Welcome to a retelling of Beowulf through the skill of Somhairle na Dagney, Scáeli of Linrathe. (For a fuller explanation, see Part I.)
Bodies he bore back
Deep into darkness, his lair, light-lorn,
Their resting place. Sun and sorrow
Rose together. Hrothgar sat heart-stricken,
Helpless to heal.
Warriors wept for
brave brethren, hall-guards of Hrothgar
Taken in terror. Nor was battle stayed.
Bold with blood-hunger, Hryllingur hunted,
Dreaded doom-bringer.
Men fled Heorot,
Far from its fires, seeking safety.
Summer, winter; twelve seasons
Of woe and weeping; no price for peace
Would Hryllingur honour.
Murderous and mad,
Wreaked ruin the moor-monster ,
Hrothgar’s hall his sullied holt,
Save the king’s seat, ash-wood and aged;
A throne god-hallowed.
More next Thursday!