. Hrothgar Becomes King of the Danes After Hrothgar became king he won many battles: his friends and family willingly obeyed him; his childhood friends became famous soldiers. So Hrothgar decided he would build a mead-hall, the greatest the world had ever seen, or even imagined. There he would share out to young and old alike all that God gave him (except for public lands and men's lives). I have heard that orders went out far and wide; tribes throughout the world set to work on that building. And it was built, the world's greatest mead-hall. And that great man called the building "Herot," the hart. After it was built, Hrothgar did what he said he would: handed out gold and treasure at huge feasts. That hall was high-towered, tall and wide-gabled (though destruction awaited, fire and swords of family trouble; and outside in the night waited a tortured spirit of hell). The words of the poet, the sounds of the harp, the joy of people echoed. The poet told how the world came to be, how God made the earth and the water surrounding, how He set the sun and the moon as lights for people and adorned the earth with limbs and leaves for everyone. Hrothgar's people lived in joy, happy until that wanderer of the wasteland, Grendel the demon, possessor of the moors, began his crimes. He was of a race of monsters exiled from mankind by God-- He was of the race of Cain, that man punished for murdering his brother. From that family comes all evil beings-- monsters, elves, zombies. Also the giants who fought with God and got repaid with the flood. end of episode one
Grendel Attacks One night, after a beer party, the Danes settled in the hall for sleep; they knew no sorrows. The evil creature, grim and hungry, grabbed thirty warriors and went home laughing. At dawn, when the Danes learned of Grendel's strength, there was great weeping. The old king sat sadly, crying for his men. Bloody footprints were found. That was bad enough, but the following night Grendel killed more-- blinded by sin, he felt no remorse. (You can bet the survivors started sleeping elsewhere.) So Grendel ruled, fighting right, one against many, and the greatest hall in all the earth stood empty at night. Twelve years this went on, Hrothgar suffering the greatest of sorrows. Poets sang sad songs throughout the world, how Grendel tormented Hrothgar; how no warrior, no matter how brave, could kill Grendel. How Grendel wasn't about to stop, or pay damages. Grendel kept ambushing from his lair, the moors which lay in perpetual darkness. Then, the cruelest of all injuries, he moved into the hall-- stayed there every night (though God would never allow such an evil thing to actually touch the throne). Hrothgar was broken; council after council proposed what to do against the attacks. They even went to heathen temples, worshipped idols, and called to the Devil for help. The Danes forgot God. (Woe be to those who go to the fire's embrace, even in great distress-- There is no consolation there.) No counselor, no warrior could destroy the evil. They wept and seethed. Beowulf Hears of Grendel But a warrior of Hygelac's heard of Grendel's doings; he was the strongest of men alive in that day, mighty and noble. That man called for a ship, said he would cross the ocean and help the king who needed help. Wise men urged him to that adventure though he was dear to them. They examined omens and whetted him on. So the good Geat chose the bravest warriors, fourteen of them, and that crafty sailor led them to the land's brim, to the ship. They readied the ship on the waves under the cliffs and the warriors stood at the prow as the water wound against the sand. The warriors bore into the ship's bosom bright weapons, fitted armor. The men shoved the well-braced ship out on the journey they'd dreamed of. The foamy-necked ship went out like a bird so that the next day its curved prow had gone so far that the seafarers saw land, shining shore cliffs and steep mountains. Their journey was already over and the Geat warriors pulled their ship to the shore and stood on land in their rattling shirts, their war-clothes. They thanked God for an easy trip. From his wall the sea-guard of the Danes, protector of the cliffs, saw bright shields and ready war dress coming over the gang plank and he wondered who those men were. Hrothgar's warrior rode to shore on his horse. Shaking a mighty spear, he spoke: "Who are you, in armor, who come over the sea-road in that steep keel? Listen: I guard here so that no forces hostile to the Danes may raid. Never has one so openly brought a ship's army, warriors, without the permission of my kinsmen. And never have I seen a greater man on earth, any man in armor, than is one among you. Unless I'm wrong, that is no hall-man, just wearing armor-- his stature is peerless. I wish to know your lineage now so I know you are not spies going into the land of the Danes. You far-dwellers, seafarers, hear my simple thought: you had best hurry to tell me where you come from." Beowulf, leader of the host unlatched his word-hoard: "As to kin, we are of the Geat nation, Hygelac's hearth-companions. My father was a leader well known among the people: Edgtheow. He stayed many winters before he went away, aged, from the court. Every wise man readily remembers him throughout the earth. We have come with friendly hearts to see your lord, Healfdene's son, protector of the people. Be good counsel to us: we have come on a great errand to the king of the Danes. I think it foolish to keep secrets. You know if it is true what we have heard, that a dark enemy in the nights works violence and slaughter on the Danes. . . . Perhaps in kindness I may advise Hrothgar how he, wise and famous, may overcome this enemy-- if change will ever come, relief from this evil-- and how this seething sorrow might become cool. Otherwise, he will suffer tribulation as long as he lives in that high place, the best of houses." The protector of the coast, still on his horse, spoke (a wise shield warrior, one who thinks well, must judge two things: works and words): "I see that you are a band friendly to the lord of the Danes. Go forth, bearing arms and equipment. I will guide you. Also, I will order my men to protect your ship, that new-tarred boat on the sand, until it bears you again back over the water streams with its curved wooden neck, back to the land of the Geats-- if it be granted that you endure the battle." They left then the well-made ship pulling at its rope. On the gold-adorned helmets figures of boars shone, those guards over war-like minds. The men excitedly marched until they saw that ornamented hall, the finest building on earth, that glittered light over many lands, where the mighty one waited. The one brave in battle pointed toward the resplendent hall; the guard of the coast turned his horse and said after them: "It is time for me to go. May the Father Omnipotent hold you safe and sound in kindness! I will go back to the sea to hold against hostile bands." End of episode two
