Beowulf: The Next Heroes

Prologue

Wiglaf stood in the waters as the waves gently crashed against the shores. He was knee deep, gowned in thick clothes holding Hrothgar's old horn.

Wiglaf, no, King Wiglaf watched as the boat burned with his dear friend Beowulf's dead body laid inside. He had watched as the flames roared in the boat sank carrying with it his dear friend's died body, slain by a terrible dragon. The vile worm had slinked out of it's cave and began burning and wrecking all it saw. Had it not been for brave Beowulf's sacrifice, they all would have burned before it's terrible wrath and fire. But the king was dead, and so very solemnly and sadly, the people had taken their lord's body and placed it on the ship which now burned over the sea.

Wiglaf had watched through the flames as a strange form, a woman, hovered over Beowulf's body and kissed it. He stared intently, but the image was gone, as if it had never been. Then finally the ship sank beneath the waves, taking the valiant soul of Beowulf, and only old Odin knew where his soul would go. Surely to the great halls of Valhalla, for such a king and hero would certainly be taken in by the All-Father thought Wiglaf, trying to ease his fears. There never was a hero such as Beowulf, and all heroes were welcome at Odin's table.

The rest of the people began to move on and murmur but Wiglaf stayed, staring onto the horizon while clutching the old King Hrothgar's golden horn, cast in the shape of a fierce dragon. It formed the shape of that golden beast, and had once belonged to King Hrothgar, who had ruled the land, before choosing Beowulf as his successor. Beowulf had used the horn when he slew the water demon which had stalked the land, though it was left behind. But now, somehow, it had returned, and was held by the very sad new king of the realm, who continued to stare at the sinking sun.

Then, out of the waves a woman's face emerged! Wiglaf was first surprised, as to how this could be, but then he recognized the woman. It was the same female who he had seen on the boat! She smirked at Wiglaf coyly. Wiglaf, though he had not seen her before, had an instinctual feeling of a foe, and he somehow knew who she was: Grendel's Mother. The wretch who bore monsters and a dragon, mothered the horrible abomination of vile filth called Grendel, and bringer of misfortune to this land many times over! She was the shame of Beowulf and King Hrothgar, and she bore the very same dragon that cost Beowulf his life! She did this.

She smiled at Wiglaf seductively, almost calling him. No, thought Wiglaf no, this witch caused my friend's death! She will not take me! I will avenge my brother! Then, as Wiglaf stared at her fiercely, he vowed he would avenge his friend and kill Grendel's Mother! And right there, as the sun began to dim, in the silent language of the eye, a war was declared. A war that could only end in absolute death of the combatants. A war of retribution, a war of vengeance. A war that would call heroes to it's cause. But who would answer?