BEOWULF

I remember a time when you were just a boy, Beowulf, swimming with Breca. You boasted about your strength then, but I heard a different story. I heard that Breca outswam you, and he won the contest.

What a deal has Unferth uttered, drunken with beer, of Breca now? Truth I claim it—that I had more of might in the sea than any man else, more ocean-endurance. We twain had talked, in time of youth, and made our boast,—we were merely boys, striplings still,—to stake our lives far at sea: and so we performed it. Naked swords, as we swam along, we held in hand, with hope to guard us against the whales. Not a whit from me could he float afar o'er the flood of waves, haste o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned. Together we twain on the tides abode five nights full till the flood divided us, churning waves and chillest weather, darkling night, and the northern wind ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge. Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace; yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat, hard and hand-linked, help afforded,—battle-sark braided my breast to ward, garnished with gold. There grasped me firm and haled me to bottom the hated foe, with grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though, to pierce the monster with point of sword, with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.

I remember your father, Beowulf. Long ago, he was a friend of mine. His name was Ecgthew, and Hrethel, the Geat, gave him his daughter in marriage. Our offspring bravely journeyed here to seek me, the steadfast friend. Seafarers have told me that this man has the strength of thirty men in his hands, a brave warrior in battle. I believe God sent him to us from the West, against Grendel's horrors. I hope to reward this good youth for his courageous thought. Hurry and invite them here, your kinfolk. Welcome them to the Danes.

I am Hygelac's kinsman, come from afar for this fight. I have heard tales of your beast. I don't need a sword to face him; he scorns iron. Let's see if he can handle my grip in the dark.

In the misty moorlands, with anger coursing through me, I approach. This time, I found myself drawn to the grand hall again, but not like before. The golden palace of men, shimmering with intricate designs, beckons me now.

I charge into the hall, my eyes blazing with fearsome light. The sleeping heroes and their kin are scattered around, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. I laugh, feeling a thrill of anticipation. But tonight, I face an unexpected adversary.

Hygelac's kinsman stands before me, ready to fight. We clash, our hands locked in a fierce struggle. The pain is unbearable, but I cannot escape. This is not how my nights usually end. This time, it seems, my luck has run out.

I seize a sleeping warrior first, but he fights back. I feel the strength of my grip in his hands. He fears me now, for I am stronger than any he's ever met. But this is not over yet.

The monster tears the warrior apart, but I hold firm. My foe is fierce, unlike any I've faced before. I sense his boast from earlier in the evening. I won't let him win this way.

I grasp my foe, and we wrestle with all our might. The monster tries to escape, but I follow. He knows his fingers can't break free from my grip. This battle is far from over.

I seize the monster with all my might, feeling his fear and weakness. His grip loosens, and I sense an opportunity. With a swift move, I tear off Grendel's arm at the shoulder. The monster screams in pain, but he knows this is his end.

The pain is unbearable, and my strength fades away. Beowulf has proven himself the stronger one tonight. I know that I am dying, and my days on earth are coming to an end. With a final roar, I flee from Heorot, heading for the dark moors and the fens where I will die.