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Category: Erotica/Erotic Fantasy/Fantasy
Description: Beoulf Uncensored? That's what author Eleanor Tremaine says. The earliest surviving copy of the legend comes from a monastery. The author claims she channeled Beowulf one night. He wanted to set the record straight and dictated his own version of the story. Which is a lot sexier. Seems he had sex with Grendl's mom and a hot female ... but that's the story. Read it. Another romp through legend with the author of The Erotic Adventures of King Arthur. Cover art: Brandy Everett
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: June 2009

Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [68 KB]
Words: 12479
Reading time: 35-49 min.

CHAPTER ONE

Scyld was a great Angle king who, though an orphan, rose to become supreme leader of his people by force of will, strength and wit.

He set out from Anglia with a mighty force of warriors and women from continental Europe to establish his own kingdom on the Great Isle across The Channel.

When his ships landed at the White Cliffs, Woden and the other gods of Anglia and Saxony smiled down in approval.

In the course of time, the Angle warriors defeated the Celtic tribes that infested the Great Isle of the Setting Sun. So eventually the entire Great Isle was ruled by one man, King Scyld.

Scyld's son, Beow, was as great a hero as his father before him.

When death came to Scyld, as it must to all men, Beow placed his father's body in a deathship laden with great treasure, and released the corpse to the mighty sea.

What was the deathship's destination? Not even the wisest man on earth has ever determined the answer to that fateful question.

Beow ruled his people wisely and well and begat the mighty warrior Healfdene.

Healfdene possessed the physique of a god and was hung like a stallion. He satisfied not only his five wives but bevies of female slaves as well.

Healfdene's strength and bravery were bolstered by his sexual consummations. So his people were charged with keeping their king ennobled by supplying him with unlimited quantities of female flesh thus to maintain him as the kind of leader they required as a ruler of Angle-Land.

Healfdene begat Hrothgar, who became king at the moment he dispatched his father to sea in a deathship laden with such treasure as had never been seen before.

Now Hrothgar was as great a leader as the Angles had been blessed with up to that time. The soldiers of his tribe, who had been his boyhood companions, were fearless, fierce, brutal and loyal beyond imagination.

The Angles, like their Saxon cousins, were great lovers of mead, beer and wine, and the joys of the mead hall were their great delight. Their gods, Woden, Thor, Tugh, and Loki and the voluptuous goddesses Frida, Freya, and the hard drinking Brynhildr and her wild sisters, like their Anglo-Saxon worshippers on earth, all relished their pint at the Valhalla mead-house as well.

Yea, drinking, wenching and brawling was the great delight of the tribes and gods of both the Angles and the Saxons.

By virtue of the bloodthirsty forages of his magnificent warriors wherever they marauded, Hrothgar's treasures abounded. Mighty was he in war against his foes, and as a monument to the renowned exploits of his tribe, he determined to construct a mead hall. Not such a paltry mead hall as could be seen on the moors, in the valleys, and atop the hills of his realm where lesser people made their habitations.

No. Hrothgar's was to be the largest, most lavish, and most riotous of any mead hall ever before seen or even imagined. His vision was to have a meeting and drinking hall to which his brave soldiers and their wenches could gather in ornate splendor.

Hrothgar's mighty squadrons went forth to highland, lowland, tor and tideland to bring back the building materials, thralls, and treasure necessary to undertake the construction of the great hall, and when it was completed, Hrothgar bestowed it with the name "Heorot (Hart)."

The high walls of Heorot rang with the sounds of feasts, orgies and brawls as well as the sweet and lusty songs and sagas of the bards, relating the tales of gods, warriors and lovers brought to the Angle-Land shores from the black forests of Anglia.

Joy reigned within Heorot for many a day, many a week, and many a year. Until the interruption of that vile ogre from the Shittenmere (sewage-swamp) located in the wastelands of the wild moors--Grendel.

In those days many monsters inhabited the world. There were giants and dwarfs, dragons, werewolves and zombies, vampires and gridleys, and other such despicable creatures whose names were sung by bard and minstrel alike.

Of those creatures, none was more loathsome than the gridleys who dwelt in the nasty shittenhusen (privies) and shittenholen (latrines) where human waste is deposited by our race.

An entire marsh of fecal matter occupied the wilds of Hrothgar's kingdom, and residing in that foul marshland dwelt the noisome Grendel and his equally fetid mother.

Of these two shall we presently hear.