So. The Spear-Danes in days gone by and the kings who ruled them had courage and greatness. We have heard of those princes' heroic campaigns. There was Shield Sheafson, scourge of many tribes,  a wrecker of mead-benches, rampaging among foes. This terror of the hall-troops had come far. A foundling to start with, he would flourish later on as his powers waxed and his worth was proved. In the end each clan on the outlying coasts beyond the whale-road had to yield to him                                             10 and begin to pay tribute. That was one good king. Afterwards a boy-child was born to Shield, a cub in the yard, a comfort sent by God to that nation. He knew what they had tholed, the long times and troubles they'd come through without a leader; so the Lord of Life, the glorious Almighty, made this man renowned. Shield had fathered a famous son: Beow's name was known through the north. And a young prince must be prudent like that,                                         20 giving freely while his father lives so that afterwards in age when fighting starts steadfast companions will stand by him and hold the line. Behaviour that's admired is the path to power among people everywhere. Shield was still thriving when his time came and he crossed over into the Lord's keeping. His warrior band did what he bade them when he laid down the law among the Danes: they shouldered him out to the sea's flood,                                              30 the chief they revered who had long ruled them. A ring-whorled prow rode in the harbour, ice-clad, outbound, a craft for a prince. They stretched their beloved lord in his boat, laid out by the mast, amidships, the great ring-giver. Far-fetched treasures were piled upon him, and precious gear. I never heard before of a ship so well furbished with battle tackle, bladed weapons and coats of mail. The massed treasure                                                   40 was loaded on top of him: it would travel far on out into the ocean's sway. They decked his body no less bountifully with offerings than those first ones did who cast him away when he was a child and launched him alone out over the waves. And they set a gold standard up high above his head and let him drift to wind and tide, bewailing him and mourning their loss. No man can tell,                                                50 no wise man in hall or weathered veteran knows for certain who salvaged that load. Then it fell to Beow to keep the forts. He was well regarded and ruled the Danes for a long time after his father took leave of his life on earth. And then his heir, the great Halfdane, held sway for as long as he lived, their elder and warlord. He was four times a father, this fighter prince: one by one they entered the world,                                                        60 Heorogar, Hrothgar, the good Halga and a daughter, I have heard, who was Onela's queen, a balm in bed to the battle-scarred Swede. The fortunes of war favoured Hrothgar. Friends and kinsmen flocked to his ranks, young followers, a force that grew to be a mighty army. So his mind turned to hall-building: he handed down orders for men to work on a great mead-hall meant to be a wonder of the world forever;                                           70 it would be his throne-room and there he would dispense his God-given goods to young and old— but not the common land or people's lives. Far and wide through the world, I have heard, orders for work to adorn that wallstead were sent to many peoples. And soon it stood there, finished and ready, in full view, the hall of halls. Heorot was the name he had settled on it, whose utterance was law. Nor did he renege, but doled out rings                                                   80 and torques at the table. The hall towered, its gables wide and high and awaiting a barbarous burning. That doom abided, but in time it would come: the killer instinct unleashed among in-laws, the blood-lust rampant. Then a powerful demon, a prowler through the dark, nursed a hard grievance. It harrowed him to hear the din of the loud banquet every day in the hall, the harp being struck and the clear song of a skilled poet                                                         90 telling with mastery of mans beginnings, how the Almighty had made the earth a gleaming plain girdled with waters; in His splendour He set the sun and the moon to be earth's lamplight, lanterns for men, and filled the broad lap of the world with branches and leaves; and quickened life in every other thing that moved. So times were pleasant for the people there until finally one, a fiend out of hell,                                                         100 began to work his evil in the world. Grendel was the name of this grim demon haunting the marches, marauding round the heath and the desolate fens; he had dwelt for a time in misery among the banished monsters, Cain's clan, whom the Creator had outlawed and condemned as outcasts. For the killing of Abel the Eternal Lord had exacted a price: Cain got no good from committing that murder because the Almighty made him anathema                                             110 and out of the curse of his exile there sprang ogres and elves and evil phantoms and the giants too who strove with God time and again until He gave them their reward. So, after nightfall, Grendel set out for the lofty house, to see