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There is an element of the final part of Beowulf which is overshadowed by the fight with the dragon and by Beowulf's death, but which I think is worth thinking about: the history of the dragon's treasure.
If you consider everything we are told about the treasure, the people who originally hid it, the curse put on it, the people who uncovered and used it and eventually buried it again, and about the barrow itself, and the dragon, which, for some reason, decided to guard it (although I know that there are many legends in which dragons guard treasures), there is enough material to inspire a very interesting story. It is also provocative that the Geats, despite being advised by Wiglaf's messenger to burn the treasure, bury it in his funeral mound instead, leaving the possibility that someone could unearth it again in the future. Perhaps someone will (or has) written a history of the treasure and the barrow - it could make a very adventurous tale, in which Beowulf's battle with the dragon, and the reinternment of the treasure in his funeral mound (the gold having gone back into the earth for the third time) might be merely one short chapter.
Here are all of the passages which tell us about the treasure, the barrow, and the two peoples who held the treasure over the past 1,000 years (which could be an indeterminate, "poetical" sort of 1,000 years), before it was discovered by the slave in the Beowulf story (the translation is from Chickering):
2206
after that dark time,
the kingdom passed
into Beowulf's hands.
He ruled it well
for fifty winters--
by then an old king,
aged guardian
of the precious homeland--
2210
until a certain one,
a dragon, began to rule
in the dark nights,
the guard of a hoard
in a high barrow-hall,
towering stone-mound;
the entrance beneath it
lay unknown to men.
2231
There were many like it,
ancient treasures,
within that earth-hall,
where someone had hidden,
in the early days,
the immense legacy
of a noble race,
their precious belongings,
2235
buried by a grieving,
thoughtful man.
Death swept them off
in those distant times,
and the one man left
of the nation's war-troop
who survived the longest,
mourning his friends,
knew his fate,
that a short time only
2240
would he enjoy
the heaped treasures.
The waiting barrow
stood high in the fields
near the breaking waves,
new-built on the headland,
its entrance hidden.
That keeper of rings
carried down into it
the goods worth burial,
2245
nobles' treasures,
plated gold,
spoke few words:
"Hod now, earth,
now that heroes may not,
the treasure of princes.
From you long ago
good mean took it.
Death in battle,
awful life-loss,
2250
took every man,
all of my people,
who gave up this [life]
who knew hall-joys.
Now I have none
who might carry sword,
[polish] the cup,
gold-plated vessel;
the company is gone.
The hardened helmet
2255
now must lose
its golden plates;
the stewards sleep on
who were meant to burnish
each battle-mask;
so too the war-coat
that withstood in battle
the bite of iron
across shield-clashings;
it decays like its warrior.
2260
Rusted, the chain-shirt
cannot follow
close by the war-leader,
far beside heroes.
No harp-joy,
play of song-wood--
no good hawk
swings through the hall,
nor the swift roan
stamps in the courtyard.
2265
An evil death
has swept away
many living men."
Thus in his grief
he mourned aloud,
alone, for them all;
in constant sorrow
both day and night
till the tide of death
reached his heart.
2270
The old dawn-scorcher
then found the hoard
in the open barrow,
that hateful burner
who seeks the dead-mounds,
smooth flame-snake,
flies through the dark
wrapped round in fires;
earth-dwellers
[fear him greatly.]
2275
It is his to seek out
[treaure] in the earth,
where he guards for ages
heathen gold;
gains nothing by it.
Three hundred years
that harm to the people
held one of its hoards,
dwelt in the earth,
mighty in powers,
2280
until a lone man
kindled its fury;
2409
Against his will
he led them to where
2410
he knew a cave,
a certain barrow,
between cliff and beach,
near the crash of waves.
Inside, it was heaped
with delicate gold-work.
The terrible guard,
ready for combat,
protected those riches
ancient in the earth;
2415
no easy bargain
for any man
to try to acquire them.
Then he who survived,
2542
good in his virtues,
in manly customs,
who endured many wars,
the din of battle
when foot-troops clashed,
saw a stone arch
2545
by the barrow-wall,
and a stream flowing out,
its waters afire
with angry flames;
he could not get through,
enter the passage,
without being burned,
come near the hoard
for the dragon's flames.
2715
So Beowulf went,
wise-minded lord,
to sit on a seat
opposite that earth-wall;
he saw how the arches,
giants' stone-work,
held up the earth-cave
by pillars inside,
solid forever.