The paved road guided the men. Their war-coats shone, the hard locks ringing as they came toward the hall. The sea-weary ones set their broad, strong shields against the building's wall, then sat down on benches, their armor resounding. They stood their spears together, ash wood tipped with gray, an iron troop. Then a proud Danish warrior asked them: "From where have you carried these gold-inlaid shields, these shirts of mail, masked helmets, and battle shafts? I am Hrothgar's messenger and officer. Never have I seen braver strangers. I expect you're here to find adventure, not asylum." The brave one answered him, he of the proud Geats tribe, hard under his helmet: "We are Hygelac's table companions. Beowulf is my name. I will declare to the great lord, Healfdene's son, my errand, if your prince will greet us." Wulfgar spoke--he was of the Wendla tribe and known to many for fighting and wisdom-- "I will ask the lord of the Danes, the giver of rings, if he will reward your journey and speedily make his wishes known." Wulfgar went quickly to where Hrothgar sat, old and gray, with his most trusted men. He went before the face of the Dane's lord, knowing the customs of warriors. Wulfgar spoke to his friendly lord: "From far over the sea's expanse has come a man of the Geats, a chief of warriors named Beowulf. He and his men have, my lord, asked to exchange words with you. Do not refuse the request, Hrothgar! These men look worthy of a warrior's esteem. Indeed, the chief among them, he who guides them, is strong." Hrothgar, guard of the Danes, spoke: "I knew him when he was a boy. His father is called Edgtheow. To that man Hrethel of the Geats gave his only daughter. Now his offspring has come in bravery seeking a loyal friend. Seafarers who took gifts to the Geats say that he has the strength of thirty men in his hand grip. Holy God, out of kindness, has sent this man to us to save us from Grendel's terror. I shall give treasures to that brave man for his impetuous courage. Be you in haste: go, call in this band of kinsmen. Say to them that they are welcome to the Danish people." Wulfgar, famous warrior, went to the door: "My victorious lord, prince of the Danes, bids me say he knows your noble descent and that brave men who come over the sea swells are welcome to him. Come with your war dress, under your helmets, to see Hrothgar, but let your war shields and wooden spears await the outcome of your talk." The mighty one arose, surrounded by warriors, a mighty band of men. Some remained with the weapons, as the brave one ordered. The rest hastened, as the man guided, under Herot's roof. The great warrior went, hard under his helmet, until he stood within in his shining coat of mail, his armor-net sewn by smiths. Beowulf spoke: "I am Hygelac's kinsman and warrior. I have undertaken many glorious deeds. I learned of Grendel in my native land. Seafarers say this place, the best of halls, stands idle and useless after sundown. Hrothgar, the wise men among my people advised that I seek you because they know my strength-- they saw me come from battles stained in the blood of my enemies, when I destroyed a family of giants, when I endured pain all night, killing water monsters, grinding them to bits, to avenge for the Geats those who asked for misery. And now I shall, alone, fight Grendel. I ask you, lord of the Danes, protector of this people, for only one favor: that you refuse me not, fair friend of the people, do not refuse those who have come so far the chance to cleanse Herot. I have heard that the monster in his recklessness uses no weapons. I, therefore, to amuse Hygelac my lord, scorn to carry sword or shield, but I shall seize my enemy in my hand grip and fight, enemy against enemy, and let God decide who shall be taken by death. I expect, if he wins, that he will eat fearlessly of the Geat people in this hall as he often has of yours. Nor will you need, if death takes me, worry about a burial-- that solitary one will carry my corpse, dripping with blood, to a ruthless feast. If battle takes me, send this best of war garments, this shirt of mail, to Hygelac--it is an inheritance from Hrethel and the work of Weland. Fate always goes as it will!" Hrothgar, protector of the Danes, spoke: "Because of past kindness and deeds done, you have come, my friend Beowulf. By a killing your father brought about the greatest of feuds. He was the killer of Heatholaf among the Wylfings. The Geats, for fear of war, would not have him, so he sought us Danes over the rolling waves. . . back when I first ruled, as a youth, this wide kingdom of the Danish people, this treasure city of heroes. Heorogar was dead then, my older brother, the son of Healfdene. (He was better than I!) I paid money to settle your father's feud, sent treasure over the water's back to the Wylfings. Your father swore oaths to me. It is a sorrow for me to say to any man what Grendel has done-- humiliations in Herot-- hostile attacks on my hall warriors until they are diminished, swept away in Grendel's horror. God may easily put an end to that mad ravager's deeds. Quite often have men boasted, over their ale-cups, drunk on beer, that they would meet Grendel's attack in the hall with grim swords. But in the morning when the daylight shone, the mead hall was stained in gore, the hall wet with the blood of battle. And I had a few less loyal men. Sit now and feast, glory of warriors, and speak your thoughts as your heart tells you." So a bench was cleared for the Geats and the brave men sat down proud in their strength. A warrior did his duty, bearing an etched cup and pouring sweet drink. The poet sang in a clear voice, and in Herot there was the joy of brave men, Danes and Geats. Unferth, Ecglaf's son, who sat at the feet of the king of the Danes, spoke, unloosing a battle-rune (The bravery of Beowulf was a vexation to him because he