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Gold, cooled in the shed blood of the vanquished, was warmed by the delicate skin of the girls breasts.
Yes, he was drunk, but he was not cheerful.
Lovely girlish faces, their playful bustle, the voices of his warriors, glorifying their king – all this wrapped around the consciousness of Hrodgar crumpled by a strong honeyed drink.

Only one face, appearing before him, cleared his mind in a brief flash, and he felt again.
I felt the bitterness that I had long tried to fill with braga and enemy blood.

Valhteov, his wife, his beloved and.
his longing.
He was not yet old, he was full of strength.
Once he became a dragon slayer, a hero and a king.
The most beautiful of the virgins of these lands became his wife.
He remembered.
I remembered, as if it was only yesterday, with what admiration she looked at him then, that night, after the wedding feast.
He was her hero, the savior of the earth from the devouring dragon flame.
He remembered how he was bending over her then — a proud warrior who had hardened in battles, feeling her only by his prey, only a part of his glory.

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He remembered how their eyes met in the wrong light of the cedar splinters, how he was with this long look.
I loved her, for the first time in my life I loved her.
The bright picture came to life again.
Hrodgar entered his quarters, opening the door with his feet and carrying a young wife in his arms.
Lowering the maiden on the bed and feeling the excitement of anticipation, he one by one unbuckled the buckles on her wedding dress and gently liked her to undress.
Looking at the snow-white nakedness of Valhteov, dull shining through the thinnest canvas on the bottom of his shirt, the king straightened up and slowly began to get rid of his clothes.
org) She looked at him as enchanted.
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