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חיפוש בבמה

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מדורי במה

אני קר
/ Wiglaf's story

He stood in front of the big window, his back facing the
monk who sat at the other side of his simple desk. "Read it
to me", he said with the strenuous voice he could muster to
hide his excitement.
"Yes sir". The monk opened the scroll gently and looked at
the writings. The scroll was very old, and whatever was
written on it had better be good, or else he might be
decapitated. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and
started reading.
"And so it came to pass that in the year of 1520 prior to
the birth our Lord Christ that Hygelac, son of Hrethel of
the Geats, fell in a mighty battle against the fierce Hugas.
Soon after, the war - swords came to slay Heardred, when the
Battle-Scylfings, fierce fighters, killed him on his own
soil - attacking Hygelac's son. Then the burden of rule fell
upon the son of Ecghtheow, who continued the tradition using
the gifts given to him by the bearer of treasure, Hygelac.
Wise and generous he was an old guardian of the land for
fifty years.
"One day, a fleeing slave found shelter in a huge barrow
filled by precious artifacts, guarded by a huge snake-like
dragon. Consumed by his foolishness, the fool took a golden
grail out of the golden hoard, and took it to his master,
only to be reinstated as a slave. The deed, lead to a
disaster, for the guardian of the hoard woke up only to
discover the grail is missing. Driven by a jealous outrage,
the creature left his den by nightfall in search for the
stolen artifact, and returned by daybreak to his gleaming
den. He created so much havoc, that even the great hall of
the royal ring-giver was consumed in flames.
"Then the news about the terror of the flame reached the ear
of the hall-owner, how by surging flames, the throne-seat of
the Geats was consumed immediately. He supposed he offended
the Ruler, the Eternal Lord, against old law. As his heart
boiled with dark thoughts, the protector of fighting men,
lord of earls, commanded that a wonderful battle shield be
made all of iron. Well he knew, and feared (as we did), that
the end time is close to him. If to die he must, so shall
the horrific worm, in a glorious, and final, battle. Then
the ring prince scorned to seek the far-flier with a large
army. He had no fear for himself of the battle, nor did he
fear the war-power of the monster. For he himself came
through many battles, clashes of war, after he had purged
Hroathgar's hall, and in combat crushed to death Grendel's
kin, loathsome race.
"Then, one of the twelve, the lord of the Geats roamed the
land to look on the dragon. He had learned then the reason
for the feud's arousal, the fierce malice to men: the
glorious cup had come to his possession from the hand of the
finder: he was the thirteen of his company, the sad-hearted
slave; he must direct them to the place. Unwillingly he led
them to the earth-hall of the treasure. Within it awaited
the terrible guardian, ready for combat. Then the king
saluted his hearth-companions, gold-friends of the Geats. He
gave his final speech.
"And so the son of Ecgtheow described his life. At the age
of seven, he was taken by the lord of treasure, who gave him
with treasure and feast. However, sorrow never left the
court, neither from within, nor from outside. He paid his
debt by sacrificing his life and honor, in the name of his
people, and now his men and he will fight together. For the
last time, and not that any of us was aware of that, he made
his last boasting: "in my youth I engaged in many battles.
Old guardian of the people, I shall still seek battle for
the glory of winning, if the evil one will face me outside
his earth-fort." He told us to wait for him on the barrow,
either for his body, or for his soul.
"Then the brave warrior arose by his shield like the hero he
is, beneath the stone-cliffs he went to find the big worm.
And he found it, surrounded by killer fire and deadly fumes.
Out of rage, the man of the Weather-Geats let a word break
from his burning breast, his voice rumble within the walls
like thunder. The hoard-guard heard the roaring challenge
and accepted it, welcoming the Geat with burning blades. The
earth itself trembled as those two giants clashed in battle,
to determine who the only ruler of it is.
"To the sound of battle responded my fellow warriors with
fast feet, as they ran away from their duty. Their heart
melted by the fire of fear, but my heart stood up against
that fire. As I saw my liege lord give his life so we may
live in peace, I felt rage against my incapability to help
him. I took my sword and attacked the mighty creature,
stabbing the stout skin as much as I can, while my lord
fought face-to-face with it. In the heat of battle, I
addressed my mead-companions, reminding them how we shared
the same mead, food and loyalty given to us, by the same
lord of the hall to whom we have sworn allegiance. Though he
wanted to fight the dragon alone, he counted on us, his
loyal thanes, his brave helm-bearers, his war-makers, to
assist him. God knows I rather die with my gold-giver. If we
bear shields and swords for battle, we might as well use
them to defend our lord.  When I saw the fools are too
scared, I shouted encouragements at my lord, and continued
on assisting him.
"The battle raged on, and my lord's shield and armor failed
him as they melted. His sword, Naegling, broke, unable to
accommodate itself to the strength of its owner. Suddenly
the earth-dragon clamped his fangs on my lord's neck, and
river of red wine of wine streamed down his body. Yet, he
did not fall. Several times, we stroke the beast and fail.
But at last, sword cleared a path through his belly, and the
protector of the Weather-Geats himself, cut the monster's
belly. The beast is now dead.
"Then my lord, the protector of thanes, felt the beast's
venom within his body, flowing with his blood, burning. As
fast as I could, I helped him to a rock to lean on, and
washed his wounds, tears waited to rush through my eyes and
down my face, to the sight of this helpless ring bearer.
Tears of happiness, for we are free of disasters. Tears of
sadness, for we have paid for our freedom with the blood of
our beloved king. However, I could not waste time on
"He spoke his final words to me telling me about his
achievement- to rule wisely for fifty winters over the
Geats. He asked me to show him the gold he gained because of
his battle against the great serpent. After I applied his
request, he instructed me with his burial details. To my
amazement, he passed the golden necklace of royalty to me,
saying I am the last of our race. These were the last words
of an old man, before his blessed soul left this world."
'And that's about it, sir', the monk said, rolling the
scroll back and putting it back into it leather case.
'Who found it?'
'One of the monks, sir. A group of brothers came from the
monastery of Monkshire, and gave it as a gift to Brother
Joseph. You remember how he excited he is concerning such
artifacts. His obsessions for old English stories lead him
to connect it to the story of Beowulf'
'Well done. Tell Brother Joseph I will personally
congratulate him on his effort to commemorate our history.'
He waved at the monk, who bowed to him and left.
He looked at the scroll, excitement crawling through out his
body. He felt the burden of history sinking upon his
shoulder. He stood in front of the window, staring at the
rain outside, thinking of a proper way to deal with this
priceless treasure in his palm.

חוות דעת על היצירה באופן פומבי ויתכן שגם ישירות ליוצר

לשלוח את היצירה למישהו להדפיס את היצירה
היצירה לעיל הנה בדיונית וכל קשר בינה ובין
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.
לאחותי יש יום
קניתי לה עציץ

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תרומה לבמה

בבמה מאז 20/6/07 16:42
האתר מכיל תכנים שיתכנו כבלתי הולמים או בלתי חינוכיים לאנשים מסויימים.
אין הנהלת האתר אחראית לכל נזק העלול להגרם כתוצאה מחשיפה לתכנים אלו.
אחריות זו מוטלת על יוצרי התכנים. הגיל המומלץ לגלישה באתר הינו מעל ל-18.
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