Hey guys! So this Beowulf fanfic comes from lines 2020-2030ish in the poem. It's about a character who is mentioned once really in the whole story. I was struck by her story and I wanted to share my view of her story. I don't own Beowulf, Freawaru, or Ingeld, but I own everything else. *applause*

The Burning Tapestry

I stand in front of the large wooden doors of Ælfcyne, mead-hall of Ingeld, king of the Heathobards. Soon, I know, the doors will open, and I will enter the feast that has been prepared . . . for me. Today I am to be wed to a man I've never met, the king of a land I'd never visited until today.

Before I have time to become nervous, the doors open. I step into a warm, rich-smelling hall, gilded tapestries draping the walls. I should be looking toward the high table where my betrothed surely stands awaiting me, but my eyes are drawn to one of the tapestries. I cannot see the scene stitched into the heavy fabric, but the firelight glints off the gold and scarlet threads, giving the tapestry the appearance of being on fire. The firelight dances across its surface and the tapestry burns hauntingly. I shudder despite myself and slowly tear my eyes from the burning tapestry.

The long wooden tables are laid and filled with people; the dogs are running across the floor chased by the few children; and there, in front of them all, is the raised high table where Ingeld stands, waiting for me to join him. I don't know what I was expecting the king to look like—perhaps a wizened old man or a battle marred warrior—however, it was certainly not this. Ingeld is a tall man with long black hair and a gold circlet adorning his brow. His face, though not handsome, is kind and strong. I walk toward the table, my gold eyes locked with his blue ones. As I step up to the table he holds out to me the marriage cup. I take it in a trembling hand and drink of the sweet ale. He takes the cup back and, smiling, drinks of it himself. I hear the fierce warriors clamoring as the feast begins in earnest, but neither my mind nor my heart is with them.

. . .

My name is Freawaru. Before today I was princess of the Danes, daughter of Hygelac. My father, when he was young, killed Ingeld's father, Froda. That is why I am here. As the princess of my people I am told it is my duty to divert the wrath of the Heathobards. I am told I am the bride of a great man and I ought to rejoice that my duty is a pleasant one. They do not understand. I am the price. My blood in exchange for the blood my father spilt—my future for Froda's. I am a slave, a captive, who happens to wear the title and chains of a queen.

My gaze wanders around the small, barren room that I now find myself in. I scarcely remember how I came to be here. Everything after drinking the ale-bond is a blur. I sigh feeling my imaginary chains cold against my wrists.

The well-oiled hinges do not creak, so I start when I hear Ingeld's voice. "My lady, Freawaru, why are you here? This chamber is not fitting for a Heathobard queen, or even a Danish princess."

I smile slightly. "My lord, you know why I am here. I was the only treasure in my father's house that could compensate you for your loss. I am of no more worth to you than a swift mare, and of less worth than some of your own. Nevertheless, I will play the part of your queen to the best of my abilities. I will extend the ale-mug to your brave warriors and grant rings to those who have shed the blood of my brothers. However, now I would like to rest, so please leave me be."

I rise and begin to examine the bedding, to escape from Ingeld's unwavering gaze. "My lady, my advisors were unsure of this peace-bond. They will think the agreement has been broken if you stay here alone. Come. We can have another bed brought into my chambers, for they are big enough for the both of us. It is your duty as queen."

I lift my eyes to his, but they are not angry. He seems to pity me, which is far more painful. So I walk purposefully past him, out into the corridor. It is easy to find the way to the king's chambers, for they are always distant from where the men sleep in the hall. As we pass the entrance into the hall, where the men are still carousing, I catch sight of the burning tapestry, flickering drowsily in the languishing fire.

"Beautiful, isn't it? It has been here since before my father was born, possibly even before his father. Do you want to see it closer?"

I look at the king and nod slowly. He takes my hand in his warm one and leads me to the tapestry. Now that I'm closer I can see the carefully wrought pictures of a king and city on fire.

"The tapestry tells the story of the king of a long-ago kingdom. He had a great palace in a great city, the capitol of a wealthy kingdom. However, he didn't care about his people, only himself, so when the great city caught fire, he fled. Many people died in the fire, so his advisors conspired to kill him. They thought he should have burned with his people rather than live without them. The artisan who wove the story into the tapestry purposefully made it appear to burn to remind the kings of my nation that a king is nothing without his people. He should always be loyal to them first."

I can see the story playing out on the tapestry as Ingeld speaks. There, the king is fleeing from the burning city. On the next line I can see a girl no older than me, her head lying in a pool of flame. And there, at the bottom, I see the king murdered by those whose trust he had betrayed.

