Fitt XVIII — The Finn Episode (continued) — The Banquet Continues

The warriors who survived depart to see Friesland again. Hengest stays — living with Finn through the blood-tainted winter, never leaving him, though thinking always of his fatherland. He cannot drive his ring-prowed ship over the ocean paths; winter locks the currents in ice-bonds. He broods on grim revenge more eagerly than on any sea-voyage, wondering whether he can bring about an attack to call the sons of the Jutes to account. When spring comes and the seas open, Hun of the Frisians places the battle-sword Láfing — fairest of blades, famous in the folk-talk of Jutland — in his hand as a friendly gift. The gesture is the trigger. The sword in the hand means the time for endurance is over.

A savage sword-fury seizes bold-spirited Finn where he sits in his palace when Guthlaf and Oslaf mournfully speak of the grim grappling, laying part of the blame on him. The restless spirit cannot be kept in his chest. The hall is covered with the corpses of enemies. Finn is slain, the king with his companions, and the queen is taken captive. The Scylding troops carry everything the land-king had kept in his palace — trinkets and treasures, whatever they could find — and ferry Hildeburg back to Daneland on the sea-journey, back to her own people. The lay ends. Cheers rise again. Bench-glee resounds. The cup-bearers pour wine from wondrous vessels.

Wealhtheow comes forward walking beneath her golden crown to where Hrothgar and Hrothulf are seated, uncle and nephew, their peace still mutual. She speaks to Beowulf and presents him the greatest of neck-rings — greater even than the Brosing necklace that Hama stole from Eormenric's bright city, choosing lasting reward over a tyrant's service. The necklace will later hang around Hygelac's neck when he falls among the Frisians; the poet follows the object's future in a digression that is characteristically pre-emptive. Then Wealhtheow's real request: be kind to my son, she says; be gentle with your counsel; remember my children when I am gone. The plea beneath the gift is the most human moment in the hall's celebration.