Alfgifu pointed through underbrush. "I see a hazel tree."

"Not just one." Rothmund ran ahead, lugging his bucket. "A whole grove! We'll find nuts aplenty."

"What story shall I tell while we gather?"

"Beowulf!"

Alfgifu launched into the tale while they scuffed through duff beneath the trees, hunting for hazelnuts. "News spread far and wide about King Hrothgar's troubles. Every night a monster rose from the marshes, broke into the king's hall, and carried off a warrior to devour. None could stand against Grendel the terrible."

"I could!" Rothmund tossed another handful of nuts into his bucket.

"Perhaps when you're full grown." Alfgifu went on with the tale about the young hero who came to the aid of his father's friend. When Grendel next attacked, Beowulf fought the monster. By incredible strength the unarmed hero ripped Grendel's arm from his body.

"Now who's unarmed?" Rothmund quipped.

The monster fled back to the swamps, gushing lifeblood with every step, plunged into the mire and never rose again.

"Hrothgar's hall rang with celebration for three days," Alfgifu said. "The monster's arm hung from the rafters, a gory trophy. Everyone thought their troubles were over. But the next night—" She broke off, turned, listened.

"You can't scare me, sister!" Rothmund said. "I know what comes next. Grendel's mother!"

Alfgifu cried out, "Danger! Up the tree, now!" She pushed him toward the sturdiest of the hazel trees.

He giggled as he climbed. "She was a big, huge monster. How high must we climb to get out of her reach?"

"This is high enough. Look!"

A mob of wild boars burst from the brush, jostled, snorted, rooted in the duff.

"We weren't done! They're going to get our nuts." Rothmund started down

Alfgifu grabbed his arm. "Remember the scar on Papa's leg? These Grendels might be small as calves, but they're vicious, and you don't even have a boar-spear."

"I've got a knife!"

"So do the boars. See their tusks? They'd rip you open, like Beowulf ripped Grendel's mother!"

"When will it be my turn to fight a monster? I want to be a hero!"

"You don't have your man's strength yet, Rothmund! And when a young hero-to-be doesn't have might, he must use wits instead. Now sit down. Want to hear about Beowulf and the dragon?"

"No." He pouted. "Papa will be mad we just sat in a tree instead of worked all day."

"Not when he hears why."

Down below, two pigs scuffled, squealed, fought over a nut. Rothmund's eyes widened at the sight of blood spilling.

"Look." Alfgifu showed Rothmund how to carve R, O, thorn, M, N and D. She kept an eye on the boars below while he worked, teaching him runes for other sounds he asked about.

The boars finally went on their way. Alfgifu stretched. "Now at last we can climb down and hurry home!"

"Read this first." He grinned.

"Here Rothmund outwaited seven Grendels."

"No, no," the boy sputtered. "That's not 'outwaited' – it's 'outwitted.'"

"By outwaiting, you outwitted. Very good, my young hero!"