The prequel continues next week. Today’s bit of flash fiction poetry gives insight into why Unferth hated Beowulf so much, at least while the tale continues under my supervision. This could be a bit of foreshadowing. Much adventure awaits in the lands of Midgard, and it goes way beyond a funeral and a dragon’s death …
I have lain with Grendel’s mother; she has been my income’s source;
Gave me pleasure like no other; gave me heartache and divorce.
Mortal men have known no measure; she, a serpent wolfskin drape.
Sultry, sensual; a treasure bound about me, noose to nape.
Claws as razors, cutting edge, demonic in her lusty suit;
Now I wallow in her flavor, tastes entice me to pollute.
When I gaze into my war-shield, me, not she, I realize
Is and was the only monster, waking from a dream’s demise.
Unferth, as this world may know me, magically sealed within.
I alone have brought this trauma; I alone have walked in sin.
Hrunting was the sword she gave me; Hrunting failed the warrior’s grip.
She designed it not to harm her, I had sent it on his trip.
Beowulf, the braggart boasting, how was I to know her fate?
He returned my sword while toasting; spoke of it as something great.
Yet it was not mine that ended life from Grendel’s mother’s chest.
No, it was Goliath’s blade that lopped her head and rend her breast.
Standing with my one reminder, Hrunting placed back in its sheath,
Heavy was my need to find her, hung about in sorrow’s wreath.
I had feared the seething waters teeming with destructive life.
Now I murdered someone’s daughter; in a sense I lost my wife.
Truth be told her venom soothed me; filled me with the strength of ten.
Now I felt the wind beneath me scale me down as other men.
Still beyond the deepest ocean, whale-road’s open call to me
Cradled me with but one notion: I must brave the lonely sea
In the hopes that of her secrets, one might prove a flame to singe,
Pledging on the blade of Hrunting, Beowulf shall know revenge!