Beowulf MTI

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Overview

Who will come to the aid of beleaguered King Hrothgar, whose warriors have become the prey of the vengeful outcast monster Grendel?

A grand and glorious story that has endured for centuries, the ageless classic adventure takes on a breathtaking new life in a remarkable new version for a modern era. Brilliantly reimagined by acclaimed, award-winning author Caitlín R. Kiernan, based on the screenplay by #1 New York Times bestseller Neil Gaiman and Academy Award®-winning ...

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Beowulf

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Overview

Who will come to the aid of beleaguered King Hrothgar, whose warriors have become the prey of the vengeful outcast monster Grendel?

A grand and glorious story that has endured for centuries, the ageless classic adventure takes on a breathtaking new life in a remarkable new version for a modern era. Brilliantly reimagined by acclaimed, award-winning author Caitlín R. Kiernan, based on the screenplay by #1 New York Times bestseller Neil Gaiman and Academy Award®-winning screenwriter Roger Avary, it is the tale of a noble liege and a terrible creature who has cursed his kingdom with death, blood, and destruction—and of the great hero, Beowulf, who is called to a land of monsters to triumph where so many have failed . . . or to die as so many of the brave before him.

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780061341281
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 9/25/2007
  • Format: Mass Market Paperback
  • Pages: 384
  • Sales rank: 919,311
  • Product dimensions: 4.18 (w) x 6.75 (h) x 0.96 (d)

Meet the Author

Neil Gaiman was awarded the Newbery and Carnegie Medals for The Graveyard Book. His other books for younger readers include Coraline (which was made into an Academy Award-nominated film) and The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish (which wasn't). Born in England, he has won both the Hugo and Nebula Awards.

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Read an Excerpt

Beowulf

Chapter One

A Prowler in the Dark

The land of the Danes ends here, at this great wedge of granite cliffs jutting out high above the freezing sea. The foam of icy waves lashes the cruel shingle, narrow beaches of ragged bedrock and fallen boulders, polished cobbles and the stingy strands of ice- and snow-scabbed sand. This is no fit place for men, these barren, wind-scoured shores in this hungry, sun-shunned time of the year. By day, there are few enough wild things—only seals and walrus and the beached and rotting carcass of a whale, only the gulls and eagles soaring against the mottled, leaden sky. During the long nights, the shore becomes an even more forsaken and forbidding realm, unlit but for the furtive glimpses of the moon's single pale eye as it slips in and out of the clouds and fog.

But even here there is refuge. Perched like a beacon shining out to all those lost and wandering in the cold stands the tower of the Scylding king Hrothgar, son of Healfdene, grandson of Beow, great-grandson of Shield Sheafson. The tower throws specks of warm yellow against the gloom, and tonight, in the shadow of the tower, there is a celebration, revelry even on an evening so bleak as this.

Within the sturdy walls of the king's new mead hall, which he has named Heorot, the hall of harts, his thanes and their ladies have assembled. The fires burn bright beneath thatch and timber, driving back the chill and filling the air with delicious cooking smells and the comforting aroma of woodsmoke. Here, high above the reach of the angry sea, the king has at last made good his promise, the gift of this mighty hall to his loyalsubjects. In all the lands of the Northmen, there is no other to equal its size and grandeur, and on this night it is awash with drunken laughter and the clatter of plates and knives, the rise and fall of a hundred voices speaking all at once, not so very different from the rise and fall of the sea outside, except there is no ice to be found here anywhere, and one might only drown in the endless cups of mead. Above the wide fire pits, pigs and deer, rabbit and geese roast on iron spits, and the flames leap and dance, throwing dizzying shadows across the walls and laughing faces and the massive oak timbers carved with scenes of warfare and the hunt, with the graven images of gods and monsters.

"Have I not kept my oath?" howls fat King Hrothgar from the alcove set into the farther end of the long hall. He is an old man, and his battle days are behind him now, his long beard and the braids in his hair gone white as the winter snow. Wrapped only in a bedsheet, he rises slowly from the cradle of his throne, moving as quickly as age and his considerable girth will permit. "One year ago . . . I, Hrothgar, your king, swore that we would soon celebrate our victories in a new hall, a hall both mighty and beautiful. Now, you tell me, have I not kept my oath?"

