Northern_Lights_2019

3 Beowulf Translation By Karlie Spiry Hear me! We have heard of the Spear-Danes of ages past, have heard the tales of the folk kings and their acts of valor and glory. Often Scyld Scefing conquered, he took what he desired, the halls of lesser men, he terrorized warriors only after he was found without in the waves of the sea. The experience hardened him, and he grew in the shade of the clouds garnering honor, and those around him paid him in full; the price of his mercy was worth it. He was a dominant king. A boy was born to him. The reliever of the doubts, Beow, the son of Scyld, brought honor and glory to his father’s name. Loyalty begets honor, and Beow rose to power with the people at his back, the way a warrior of renown should. As daylight came to an end, Scyld found his eternal peace in shrouds. His people returned him to the sea from whence he came. In a ship wrought with icy spires and jewels from foreign lands, they laid the king to rest amongst the finest armaments of armor and leather, blades and iron. These treasures were chosen to make the long journey home with the king and keep him from eternal solitude. He was found years ago as a child wrapped in the arms of the sea and carrying riches of the wildest kind from his homeland. Now they emblazoned him in gold and the finery of the rarest type. The Scyldings watched with wet faces and sorrowed hearts their king in all his glory slip over the misty horizon and disappear from this earthly realm. Where he came from and where he returned no one can tell. It is not for us to know. Beow reigned in the beloved shade cast by his father’s legacy. He flourished in it, and gave to the world Healfdene, a son so fierce the glory continued on with the Scyldings. Four heirs were born to that mighty warrior, Heorogar, Hrothgar, good Halga, and another daughter fated to be a queen one day. Hrothgar rose in hues of red and gold. With his honor and title, he dreamed of a mead hall to rival any in the land, a place for men to gather and for their sons to bask in the power of the Danes. Everything given to him he vowed to return to his people. Amid whispers far and wide, people built the hall and adorned its gabled roofs in gold. He called it Heorot. As promised, Hrothgar gifted to his people treasures, to their delight, golden rings. Looming in the distance, the hall waited for the strike of enemy steel, the savage song of war. The time for the destruction of the hall was not fated to be until familial revenge was carried out. In the moorish lands beyond Heorot, a vile beast lay in wait ready to strike at the lord and his men. He writhed for revenge as he heard the bell voice of the minstrel who recounted the tale of his exile. Creation started with a world of darkness; the Lord shaped it with light and dressed it in the skins of ocean and land. He filled it with the shapes of animals. Then came the lives of men to tend the world and keep it holy. Thus, the retainers lived in joy, until the enemy of hell carried out wickedness; the known wayfarer of borders