Myths and Legends (3/?)
Title - Myths and Legends (3/?)
Author -
joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, OCs (well…, not totally, I suppose)
Rating - PG for early chapters, smut later… ;)
Summary - The TARDIS lands in Denmark, right in the middle of a famous poem from English literary heritage. The Doctor knows they’re not here for a sneak preview, but the hapless Danes are convinced they have their saviour. Will the Doctor solve the mystery in time or will one of history’s most famous texts have a different story to tell?
Author’s Notes - A mammoth undertaking. This story follows an episodic/BBC books format, and is hopefully reasonably historically accurate - goodness knows I’ve done enough research! I’ve made one or two essential changes to the actual plotline of the Beowulf story but then, that’s authorial licence for you! Hopefully there are no Anglo-Saxon professors lurking around here who will eat me alive for doing so. ;)
Many thanks to my fabulous beta readers
aibhinn and
sensiblecat .
Chapter One
Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
Despite the hurried activity, it was inevitable that Rose and the Doctor would not go unnoticed for long, no matter how hard they tried to stay out of sight. As they slunk around the huts, peering inside, avoiding the men and women moving frantically about the village, the Doctor caught sight of a figure standing in the shadows of the smithy watching them. Their eyes met across the gap and instantly the figure, realising that he had been spotted, ducked back inside and disappeared.
Frowning, the Doctor crossed the few steps to the smithy and poked his head around the doors. His eyes fell on a thin, wiry boy of about sixteen-years-old who was attempting to look as if he was suddenly very busy. “Hello there,” said the Doctor, then added in a cheery but commanding tone, “You were watching us.”
The boy jumped in shock, almost dropping the blade he was holding. He cursed under his breath and looked up at the Doctor, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can, er, can I help you?” he asked; there was no denying there was a quaver in his voice, even though he was clearly doing his best to hide it.
“You were watching us,” repeated the Doctor.
Rose tugged the Doctor’s sleeve, urging him to proceed with caution. She stepped towards the boy, then spoke in a quiet voice, “My name’s Rose and this is the Doctor. Wha’s your name?”
It seemed that some teenage boys lacked eloquence no matter what time you were in, and this boy was no different from some of the friends Rose had known at school. Scuffing the toe of his shoe into the dirty floor, the boy umm-ed and aah-ed his way through a series of half-formed questions and sentences then simply sighed and admitted, “Aeswulf, son of Aeschere.”
Rose smiled. “Bit of a mouthful, that,” she teased. Aeswulf looked up at her and saw her smile. At first, he seemed to not really know how to react, then a slow smile of his own spread across his lips and he nodded.
“Yes,” he replied.
Rose turned to the Doctor, who had begun to wander ponderously around the smithy, picking up random pieces of metal and examining them as he moved. “Aeschere…” she said, thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that the name of the bloke who captured us? I’m sure I heard…”
“Oh yes!” the Doctor interrupted. “That was him! Big chap, muscles like a horse.”
“My father is a warrior,” Aeswulf explained, a little sourly. “But I am like my mother. He does not approve.”
The Doctor studied Aeswulf in a similar manner to how he had studied the items he’d been picking up. The boy was indeed remarkably unlike his father. Where his father had been stocky and athletic, Aeswulf was scrawny and slim, with bony knees that poked through his trousers and a pale, somewhat pinched face. The Doctor sympathised, “Yes, you’re not exactly alike, are you?”
Aeswulf looked down at the ground again and Rose shot the Doctor a look that told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t approve of his tact. “Yeah, well, neither am I,” she jumped in, feeling the need to defend the unfortunate boy and his clearly already fragile ego. “I mean, I look a bit like my Mum, but people mostly said I looked like my Dad’s mum and she was a horrible old bat.”
“Genetics is a complicated subject, particularly in humans. All those double helixes and chromosomes and meiosis going on. In the Theobaldans, it’s… Ow!” The Doctor stopped when Rose gently slapped his forearm.
“Too much detail,” she hissed, then turned back to Aeswulf. “So, why were you watching us?”
Aeswulf’s brow knotted and he blew a frustrated breath out of his mouth. “I’d overheard people talking about you… Saying that my father had captured two foreign strangers trespassing on our hunting grounds, but Hrothgar had chosen to let you live.” He paused, foot scuffing in the ground once again. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Oh. Right. So letting us live was an unusual decision, then?” the Doctor asked.