envied any man on this middle-earth who had more glory than himself): "Are you that Beowulf who struggled with Brecca in the broad sea in a swimming contest? The one who, out of pride, risked his life in the deep water though both friends and enemies told you it was too dangerous? Are you the one who hugged the sea, gliding through the boiling waves of the winter's swell? You and Brecca toiled seven nights in the sea, and he, with more strength, overcame you. And in the morning the waves bore him to the Heathrames from whence he went home to the Brondings, beloved of them, to his people and mead hall. Brecca fulfilled all his boast. Because of this, though you have everywhere withstood the battle storm, I don't expect much from you if you dare await Grendel in the night." Beowulf spoke: "Well, my friend Unferth, you have said a good many things about Brecca and that trip, drunk on beer as you are. Truth to tell, I had more strength but also more hardships in the waves. He and I were both boys and boasted out of our youth that we two would risk our lives in the sea. And so we did. With naked swords in hand, to ward off whales, we swam. Brecca could not out-swim me, nor could I out-distance him. And thus we were, for five nights. It was cold weather and the waves surged, driving us apart, and the North wind came like a battle in the night. Fierce were the waves and the anger of the sea fish stirred. My coat of mail, adorned in gold and locked hard by hand, helped against those foes. A hostile thing drew me to the bottom in its grim grip, but it was granted to me to reach it with my sword's point. The battle storm destroyed that mighty sea beast through my hand. And on and on evil things threatened me. I served them with my sword as it was right to do. Those wicked things had no joy of the feast, did not sit at the sea's bottom eating my bones. When the morning came my sword had put many to sleep, and even today in that fiord they don't hinder seafarers. Light shone from the East, that bright beacon of God, and the seas subsided. I saw cliffs, the windy walls of the sea. Fate often saves an undoomed man if his courage holds. Anyway, with my sword I slew nine sea monsters. Nor have I heard tell of a harder fight or a more distressed man ever to go in the sea. I survived the grasp of hostiles, and the sea bore me, the surging water, weary, into the land of the Finns. I have not heard anything about you surviving such battles, such terrors of the sword. Neither Brecca nor you have performed such deeds in war sport or with shining swords. Yet I don't boast about it. But you, your own brother's murderer, shall be damned and burn in Hell no matter how strong your wit is. I say to you truly, son of Ecglaf, that wretch Grendel would never have done such horrors, such humiliations on you chief, if you were so fierce as you suppose. Grendel has found he need not fear feud, any sword storm, from your people. He takes his toll, showing no mercy to the Danish folk. He enjoys himself, killing and feasting, and expects no fight from the Danes. But I shall offer him the battle of a Geat in strength and courage. When I get done with him, anyone who wishes may happily go into the mead hall as morning shines on the children of men. On that day the sun will be clothed in radiance as it shines from the South!" The giver of treasure, Hrothgar, gray-haired and brave in battle, felt glad--the chief of the Danes could count on help. That guardian of the folk heard in Beowulf firm resolution. The men laughed, the din resounding, and the words turned friendly. Wealhtheow, Hrothgar's queen, came forth, mindful of kin, adorned in gold to greet the men. First she gave the cup to the country's guardian, that one dear to his people, biding joy in his beer drinking. That king famous for victories happily took the feast cup. Then that woman of the Helmings went round to each, young and old, sharing the precious cup. In proper time that ring-adorned queen excellent in mind brought the mead cup to Beowulf. She greeted him, thanking God that her wish had been fulfilled, that finally a hero had come who she could count on to stop Grendel's crimes. Beowulf, fierce in war, received the cup from Wealhtheow and spoke eagerly of battle: "I resolved when I set to sea in my boat with my warriors that I, alone, will fulfill the wish of your people. . . or die in the foe's grasp. I shall perform the deeds of a hero or I have passed my last day in this mead hall." The woman liked these words, this brave speech of the Geat. The gold-adorned folk queen went to sit by her lord. Now again, as it had been in the old days, brave words were spoken and the people were happy. The gladness of warriors continued until the son of Healfdene wished to go to his evening rest. Hrothgar knew the wretch planned to attack the hall after the sun had set, night over the hall, when the shadows came striding dark under the clouds. All the company arose. Warrior then saluted warrior, Hrothgar wishing Beowulf luck in his fight for the hall. Hrothgar said these words: "Never, since I have been able to lift shield, have I entrusted this hall, this mighty house of the Danes, to any man. But now I entrust it to you. Have and hold this best of houses. Keep fame in mind, watch against the foe, and make your valor known! You shall lack nothing if you survive this deed." Then Hrothgar, protector of the Danes, and his band of warriors left the hall. Hrothgar sought the queen's bed. God, as men learned, had chosen a man who could fight Grendel. The chief of the Geats, indeed, trusted his strength and God's favor. Beowulf took off his armor, off his helmet, handed his figured sword to the attendant. Beowulf, that good man, then spoke some brave words before he got in bed: "I don't claim myself any lower in strength or brave deeds than Grendel. Therefore, I will not kill him with a sword, though I easily might. Though he is famous for strength, he knows no weapons to cut a shield. If he chooses to forego a sword, if he dares seek me without weapon, then we two shall fight without, and wise God, that king, shall choose who shall win glory." The battle-brave one lay down then, a pillow received the warrior's face, and his brave men sought rest around him in the hall. Not one thought he would seek home again, see his people or birthplace. Far too many Danes had already died there. But the Lord would give victory to the Geat people, helping and supporting, so that one man's craft overcame all. (It is well known that God always rules the race of men.)
