So should a good thane ever do!
There had been a time when Beowulf was accounted a sluggish knight, but
now the land rang with his glory.
When Higelac died and Hardred was slain, Beowulf succeeded to the throne,
and for fifty years ruled the people gloriously.
At this time a great fire-drake cherished a vast hoard in a cave on a high
cliff, difficult of access, and known to few men. Thither one day fled a
thrall from his master's wrath, and saw the hoard buried by some weary
warrior, and now guarded by the dragon. While the drake slept, the thrall
crept in and stole a cup as a peace-offering to his master.
When the drake awoke, he scented the foot-prints of the foe, and
discovered his loss. When even was come, he hastened to wreak his revenge
on the people, spewing out flames of fire, and laying waste the land.
Far and near were the lands of the Goths devastated, and ere long, tidings
were borne to Beowulf that his great hall, his gift seat, was destroyed by
fire. Saddened, and fearing that he had in some way angered God, he turned
his mind to vengeance, and girded on his armor. A stout shield of iron he
took, knowing that the dragon's fiery breath would melt the wood, and with
foreboding of his fate, bade farewell to his hearth-mates. "Many times
have I battled, great deeds have I done with sword and with hand-grip; now
must I go forth and battle with hand and sword against the hoard-keeper.
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