“Yes,”
“Interesting…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off and his eyes darkened as he considered the new information. “I wonder… Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember what I told you about the poem Beowulf?”
“Yeah,” she replied, frowning.
“Well, I’m wondering if we’re more a part of this than just casual observers.” He turned back to Aeswulf. “You know this beast that’s been attacking the village? What do you call it?”
Aeswulf blinked. He was obviously surprised by the depth of the Doctor’s knowledge, and as instinct kicked in, his wariness began to overrule him. “Why do you want to know about that?” he asked.
“Oh, just interested, that’s all,” the Doctor dismissed casually and offered a winning smile.
After a moment, Aeswulf seemed to fold and revealed, “The elders have started calling it Grendel.”
The Doctor grinned and cast a sideways glance at Rose, who smiled in return. Sobering somewhat, he sank down onto a counter littered with several tools and chunks of unworked iron. “And what does Grendel look like?”
Aeswulf was about to reply when the door to the smithy swung open, hitting the wall with a hollow thunk, and in the sunlit gap appeared Aeschere. He was sweating a little, his unkempt mane of hair wild and swept back from eyes that scanned the room and immediately bored into his son. “Son,” he said. His eyes squinted briefly at the Doctor and Rose and he growled low in his throat. “You have strayed.”
The Doctor scratched his sideburn. “Umm… Yes…” he began, then Aeswulf interrupted,
“I, er… I found them wandering, father. They’d… they’d been left alone when everyone started to make Heorot safe and decided to slip free. I made sure they didn’t get far.” He stretched himself up his full height and met his father’s eyes boldly.
Aeschere looked at the Doctor, then at Rose, doubt clouding his expression. “They do not look like you have detained them.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong… He has. Definitely,” said the Doctor quickly. He cast a quick look at Aeswulf, who was doing his best to seem in control. “I mean, he was very good. Really good. Waved his sword about. I was scared…” He gave a theatrical shiver, as if he hoped it would convince Aeschere, then added, “Weren’t you scared, Rose?”
Rose nodded. “Very scared,” she said.
Aeswulf looked down at the sword he was still holding in his hand and nodded slowly. “So, yes, father, I stopped them. I was just about to find out what I should do with them.”
For a moment, Aeschere simply stared at his son, his eyes occasionally flicking to the Doctor, who rocked back on his heels and awaited the warrior’s judgement. He snorted, then reached out and grabbed Aeswulf by the forearm. “You need to get inside Heorot. Hrothgar has decreed an early feast, while the light is still strong.”
“Oh, so Grendel won’t attack during the hours of daylight?” the Doctor interrupted.
Aeschere turned and replied sharply, “No. It waits for the cover of darkness, like the coward it is.” His face soured a little. “But you must all come. Hrothgar has ordered everyone to be inside Heorot. Including you.” He turned to the Doctor and Rose. “If Grendel attacks again, he wants to be ready. Come.”
With a glance at Rose, the Doctor agreed easily, “All right, we’re coming.” He held out his hand for Rose, who gratefully reached for it and closed her fingers around his.
****
As they followed Aeschere and Aeswulf towards Heorot, Rose noticed that the strange mistiness that had hung over the village all day had barely lifted. Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, it was gone midday and well into afternoon; even so, flares and firepits had already been lit all around the perimeter fence in preparation of the sunset.
Heorot was an impressive building and even in comparison to the bricks and mortar of modern buildings, looked deceptively sturdy. But Rose doubted it would prove sturdy enough. She tightened her grip on the Doctor’s hand and he looked down at her in concern, “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Mm fine,” said Rose quietly. “Just a bit creeped out by everything.” She moved instinctively closer to the Doctor, allowing her shoulder to brush against his. “It’s a bit like realising a horror movie you saw when you were a kid is coming to life.”
The Doctor smiled in sympathy. “I can see that,” he allowed. His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand in a gesture of comfort. “I won’t say we’ve got nothing to worry about, because I’m sure you won’t believe me…”
Rose nodded. “Don’t let go, though, will you?” she asked.
“Never,” replied the Doctor with a grin and another squeeze of her hand.
Aeschere marched up to the central doors and pushed them open, revealing the inside of the mead-hall. The villagers were all already inside, gathered in small groups; some were sitting at the long tables, others were standing in the shadows by the walls. There was a low hum of talk, although it was tinted with uncertainty and an element of fear. Somewhere out of sight a scop sang and intermittently played a high-pitched tin flute. The Doctor glanced around, noting that the women and children were sticking together near the middle of the room, and the men were gathered closer to the doors, all of them armed.
