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Many years have past since the defeats of Grendel and his mother. Now, Beowulf is an old king of his own homeland. He may be old, but he is still the mighty hero that had once defeated the great mead-hall stalker and his vengeful, monstrous mother. And now has come the time to once again be the great hero he is, only this time, it will be the last. A great Dragon has been awakened by a thief that has trespassed and taken from his hoard. Now awaken and enraged, the Dragon wrecks havoc across the land, searching for his stolen hoard and his revenge. Beowulf, for the third and last time, swears to slay the monster that terrorizes the lands and innocent. Beowulf, ready and armed, goes with his men to slay the fire-breather and bring peace back to the land. Since Beowulf is older and not as strong as he used to be, he struggles to keep up with his battle against the Dragon. Fear seize his men from going to their king's aid and can only watch in pear terror. Only one, only one man stepped forward. He then he waded the dangerous reek and went under arms to his lord, saying only: "Go on, dear Beowulf, do everything you said you would when you were still young and vowed you would never let your name and fame be dimmed while you lived. Your deeds are famous, so stay resolute, my lord, defend your life now with the whole of your strength. I shall stand by you." And he kept his word. Together, they defeated the mighty beast and won the treasure. Alas, it wasn't all a happy ending. Deathly injured and old, Beowulf was near his death. His last words were: "Now is the time when I would have wanted to bestow this armour on my own son, had it been my fortune to have fathered an heir and live on in his flesh. For fifty years I ruled this nation. No king of any neighbouring clan would dare face me with troops, none had the power to intimidate me. I took what came, cared for and stood by things in my keeping, never fomented quarrels, never swore to a lie. All this consoles me, doomed as I am and sickening for death; because of my right ways, the Ruler of mankind need never blame me when the breath leaves my body for murder of kinsmen. Go away quickly, dearest Wiglaf, under the grey stone where the dragon is laid out, lost to his treasure; hurry to feast your eyes on the hoard. Away you go: I want to examine that ancient gold, gaze my fill on those garnered jewels; my going will be easier for having seen the treasure, a less troubled letting-go of the life and lordship I have long maintained." Then he died. And that is the Dragon and our great hero Beowulf's end.