how the Ring-Danes were settling into it after their drink, and there he came upon them, a company of the best asleep from their feasting, insensible to pain and human sorrow. Suddenly then                                                         120 the God-cursed brute was creating havoc; greedy and grim, he grabbed thirty men from their resting places and rushed to his lair, flushed up and inflamed from the raid, blundering back with the butchered corpses. Then as dawn brightened and the day broke Grendel's powers of destruction were plain: their wassail was over, they wept to heaven and mourned under morning. Their mighty prince, the storied leader, sat stricken and helpless,                                           130 humiliated by the loss of his guard, bewildered and stunned, staring aghast at the demon's trail, in deep distress. He was numb with grief, but got no respite for one night later merciless Grendel struck again with more gruesome murders. Malignant by nature, he never showed remorse. It was easy then to meet with a man shifting himself to a safer distance to bed in the bothies, for who could be blind                                          140 to the evidence of his eyes, the obviousness of that hall-watcher's hate? Whoever escaped kept a weather-eye open and moved away. So Grendel ruled in defiance of right, one against all, until the greatest house in the world stood empty, a deserted wallstead. For twelve winters, seasons of woe, the lord of the Shieldings suffered under his load of sorrow; and so, before long, the news was known over the whole world.                                           150 Sad lays were sung about the beset king, the vicious raids and ravages of Grendel, his long and unrelenting feud, nothing but war; how he would never parley or make peace with any Dane nor stop his death-dealing nor pay the death-price. No counsellor could ever expect fair reparation from those rabid hands. All were endangered; young and old were hunted down by that dark death-shadow                                       160 who lurked and swooped in the long nights on the misty moors; nobody knows where these reavers from hell roam on their errands. So Grendel waged his lonely war, inflicting constant cruelties on the people, atrocious hurt. He took over Heorot, haunted the glittering hall after dark, but the throne itself, the treasure-seat, he was kept from approaching; he was the Lord's outcast. These were hard times, heart-breaking                                                  170 for the prince of the Shieldings; powerful counsellors, the highest in the land, would lend advice, plotting how best the bold defenders might resist and beat off sudden attacks. Sometimes at pagan shrines they vowed offerings to idols, swore oaths that the killer of souls might come to their aid and save the people. That was their way, their heathenish hope; deep in their hearts they remembered hell. The Almighty Judge                                            180 of good deeds and bad, the Lord God, Head of the Heavens and High King of the World, was unknown to them. Oh, cursed is he who in time of trouble has to thrust his soul in the fire's embrace, forfeiting help; he has nowhere to turn. But blessed is he who after death can approach the Lord and find friendship in the Father's embrace. So that troubled time continued, woe that never stopped, steady affliction                                                       190 for Halfdane's son, too hard an ordeal. There was panic after dark, people endured raids in the night, riven by the terror. When he heard about Grendel, Hygelac's thane was on home ground, over in Geatland. There was no one else like him alive. In his day, he was the mightiest man on earth, high-born and powerful. He ordered a boat that would ply the waves. He announced his plan: to sail the swan's road and search out that king,                                     200 the famous prince who needed defenders. Nobody tried to keep him from going, no elder denied him, dear as he was to them. Instead, they inspected omens and spurred his ambition to go, whilst he moved about like the leader he was, enlisting men, the best he could find; with fourteen others the warrior boarded the boat as captain, a canny pilot along coast and currents. Time went by, the boat was on water,                                                   210 in close under the cliffs. Men climbed eagerly up the gangplank, sand churned in surf, warriors loaded a cargo of weapons, shining war-gear in the vessel's hold, then heaved out, away with a will in their wood-wreathed ship. Over the waves, with the wind behind her and foam at her neck, she flew like a bird until her curved prow had covered the distance and on the following day, at the due hour,                                              220 those seafarers sighted land, sunlit cliffs, sheer crags and looming headlands, the landfall they sought. It was the end of their voyage and the Geats vaulted over the side, out on to the sand, and moored their ship. There was a clash of mail and a thresh of gear. They thanked God for that easy crossing on a calm sea. When the watchman on the wall, the Shieldings' lookout whose job it was to guard the sea-cliffs,                                                 230 saw shields glittering on the gangplank and battle-equipment being unloaded he had to find out who and what the