Pointing towards the head of the tables, Aeschere instructed his son and the Doctor and Rose to sit down. They did exactly what they were told, but Aeschere did not join them. “I am going to speak to Hrothgar,” he explained and left them alone.
“Is everyone inside?” the Doctor asked Aeswulf, who was looking around himself, his feet bouncing nervously on the floor.
“Yes. Men, women and children. Hrothgar believes Heorot is the safest place in the village.”
The Doctor studied Aeswulf a moment. “But you don’t agree…?”
Aeswulf’s eyes twitched, looking this way and that, then he whispered under his breath, “No. Though I should not speak of my disagreement. It has already got me into enough trouble.”
“With your father?”
“Yes. He supports Hrothgar unquestioningly.” Aeswulf sighed. “No matter what, he would follow Hrothgar to the grave if it was necessary… Which is more than he’d do for me, I have no doubt,” he finished bitterly.
Rose reached out and laid a hand gently on Aeswulf’s arm. “I think you’re wrong, Aeswulf,” she said. “Your father loves you very much. He’d do anything for you, I’m sure.”
Aeswulf rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve never disappointed your father like I have.”
Rose said nothing to that. It was clear that Aeswulf had upset his father simply by the way he had turned out. She looked at his sullen expression and decided to change the subject. “So, you never finished telling us about Grendel.”
“Yes.” The Doctor twisted on the bench he was sitting on so that he faced Aeswulf more directly. He noticed the sceptical look on the boy’s face. “Just for interest’s sake,” he added carefully.
“What do you want to know? Is it not enough to know that everyone fears they might be dead by this time tomorrow?”
“Wellll… normally, yes, but you see, I’m trying to figure out what this Grendel creature is.” He paused and glanced at Rose. “We’re travellers, as you know, and we’ve come to find out more about this beast. So, anything you can tell us would be helpful.”
“Does Hrothgar know about this?” Aeswulf asked.
“I don’t think so, no, and best not tell him, hm? We don’t need to give him anything else to worry about just yet.”
Aeswulf regarded the Doctor suspiciously. It was clear that despite his wanting to trust him, his education was standing in the way of that trust. “I can’t tell you very much,” he said after a moment. “I was hiding in the wood the last time it came and I only saw it vaguely. But, it’s huge. The size of two buildings on top of each other. And it looks like a dragon, but it isn’t quite there… like it’s made of smoke.”
The Doctor frowned. “Made of smoke,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Is that important?” Rose asked.
“It could be…” the Doctor replied, his voice turning breathy with thought. Something resonated about Aeswulf’s description of Grendel, something that harked back to his own childhood. “I wonder… What did it do, then, when it attacked?”
“It hung over the village, then it snatched up several men and retreated. It did very little actual damage.”
The Doctor’s frown deepened. “You’ve seen something like this before, haven’t you?” said Rose. She shifted uneasily on the bench. The Doctor blew out a slow breath, puffing his cheeks slightly.
“Back on my home planet, there were a series of… fairy stories… I suppose is what you humans would call them, although these stories were legend, rather than complete fiction. Some of the creatures in these fairy stories were known as the Time Wraiths; they were a race of beings that existed in the Shadows, the space between the timelines. Remember that rift in Cardiff, Rose?” He turned to her and she nodded. “Well, that’s a crack in the membrane between the universes. Different thing entirely, but essentially the same idea. According to the stories, the Time Wraiths were beings that had lived on my home planet before the Time Lords, but they couldn’t live alongside the Time Lords and so they fell from grace and were cast into the Shadows as punishment, never to be seen again.”
Rose swallowed. “An’ you think that’s what this Grendel thing is, yeah? A Time Wraith?”
“It’s possible,” the Doctor murmured. “The description Aeswulf just gave matches the descriptions from those old stories at any rate. Though if it is, how it’s escaped from the Shadows I don’t know. It’s impossible to get out of that place. It’s sealed shut. If it was open, the timelines would start to bleed into each other. You’d end up with things from Victorian London turning up in the Stone Age.”
“And tha’s bad…”
“Very bad,” confirmed the Doctor. “Very bad, indeed.”