Finally I look back at Ingeld. His eyes are still locked on the burning tapestry. There is a tension, perhaps, or maybe a fear weighing his brow. I can feel myself beginning to pity him, but I fight back the feeling. This man is my captor; he does not deserve my pity.

Without speaking, I resume the walk to the king's chambers. I reenter the corridor and round the corner. There in front of me is a dark man with a sharp brow and hooked nose. His eyes are cold as he bows to me.

"Ah, Golryn, were you looking for me?" I start, for I was unaware that Ingeld had followed me from the hall.

The man, Golryn, looks at me icily before turning to the king. "My lord, I thought I should introduce myself to your queen. As your chief advisor, it seemed fitting." I can't help but shudder at his voice, though Ingeld seems unaffected.

"Quite right, my friend. My lady," Ingeld says turning to me. "This is my friend and adviser Golryn velvet-tongue. It is said that his eloquence comes from a fae ancestor."

I greet him politely, but his demeanor remains cold. Why does Ingeld not feel the malice in his look? If Golryn's tongue is velvet, it sheathes a hunting knife.

"Join the party, my friend," I hear Ingeld tell Golryn merrily. "For today is a day of celebration. You can tell me the news of the kingdom in the morning."

Golryn bows once more before turning on his heel and walking away. Ingeld turns to me and takes my hand once more. "Come, my lady. My chamber is this way."

I follow him without argument, even laying down where he bids me. My mind is too preoccupied to resist. I fall asleep consumed by thoughts of velvet knives; blood-prices; and a young girl, her head resting on a bed of fire.

. . .

The days pass quickly now. I do my duty as queen, though my greatest duty I have thus far neglected. Ingeld is kind to me. He is content to let me remain in my own bed as long as that bed remains in his chambers. It is not what I would have chosen, but it is a compromise I am willing to make. Besides that, I have done my duty fully. It is still hard for me to drink with these men, many of whom I know to have shed the blood of my people. I have been their queen for a fortnight, yet I think of them, not as my people, but as my enemy.

Part of the reason for that, I think, is the way they look at me. I can see distrust and hatred in their eyes, especially Golryn's. I'm a symbol of the people who have hurt them. Only Ingeld sees me as me. However, even he will occasionally catch sight of my father in my eyes and turn away. I never wanted to hurt him like that. I don't know why, but I cannot help but pity him when I see him like that.

I'm learning that Ingeld is truly a good king. He loves his people. He spends every day serving them in some way or another. He's not like the king of the burning tapestry—Ingeld would have burned with his people. For that, I respect him.

My thoughts are interrupted as Ingeld approaches where I sit by my bed. "My lady, the feast will be starting soon. You ought to dress and then join us. You needn't stay too long tonight, but you ought to make an appearance."

I nod and wait for him to leave. Once he has, I rise and prepare for the feast. He's right; I should come tonight though I won't stay very long. After all, it is my duty.

As I approach the mead-hall I can hear a loud argument. I can only distinguish the words of one of the warriors. As I continue walking, I listen, intrigued. "There have been rebellions in the provinces, my lord, and you know why. They can't stand that foreigner. We have been able to put down the rebellions thus far but for how long? You must do something."

"What can I do?" Ingeld responds angrily. "I am their king. I am trying to protect them from needless bloodshed, so why do they rebel?"

I enter the hall and feel the eyes of all turn to me. The warrior who had spoken earlier stands and points to me. "It is because of her! Why should a Dane sit at your table? The blood of your father is on the hands of hers. Will you betray his memory and the people he fought to protect? Throw her into the sea if you want to regain their favor!"

"Enough!" Ingeld roars, quieting the room in an instant. "Freawaru is my queen. She is a part of my people as much as you are. I will not break my vows for the sake of vengeance. If I did so, that would dishonor my father's name. I am your king. Do not deign to mention this again."

The hall is silent as Ingeld rises and walks toward me. I am frozen where I stand, fighting the tears of fear that threaten to escape my eyes. My king firmly places his hand on my shoulder and steers me from the room.

When we arrive back in our chambers he releases me and sighs. "Forgive me for asking you to come. I did not realize the conversation would turn so harsh."

"My lord," I begin slowly. "Why protect me like that? They are your people whom you are sworn to protect. Why put them in danger for my sake?"

Ingeld looks at me in surprise. "Why? I thought that would have been obvious. It's because you are my queen."

I laugh. "That is of no consequence. I have not even done my duty to you. Why protect me for that?"

He sighs again. "Is being my queen only a duty to you?"

I cannot answer, but he doesn't seem to expect one. After a moment or two of silence he rises. "I should try to calm them down. Please wait here."