arrivals were. So he rode to the shore, this horseman of Hrothgar's, and challenged them in formal terms, flourishing his spear: "What kind of men are you who arrive rigged out for combat in coats of mail, sailing here over the sea-lanes in your steep-hulled boat? I have been stationed                                     240 as lookout on this coast for a long time. My job is to watch the waves for raiders, any danger to the Danish shore. Never before has a force under arms disembarked so openly—not bothering to ask if the sentries allowed them safe passage or the clan had consented. Nor have I seen a mightier man-at-arms on this earth than the one standing here: unless I am mistaken, he is truly noble. This is no mere                                                             250 hanger-on in a hero's armour. So now, before you fare inland as interlopers, I have to be informed about who you are and where you hail from. Outsiders from across the water, I say it again: the sooner you tell where you come from and why, the better." The leader of the troop unlocked his word-hoard; the distinguished one delivered this answer: "We belong by birth to the Geat people                                                  260 and owe allegiance to Lord Hygelac. In his day, my father was a famous man, a noble warrior-lord named Ecgtheow. He outlasted many a long winter and went on his way. All over the world men wise in counsel continue to remember him. We come in good faith to find your lord and nation's shield, the son of Halfdane. Give us the right advice and direction. We have arrived here on a great errand                                                   270 to the lord of the Danes, and I believe therefore there should be nothing hidden or withheld between us. So tell us if what we have heard is true about this threat, whatever it is, this danger abroad in the dark nights, this corpse-maker mongering death in the Shieldings' country. I come to proffer my wholehearted help and counsel. I can show the wise Hrothgar a way to defeat his enemy and find respite—                                                     280 if any respite is to reach him, ever. I can calm the turmoil and terror in his mind. Otherwise, he must endure woes and live with grief for as long as his hall stands at the horizon, on its high ground." Undaunted, sitting astride his horse, the coast-guard answered, "Anyone with gumption and a sharp mind will take the measure of two things: what's said and what's done. I believe what you have told me: that you are a troop                               290 loyal to our king. So come ahead with your arms and your gear, and I will guide you. What's more, I'll order my own comrades on their word of honour to watch your boat down there on the strand—keep her safe in her fresh tar, until the time comes for her curved prow to preen on the waves and bear this hero back to Geatland. May one so valiant and venturesome come unharmed through the clash of battle."                                             300 So they went on their way. The ship rode the water, broad-beamed, bound by its hawser and anchored fast. Boar-shapes flashed above their cheek-guards, the brightly forged work of goldsmiths, watching over those stem-faced men. They marched in step, hurrying on fill the limbered hall rose before them, radiant with gold. Nobody on earth knew of another building like it. Majesty lodged there,                                                       310 its light shone over many lands. So their gallant escort guided them to that dazzling stronghold and indicated the shortest way to it; then the noble warrior wheeled on his horse and spoke these words: "It is time for me to go. May the Almighty Father keep you and in His kindness watch over your exploits. I'm away to the sea, back on alert against enemy raiders." It was a paved track, a path that kept them                                              320 in marching order. Their mail-shirts glinted, hard and hand-linked; the high-gloss iron of their armour rang. So they duly arrived in their grim war-graith and gear at the hall, and, weary from the sea, stacked wide shields of the toughest hardwood against the wall, then collapsed on the benches; battle-dress and weapons clashed. They collected their spears in a seafarers' stook, a stand of greyish tapering ash. And the troops themselves                                                  330 were as good as their weapons. Then a proud warrior questioned the men concerning their origins: "Where do you come from, carrying these decorated shields and shirts of mail, these cheek-hinged helmets and javelins? I am Hrothgar's herald and officer. I have never seen so impressive or large an assembly of strangers. Stoutness of heart, bravery not banishment, must have brought you to Hrothgar." The man whose name was known for courage,                                        340 the Geat leader, resolute in his helmet, answered in return: "We are retainers from. Hygelac's band. Beowulf is my name. If your lord and master, the most renowned son of Halfdane, will hear me out and graciously allow me to greet him in person, I am ready and willing to report my errand." Wulfgar replied, a Wendel chief renowned as a warrior, well known for his wisdom and the temper of his mind: "I will take this message,                                350 in accordance with your wish, to our noble