A clanging bell drew their attention, and they turned to see Hrothgar standing on the raised platform, a tankard of mead in his hand. Beside him stood Aeschere, holding his own cup in similar fashion. Silence fell on the hall and the scop stopped playing as everyone turned to face the central platform. “My people,” Hrothgar began. “We have faced many difficulties together. Fought for each other and built a kingdom of fairness and prosperity. But, we have never faced darker days than those we have experienced over these last weeks. Thirty of our fellows have been slain by this monster Grendel, but tonight we stop it all. No longer will we run from this herdsman of evil.” He took a step forward and raised his tankard high, then shouted, “We will fight!”
The mead-hall erupted with a shout of defiance against Grendel, followed by a ripple of enthusiastic applause. The Doctor sighed, “Well, you’ve got to hand it to him; he’s got a way with a rousing speech.”
Aeswulf grunted and buried his face in his hands. “Fight to the death, that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Hopefully not,” the Doctor said as he reached into his inner pocket to remove the sonic screwdriver. He fiddled with the settings for a moment. “If that thing really is a Time Wraith, then we have to get it back to the Shadows. We can’t leave it wandering Denmark, or anywhere else for that matter. It’ll bring chaos upon the whole world.” He turned to Aeswulf. “Listen, can you remember anything else about Grendel? Do you know where it comes from?”
Aeswulf looked confused for a moment, then his face cleared. “It lives beyond the fen. Somewhere on the other side of the moor. My father followed it back to its lair the last time it attacked and saw it disappearing into a strange cave in the hillside. He said when he looked into the cave there was nothing… no bones or evidence that anything lived there at all. He returned saying that Grendel was the work of magic.”
The Doctor bobbed his eyebrows. “Ah, yes, but you and I know, don’t we Aeswulf, that there’s no such thing as magic.” He peered around the mead-hall. “What time is it?”
Aeswulf glanced out of the still-open doors. “About three hours before sundown.”
“Right. That gives us three hours to go and have a look at this magic cave.” He stood up and pocketed the sonic screwdriver again. He grabbed Rose’s hand, then turned back to Aeswulf. “Are you coming, then, or what?” he asked.
For a moment, the boy stared back with an expression of fright painted across his face. He looked over to where his father was standing, set his face straight and then met the Doctor’s gaze. “Yes, I’m coming.”
Author -
joely_jo
Characters - Ten/Rose, OCs (well…, not totally, I suppose)
Rating - PG for early chapters, smut later… ;)
Summary - The TARDIS lands in Denmark, right in the middle of a famous poem from English literary heritage. The Doctor knows they’re not here for a sneak preview, but the hapless Danes are convinced they have their saviour. Will the Doctor solve the mystery in time or will one of history’s most famous texts have a different story to tell?
Author’s Notes - A mammoth undertaking. This story follows an episodic/BBC books format, and is hopefully reasonably historically accurate - goodness knows I’ve done enough research! I’ve made one or two essential changes to the actual plotline of the Beowulf story but then, that’s authorial licence for you! Hopefully there are no Anglo-Saxon professors lurking around here who will eat me alive for doing so. ;)
Many thanks to my fabulous beta readers
aibhinn and
sensiblecat .
Chapter One
Chapter Two
CHAPTER THREE
Despite the hurried activity, it was inevitable that Rose and the Doctor would not go unnoticed for long, no matter how hard they tried to stay out of sight. As they slunk around the huts, peering inside, avoiding the men and women moving frantically about the village, the Doctor caught sight of a figure standing in the shadows of the smithy watching them. Their eyes met across the gap and instantly the figure, realising that he had been spotted, ducked back inside and disappeared.
Frowning, the Doctor crossed the few steps to the smithy and poked his head around the doors. His eyes fell on a thin, wiry boy of about sixteen-years-old who was attempting to look as if he was suddenly very busy. “Hello there,” said the Doctor, then added in a cheery but commanding tone, “You were watching us.”
The boy jumped in shock, almost dropping the blade he was holding. He cursed under his breath and looked up at the Doctor, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can, er, can I help you?” he asked; there was no denying there was a quaver in his voice, even though he was clearly doing his best to hide it.
“You were watching us,” repeated the Doctor.
Rose tugged the Doctor’s sleeve, urging him to proceed with caution. She stepped towards the boy, then spoke in a quiet voice, “My name’s Rose and this is the Doctor. Wha’s your name?”