Then, as I have heard,
2752
Weohstan's son,
hearing the words
of his wounded ruler,
quickly obeyed him,
took his link-shirt,
ringed battle-webbing,
2755
under the barrow's roof.
Once past the seat,
the victorious thane
--brave young kinsman--
saw red gold, jewels,
glittering treasure
lying on the ground,
wondrous wall-hangings;
in the den of the serpent,
the old dawn-flier,
2760
stood golden beakers,
an ancient service,
untended, unpolished,
its garnets broken.
Helmets lay heaped,
old and rusted,
and scores of arm-rings
skillfully twisted.
How easily jewels,
gold in the earth,
2765
can overcome anyone,
hide it who will--
heed it who can!
There he also saw
a golden standard
hanging over the hoard,
intricate weaving
of wondrous skill;
a light came from it
by which he could see
2770
the whole treasure-floor,
gaze on the jewels.
There was no more sign
of the dragon, now dead.
Then, as I've heard,
alone in the barrow,
he rifled the hoard,
old work of giants,
loaded an armful
of gold cups and dishes,
2775
chose as he pleased,
took the standard too,
the brightest emblem.
The company rose,
3030
went down unhappily
under Eagles' Cliff
to look with tears
at the awesome sight.
On the sand they found,
at his hard rest,
with life-soul gone,
the man who had given them
their rings many times.
The terrible armor
3040
of the shining dragon
was scorched by his flames.
In length he measured
fifty foot-paces.
Once he controlled
the air in joys,
had ridden on the wind
throughout the night,
then flew back down
to seek his den.
3045
Now he lay there,
stiff in death,
found no more caves.
Beside him were piled
pitchers and flagons,
dishes in heaps,
and well-wrought swords
eaten by rust,
just as they had lain
in the deeps of the earth
3050
for a thousand years.
In those days,
mighty in its powers,
the gold of the ancients
was wrapped in a spell,
so that no man
might touch that ring-hall
unless the Lord,
Truth-king of victories,
--man's true shield--
3055
should give permission
to whom He wished
to open the hoard,
to whatever man
seemed fit to Him.
Then it was clear
that it had not profited
the one who wrongly
had hidden away
the glittering jewels
3060
under the wall.
First the hoard-guard
had slain a man
unlike other men,
and then that quarrel
was fiercely avenged.
It is a mystery where
a courageous man
will meet his fated end,
no longer dwell
3065
in the mead-hall with [kinsmen].
So it was for Beowulf
when he sought combat,
deadly barrow-guard;
he did not know
how his parting from life
might come about.
The princes of old
had sunk the treasure
so deep with spells,
3070
buried till Doomsday,
that he who plundered
the floor of treasures
would be guilty of sin,
tortured by evils,
bound in hell-chains
at devils' shrines.
None the more readily
had he earlier seen
the gold-bestowing
3075
kindness of the owner.
The eight of them went
3123
down in the barrow,
beneth the evil roof.
He who led them
held a torch,
3125
firelight in hand.
No lots were drawn
over that hoard
once the men saw
how every part of it
lay unguarded
throughout the hall,
gold wasting away.
Little they mourned
that hasty plunder
3130
of the precious goods,
but carried them out,
then pushed the dragon
over the cliff-wall,
gave to the waves
the hoard-keeper,
let the sea take him.
I went inside
and looked all around,
saw the room's treasure,
when the way was clear;
not at all gently
was a journey allowed
under that earth-work.
3090
I quickly siezed
a huge load of treasure,
rich hoard-goods
piled in my arms,
carried them out,
back to my king.
The following notes on the dragon's treasure are from Frederick Rebsamen, page 70:
The treasure was first buried by nameless nobles, who protected it with a curse referred to near the end of the poem. It was much later unearthed and enjoyed for a time by men who gradually died out, leaving the final survivor who delivers the elegy at the beginning of this section and deposits the treasure in a barrow by the sea, where the dragon discovers it. Ironically, Beowulf dies thinking that the treasure he has won will benefit his people; instead, the Geats burn or bury all of it with Beowulf. As the anonymous messenger indicates towards the end, the old curse will probably punish the Geats since they left much of the treasure undestroyed in the burial mound.
