I watched with anticipation as Beowulf called out to the dragon. I never had seen Beowulf battle a monster before. I had only recently managed to become one of the elite few to fight beside our hero. The dragon came, and Beowulf stood firm as the battle began. I watched, eager to remember. I wanted to tell my children and grandchildren about how Beowulf had fought this beast, and how I had been there. I wanted to tell them about how he had struck the dragon through…
No. This wasn't happening. Beowulf was losing. THE Beowulf was losing the battle against the monster. I was raised with stories of Beowulf's bravery. We all idolized Beowulf, and I dreamed of the day I would be able to see his battles for myself. He was losing to this beast, when he was THE slayer of beasts. What chance did any of us stand against a monster that could stand strong against Beowulf?
The other soldiers were obviously thinking along those lines. They were fleeing from battle. I was tempted to do so as well… but how would I live with myself afterwards? What would my parents say? What would my siblings say? What would my fiancé say? I had not seen many battles. I was young, and not fully believing in my own mortality. Logically, I knew I was mortal. Emotionally, I was ignoring that, and since I had never had any close calls to remember, I could successfully do so.
I charged in to help Beowulf. I… saved his life. Though my children and grandchildren would enjoy hearing the tale, this is not how I wanted the day to go. Beowulf had always been my greatest hero. I should have been happy to be fighting alongside him. Instead, it just felt like I had been betrayed because he needed my help. I knew that though I was certainly above average when it came to matters of warfare, I was nowhere near as skilled as Beowulf was said to be. I would never tell anyone, but I wondered whether the tales of his exploits were completely true.
We defeated the dragon. Together. Equally. When Beowulf was supposed to be practically a demigod. Everyone who knew me knew I was nowhere close to that level. He was dying, because of a beast he needed someone as unremarkable as me to help kill. I listened to his last words. I went inside and brought him the treasure he asked me to bring. I then saw him die.
His body looked like any other body, really. I was glad no one could hear my thoughts. I stood there, thinking about what had just happened, and the significance of it. I knew that there were big political consequences because of everything that had transpired. I knew that Beowulf had loved ones, and that the entire nation would be mourning his death. Honestly? Instead of thinking about those consequences, I was thinking about personal consequences. And I don't mean that I was thinking about him naming me the next king- that would come later. I had lost my hero- and it wouldn't have mattered much if he had survived this battle. I had lost the hero I had thought I had known from the moment the dragon began to win.