It seemed that some teenage boys lacked eloquence no matter what time you were in, and this boy was no different from some of the friends Rose had known at school. Scuffing the toe of his shoe into the dirty floor, the boy umm-ed and aah-ed his way through a series of half-formed questions and sentences then simply sighed and admitted, “Aeswulf, son of Aeschere.”
Rose smiled. “Bit of a mouthful, that,” she teased. Aeswulf looked up at her and saw her smile. At first, he seemed to not really know how to react, then a slow smile of his own spread across his lips and he nodded.
“Yes,” he replied.
Rose turned to the Doctor, who had begun to wander ponderously around the smithy, picking up random pieces of metal and examining them as he moved. “Aeschere…” she said, thoughtfully. “Wasn’t that the name of the bloke who captured us? I’m sure I heard…”
“Oh yes!” the Doctor interrupted. “That was him! Big chap, muscles like a horse.”
“My father is a warrior,” Aeswulf explained, a little sourly. “But I am like my mother. He does not approve.”
The Doctor studied Aeswulf in a similar manner to how he had studied the items he’d been picking up. The boy was indeed remarkably unlike his father. Where his father had been stocky and athletic, Aeswulf was scrawny and slim, with bony knees that poked through his trousers and a pale, somewhat pinched face. The Doctor sympathised, “Yes, you’re not exactly alike, are you?”
Aeswulf looked down at the ground again and Rose shot the Doctor a look that told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t approve of his tact. “Yeah, well, neither am I,” she jumped in, feeling the need to defend the unfortunate boy and his clearly already fragile ego. “I mean, I look a bit like my Mum, but people mostly said I looked like my Dad’s mum and she was a horrible old bat.”
“Genetics is a complicated subject, particularly in humans. All those double helixes and chromosomes and meiosis going on. In the Theobaldans, it’s… Ow!” The Doctor stopped when Rose gently slapped his forearm.
“Too much detail,” she hissed, then turned back to Aeswulf. “So, why were you watching us?”
Aeswulf’s brow knotted and he blew a frustrated breath out of his mouth. “I’d overheard people talking about you… Saying that my father had captured two foreign strangers trespassing on our hunting grounds, but Hrothgar had chosen to let you live.” He paused, foot scuffing in the ground once again. “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Oh. Right. So letting us live was an unusual decision, then?” the Doctor asked.
“Yes,”
“Interesting…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off and his eyes darkened as he considered the new information. “I wonder… Rose?”
“Yeah?”
“Remember what I told you about the poem Beowulf?”
“Yeah,” she replied, frowning.
“Well, I’m wondering if we’re more a part of this than just casual observers.” He turned back to Aeswulf. “You know this beast that’s been attacking the village? What do you call it?”
Aeswulf blinked. He was obviously surprised by the depth of the Doctor’s knowledge, and as instinct kicked in, his wariness began to overrule him. “Why do you want to know about that?” he asked.
“Oh, just interested, that’s all,” the Doctor dismissed casually and offered a winning smile.
After a moment, Aeswulf seemed to fold and revealed, “The elders have started calling it Grendel.”
The Doctor grinned and cast a sideways glance at Rose, who smiled in return. Sobering somewhat, he sank down onto a counter littered with several tools and chunks of unworked iron. “And what does Grendel look like?”
Aeswulf was about to reply when the door to the smithy swung open, hitting the wall with a hollow thunk, and in the sunlit gap appeared Aeschere. He was sweating a little, his unkempt mane of hair wild and swept back from eyes that scanned the room and immediately bored into his son. “Son,” he said. His eyes squinted briefly at the Doctor and Rose and he growled low in his throat. “You have strayed.”
The Doctor scratched his sideburn. “Umm… Yes…” he began, then Aeswulf interrupted,
“I, er… I found them wandering, father. They’d… they’d been left alone when everyone started to make Heorot safe and decided to slip free. I made sure they didn’t get far.” He stretched himself up his full height and met his father’s eyes boldly.
Aeschere looked at the Doctor, then at Rose, doubt clouding his expression. “They do not look like you have detained them.”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong… He has. Definitely,” said the Doctor quickly. He cast a quick look at Aeswulf, who was doing his best to seem in control. “I mean, he was very good. Really good. Waved his sword about. I was scared…” He gave a theatrical shiver, as if he hoped it would convince Aeschere, then added, “Weren’t you scared, Rose?”
Rose nodded. “Very scared,” she said.
Aeswulf looked down at the sword he was still holding in his hand and nodded slowly. “So, yes, father, I stopped them. I was just about to find out what I should do with them.”
