Prologue

It was a sad day. King Hygelac was killed many winters ago, and now our new King, who scarcely had a beard on his face, was dead. Which leaves him with an open chance at the throne, being the nearest in king. He had nothing to do with Hygelac's son's death, for if he did, he would have been shamed for all eternity, and loose all the glory he had earned. It was in battle that Hybelac's son died most bravely.

His name is Beowulf, slayer of Grendel and slayer of his hideous mother. For this reason, his name had won fame throughout all lands. All men feared him, and those who call themselves his friends are respect throughout the community.

Yet this day was meant to be the mourning of the death of our King. All men shed tears for their beloved King, Beowulf most of all, for they had been faithful friends. It was after the funeral pyre had been marked that the queen Hygd approached Beowulf.

This sad woman was now 60 years old, and had been aged by the sadness of premature deaths of those she loved. She approached me in the great hall of the Geats. Although she has been through much sadness this day she still carried herself as a queen, proud and graceful.

"Dear Beowulf," she began, "My people are distraught and saddened, at the lose of my son."

"It is a sad day for the Geats, indeed."

"They now require a King more than ever, for we fear attacks from the Swedes. Dear Beowulf, you are like a son to me, and with your strength and your mighty sword with which you have won great glory, take up the role as King of our people."

Beowulf expected this to happen, but hoped it wouldn't. He did not want to become King for his only desire is to win fame. Yet, he realized at this moment, that his oath with the past Kings required him to aid all his people.

"I will indeed take up this mighty role for our people."