I've decieded to leave one more last post (Having reconsidered my last one!) and its inspired by an Anglo Saxon tale I'm working up at the moment to go with a Viking story telling session I'm developing..

You must forgive the story teller in me, but the comments on the other post almost persuaded me to stay... but then I thought better of it... although I shall miss this land, everything must pass.. none of us can stay in one place all our lives and besides I have a lot of work I need to do..

And with that In mind I leave you the story of the Death of Beowulf. I hope some of you have heard of Beowulf and especially his fight with Grendel and his mother.. If you haven't then do have a look on the internet, better still read a book! But in short and as my good friend Cher observed its..

"somebody, kin of somebody,built the world's biggest meade hall and gave lots of feasts and treasures away? It sounds like the '60s&'70s were weak, by comparison"...

I Like your style Cher! And thats a good start, he was a kind and generous Lord, but just wait till you read about Grendel!

But this story is not of Grendel, this story comes much later when Beowulf like all of us , had to move on.....

ENJOY.....

You may have heard the tale of Beowulf and how he defeated both the terrible Grendel and his even more terrible mother…

But it is one of just many tales of Beowulf, for he was to reign as King... King of the Geats for another fifty years…. For fifty summers Beowulf ruled his land with both strength of arm and wisdom and he fought many more battles and terrible foes to protect his land. For fifty winters Beowulf took care of his people, but now… he was an old man and the years lay heavy upon him, for the strength that had once made him most feared among his enemies had left the old King’s body…

But Beowulf still had one more battle to fight… one more monster to defeat…

But my story does not start in Beowulf’s time, but some five hundred years earlier, over four hundred years before Beowulf was even born…..

For once, long, long ago, back in a time when life was hard and men were fierce and cruel, there lived a family of chieftains… Ten brothers they were and each a king in his own right. And each was worse than the other, for each valued treasures above all things and each stole from his people and took from his enemies until they had a great store of treasure stored in their castle. There were pearls and gems and precious stones of great price, swords with hafts, with handles of silver and gold, there were amulets and broaches, pendants and arm bands and other ornaments cunningly wrought by smiths of long, long ago... There were costly fabrics, weavings once proudly displayed in many a great hall and armour that some did say was magic, imbued with spells that made it proof against all mortal weapons. Not could touch it, none could harm the man that wore it!

Year by year the brothers added to their store of treasure until it was a hoard so great it was the like of which no man had ever seen before… But as their treasure grew, so too did the ten brother's greed and each attacked the other, wanting the hoard for themselves... until after much blood was spilt , only one brother remained.. One King was left alone, an old man, his heart full of shadow, sorry for what he had done, but sorrier still that there would be none to protect the great hoard when he to was gone. Sorry that the treasures would be broken up and shared amongst his many enemies…

And so it was that the old King he found a secret cave hidden high in a rocky cliff, face that looked over the sea to other lands and there over time he hid the treasure... and then he died... And so it was that his enemies tore down the castle where he and his nine brothers had once lived, but not a silver goblet nor a precious jewel could they find, the hoard was gone… And as the years passed and the treasure it became but a distant memory, no more than a tale to be told round the fire on a cold winter’s night…

But meanwhile there came to this land a great dragon! A dragon fleeing from men, for it was men that it hated more than anything else in this world. A dragon flying close to the rock face, its mighty wings outstretched like the sails of a great ship, its hard horny scales glowing blue and red and golden with the fire held deep within its belly. The dragon it found the opening to the secret cave and pushing through the narrow entrance he found the treasure of the ten kings. The pearls and gems and precious stones of great price, swords with hafts, with handles of silver and gold, the amulets and broaches, pendants and arm bands and other ornaments cunningly wrought by smiths long, long ago... The costly fabrics, weavings once proudly displayed in many a great hall and armour that some did said was magic, imbued with spells that made it proof against all mortal weapons…. The dragon its eyes sparkling like the jewels that surrounded it, crawled upon the heap; it curled its great worm like body around the mass of treasure. It folded its mighty wings, closed it eyes and went to sleep. And there it slept soundly, undisturbed for three hundred years!

But there were those who still believed the tales of the lost treasure, there were those who heard tell of rumours that the old king, last of the ten brothers had hidden his hoard deep within a mountain… and there was one who went in search of it….. And now some three hundred years after the treasure was hid, he fell upon the opening to the cave, he found the wonderful hoard and the old dragon that guarded it. And although terrified of the great beast that lay asleep, the mans greed got the better of him and silently he took a golden goblet, once the cup of a king from the edge of the pile, for surely the dragon would not miss one cup from such a huge hoard!!! Well then the thief he hurried away...

But soon afterwards the dragon awoke from his deep sleep, for he could smell his enemy…. Sniffing the air, tasting it with his tongue, the dragon could smell man... And looking quickly over his giant hoard of treasure, the dragon saw at once that a golden goblet was gone! Stolen it was and with a great roar of anger the dragon came wriggling and sliding from the cave seeking out the man, the thief, seeking out any man to punish them for the crime… .. And so it was the great dragon swooped low over the countryside whilst huge tongues of flame shot from its open mouth. Flames so hot, so fierce that they shamed the very sun…

And the dragon in its fury it burnt the peoples crops, it burnt their homes, it burnt men, it burnt women and even children too! And such was the suffering of the people that it came to the ears of their King... and Beowulf was his name, for this land was the land of the Geats, his land and Beowulf old and weak as he had grown, he knew he must face the dragon if his people were to be saved….