For a moment, Aeschere simply stared at his son, his eyes occasionally flicking to the Doctor, who rocked back on his heels and awaited the warrior’s judgement. He snorted, then reached out and grabbed Aeswulf by the forearm. “You need to get inside Heorot. Hrothgar has decreed an early feast, while the light is still strong.”
“Oh, so Grendel won’t attack during the hours of daylight?” the Doctor interrupted.
Aeschere turned and replied sharply, “No. It waits for the cover of darkness, like the coward it is.” His face soured a little. “But you must all come. Hrothgar has ordered everyone to be inside Heorot. Including you.” He turned to the Doctor and Rose. “If Grendel attacks again, he wants to be ready. Come.”
With a glance at Rose, the Doctor agreed easily, “All right, we’re coming.” He held out his hand for Rose, who gratefully reached for it and closed her fingers around his.
****
As they followed Aeschere and Aeswulf towards Heorot, Rose noticed that the strange mistiness that had hung over the village all day had barely lifted. Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, it was gone midday and well into afternoon; even so, flares and firepits had already been lit all around the perimeter fence in preparation of the sunset.
Heorot was an impressive building and even in comparison to the bricks and mortar of modern buildings, looked deceptively sturdy. But Rose doubted it would prove sturdy enough. She tightened her grip on the Doctor’s hand and he looked down at her in concern, “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Mm fine,” said Rose quietly. “Just a bit creeped out by everything.” She moved instinctively closer to the Doctor, allowing her shoulder to brush against his. “It’s a bit like realising a horror movie you saw when you were a kid is coming to life.”
The Doctor smiled in sympathy. “I can see that,” he allowed. His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand in a gesture of comfort. “I won’t say we’ve got nothing to worry about, because I’m sure you won’t believe me…”
Rose nodded. “Don’t let go, though, will you?” she asked.
“Never,” replied the Doctor with a grin and another squeeze of her hand.
Aeschere marched up to the central doors and pushed them open, revealing the inside of the mead-hall. The villagers were all already inside, gathered in small groups; some were sitting at the long tables, others were standing in the shadows by the walls. There was a low hum of talk, although it was tinted with uncertainty and an element of fear. Somewhere out of sight a scop sang and intermittently played a high-pitched tin flute. The Doctor glanced around, noting that the women and children were sticking together near the middle of the room, and the men were gathered closer to the doors, all of them armed.
Pointing towards the head of the tables, Aeschere instructed his son and the Doctor and Rose to sit down. They did exactly what they were told, but Aeschere did not join them. “I am going to speak to Hrothgar,” he explained and left them alone.
“Is everyone inside?” the Doctor asked Aeswulf, who was looking around himself, his feet bouncing nervously on the floor.
“Yes. Men, women and children. Hrothgar believes Heorot is the safest place in the village.”
The Doctor studied Aeswulf a moment. “But you don’t agree…?”
Aeswulf’s eyes twitched, looking this way and that, then he whispered under his breath, “No. Though I should not speak of my disagreement. It has already got me into enough trouble.”
“With your father?”
“Yes. He supports Hrothgar unquestioningly.” Aeswulf sighed. “No matter what, he would follow Hrothgar to the grave if it was necessary… Which is more than he’d do for me, I have no doubt,” he finished bitterly.
Rose reached out and laid a hand gently on Aeswulf’s arm. “I think you’re wrong, Aeswulf,” she said. “Your father loves you very much. He’d do anything for you, I’m sure.”
Aeswulf rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve never disappointed your father like I have.”
Rose said nothing to that. It was clear that Aeswulf had upset his father simply by the way he had turned out. She looked at his sullen expression and decided to change the subject. “So, you never finished telling us about Grendel.”
“Yes.” The Doctor twisted on the bench he was sitting on so that he faced Aeswulf more directly. He noticed the sceptical look on the boy’s face. “Just for interest’s sake,” he added carefully.
“What do you want to know? Is it not enough to know that everyone fears they might be dead by this time tomorrow?”
“Wellll… normally, yes, but you see, I’m trying to figure out what this Grendel creature is.” He paused and glanced at Rose. “We’re travellers, as you know, and we’ve come to find out more about this beast. So, anything you can tell us would be helpful.”
“Does Hrothgar know about this?” Aeswulf asked.
“I don’t think so, no, and best not tell him, hm? We don’t need to give him anything else to worry about just yet.”
