In the Mead-Hall of Hrothgar

[Maerdwyn]

The next days are full of anticipation, as the boat is prepared and the warriors affairs are put in order. One of the men, the ugly Ahtagar, marries in this time - his display of bravery apparently overcoming the sight of his lame foot in Fruitha's eyes (though some think it likely that she tooks steps to ensure the first child she bore in the marriage would not share Ahtagar's deformity.) Ahtagar, as a consequence, is one of the happiest of the men as they board the Hygelac giba anjan.

It's dark, and will be for a few hours yet, but the journey must be timed so that the boat will be approaching the rocky shore of Daneland with some daylight left. Daneland is not far, but with only four hours of light during each day at this time of year, the rowing will need to be strong indeed.

Beowulf, as is his custom, rows the whole way. Briet, on the other hand, take only a short turn, before Ealdstan relieves him. "You aren't used to it, lad - it's no shame. Save the arm for your sword and shield. You can row when we return, with Grendel's head mounted on the prow." The other men switch off, with each rowing about half the distance, and Areld pilots the boat, steering it sure through the hazards of the Danish coast until at last the boat runs safely aground, pushing through the green muck and algae floating atop the black water.

As the men climb out of the boat, daylight is waning. The land rises away from the shore at a relatively steep incline. There are a few bare trees in sight, and the ground muddy with melting snow. At the crest of the hill over looking the rocky beach, Olaf is the first to see four armed men show themselves. They hold their distance, as well as their spears.

 

[Fenris]

"Hail friends" calls out Olaf. "Who has sent you to greet us?"

 

[Maerdwyn]

The men continue to stand about a hundred yards off. One calls back, and there is no friendship in the voice. "I am Hjördis son of Thurval. And you are Göts. Why have you come to our shores?" Here, another of them cuts in bitterly obstensibly to one of his fellows, but loudly enough that it carries down the hill. "They Sveon must be getting lonely in bed without them."

 

[Fenris]

"Yes, Hjördis son of Thurval, we are Göts. And do ye be Scyld-danes?"

 

[Maerdwyn]

Hjördis shoots a dark look at the rude man next to him as Olaf speks, and then answers back firmly: "We are. What is your purpose here? Speak quickly."

 

[Bobitron]

Areld scowls at the outspoken man, but holds his tounge until Beowulf or Olaf answers. He can't help but finger his axe at the insult, though. Although these are allies in some sense, they could just as easily be foes on this day.

 

[Fenris]

"Well my impatient Scyld-danes, we are you salvation. You King has sent to his cousin for aid, and lo it has arived on your shores. Now I would find a civil tongue in your head for this vessel bears none other than the conquerer of the Sveon, Thegn Beowulf, come to save this blighted land from the dread Grendel!" cries Olaf in almost a shout at the end.

 

[Maerdwyn]

"Salvation?" calls out the man next to Hjördis. "Do the Scyld-Danes need Göts to save them, then? Are you--" Hjördis whirls and punches him in the face, knocking the man to the ground.

Hjördis continues. "If you are friends, Göts, then Hrothgar will welcome you. But if you bring more strife to his land, you will be given to the marshes. Heorot still has strength enough to defend itself from the Göts, even one named Beowulf!"

Beowulf says in a low voice (not loud enough for the Danes to hear), "This is not the hospitable welcome I had expected, then calls out, "Thank you, son of Thurval. We are here as enemies of the Grendel and of no other. Will you take us to Hrothgar?"

Hjördis nods, saying, "I will, Göt. Have your men carry your boat from the water. Leave it on the hillside: up on the grass. Then I will take you to Heorot." There is a bit of confusion about this request, as your boats are usually simply run aground and tied. In storms, they are taken from the water, b only liad a few feet from it and laid parallel to the shore - not take thirty feet or more up the beach to where the grass begins, and not on calm, late autumn days without a cloud or hint of wind.

 

[Bobitron]

"Hjördis, son of Thurval! We greet you as an equal. Why should the boat not sit on the shore, as is sensible and right?" Areld speaks with a voice tinged more with confusion than challenge.

 

[Maerdwyn]

"The Jutes grow bold and sail along our shores by night. They use have destroyed many ships -- but they are not brave enough to come ashore, and your ship will be safe up away from the water."