Momentarily distracted from their drink, from their feasting and happy debaucheries, the king's men raise their cups and raise their voices, too, drunkenly cheering on old Hrothgar, and never mind that only a handful among them are sober enough to know why they are cheering. At the sound of their voices, Hrothgar grins drunkenly and rubs at his belly, then turns to gaze down at his queen, the beautiful lady Wealthow. Though hardly more than a child, this violet-eyed girl adorned in gold and furs and glittering jewels, Wealthow is neither burdened with nor blinded by childish illusions about her husband's fidelity. She knows, for example, of the two giggling maidens whom he bedded this very night, farm girls or perhaps daughters of his own warriors, with whom the king was still occupied when four thanes came to bear him from his bedchamber out into the crowded hall. Hrothgar has never made the least effort to hide his whores and mistresses, so she has never seen the point in pretending not to see them.

"Ah, mead!" he grunts, and grabs the gilded drinking horn from the queen's hands. "Thank you, my lovely Wealthow!" She glares up at him, though Hrothgar has already turned away, raising the horn to his lips, spilling mead down his chin and into the tangle of his beard.

The drinking horn is a breathtaking thing, and she has often spoken aloud of her wonder of it. Surely, it was made either in remote and elder days, when such fine craftsmanship was not uncommon to this land, or it was fashioned in some distant kingdom by a -people who'd not yet forgotten that artistry. It is a mystery and a marvelous sight, this relic rescued from a dragon's hoard; even clutched in the meaty hands of a man so crude as her husband, the drinking horn does not cease to please her eyes. The finest gold etched with strange runes the likes of which she's never seen before, and there are two clawed feet mounted on one side so that the horn may be set down without tipping over and spilling. For the handle, there's a winged dragon, also of wrought gold, with a single perfect ruby set into its throat. Horns and fangs and the jagged trace of its sinuous, razor spine, a terrible worm summoned from some forgotten tale, or perhaps the artisan meant this dragon to recall the serpent Nidhögg Rootnibbler, who lies coiled in the darkness at the base of the World Ash.

Hrothgar belches, wipes at his mouth, then raises the empty horn as though to toast all those assembled before him. "And in this hall," he bellows, "we shall divide the spoils of our conquests, all the gold and the treasure. This shall ever be a place of merrymaking and of joy and fornication . . . from now until the end of time. I name this hall Heorot!"

Beowulf. Copyright © by Caitlin Kiernan. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing all of 6 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted January 23, 2008

    A reviewer

    In the book Beowulf written by Caitlin R. Kiernan there are many conflict. The first conflict of the story is that King Hrothgar¿s village is being attacked by a ugly monster named Grendal. Grendal attacked Heorot Hall, a place where the citizens eat and sing. He attacked Heorot Hall because the noise from the singing made him go crazy. He killed many people which made King Hrothgar close down Heorot Hall and end all singing of any kind. There were things the reader liked and disliked about the novel. The book had a good story line and it was a book that you could follow along with the story and know what is happening at all times. The things the reader disliked was that it dated back in the olden days so the author used old English which made it more realistic but harder for the reader to understand. Over all the book was outstanding and the reader recommends it to people who like action, fantasy, and adventurous stories.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 23, 2007

    Fantastic

    this is by far a good version I've read of this and i recommend this for anyone who's are curouis and can't wait for the movie

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 1, 2007

    Read the real thing.

    If you want Beowulf, go read Beowulf. Don't be fooled by the Hollywood knockoff.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 9, 2007

    There are better Beowulf knockoffs

    If you won't read the original Beowulf, then read Crichton's Eaters of the Dead (the movie based on it was 13th Warrior to non readers). It is a good modern interpretation of the Beowulf saga.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 15, 2007

    This Sucks

    In the beginning of this book, you start off to think it is really good. But, the when you get to the 70-80th page, you realize that it is all written in past tense. When you read the book in past tense it is going to start to get on your nerves. In short words, this book is a waste of money.

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 8, 2009

    No text was provided for this review.

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