The man smiled.
"It would avail thee not. Rest easy. I mean you no harm. You,
in turn, may be of aid to me. Why am I here, summoned from an
age yet to be, a world far removed? Did you summon me? I think
not. You are only a child! What can you tell me of this place,
and of that one who stole from the cold waters in the dark of
night?"
"Who are you? You were summoned? How so? From an age yet to be,
a world far removed? I understand not your words. Still, if you
were summoned I can think only that it was the work of Zeus. No,
perhaps not. Athena may have brought you here to provide succor
for me on this strange sojourn."
The tall man squatted before the fire, warmed his outstretched
hands. "Strange names, these. Zeus? Athena? I know them not. And
how might I, Beowulf, provide succor to one such as you, when I
seem unable to even help myself. I sit here, lost, knowing
neither north nor south, east nor west."
He spoke quietly, calmly. For all the strangeness of these
proceedings, his face showed no fear, his eyes reflected only
constant vigil.
"I can tell you why I am here. Zeus sent me to find what
creature is imprisoned beneath these waters, and what manner of
prison it be. It is plain, from your words; and from the prints
upon the shore, it is imprisoned no more."
Beowulf responded musingly. "I walked 'neath moonlight across
the moors, alone. The sound of wings, and huge white owl flew
by. And then the moors were gone, moonlight faded, and I stand
upon this forsaken shore of some strange pond.
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