"Shut him up!"
Gunnar rushes into the crowd as he passed by which opens and escapes.
Running without knowing where, through the heart of the crowd in a desperate sorrow. . .
Gunnar reaches the building and yells:
"Saddle my horse!"
Hurrying, he ascends the staircase of honor . . .
. . . and enters the banquet hall.
The horrid Frotha rises up from the throne and laughs.
"Gunnar, I'm waiting for you ... come to me, boy ...
Horrified, Gunnar retreats, drawing his knife. Frotha grabs him and disarms him. . .
"You father punishes Beowulf ... I will punish you!"
And, with the boy in her arms, Frotha flies away, gone with the wind, into the night. . .
The fire crackles, the high flame flickering and rising.
Screaming warriors burst in . . .
rushing to the royal stage, shouting. . .
"King Rogar, Grendel's mother has kidnapped your son!"
The central voice in the assembled people cries:
"Woe! We are cursed!"
Gunnar rushes into the crowd as he passed by which opens and escapes.
Running without knowing where, through the heart of the crowd in a desperate sorrow. . .
Gunnar reaches the building and yells:
"Saddle my horse!"
Hurrying, he ascends the staircase of honor . . .
. . . and enters the banquet hall.
The horrid Frotha rises up from the throne and laughs.
"Gunnar, I'm waiting for you ... come to me, boy ...
Horrified, Gunnar retreats, drawing his knife. Frotha grabs him and disarms him. . .
"You father punishes Beowulf ... I will punish you!"
And, with the boy in her arms, Frotha flies away, gone with the wind, into the night. . .
The fire crackles, the high flame flickering and rising.
Screaming warriors burst in . . .
rushing to the royal stage, shouting. . .
"King Rogar, Grendel's mother has kidnapped your son!"
The central voice in the assembled people cries:
"Woe! We are cursed!"