Came then striding in the night the walker of darkness. In that gabled hall the warriors slept, those who guarded the hall. . . all but one. It was well known among men that, if God willed it not, no one could drag that demon to the shadows. But Beowulf watched in anger, waiting the battle's outcome. Came then from the moor under the misty hills Grendel stalking under the weight of God's anger. That wicked ravager planned to ensnare many of the race of men in the high hall. He strode under the clouds, seeking eagerly, till he came to the wine-hall, the treasure-hall of men decorated in gold. Nor was it the first time he had sought Hrothgar's home. But never in his life before --or since-- did he find worse luck! Came then to the building that creature bereft of joys. When he touched it with his hands the door gave way at once though its bands were forged in fire. Intending evil, enraged, he swung the door wide, stood at the building's mouth. Quickly the foe moved across the well-made floor, in an angry mood--a horrible light, like fire, in his eyes. He saw the many warriors in the building, that band of kinsmen asleep together, and his spirit laughed: that monster expected to rip life from the body of each one before morning came. He expected a plentiful meal. (It was his fate that he eat no more of the race of men after that night. . .) The mighty one, Beowulf, watched, waiting to see how that wicked one would go about starting. Nor did the wretch delay, but set about seizing a sleeping warrior unawares and bit into his bone locks, drinking the streams of blood, then swallowing huge morsels of flesh. Quickly he ate that man, even to his hands and feet. Forward Grendel came, stepping nearer. Then he reached for Beowulf. Beowulf grasped his arm and sat up. The criminal knew he had not met in this middle-earth another with such a grip. Grendel's spirit was afraid and his heart eager to get away, to flee to his hiding place, flee to the devils he kept for company. Never had he met a man such as this. Beowulf then kept in mind the speeches he had made in the evening and stood upright, firmly grasping Grendel's hand until the fingers broke. The monster strove to escape. Beowulf stepped closer. That famous monster suddenly wanted to disappear into the fens. He realized the power of those hands, the wrathful grip he was in. Grendel felt sorry he had made a trip to Herot. That hall of warriors dinned. All the Danes of the city, all the brave ones, feared disaster. The building resounded. It is a wonder the wine-hall withstood the battle, that the beautiful building did not fall to the ground. But it was made fast, within and without, with iron bands forged with great skill. I have heard say many a mead bench adorned in gold went flying when those hostiles fought. No wise man had ever thought that splendid building could be damaged (unless a fire should swallow it). The din rose louder, the Danes stood in dreadful terror--everyone heard lamentation, a terrifying song, through the wall: Grendel, Hell's friend, God's enemy, sang in defeat, bewailing his wound. That man, mightiest of warriors alive, held fast. He would not for any reason allow his murderous visitor to escape alive, to keep the days of his life. Beowulf's warriors brandished many a sword, inheritances from the ancient days, trying to protect their chief, but that did no good: they could not have known, those brave warriors as they fought, striking from all sides, seeking to take Grendel's soul, that no battle sword could harm him-- he had enchantment against the edges of weapons. The end of Grendel's life was miserable, and he would travel far into the hands of fiends. Grendel, the foe of God, who had long troubled the spirits of men with his crimes, found that his body could not stand against the hand grip of that warrior. Each was hateful to the other alive. The horrible monster endured a wound: the bone-locks of his shoulder gave way, and his sinews sprang out. The glory of battle went to Beowulf, and Grendel, mortally wounded, sought his sad home under the fen slope. He knew surely that his life had reached its end, the number of his days gone. The hope of the Danes had come to pass--He who came from far had cleansed Hrothgar's hall and saved it from affliction. They rejoiced it that night's work. Beowulf had fulfilled his promise to the Danes and all the distress they had endured, all the trouble and sorrow, had reached an end. The fact was plain when Beowulf laid that arm and shoulder down, there altogether, Grendel's claw, under the vaulted roof. The Warriors Rejoice I have heard say that on that morning warriors came from near and far to look at the wonder. Grendel's death made no warrior sad. They looked at the huge footprints and the path he had taken, dragging himself wearily away after he had been overcome in battle. The fated fugitive's bloody tracks led into the water-monster's mere. There bloody water boiled, a horrible swirl of waves mingled with hot gore. That doomed one had died, deprived of joy, in his fen refuge, his heathen soul taken into Hell. After seeing that place the warriors once again rode their horses to Herot. They spoke of Beowulf's glorious deed, often saying that no man under the sky's expanse, North nor South between the seas, no man who bore a shield, was more worthy of a kingdom. They, however, never found fault with the gracious Hrothgar-- he was a good king. The warriors let their bay horses go, a contest for the best horse, galloping through whatever path looked fair. Sometimes a king's man, a warrior covered in glory who knew the old traditions, would be reminded of an ancient song, and he would call up words adorned in truth. The man would think of Beowulf's deeds and quickly compose a skillful tale in words. Then he sang of things he'd heard about Sigemund's valorous deeds, untold things about Weals's son, his struggles, his wide journeys and feuds. The singer told things the children of men did not know, except for Fitela, Sigemund's nephew, who stood with him in battle. With swords those two felled many from the race of giants. After Sigemund's death day not a little fame sprang to him, about his hardy fight and killing of a dragon, keeper of a hoard. Under gray stone that prince alone engaged in that audacious deed, not