Short Story

To honor the Beowulf’s heroic life and battles, I’ve been assigned as one of his closest warriors to exclaim his appellation and share the stories of his battles. One of the citizen came up to me and asked, “I heard that Beowulf was an amazing guy, but I never fully knew him. Could you tell me more about him?” I was extremely excited as this man was the first person to ever ask me about Beowulf. “Beowulf was a strong leader and a great friend. Although he might not have been a very humble man, he was nowhere near being a bully. He’s the type of man that would belittle anyone who hurts the weak and innocent. Beowulf was mettlesome and was never intimidated by any menace.” The man’s eyes were already widen. “He sounds like a guy I would wanna be protected by,” the citizen said, “Can you tell me about one of his battles?” I prepared myself as I was about to begin a long lecture of how strong Beowulf was.

The concept of physical war is universally understood while many do not recognize internal struggles as a war within. The wife of bath, Beowulf, Lanval, and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight all share a common theme of internal struggle. From a mental war over the kingdoms precedent, to an altering decision on whether knightly virtues are more important than his own life, these characters are battling the ideology of their roles during their time periods, as well as themselves.

As him and his men see the shining reflection of the Danes’ spears, Beowulf feels and interprets the uncertainty they feel, for he is this mysterious man showing up to this island filled with turmoil. As the Geats are reluctantly let in, Beowulf introduces himself and gives detailed backgrounds of his many battles, flaunting his accomplishments and emphasizing his triumphs. In the midst of his storytelling he says, “‘I had a fixed purpose when I put to sea. / As I sat in the boat with my band of men, / I meant to perform to the uttermost / what your people wanted or perish in the attempt / in the fiend’s clutches. And I shall fulfil that purpose, / prove myself with a proud deed / or meet my death here in the mead-hall’” (43).

Beowulf, the defender of Hrothgar and Heorot, exhibits far more complicated (and less sincere) shades of revenge than the Grendel’s mother. At the end of the day, Beowulf’s goal is to become the preeminent warrior in all the land. In his society, the only way to gain such widespread celebrity is through courageous and self-endangering acts. Beowulf masks these deeds with a façade of seeking revenge; he supposedly comes to Heorot to save the Danes from Grendel’s terror, but his true motives lie in becoming a hero. His reward is not the pride of doing a good deed; Beowulf is rewarded with lavish and expensive gifts.

more of our men- and stripped the dead bodies; The brave, bold Danes!” (Beowulf pg. 86]. These words prompt the youngsters to thirst for vengeance and glory with the mention of how their ancestors

He stealthily opened the door to find a hall full of men, quietly asleep. There was a sense of tranquility that the warriors gave off; they had a night full of booze and laughter, that nothing would ruin that feeling until Grendel took his first stride into the room and that feeling of ease disappeared. He towered over the men, that were asleep and unaware, and pondered who would be the unlucky warrior to be snatched up and gulped whole. Though he thought, that would be too easy and too personable. Instead, greedy as Grendel was, he snatched thirty men up and darted out of the hall, stained with blood and sin. The remaining of the men began to screech, their voices trembling of the horrors that took place before their very own eyes. The knew that Herot was not longer safe, Grendel would be back whether it be the next days or years from then. So they gathered all of their belongings off the dusty and blood-stained floor of Hrothgar and began to walk to a place as

Leander was a Greek orphan, fathered in the same circumstances as was Sapphira. His father had died in battle for the Emperor, and the boy found a living at the Varangian barracks, collectively raised by Rurik and others as he grew to manhood, and in turn, he served as squire for them. When Rurik offered a chance to see the homeland of his father, Leander had jumped on without question. He was a good lad, and his Norse features stood out prominently in his strong jaw, loose hazel hair, and bright, eager eyes. He now looked on with a similar eagerness as Rurik towards the fast approaching port of Arnarfell. Cradled between his arms was Rurik’s large, two handed axe, it’s steel polished and its handle smooth and firm.

Beowulf’s last test of courage comes in his old age when his people are threatened by a “mighty” dragon. Beowulf felt as if something he had done had caused the irascible beast to wreck havoc on his people, “killing and destroying” them and their homes with its “molten” breath. Knowing what had to be done, Beowulf bravely faced the dragon, while all of his people, except for one, fled in fear. His last battle, which ended in death, displayed Beowulf’s unwavering courage, the type that every hero should possess.

Grendel hatred was strong, since the Danes were rejoining, although he didn’t like it. Grendel heard it, whereas; he almost threw, Hrothgar wife over a

Men and women screaming in pain and screaming of war.The two of the strongest factions of all time the Knights and the Vikings battling it out to the end and never seeing the peace between each other.Raider one of the warriors from the Vikings was on the battlefield covered in blood from his victim, on the other side of the battlefield the warden from the knights was being attacked by two Viking warriors.One of the vikings was a Berserker a man from nature itself, he wielded two handed axes and swung like a maniac who had a thirst for blood, the other viking was a Warlord a man who held a shield that represented his strength and a Gladius a sword that represented his viciousness in war.The Warden barely keeping his

The sixth night had fallen after the leave of Beowulf, and the palisades guarding Geatland were lined with the hot, flickering, orange glow of torch fire. The air carried a degree of uncertainty, though none of the hearty, mead-drunken men let it show on their faces, with the exception of the feeble Ragnhild. The soldiers mocked

“Enough!” Saxe’s face was red, and spittle flew out of his mouth. Good. I have him outraged. “Ralan and Alard will die.” Saxe slammed his fist on Larsen’s desk, shaking the inkwell and papers. “He may have fled into the Wretched Quarter, but I will find him if I have to have my knights go through every single hovel and hut.”

If the Danish reach Oslo our kingdom will fall, and our people will die, so stand with me and fight the hoard that beckons beyond those doors,” the king spoke as the gates screeched on their rusty hinges and archers took their positions along the fortress wall. As the gates parted, the Danish knights lead by King Hamlet made landfall, whilst troops on warships lit the fuse on heavy, rusted iron canons. As the fire burnt towards the black powder chamber, the Norwegian knights lead by Fortinbras advanced on Hamlet’s army at which arrows where fired which fell like heavy rain towards them. The Danish knights rose there shiny, silver shields above them deflecting the arrows which left the slightest mark. As the black powder exploded cannonballs where projected with ferocious speed to towards the Norwegian archers. The cannon balls collided with the wall, on which the archers stood, causing the stone to crack and the wall to crumble. The fortress wall fell with the intensity of thunder creating an avalanche of stone burying the archers and any knights who stood below in pile of thick, immovable

Perceval spun around in the direction of the voice and saw a small circle of men in the distance. He rushed his way over and pushed into the circle. There, on the ground, lay a young man with a sword protruding his chest. He was fully impaled; there was no saving him. Gawain held the knight on his lap. Perceval knelt down.

Samael scowled, a hand lifting to punch Lucifer in the jaw, a satisfying rush of air filling his lungs as the punch connected and sent the light King flying off him. Rolling over the time King was finally able to pin him, hands pressing down hard on his neck "he's my mate. I will kill you if you so much as look at him!"