Aeswulf regarded the Doctor suspiciously. It was clear that despite his wanting to trust him, his education was standing in the way of that trust. “I can’t tell you very much,” he said after a moment. “I was hiding in the wood the last time it came and I only saw it vaguely. But, it’s huge. The size of two buildings on top of each other. And it looks like a dragon, but it isn’t quite there… like it’s made of smoke.”
The Doctor frowned. “Made of smoke,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“Is that important?” Rose asked.
“It could be…” the Doctor replied, his voice turning breathy with thought. Something resonated about Aeswulf’s description of Grendel, something that harked back to his own childhood. “I wonder… What did it do, then, when it attacked?”
“It hung over the village, then it snatched up several men and retreated. It did very little actual damage.”
The Doctor’s frown deepened. “You’ve seen something like this before, haven’t you?” said Rose. She shifted uneasily on the bench. The Doctor blew out a slow breath, puffing his cheeks slightly.
“Back on my home planet, there were a series of… fairy stories… I suppose is what you humans would call them, although these stories were legend, rather than complete fiction. Some of the creatures in these fairy stories were known as the Time Wraiths; they were a race of beings that existed in the Shadows, the space between the timelines. Remember that rift in Cardiff, Rose?” He turned to her and she nodded. “Well, that’s a crack in the membrane between the universes. Different thing entirely, but essentially the same idea. According to the stories, the Time Wraiths were beings that had lived on my home planet before the Time Lords, but they couldn’t live alongside the Time Lords and so they fell from grace and were cast into the Shadows as punishment, never to be seen again.”
Rose swallowed. “An’ you think that’s what this Grendel thing is, yeah? A Time Wraith?”
“It’s possible,” the Doctor murmured. “The description Aeswulf just gave matches the descriptions from those old stories at any rate. Though if it is, how it’s escaped from the Shadows I don’t know. It’s impossible to get out of that place. It’s sealed shut. If it was open, the timelines would start to bleed into each other. You’d end up with things from Victorian London turning up in the Stone Age.”
“And tha’s bad…”
“Very bad,” confirmed the Doctor. “Very bad, indeed.”
A clanging bell drew their attention, and they turned to see Hrothgar standing on the raised platform, a tankard of mead in his hand. Beside him stood Aeschere, holding his own cup in similar fashion. Silence fell on the hall and the scop stopped playing as everyone turned to face the central platform. “My people,” Hrothgar began. “We have faced many difficulties together. Fought for each other and built a kingdom of fairness and prosperity. But, we have never faced darker days than those we have experienced over these last weeks. Thirty of our fellows have been slain by this monster Grendel, but tonight we stop it all. No longer will we run from this herdsman of evil.” He took a step forward and raised his tankard high, then shouted, “We will fight!”
The mead-hall erupted with a shout of defiance against Grendel, followed by a ripple of enthusiastic applause. The Doctor sighed, “Well, you’ve got to hand it to him; he’s got a way with a rousing speech.”
Aeswulf grunted and buried his face in his hands. “Fight to the death, that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Hopefully not,” the Doctor said as he reached into his inner pocket to remove the sonic screwdriver. He fiddled with the settings for a moment. “If that thing really is a Time Wraith, then we have to get it back to the Shadows. We can’t leave it wandering Denmark, or anywhere else for that matter. It’ll bring chaos upon the whole world.” He turned to Aeswulf. “Listen, can you remember anything else about Grendel? Do you know where it comes from?”
Aeswulf looked confused for a moment, then his face cleared. “It lives beyond the fen. Somewhere on the other side of the moor. My father followed it back to its lair the last time it attacked and saw it disappearing into a strange cave in the hillside. He said when he looked into the cave there was nothing… no bones or evidence that anything lived there at all. He returned saying that Grendel was the work of magic.”
The Doctor bobbed his eyebrows. “Ah, yes, but you and I know, don’t we Aeswulf, that there’s no such thing as magic.” He peered around the mead-hall. “What time is it?”
Aeswulf glanced out of the still-open doors. “About three hours before sundown.”
“Right. That gives us three hours to go and have a look at this magic cave.” He stood up and pocketed the sonic screwdriver again. He grabbed Rose’s hand, then turned back to Aeswulf. “Are you coming, then, or what?” he asked.
For a moment, the boy stared back with an expression of fright painted across his face. He looked over to where his father was standing, set his face straight and then met the Doctor’s gaze. “Yes, I’m coming.”