Chapter 8

Spake then Unferth, the son of Eglaf, who sat at the feet of the Lord of the Danes and opened a quarrel. (For the journey of Beowulf, of the brave sea-farer, was vexation to him, for he could not brook that ever any other man than he himself should obtain greater fame in all the earth.)

Then Unferth, the son of Eglaf, spoke. He sat at the feet of the Lord of the Danes and started an argument. (For the arrival of Beowulf, the brave seafarer, angered Unferth. He could not bear anyone else ever gaining greater fame than himself anywhere on earth.)

‘What!’ said he, ‘art thou that Beowulf who didst contend with Breca, and strovest for the mastery in swimming o’er wide seas, when ye two for pride were searching the waves and for foolish boasting risked your lives in the deep waters? No man could dissuade you from that sorrowful journey, neither friend nor foe, when ye two swam in the sea, when ye two enfolded the waves with your arms and measured the sea-ways and brandished your arms as you glided o’er the ocean. The sea boiled with waves the wintry whelming. And for seven nights long ye were toiling in the stress of seas. But he o’erpowered thee in swimming, for greater strength had he. Then at the morning tide the sea bore him up to the land of the Heathoremes. Thence he was seeking the friend of his people his own dear country, the land of the Brondings, the fair city of refuge, where he had his own folk, and a city and rings. The son of Beanstan soothly fulfilled his boasting against thee. So do I deem it a worse matter, though thou art everywhere doughty in the rush of battle and grim warfare, if thou shalt be daring to bide near Grendel a night-long space.’

‘What!’ he said. ‘Are you the Beowulf who competed with Breca to see who could swim best across the wide seas? You both explored the waves out of pride and risked your lives in deep water for foolish boasts. No one, friend or foe, could persuade you to abandon that miserable journey. You both swam in the sea, sweeping your arms around the waves and measuring out the sea routes. You swung your arms as you glided over the ocean. The sea churned with overwhelming winter waves. For seven nights, you struggled against the rough seas. But Breca beat you at swimming because he was stronger. Then, at morning tide, the sea carried him ashore in the land of the Heathoremes. From there, he sought his people's protector and his own dear homeland, the land of the Brondings. He sought that beautiful city of refuge, where he had his own people, a city, and rings. Beanstan's son truly made good on his boasts against you. So I expect worse for you if you dare stay near Grendel for a whole night. That is my judgment, though you are brave wherever you face the rush of battle and fierce warfare.’

Then Beowulf spake, the son of Ecgtheow: ‘What! my friend Unferth, drunken with beer, many things thou art saying about that Breca and talkest of his journey. But soothly I tell thee that I had the greater strength in that swimming, and endurance in the waves. We two agreed when we were youngsters, and boasted (for we were both still in the days of our youth) that we in the ocean would be risking our lives. And so in deed we did. We had a naked sword hard in our hands when we were swimming. We two were thinking to guard us ’gainst whale fishes. Nor over the sea-waves might he be floating a whit far from me, more quickly on the waters. Then we together were in the sea for the space of five nights until the flood, the boiling waters drove us asunder. And the coldest of weather, and the darkening night, and a wind from the north battle-grim turned against us, and rough were the waves. And the mind of the mere-fishes was stirred when my shirt of mail that was hand-locked gave to me help against the foe. The decorated battle-robe lay on my breast all adorned with gold, and the doomèd and dire foe drew to the bottom, and fast he had me grim in his grip. Still to me was granted that I reached to the monster with the point of my sword. And the mighty sea-deer carried off the battle-rush through my hand.’

Then Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke: ‘Well, my friend Unferth, drunk on beer, you say a great deal about Breca and his journey. But I tell you truly, I had greater strength and endurance in the waves during that swim. When we were youngsters, we agreed and boasted that we would risk our lives in the ocean. We were both still young then. And we did just as we said. As we swam, we each held a drawn sword firmly in our hands. We meant to protect ourselves against sea creatures. Breca could not swim any distance ahead of me or move faster through the water. We stayed together in the sea for five nights, until the currents and churning waters drove us apart. Then bitterly cold weather, the darkening night, and a fierce north wind turned against us. The waves were rough. And the sea creatures were stirred to fury, while my shirt of interlocked mail protected me against the enemy. That decorated battle garment covered my chest, all adorned with gold. Then a terrible, doomed enemy dragged me to the bottom, holding me tightly in its fierce grip. Still, I was able to reach the monster with my sword’s point. And the mighty sea beast took the force of the attack from my hand.’