And so it was Beowulf ordered his best smith make him a vast shield, as large as a mans body. And it should be made of metal and not of wood as other shield were made at this time... For whilst weak of body, Beowulf was still strong of mind… he summoned his bravest men and with his shield upon his back and trusty sword upon his belt, the old king Beowulf set out towards the mountains and the cave where the great dragon was resting once more..

And so it was that when they neared the cave mouth Beowulf’s men stood back upon a ridge, whilst the old king climbed down to the cave and sat a while resting upon a rock easing his weary bones and dreaming of his great deeds of old and wondering whether or not he would ever see the sunrise again or hear the shouts of men in battle and the songs sung of victory in his great hall… And after sighing heavily the old King Beowulf with a stern face marked by the years, weathered by the thunder of battle, he got to his feet, took up his ancient sword and struck it hard upon his shield. He threw out his chest and gave a great roar. Such a roar it was that it roused the dragon from its sleep and a violent hatred stirred deep within its heart for it knew well enough the voice and deeds of man….

Once more the dragon heaved its great worm like body from the hoard of treasure and came wriggling and sliding from the cave… And, seeing the old warrior standing before it, the dragon raised itself and up sent sheets of searing flame from its open mouth… terrible flames which would have surely burnt the flesh from Beowulf’s bones had he not held the huge metal shield before him. The flame wrapped itself around Beowulf, his shield glowed red hot and the strength ran from his body like water flowing from a hillside, but still the old king took his ancient sword and lunging forwards he struck the beast upon its neck….

But the sword sharp as it was, was no match for the horny scales of the dragon, and the wound it caused was not deep…. And the wound it only served to make the terrible beast angrier than before and the dragon fiery and twisted in fury it fell upon Beowulf…

Well, such was the sight that confronted his men that terror now well up in their hearts and men who before that day had been brave in battle now shrank back into the trees; all but one of Beowulf’s men ran away…

One alone remained and he was Wiglaf, who had come to Beowulf’s hall from another land… and now remembering the many kindnesses and honours that Beowulf had shown him, the young man held his wooden shield high, drew his sword and fought his way thru heat and smoke down to the cave…. And there he stood shoulder to shoulder with his king... Whilst the dragon once again it raised itself high above them and let forth a vast curtain of flame that wrapped itself around the two men like a great red cloak and tore through Wiglaf's wooden shield until nought but the metal boss of its centre still remained and the flesh would have surely been burnt from his bones had not Beowulf leapt before him and sheltered them both behind the great metal shield…

But the dragon fell again upon the two as they crouched upon the ground and Beowulf struck hard upon its head with his sword… But to no end, for his sword, the ancient sword that had served Beowulf so well for over fifty years and his father and his father before him, .. It broke upon the dragon’s bony skull and with it so too broke the last of Beowulf’s strength… The dragon took up the old king between his mighty jaws, its teeth biting deep... And in its anger raised itself up once more as it tossed Beowulf this way and that….

But as it did so Wiglaf saw at last a chance, he leapt forward and with hands burnt and blackened he thrust his own sword deep, deep into the belly of the beast whilst with the last of his life, Beowulf took a simple dagger from his belt and struck the beast in the neck and finished what his servant Wiglaf had started…. For the bright hot beauty of the dragons eyes flickered and was gone and with one last mighty shudder the dragon lay still… killed by King and servant together, killed by Beowulf and Wiglaf………..

But alas there was to be no celebration this day, for the Beowulf fell to the ground still grasping the haft, the handle of his broken sword in one hand and the dagger in the other, but with his burnt body beginning to swell from the poison passed to him from the dragons deadly bite..

Beowulf felt now as if his blood were boiling and as the pain racked his body, he knew his time was short…. And so it was he asked Wiglaf that he might bring out much of the treasure from the cave, so that the old king could look upon that which he had died for, that which had killed him…

And so it was that Wiglaf hastened quickly to the dragons lair and brought out much of the treasure…. The pearls and gems and precious stones of great price, swords with hafts, with handles of silver and gold, the amulets and broaches, pendants and arm bands and other ornaments cunningly wrought by smiths long, long ago... The costly fabrics, weavings once proudly displayed in many a great hall and armour that some did said was magic, imbued with spells that made it proof against all mortal weapons….

And having looked upon the hoard Beowulf now turned his head to the nearby sea and made one last command of Wiglaf. He commanded that once his body had been burnt upon a pyre, his ashes should be buried beneath a great pile of rocks high upon the cliff... A grave… a barrow of stone, that shall be called Beowulf’s Barrow so that it should be a guide for seafarers to keep them from harm, from the cruel rocks of his shores.

And then, well then Beowulf spoke no more… the destroyer of Grendel, the slayer of Dragons was dead. And after being cremated on top a great pyre, his ashes were left in Beowulf’s Barrow high upon a hill looking out to sea….

But know this Beowulf the warrior did not lie alone , for piled high all about his remains was the treasure of the ten kings, the treasure that had cost the old king his life.. Buried deep within Beowulf’s Barrow so that none could fight over it ever gain….

Hope you liked this post more than the last..

Best wishes to all

Dan
P.S, I'll see you in Valhalla!!!