"Next to that noble corpse
They heaped up treasures, jeweled helmets,
Hooked swords and coats of mail, armor
Carried from the ends of the earth: no ship
Had ever sailed so brightly fitted,
No king sent forth more deeply mourned.
… Then sadly let the water pull at the ship, watched it
Slowly sliding to where neither rulers
Nor heroes nor anyone can say whose hands
Opened to take that motionless cargo."
Beowulf, translated by Burton Raffel
~*~
The sea-witch sat in her watery grotto upon her throne of stone. Kelp and all manner of sea life danced around her in fearful attendance. Above, a storm lashed the surface of the sea, mirroring the witch's foul temper.
Lightning flashed, the light distorting in the heaving waves on its way down to the witch's lair. The sudden light cast an unexpected shadow. Something, a boat or a whale, was above them. Thinking she had a new target for her wrath, the sea witch began her roiling, wiggling ascent to claim her prize.
Cold, slimy tentacles covered in innumerable suckers latched onto their prey, intent on dragging it down to the depths. Well-shaped wood refused the witch's pull until frothing waves and more tentacles swamped its sides, overwhelming the small vessel. Cackling with glee, the witch swam back to her marine court.
The ship settled with a bump on the ocean's floor. A current made the banner flutter over the witches minions in a parody of the way it must once have flown proudly above an army of men. Every creature and spawn of darkness and Hell knew that this could be none other than the funeral ship of a great king and warrior.
The rowing decks were bedecked with bright armor and mail coats. Shields leaned against the mast and sides. A jeweled helmet was set at the end of each bench. Heaps of torcs, bracelets, rings, and chains of gold covered with precious stones winked in the shifting light. A body lay at the foot of the mast, clad in a fine suit of armor and clutching a great sword. Swords lay piled at the king's feet.
The witch surveyed her new treasure with greedy eyes. Her tentacles and fingers stroked the lovely things as she crooned softly to herself in pleasure. The creatures of her court watched from the shadows; quick, darting eyes glinting almost as brightly as the jewels as they beheld their Mistress' hoard.
The sea witch quickly stripped the king's lifeless body of its armor and tossed the remains to her pets, ignoring scuffles that broke out over the tearing and rending flesh. Instead, she amused herself by adorning her many tentacles with jewelry until they were almost too heavy to lift. Then she crowned herself with the mightiest, most jewel-encrusted helmet she could find and armed herself with a sword in every tentacle.
Laughing manically, she declared, "I am the Queen of the Depths. None shall stand before me. I shall rule all!"
~*~
Author's Note: I'm reading Beowulf in school right now, and I was intrigued by the end of the first chapter (see the quote at the beginning). What happens to Shild's funeral boat? One source I read on the internet says it would just wash up on shore with the next tide, much to the great, non-brainy warriors dismay. I thought something cooler should happen. If you can call a slimy, creepy, totally mad-as-a-hatter Kraken of a sea-witch queen cooler.