even Fitela with him. Anyway, it happened that Sigemund's sword went clear through the huge dragon and that splendid iron stuck in the wall. The dragon died violently. By brave deeds the hero won a ring hoard for himself. He bore into a ship's bosom those bright treasures of the Weal kin, and the dragon melted of its own heat. Sigemund was by far the most renowned adventurer. N He had first prospered under King Heremod, but that man's strength and victory subsided. Among the Jutes Heremod was betrayed into enemy hands and put to death. Sorrow oppressed him too long. He became a trouble to his people. Many a wise man bewailed the old days when Heremod had taken the protector's position to hold the treasure of the Danish kingdom. He had loved the Geats more than his own people: evil had seized him. Thus told the song. Sometimes the warriors raced their horses on the yellow road. The morning sped away. Many a brave warrior went to the high hall to see the wonder. So also the king himself, the keeper of the rings, leaving the queen's rooms, went with his famous company. And the queen also with a troop of maidens walked among the mead seats.
Hrothgar, standing on the steps, seeing the golden roof and Grendel's hand, spoke: "For this sight I give thanks to the Almighty. I have suffered much from Grendel's scourge. God, the glorious protector, works wonder after wonder. Only yesterday I expected these woes would never end-- this best of houses stood shining in blood and all my wise ones said we could never protect the people and land from the work of demons and evil spirits. Now a warrior, through God's might, has performed a deed we, in our wisdom, could not contrive. The woman who bore you, Beowulf, if she yet lives, may say the Eternal Maker was kind in her child bearing. Now, Beowulf, best of warriors, I love you as a son: have from this moment a new kinship. Nor will there be any lack of earthly things I have power over. Often I have given gifts to a lesser warrior, weaker in fighting. You have, by your deeds, achieved fame forever. May God repay you always as He has just now!" Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke: "We have done this work of valor against the strength of an uncanny foe. I wish you might have seen this enemy killed in his gear. I planned to bind him quickly to his deathbed with hand grips. I thought I could pin him down struggling for life without his body's escape. But I could not keep him from going; the Creator did not will it, and I could not hold him firmly enough. The foe was too powerful in his going. However, he left behind his hand to save his life, and his arm and shoulder, though that won't buy the wretch much comfort. The evil-doer, afflicted by sin, won't live much longer; pain with its strong grip has seized him in deadly bonds, and there shall he await, guilty of crime, the great judgment, how the bright creator will decree. . . " Then was the warrior silent in speaking of his war-like deed, and the nobles beheld the hand at the high roof. On each of the foe's fingers were nails like steel. Everyone agreed the heathen's claw was horrible and that the wretch's bloody battle hand could not be harmed by the best of iron. Entertainment in Herot Then it was ordered that Herot be decorated. Many there were, men and women, who prepared that guest-hall. Gold ornaments shone, wondrous sights on the walls, for people to look at. That bright building had been much hurt, though its bands were made of iron. Hinges had been sprung apart. The roof alone had escaped damage before that monster, wicked outlaw, turned in flight despairing of his life. (Fate is not easy to flee from, try it who will-- the children of men, bearers of souls, must go to the prepared place, his body rest fast in the grave, sleep after the feast.) Then came the time that Hrothgar himself went to the feast. Never have I heard of a greater company gathered around a treasure giver. Great ones sat at the benches and rejoiced with the cup. Those brave kinsmen drank many a mead cup in the high hall with Hrothgar and Hrothulf, his nephew. Herot was filled with friends (treachery had not yet come to the Danes). Hrothgar gave Beowulf a gilded banner, decorated battle flag, as reward for victory. Also a helmet, armor, and a famous, precious sword were given to the hero before that company. Around the helmet's top as head-protection was a wrap of metal bands so that no sharpened swords could harm him in the battle storm when the shield-warriors fight. Beowulf drank the cup. He had no reason to be ashamed among warriors for taking those rich gifts. Never have I heard of golden treasure given at the ale bench in a more friendly way. The king ordered eight horses with gold-plaited bridles led into the hall. On one sat a saddle inlaid with jewels-- it had been Hrothgar's when he had gone to sword play. Never had he failed at the front when corpses fell. Hrothgar gave horses and weapons, telling Beowulf to enjoy them well. Thus like a man that great prince, treasure giver of heroes, repaid Beowulf for his battle, and no man who tells the truth. will blame him. Then that chief of nobles gave to each one on the mead bench who had taken the ocean's way with Beowulf an heirloom and ordered that the one Grendel killed in wickedness should be paid for in gold. (Grendel would have killed more of them if wise God, and Beowulf's courage, had not prevented it. The Creator then ruled the race of men, as He does yet; and, therefore, understanding is best: the forethought of mind. Much shall he abide, from friends and foes, who lives long in these days of strife as he makes use of this world!) The Poet Sings Of Old Trouble, how Hildeburh, married to stop a feud between Jutes and Danes, saw her husband, brother, and son killed In the presence of the battle leader Hrothgar's poet touched the harp and recited many songs for entertainment in the hall. He sang of Finn's offspring and how Hnaef of the Danes fell in a Jute battlefield. Indeed Hildeburh did not have much cause to praise the good faith of her in-laws, the Jutes: though blameless, she was deprived of dear ones by the shield play, both her son and Hnaef, her brother, in fate fell to spear wounds. That was a sad woman. Not without cause, after morning came, when she could see under the sky, did she bewail the decree of fate, the slaughter of kinsmen. At first she had possessed the world's joy. War took all but