Wealtheow's letter

Dear women of today, many of you have read the story of the great Beowulf. Some of you may even know the story of Grendel, but nobody has tried to tell my story. I'm mentioned only as a plot mover, a beauty of few words who served my husband's people. I'm only telling you ladies my story because I know that the men of this world have no interest in hearing my story. They would rather endlessly glorify the exploits of Beowulf. After about 1500 years and a couple hundred reincarnations (more on that later), it's time to tell my story of how I became the queen of the Danes.

My name was Wealtheow. My brother, Hygmod, was the young king of the Helmings, my people, and even though he was a young king, he was quickly gaining renown all around for his prowess in battle. Some even said that he would overthrow a powerful king named Hrothgar and become the next great king. King Hrothgar heard of these rumors, so he sent a scout out to do some reconnaissance to see if the rumors he heard of a new great king were true. When the scout returned, he told tales of a powerful young man and his loyal comitatus. The scout informed Hrothgar that my brother possessed a wild bear, who went around with him as a dog would. Hrothgar heard these rumors and felt very threatened, so he got together his strongest, bravest men and went on a journey to pay my brother a "friendly visit."

When my brother's scout informed him that Hrothgar had sent a scout to spy on our court, Hygmod knew that soon Hrothgar would arrive with hundreds, nay, thousands of men, and Hygmod was well aware of his current weakness in comparison to Hrothgar, so the night before Hrothgar's troops were to arrive, Hygmod came into my chamber to tell me life-changing news. He told me that tomorrow morning I would be presented to Hrothgar as a wife. Hygmod hoped that giving Hrothgar a beautiful young wife would soften his heart for the Helming people. When I received the news, I had no emotion; I was not surprised. From a very young age, I knew that my role in society was to one day be a comforting balm in some great king's bed. When I was a little girl, I was never allowed to venture more than a few hundred feet from my castle and was never allowed to roll around and play outside like my brothers. I was told that I was beautiful and that I should never lower myself to the level of playing in the dirt. I should instead stay inside and learn the craft of pleasing my future husband. I should learn to brush out his great beard and hair, massage his feet, and be his comfort when he returns from battles, possibly against my own people. Indeed, even though I was a girl of 6 and 10 years old, I already had the cultivated mind of a wise old woman. I knew what was good for my people, so I packed all my things and kissed all my loved ones goodbye, saving a little extra time to say farewell to my sweet grandma. My grandma cried bitter, angry tears for me. She had been one of the lucky few in her day, for she married a man whom she loved deeply and who was of her age, as opposed to I, who was marrying a man many tens of years older than me.

The next day, as predicted, Hrothgar came with his comitatus. He called out to my brother, telling him to come and "greet your guests!". (page 96) When my brother opened the doors, there were so many people outside that they seemed to stretch for miles. Hrothgar challenged Hygmod to a battle, but my wise brother knew better, for even the bravest of warriors know when they are outnumbered. In an attempt to maybe not have to send his beloved sister away after all, Hygmod offered gold and jewels to Hrothgar, but he refused. Hygmod sighed and turned away. He called for me, and I came slowly. I peered out from behind my brother to see what my fate would be. It could have been worse. Hrothgar was old, but he wasn't as old as I imagined him, and he appeared as if he was capable of kindness and gentleness. Hrothgar looked at me for a moment, surveying me. After a few tense moments that felt like years, he accepted me. For the next few days, my people played host to Hrothgar and his comitatus. Hygmod and Hrothgar drank and laughed together like reunited war buddies, as if they had completely forgotten how our people almost went to war. I spent those last few days bidding a final adieu to all my loved ones. One person I did not bid farewell to was my beloved. We had met when we were 8 years old, when I had snuck away from my guards to go on a solitary walk in the forest, and we had been inseparable ever since. I always knew that we would never be able to marry since he was a fatherless child of the forest, but that didn't preclude us from enjoying the time we had together. I did not bid him farewell because I knew that he was very emotional, and he would try to do something about my predicament, and if Hygmod discovered that we were lovers, he would indubitably have my lover's head decapitated. So for that reason, I didn't tell him that I was leaving. After 5 days and 4 nights, I made my final departure with my new husband, Hrothgar. We had a long way to travel, but Hrothgar did his best to make me comfortable throughout the journey. As it turned out, I was right about him. Even though he was an older man, he possessed the youth and vigor of a younger man, and he treated me with the utmost respect and kindness, which did much to ease my suffering. We arrived at Heorot (Hrothgar's Meadhall), and the rest is history.

Now about that reincarnation stuff. After Beowulf saved the Danes by slaying Grendel and then Grendel's mother, we lived basically happily ever after, with minimal warring. Hrothgar lived to the ripe old age of 77, when he died from a myocardial infarction. I lived until I was 137 years old (regular exercise and beet juice), then I died happily, surrounded by my great-great grandchildren. They all thought I was done for, but they were quite, quite wrong. I reincarnated in the form of my favorite lady-in-waiting's dwarf chihuahua. I lived a good couple of hundred incarnations, but I stopped in 1970 because I got reincarnated into Jimi Hendrix, and I honestly became tired of the endless cycles of reincarnation. Also, I was addicted to heroin, so there was that too. Ever since I stopped reincarnating back in 1970, my spirit has just been peacefully drifting along, observing the tides of history. I'm by turns saddened and thrilled by what the world has become today, and sometimes I consider reincarnating myself so I can experience the world myself, but then I remember my experience as Jimi Hendrix, and I go about my business.