I watch him walk out of our chambers. Even after he has left I gaze at the door. Why did he protect me? Does he truly see me as one of his people? And what did he mean by that last question? Of course being his queen is my duty, what else would it be? Somewhere in the back of my mind I can feel another possible answer, but I carefully avoid it. Surely not that. Surely not.

Before I know it Ingeld has returned. "Did you manage to pacify them?"

He looks at me for a moment before replying. "For now. I will have to do something soon."

I think for a moment. Surely there's a way I could help him. Some way to show that I can be a good queen to the Heathobards.

"You needn't worry. I will control the situation. For now, rest." I am somewhat surprised that he knew what I was thinking, but I suppose it is to be expected.

Despite his entreaties, I can't help but worry about the fate of the kingdom, Ingeld, and myself. These thoughts make it difficult for me to sleep. Finally I rise and move to the window, whence I can look out on the moonlit landscape. Somewhere a fire is burning, but that is unsurprising with the cold that has been slowly coming over the forests.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" I feel Ingeld come up behind me and place his hands on my shoulders. They're so warm.

"I can't sleep. I don't want to hurt you or your kingdom."

Gently, Ingeld turns me around so I'm facing him. "I won't let them hurt you, and you need not worry about me. Come away from the window now, it's cold."

I nod and follow him back. My bed looks so cold and lonely. I falter as I approach it. Ingeld takes my hand and leads me over to his large bed. "It's warmer here." He says softly. I nod and soon am asleep.

He's right, the bed is warm. A little too warm though. I open my eyes groggily and am struck by the change in the light. When I'd fallen asleep the light had been the dull silver glow of the moon, but now it is a fiercer, redder light. I can hardly see though with the smoke in my eyes.

Suddenly I'm fully awake. Ælfcyne is aflame. Beside me, Ingeld stirs. He sits up and quickly realizes what's happening. He grabs me, shocked as I am, and pulls me from the room. We're running together through the corridors. When we emerge into the hall we see that the whole length of it is engulfed in flame. As we run for the heavy wooden doors that I'd entered only a fortnight ago, a group of warriors surrounds us, swords drawn.

"Traitors!" Ingeld roars. "I am your king. What gives you the authority to burn down Ælfcyne?"

"Ingeld, my friend, is it not a little early for you to be up and about like this?" We spin around and there, his back to the fireplace, stands Golryn.

"What are you doing?" Ingeld says, with both his ferocity and his voice broken.

"I'm reminding you who you are. You are the king of the Heathobards. We are your people, not that woman behind you. She is no better than a dog." I shudder as I watch Golryn's face twist into a malicious smile. "So, I will rid our nation of its disease and your hall will be cleansed by fire. Then you can return to being king and your people will follow you once more."

I watch, frozen with horror as Golryn unsheathes a long silver hunting knife. One of the men behind me grabs me and pulls me away from Ingeld. Golryn lunges toward me, but his knife doesn't reach me.

Instead, Ingeld falls to my feet, his blood pouring out on the stone, a libation on this grand altar to betrayal. "Fool." Golryn says quietly. "Willing to die for a dog but not willing to live for his nation. What good did he think it would do?"

Slowly he turns back to me. I can feel Ingeld's blood lapping at my unshod feet. As I look at Golryn's twisted countenance, my eyes are drawn to the knife in his hand. Reflected in it I can see the burning tapestry, truly aflame now. The poor girl is twice-burning. I can feel a tear streaking its way down my cheek, as the girl comes ever closer.

. . .

Beowulf sighed and patted his horse. The Danes were at war again. The Heathobards had marched on the Danish kingdom and now the two armies would soon be meeting on the battlefield.

"My lord, Beowulf," a voice said from behind him. Beowulf turned to face his retainer. "The Heathobards are approaching. The king's envoy would like to treat with you."

Beowulf nodded and mounted, then rode to the front of the army. There, on the other side of the open field, he could see the Heathobard camp. A solitary rider stood in the middle of the plain. Beowulf rode out to meet him.

"Why have you broken our agreement? We made a peace-pact. Send out your king that I may speak with him."

"Beowulf, king of the Danes, my name is Golryn. I am Ingeld's chief advisor. He cannot speak to you today, so I speak in his stead. As for our agreement, no pact can be made betwixt men and dogs."

Beowulf's face hardened. "Is that so? Well, in that case, please return our princess to us."

"Of course," Golryn smiled. He pulled a sack from behind him and threw the contents to the ground. Beowulf, with an enraged cry, attacked Golryn. The Danes as one man rode forward and attacked the Heathobards. And there, where Golryn had thrown it, lay Freawaru's head, lying in the gleaming pool of her red-golden tresses.

Thanks for reading guys! Please review and tell me what you think.