a few of the Jute men so they could not fight the Dane Hengst nor protect the survivors. But Hengst offered them a deal: that the Jutes would make room for the Danes in the beer hall and that with gifts King Finn would honor Hengst's men, rings, entertainment, and treasures of plated gold as if they were his kin. Both sides agreed to the peace. Finn declared to Hengst honest oaths that the survivors would be held in honor and that no man, by words nor works, would break the peace nor in cruelty mention that they were being friendly with the killer of their king, since a winter freeze had forced it. If any of the Jutes in daring speech mentioned it, then the edge of the sword would settle the matter. A funeral pyre was readied and gold brought from the hoard. The best of the Danes were ready for the pyre. At the fire were blood stained shirts of mail, boar images all golden and iron-hard. Not a few noble ones had been destroyed by wounds! Hildeburh ordered her son committed to the heat of Hneaf's pyre; his muscles burned at the shoulder of his uncle. The woman mourned, sang lamentation, as the warrior ascended, waned to the clouds, as the greatest of death fires roared on the barrow. Heads melted, wounds, hostile bites to the body, opened and burst; blood sprang out. Fire, the greediest of spirits, swallowed everything, of both peoples, there together. Their power had passed away. The warriors departed, bereft of friends, to seek shelter in the Jute land, Jute homes and stronghold. So Hengst spent a slaughter-stained winter with Finn because he could not leave. He thought of home but could not go in a ring-prowed ship against the sea storm, against the wind. The water waves locked in icy bindings until another year came to the gardens, as they do yet, glorious bright weather to watch over the hall. When winter had passed and earth's bosom turned fair, the adventurer was eager to go, the guest from the dwelling, but first Hengst thought more of revenge for injury than of a sea journey, how he might cause a hostile meeting with the Jutes to repay them with iron. So it was he did not complain when the son of Hunlaf laid Battle Bright, the best of swords, whose edges were known to the Jutes, on his lap. So it was that Finn, bold in spirit, in his turn met a cruel death by sword in his own home after Guthlaf and Oslaf complained of their sorrows, blaming their woes on that sea journey. A restless spirit is not restrained by the breast. Then was the hall reddened with the life blood of enemies. King Finn was slain and Hildeburh taken. The Danish warriors carried to their ships all the goods they could find in the house, precious jewels. They took the queen on a sea journey back to her people. The poet's song was sung, the mirth rose, bench noise, as the cup bearers offered wine from wondrous vessels. end of episode five
Then Wealhtheow came out under a golden crown to where the good men sat, nephew and uncle (at that time there was peace between the two, each still true to the other). Unferth the spokesman sat at Hrothgar's feet-- everyone considered him brave in spirit though he had not been kind to his kin at the sword's play. Spoke then the queen of the Danes: "Receive this cup, my dear lord, giver of treasure. Be in joy, gold friend of men, and speak to these Geats with kind words as men should do. Be gracious to the Geats and mindful of the gifts you have from near and far. A man said to me that he would have this warrior for a son. Herot, the bright ring hall, is purged. Give while you can many rewards and leave to your kin people and land when you must go to learn fate's decree. I know my nephew Hrothulf will keep his honor if you, king of the Danes, leave this world earlier that he. I know Hruthulf will remember what we two wish and the kindness we showed when he was a child." Wealhtheow turned then to the bench where her sons were, Hrethric and Hrothmund, children of warriors, the youth together. There the good ones sat, Beowulf of the Geats and the two brothers. To him the cup was carried and friendship offered in words. Wound gold was kindly bestowed: two arm ornaments, shirts of mail, rings, and the largest neck ring I have heard tell of on the earth. I have not heard of any greater hoard-treasures under the sky since Hama carried away to his bright fortress the necklace of the Brosings. He fled a treacherous quarrel from the king of the East Goths with the ornament and its setting, choosing everlasting gain. (This is the ring Hygelac of the Geats, grandson of Swerting, uncle of Beowulf, would have near when he guarded the battle-spoil under his banner. Fate would take him when he courted trouble-- out of pride--in a feud with the Frisians. He would wear those noble stones over the cup of the waves. He would fall beneath his shield. His body, his armor, and the ring also, would pass into the power of the Franks. Bad warriors rifled the corpses after the battle slaughter. The Geat people remained in the field of corpses.) Music filled the hall. Wealhtheow spoke before the company: "Enjoy this neck-ring, beloved Beowulf, young hero, and use this armor, these treasures of the people. Thrive well, be known for valor, and give kind instruction to these two boys. I will remember your deeds. You have earned forever the praise of men, from near and far, even to the home of the winds and the walls of the sea. Be blessed while you live, prince! I wish you well with the treasures. Be gentle, joyful one, to my sons. In this place is each warrior true to the other, mild in spirit, an d faithful to his king. The warriors are united, the men drink deep, and they do my biding." She went to her seat. There was a choice feast, men drank wine. They did not know that grim fate would come to many nobles after evening fell and powerful Hrothgar went to his house to rest. Countless warriors guarded the hall, as they had often done: they cleared the floor of benches, spread out beds and cushions. One of the beer drinkers, doomed and fated, lay on the couch. They set by their heads their war gear and bright wood shields. There on the bench over each warrior could be seen a towering helmet, ringed armor, and a huge wooden spear. Their custom was that they were always ready for war, both in the field and at home, each ready anytime his king needed him. Those were good people. end of episode six Part Two: Grendel's Mother --The Attack of Grendel's Mother-- They