Fire in a Fireplace - Image Source: torange.biz
Beowulf and the Dragon
The feast had just begun when there was a knock at the door. Quiet fell over the banquet hall, and all looked to the king. Few dared to interrupt his feasts, and whoever did so risked his own health, or head.
For a few moments, all was silent, and the listeners began to doubt that there had really been a knock, when once again, a hand met the door. This time, the knock was louder. There was no doubting it.
The king called to the guards to open the massive doors, and in walked a shabby man, dressed in rags and weary from the road. Boldly, he walked to the base of the dais where the king was seated, then he kneeled at his royal feet.
"Who are you? What brings you to this place and leads you to disturb my feast?" inquired the king.
"Your majesty, I am a storyteller traveling the land in order to share the deeds of the mighty King Beowulf. In exchange for food and lodging, I might share how he defeated the monster Grendel," the man replied, kneeling lower still.
"I have heard this tale, and I know it well. My own minstrel has sung it many a time, and I shall not pay for a service I already have," retorted the king.
"Ah, but have you heard of his meeting with the great fire-beast?" questioned the storyteller. At the silence, he looked up at the king, who bore a curious expression. "Ah, I see," he continued. "I shall tell the tale, but first, might I have a meal? I am famished and weary from my travels."
The king gestured for his guards to fulfill the request. All responded in disbelief, for the king had very little patience for interruptions. The only thing that he loved more than a feast was a new tale. The storyteller had been lucky. The guards sat him by the fire and provided food and wine.
After eating some meat and resting a while, the storyteller began to tell his tale. His voice carried over the hall from the corner by the fire. "Not so very long ago, the mighty King Beowulf sat at a feast much like this one. After years of ruling justly, Beowulf had brought prosperity and peace to the land, and his hall was full and happy. Then one night, much like tonight, a man entered their hall.
"This man spoke of a great and mighty beast, with a body like a serpent, wings like a bat, and the ability to breathe fire. The man produced from his cloak a gold cup, claiming it had come from the dragon hoard, which would belong to whomever defeated him. The man begged mighty Beowulf to intercede and free them."
The storyteller paused, taking a gulp of his wine. "Beowulf, noble-hearted, agreed. He set out immediately, accompanied by eleven of his strongest and most loyal earls, including his favorite named Wiglaf. Beowulf had no sons, but the loyal Wiglaf was like to a son in every way.
"The group set out, and Beowulf instructed them to await his command and join the battle when he called. But when he called the mighty beast forth, every earl's knees turned to jelly and all but one fled. Only Wiglaf, loyal and true, remained.
"Beowulf faced the beast for hours. The dragon was mighty and fierce, and with its breath of fire, Beowulf could not beat it outright with strength. So he chose to lean on cunning. At every attack, he was able to dodge the fearsome blows and licking flames. Yet when he had tired the beast and called to his companions to join and kill it, he found himself deserted but for Wiglaf.
"Wiglaf leapt to join his king, but the dragon struck out in desperation, mortally wounding the king. In a rage, Wiglaf drove his sword deep into the heart of the dragon, and with a final cough of smoke and ash, it fell and was still. Wiglaf turned and knelt where his king lay. With shallow breaths, Beowulf acknowledged the loyalty of the young man and declared him his heir. He begged Wiglaf to bury him with honor and rule justly. With that, the king breathed his last."
The storyteller paused again, and the king grew impatient. "Is that it? Is that your story?"
With a shake of his head, the storyteller carried on. "The noble Wiglaf returned with the body of the king and some of the gold. When he arrived at the mead hall, he laid the king out in honor, dressed in his finest robes and decorated with gold bracelets and a crown from the hoard.
"Now Wiglaf recalled the eleven earls, their fear and disloyalty to Beowulf. When the people had fully celebrated their king, Wiglaf banished the earls from the mead hall. Furthermore, he placed on them a curse that as they had run from Beowulf in his hour of need, so they must always roam the earth, never finding rest. Wherever they went, they must tell the tales of the mighty Beowulf in hopes that one day, their curse might be undone and their wrongdoings forgiven."
With this, the storyteller stepped into the brighter light. The attendants of the feast began to see that his ragged clothes had once been fine robes and despite his dirty appearance, he carried himself well.
"I am the most sorry of those earls," he finished. "I regret with my life my choice to abandon my king that day, and until my dying breath, I will tell of his might, valor, and love for his people." He paused once again to gather himself, and then finished, "I thank you for the food and drink, and I hope that you will learn from my own mistakes."
With that, he turned and walked once more through the heavy doors into the night, until the time when he would next find another mead hall to tell his tales.
Story Source: The Story of Beowulf by Strafford Riggs
Author's Note: I wanted to tell the story of Beowulf and the Fire Dragon, as most people know his other adventures and this one is a lot less known. Once again, I changed very little about the original tale. In it, a man joins Beowulf's hall at a feast and declares the presence of the dragon. Beowulf chooses men to join him and fights the beast. All but one abandon him and he is killed in battle. Wiglaf succeeds the throne and ensures that the king is honored.
For my retelling, I wanted to add a punishment for the earls, which was not in the original story. I realize that in a situation like facing a dragon, few would be able to ignore the urge to flee, so I didn't want to kill them for it. But I wanted them to right their wrong. I thought it would be interesting if Wiglaf banished them and required them to tell stories of their mighty king, never finding rest but always finding a new audience. Much like my other tales, I wanted to play around with who might tell this, and thought that in the original time period, it would likely be told by a minstrel or storyteller. Fortunately for me, both the punishment and narrator choices worked well together.
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