The following notes on the dragon's treasure are from Michael Swanton, page 201:
The dragon's hoard has a complicated background; an earlier phase in its history is recounted later in the poem, 3049f. (For certain features in the story compare the parallel account of Sigemund's dragon-fight, note to lines 874-97.) Long ago the treasure had been consigned to the earth by noble princes. A curse is laid on it. In time it is discovered by a warrior race, who make use of it, but apparently succumb to the curse. Mourning, the lone survivor of this people eventually commits the treasure to the earth once again, using an ancient funeral mound for the purpose. The poet seems to imply that the mound had been newly made (2241-3), but later it seems clear that what the poet visualises is a prehistoric megalithic chambered tomb of the kind regarded in the early medieval times as 'the work of giants' (2717, 2774; cf. Saxo Grammaticus, prefatio). There the hoard is found by a dragon, who keeps watch over it for three hundred years, until the theft of a cup rouses his anger and brings about the tragic denouement of the poem.
I had to read the last part of Beowulf many times before I saw any clear evidence that the treasure was previously owned by two different peoples. In lines 2247-2252 it is clear that the man who buried the treasure says to the earth, of the treasure "From you long ago good men took it." which I interpret to mean that the gold was originally mined from the earth, rather than that someone took the treasure itself from the earth. Seamus Heaney makes this idea explicit in his translation, in which he uses the word "mined." In seeking evidence of two different peoples I thought at first that Rebsamen and Swanton must be relying on the idea that this man's own people had taken the treasure itself from that barrow before their downfall, which would mean that some other people had originally put it there. The man who buried the treasure does say that it was taken from the earth long ago, but this could mean that his own people mined the gold long ago (it would depend on the exact connotation of "hyt ær on þé" -- the Old English words translated by Chickering into "From you long ago," by John Porter as "it formerly from you" and by Michael Alexander as "it first from thee").
Now, however, I think that the evidence for two peoples is clearly indicated in lines 2247-2252 and 3047-3057. It seems logical that the "noble" race who originally mined the gold and created the treasure could not be the race which wasted away and left only this man. In addition, the "gold of the ancients was wrapped in a spell" when it was stored away, and it seems clear that it was not the man in lines 2247-2252 who cast the spell, nor his companions, who had all died, but rather some previous race. Although it is not made explicit (as far as I can tell) it seems that this man's people might have wasted away at least partly due to the powers of the spell and the fact that they had used the ancient treasure for their own purposes.
It is worth noting, though, that in many of the translations I have read (particularly the ones from the 19th century) the translators refer to the treasure as having been owned by only a single people: the people who died out and left the man who put it into the cave which eventually was guarded by the dragon. I certainly realize that it is not perfectly clear whether the treasure was owned by one people or two.
I cannot however find any strong evidence to support Frederick Rebsamen's assertion that "the old curse will probably punish the Geats since they left much of the treasure undestroyed in the burial mound."
In lines 2892-2897a, Wiglaf commands a messenger to go back to town, and give a report to the citizens who had not seen the battle with the dragon. The messenger describes the death scene to the citizens, and then, at line 2912, tells them that their enemies will soon find out that Beowulf is dead, and come after them, taking advantage of their new weakness. In lines 2912-2998, he reminds them of past battles between the Geats and other groups, referred to variously as Franks, Frisians, Merovingian, Swedes and Battle-Scylfings. At line 2999, he says that these past battles are the reason why he is expecting trouble to rain down on the Geats, and so, at line 3010, he says that the treasure should be burned in its entirety in Beowulf's funeral pyre. At line 3028, it is written that the messenger's predictions eventually came true.
In lines 3151-3155, a woman sings a grief song, in which she says that she fears that the Geats will soon experience invasion, death, slavery, shame, and terror.
In lines 3156-3168, it is reported that the treasure was buried (not burned, as the messenger had recommended) in Beowulf's funeral mound, along with his ashes (after he was burned), and that the treasure that was buried included the things that Wiglaf and the others had taken from the dragon's cave after Beowulf's death.
It has been asserted by several commentators that the fact that the treasure was buried, rather than being burned in the funeral fire, is going to result in even more trouble for the Geats, but I cannot see any specific evidence for this in my reading of the story. It is possible, however, that I do not understand enough about the subtleties of the Anglo-Saxon writing, or the roles of the messenger, or the grieving woman, and so I have missed something which would indicate that these commentators are correct.