sank into sleep. One paid dearly for his evening's rest, as had happened often since Grendel had come to the gold hall performing his evil until the end came to him, death after his sins. It was soon learned and widely known among men that an avenger yet lived after that war-trouble: Grendel's mother, a monster woman, she who lived in the terrible water, the cold streams, thought of her misery. After Cain killed his brother, his father's son, he went in guilt, marked by murder, fleeing the joys of men to occupy the waste land. There awoke many fated spirits, Grendel being one, that savage, hateful outcast. At Herot he found a man awake and ready for war. The monster laid hold of him, but Beowulf kept in mind his strength, the precious gift God had granted, and God gave him help and support. Thus Beowulf overcame that enemy, subdued that hellish demon. Then Grendel went, the enemy of mankind, deprived of joy, seeking his death place. So his mother, greedy and gloomy as the gallows, went on a sorrowful journey to avenge her son's death. So she came to Herot where the Danes slept in the hall. The fortunes of the noble ones changed when Grendel's mother got inside: the terror was less by just so much as is the strength of a woman, the war-horror of a woman, is less than the horror of a sword forged with hammer and stained in blood shearing the strong edges of the boar on a helmet. Hard edges were drawn in the hall, swords off the benches, and many broad shields fast in hand, though they forgot about helmets and broad mail shirts when the terror seized them. After they had seen her, she was in haste to get out of there and save her life. She quickly seized one of the warriors then headed back to the fens. The warrior she killed, in his sleep, was Hrothgar's most trusted man, famous between the two seas, a glorious hero. (Beowulf was not there, for after the treasure-giving the famous Geat had gone to another house.) She took her son's famous blood-covered hand. An outcry came from Herot, care had been renewed and returned to the dwelling place--that was not a good bargain, that both sides paid with the lives of friends. The wise old king, the gray warrior, was in a savage mood when he heard his chief warrior was dead. Beowulf was quickly fetched to the chamber. As day broke the noble champion together with his warriors went to the wise ones, the hall's wood floors resounding. The wise ones all wondered if ever the Almighty would remove this woeful spell. Beowulf asked with words if the night had been according to his desire and all things agreeable. Hrothgar, protector of the Danes, spoke: "Don't ask about happiness! Sorrow is renewed among the Danish people. Aeschere is dead, Yrmenlaf's elder brother, my confidant, the bearer of my advice, my shoulder companion when troops clash and boar helmets smashed. As a noble prince should be, such Aeschere was! Now he has been slain in Herot by the hands of a restless, murderous spirit. I do not know where his carcass has gone to be gladly feasted on. She has avenged the feud for your violent killing with hard hand clasps of Grendel yesternight for diminishing and destroying my people for so long. Grendel fell in battle, forfeited his life, and now another has come, a mighty man-eater to avenge her kin, as is seen by many a warrior who mourns for me, treasure giver, weeping in their minds for my heavy sorrow, a hand lying lifeless who gave good things to you. I have heard tell among my people and councilors that they had seen two mighty wanderers in the waste land moors keeping guard, alien spirits. One was, as far as they could see, the likeness of a woman. The other miserable thing in the stature of a man, though he was larger than any other man, as they trod the paths of exiles. In the days of old earth dwellers called him Grendel. We have no knowledge of a father, of any forebears among evil spirits. They occupied the secret land, the wolf's retreat-- windy bluffs, perilous fens, where a waterfall darkens under bluffs and goes down under the ground. It is not far from here, by measure of miles, that the mere stands. Over it hangs a frost-covered grove, woods rooted deep- shadowing the water. There each night a portent may be seen: fire on the water. No wise one among the sons of men knows the bottom. Though the heath-stalker, the strong-horned hart, harassed by hounds, seeks the forest in his flight, he will give his life rather than protect his head by going there. That is not a good place! There water surges up, black, to the clouds, and the wind stirs up hateful weather so that the sky turns gloomy and weeps. . . Again it has happened that the remedy lies with you alone. The land, the dangerous place where you might find this criminal is unexplored. Seek it if you dare. . . For that fight I will pay as I did before with wound gold and ancient treasures. . .if you survive." Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke: "Do not sorrow, wise king! It is better for a man to avenge a friend than mourn much. Each of us must await the end of this life. He who wishes will work for glory before death. That is best for the warrior after he is gone. Arise, guardian of the kingdom, let us go quickly to see Grendel's kin. I promise you this: she will not escape to shelter-- not into the earth's bosom, not into the mountain's wood, not into the sea's bottom, go where she will! For this day, have patience in each woe." The veteran leapt up then, thanking God, the Mighty One, that the man had so spoken. * * *
