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A paper I wrote for high school British Literature. The assignment was to write about an adventure that Beowulf took that was not included in the story Beowulf.
Word Count: 1,344 Words
Rahshar the Fire-wearer
The beast's lips curled up in a wicked smile as it purred again contently. Young Beowulf stood at the ready as his uncle Higlac prepared his attack. Higlac ran forward and was just about to pierce the hideous beast's leg when suddenly it reared and grabbed the poor man by one of his legs. The beast flung the poor bretwalda up into the air. Higlac fell back to the ground into the might beast's open mouth. As soon as the beast felt the bretwalda's tender flesh, he bit down hard, splitting Higlac's spine in half.
A few weeks earlier, Beowulf had been in Denmark, ridding the lands of a foul beast named Grendel. Then, he had succeeded in killing Grendel's mother when she came for revenge. This beast was a monster compared to Grendel and his mother. The stark red hair at the top of his head and along his back flared in the wind like a wildfire. His tail too ended in a bright ball of fire-red hair that Beowulf mistook for a real fire. The beast's wings were also the color of a brilliant, red fire and were massive in size.
Its skin was the color of smoke as if the fiery colored assets of the beast had once been lit, covering his skin with a thick blanket of smoke that never went away.
Suddenly it all made sense to young Beowulf as to why the villagers had given him the nickname 'fire-wearer'.
Beowulf had always wanted to be someone with a reputation and fame to his name. He hoped to be something more than his father. Beowulf couldn't imagine spending his days as a simple thane while someone else was bretwalda. It wasn't as though Beowulf despised his uncle, but he hoped that when the man died he would be able to take over. Being the nephew that he was, Beowulf also hoped Higlac would die of natural old age, but the fate of a bretwalda he knew was almost always to die in battle. As Beowulf watch the battle between the fire-wearer and his uncle, he couldn't help but think that he might just become bretwalda very soon.
The beast grinned as Higlac's two mutilated halves fell to the ground. The dead man's blood began to seep into the ground. The beast growled lowly as if it were purring in contentment. A thick glob of saliva fell to the ground below the mighty beast. It licked its lips with its fork tongue and growled again loudly. Then it bent down and gobbled up the lower half of Higlac, leaving his head and torso on the ground.
Higlac's men, including Beowulf, stood horrorstruck as the eyes of their deceased bretwalda stared back at them with a look of surprise as if Higlac had not realized he was about to die. Then, the beast bent down and gulped up the rest of Higlac before licking up the blood from the ground as best as he could.
"Foul beast!" Beowulf cried in anger. The other men sat still, suddenly scared because their bretwalda had perished before them without even grazing the beast.
"You have murdered part of my family," Beowulf continued, "and where I come from that is a huge crime! I seek revenge, ugly beast, for the murder of my uncle!"
The beast whipped his head up from his search of spilt blood and stared at Beowulf.
"Silly mortal," the beast bellowed. "How foolish you are to think that you can defeat me, the powerful Rahshar. Come then, if you dare, and face the wrath of Rahshar, but be warned stubborn mortal that you shall perish tonight!"
"No!" Beowulf countered. "I am going to send you back to hell where you belong!"
"Then come forth fool so that I can pretend to feel the knick of your pitiful blade!"
Beowulf rushed forward, sword at the ready. The beast however ducked out of the way and laughed deeply. Again Beowulf attempted to hurt him, but the beast simply jumped away. Rahshar continued to dodge the attacks for a while. Then, he lied down and flicked his long tail back and forth, watching Beowulf's futile attempts as a cat does his prey.
"I'm tired of this petty swordplay," Rahshar finally hissed with an impatient flap of his wings. "I don't like the taste of men, but I know a fine village where all the strong men are away, leaving me a village of helpless ladies and children fit for the eating!"
"That's my village!" Beowulf declared.
"Ah, so it is," Rahshar answered with a grin. With that, the beast flapped his wings forcefully and took off to the sky, but Beowulf was brave still and leapt at the beast. He managed to get hold of his leg and crawled up it to the beast's back. The many rows of spikes along Rahshar's back helped Beowulf to reach his head. By then, the fire-wearer was flying low over the village. Beowulf took out his sword as women and children below began to flee for cover from the beast. Rahshar merely laughed as Beowulf tried to stab him in the back of the neck.
"No, foolish boy," the fire-wearer said. "You cannot kill me there!" Then with a deep laugh, he rolled over, causing Beowulf to fall to the earth.
Rahshar landed a few feet ahead and knocked down a building. The women and children inside tried to scurry away, but he caught one and devoured her whole.
Beowulf darted forward and climbed up on the fire-wearer's back again. Rahshar turned his head toward the man to laugh but was quite surprised to find a sword waiting. The sword stabbed Rahshar in the eye, causing the fire-wearer to shake his head violently in pain. With some effort, Beowulf stabbed the other eye too.
"I can't see, wretched mortal!" Rahshar bellowed angrily. He began to snap at everything in his path, causing Beowulf a little bit of trouble. He had to dart this way and that madly to avoid being bitten.
A few minutes later, Beowulf soon discovered the fire-wearer becoming listless, so he rushed forward, sword once again at the ready. Rahshar heard the man coming at him and bent down so that his head lay on the grass. Then, he opened his mouth just as Beowulf jutted his sword forward.
Once again, the fire-wearer reared in agony. Then, he came back down and began to paw at his mouth like a stupid mutt that had choked on a bone. The sword began to pierce the roof of his mouth, and it was much too painful for Rahshar to bear. He moved his tongue and finally freed himself of the sword. He bent down to the ground once again and prepared to spit it out, but Beowulf was waiting. The young man grabbed the sword and stabbed at the fire-wearer again, only this time Rahshar unintentionally swallowed the sword, thinking that it was Beowulf instead.
Beowulf himself stood back as Rahshar roared in anger. The fire-wearer went to attack the nearest thing he could find but was stopped when a deep pain seared up in his gut. Beowulf smiled as his bloody blade began to poke out of the beast's stomach. Rahshar moved about furiously, causing the blade to bite down on his flesh even more and deepening the wound. Before long, a long, shallow crevice formed in the fire-wearer's belly. He cried out as his stomach and intestines fell to the earth. He whimpered as his blood spilled to the ground. Before long, the fire-wearer fell to his side, victim of blood loss and infection.
Beowulf let out a deep sigh in satisfaction since he had avenged his uncle's death. He smiled happily and was soon surrounded by the many women and children and his own peers.
They bowed to him and one said aloud, "Dear Beowulf, you have saved us all from the fire-wearer! Dear Beowulf, my bretwalda, let me be your loyal follower till death rips you from this world!"