The adventures of Beowulf, Episode 7 --The Expedition to Grendel's Mere-- A horse with plaited mane was saddled for Hrothgar: the wise king rode in splendor, a band of men marching on foot. Tracks were clearly visible going over the ground along the forest paths where she had gone forth over the murky moors carrying the good warrior, the best of men, lifeless, a man who had helped Hrothgar guard his home. The noble Hrothgar passed over narrows, lonely paths, steep, stony slopes on that unknown way among steep bluffs and the homes of water monsters. He and the wise men went before the rest to scout the place, and suddenly, he saw a joyless woods leaning over turbid and bloody water. For all the Danes it was grievous, and the warriors suffered when they on the sea cliff saw Aeschere's head. The water boiled with blood and hot gore as the men watched. Sometimes a horn sang out, an eager war song, but the troop all waited, watching along the water the kin of snakes, strange sea dragons, swimming in the deep or lying on the steep slopes-- water monsters, serpents, and wild beasts, such as the ones that appear on a dangerous sea journey in the morning time. When those creatures heard the war horn's note they hurried away bitter and angry. A man from the Geat tribe with his bow deprived of life, of wave battle, one of the monsters. An arrow, war hard, stuck in its heart, and it swam more weakly as death took it. Quickly it was attacked in the waves with barbed spears and swords and dragged by force to the bluff, a wondrous sea roamer. Warriors examined the terrible stranger. Beowulf arrayed himself in armor, not at all worrying about his life, putting on his mail shirt, large and decorated, woven by hand so that it could protect his chest as he tried the water, so that hostile grips, the fury's malicious grasps, might not scathe his life. A shiny helmet protected the head that would go to the watery depths. It was adorned with treasures, encircled with splendid chains-- in the old days weapon-smiths formed it wondrously, setting on it boar figures so that no sword could bite it in battle. And it was not the weakest of helps Unferth, Hrothgar's spokesman, loaned: the hilted sword called Hrunting, an ancient treasure with edges of iron and adorned with poison strips. That sword, hardened in blood, had never failed a man who grasped it in hand and dared a terrible journey, battles in a hostile place. This would not be the first time it had gone to do brave work. Unferth, great of strength, did not remember what he had said, drunk on wine, but loaned his weapon to a better sword warrior: he himself did not dare venture his life under the terrible waves to perform a deed of valor. There he lost his fame, his renown for valor. This was not so for that other man, he who prepared himself for war. Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke: "Remember, Hrothgar, kin of Healfdene, gold friend of men, wise king, now that I am ready to start, what we have spoken of-- if I, in your service, lose my life, that you will be in position of my father. Be a protector of my warriors, my comrades, if war takes me. Also, beloved Hrothgar, send the treasure you gave me to Hygelac, king of the Geats, that he may perceive from the gold, beholding the treasure, that I found a virtuous ring giver who I enjoyed while I could. And give Unferth my old heirloom, my splendid wavy sword widely known among men to have a hard edge. I will do my glory work with Hrunting--or death will take me. . ." With these words the chief of the Geats, waiting for no reply, hastened with bravery. The surging water took the warrior, and it was a good part of a day before he found the bottom. She who had fiercely guarded, grim and greedy, that water for a hundred half-years quickly saw that some man from above was exploring the monsters' home. Then the enemy seized the warrior in her horrid clutches, yet he was not injured--the ringed armor protected him, and she could not break his mail shirt with her hostile claws. The sea wolf bore the armored warrior down to her dwelling at the bottom. He could not, despite his bravery, command his weapons--many a sea beast harassed him with battle tusks, trying to cut his armor. Then the chief found that he was with someone in a hostile hall. The flood's rush could not harm him there because of the hall's roof. He saw a firelight shine in a brilliant flame. Then the warrior saw that monster of the deep, the mighty mere-woman. He swung his battle sword quickly--he did not hold back--and the ringed blade sang a greedy war song on her head. But the guest found that the flashing sword would not bite, could not harm her life-- the edge failed him at need. (It had endured many combats, often slashed helmets and fated war garments. . . This was the first time that precious treasure failed in its glory.) But Beowulf was resolute, by no means slow in valor, still thinking of daring deeds. The angry warrior threw the carved sword covered in ornaments, stiff and edged in iron, to the floor and trusted in his powerful hand grip. (So must a man do when he wishes for enduring fame at war: he cannot The lord of the Geats did not grieve at the battle but seized Grendel's mother by the shoulder. Now he was enraged and flung his deadly foe to the ground. She paid him back quickly with angry claws and clutched him against her. At that moment the strongest of warriors felt sick at heart: he fell. She sat on her hall guest and drew a dagger, wide and brown-edged-- she would avenge her son, her only offspring. On his shoulder lay the woven mail shirt. It protected his life, withstood the entrance of point and edge. Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, champion of the Geats, would have perished then under the wide ground had not his armor, his hard war net, helped him (and Holy God, who brought about war victory). The wise ruler of the skies decided justice easily when Beowulf stood up again: there among the weapons he saw a victory-blessed sword, an old sword made by giants with strong edges, the glory of warriors. It was the choicest of weapons, good and majestical, the work of giants, but larger than any other man could carry to battle sport. He who fought for the Danes, fierce and sword grim, despairing of life, seized the chain-wound hilt, drew the ringed sword, and angrily struck-- It grasped her neck hard and her bone rings broke. The blade entered the fated body. She fell to the ground. The sword was bloody, and the warrior rejoiced in his work. Suddenly light glittered, a light brightened within, as bright and clear as the candle of the sky. He looked around the building, walked around the walls. He raised the weapon hard by its hilt-- Beowulf was angry and resolute. The edge was not useless to the warrior--he wished to requite Grendel for the many attacks he had made on the Danes, much more often than on one occasion, when he had slain Hrothgar's guests in their sleep. Fifteen Danish men he devoured while they slept, and carried as many away, hideous booty. The fierce champion paid him his reward: Beowulf saw Grendel in rest, worn out with fighting, lifeless from the hard wounds he had gotten in battle at Herot. The corpse split when it suffered that blow after death-- the hard sword stroke. Beowulf cut off the head. end of episode seven