king, our dear lord, friend of the Danes, the giver of rings. I will go and ask him about your coming here, then hurry back with whatever reply it pleases him to give." With that he turned to where Hrothgar sat, an old man among retainers; the valiant follower stood four-square in front of his king: he knew the courtesies. Wulfgar addressed his dear lord:                                                             360 "People from Geatland have put ashore. They have sailed far over the wide sea. They call the chief in charge of their band by the name of Beowulf. They beg, my lord, an audience with you, exchange of words and formal greeting. Most gracious Hrothgar, do not refuse them, but grant them a reply From their arms and appointment, they appear well born and worthy of respect, especially the one who has led them this far: he is formidable indeed."                                   370 Hrothgar, protector of Shieldings, replied: "I used to know him when he was a young boy. His father before him was called Ecgtheow. Hrethel the Geat gave Ecgtheow his daughter in marriage. This man is their son, here to follow up an old friendship. A crew of seamen who sailed for me once with a gift-cargo across to Geatland returned with marvellous tales about him: a thane, they declared, with the strength of thirty                                       380 in the grip of each hand. Now Holy God has, in His goodness, guided him here to the West-Danes, to defend us from Grendel. This is my hope; and for his heroism I will recompense him with a rich treasure. Go immediately, bid him and the Goats he has in attendance to assemble and enter. Say, moreover, when you speak to them, they are welcome to Denmark." At the door of the hall, Wulfgar duly delivered the message:                                                         390 "My lord, the conquering king of the Danes, bids me announce that he knows your ancestry; also that he welcomes you here to Heorot and salutes your arrival from across the sea. You are free now to move forward to meet Hrothgar, in helmets and armour, but shields must stay here and spears be stacked until the outcome of the audience is cleat" The hero arose, surrounded closely by his powerful thanes. A party remained                                                 400 under orders to keep watch on the arms; the rest proceeded, led by their prince under Heorot's roof. And standing on the hearth in webbed links that the smith had woven, the fine-forged mesh of his gleaming mail-shirt, resolute in his helmet, Beowulf spoke: "Greetings to Hrothgar. I am Hygelac's kinsman, one of his hall-troop. When I was younger, I had great triumphs. Then news of Grendel, hard to ignore, reached me at home:                                                         410 sailors brought stories of the plight you suffer in this legendary hall, how it lies deserted, empty and useless once the evening light hides itself under heaven's dome. So every elder and experienced councilman among my people supported my resolve to come here to you, King Hrothgar, because all knew of my awesome strength. They had seen me boltered in the blood of enemies when I battled and bound five beasts,                                                       420 raided a troll-nest and in the night-sea slaughtered sea-brutes. I have suffered extremes and avenged the Geats (their enemies brought it upon themselves, I devastated them). Now I mean to be a match for Grendel, settle the outcome in single combat. And so, my request, O king of Bright-Danes, dear prince of the Shieldings, friend of the people and their ring of defence, my one request is that you won't refuse me, who have come this far,                                  430 the privilege of purifying Heorot, with my own men to help me, and nobody else. I have heard moreover that the monster scorns in his reckless way to use weapons; therefore, to heighten Hygelac's fame and gladden his heart, I hereby renounce sword and the shelter of the broad shield, the heavy war-board: hand-to-hand is how it will be, a life-and-death fight with the fiend. Whichever one death fells                                            440 must deem it a just judgement by God. If Grendel wins, it will be a gruesome day; he will glut himself on the Geats in the war-hall, swoop without fear on that flower of manhood as on others before. Then my face won't be there to be covered in death: he will carry me away as he goes to ground, gorged and bloodied; he will run gloating with my raw corpse and feed on it alone, in a cruel frenzy, fouling his moor-nest. No need then                                                          450 to lament for long or lay out my body: if the battle takes me, send back this breast-webbing that Weland fashioned and Hrethel gave me, to Lord Hygelac. Fate goes ever as fate must." Hrothgar, the helmet of Shieldings, spoke. "Beowulf, my friend, you have travelled here to favour us with help and to fight for us. There was a feud one time, begun by your father. With his own hands he had killed Heatholaf,                                              460 who was a Wulfing; so war was looming and his people, in fear of it, forced him to leave. He came away then over rolling waves to the South-Danes here, the sons of honour. I was then in the first flush of kingship, establishing my sway over all the rich strongholds of this heroic land. Heorogar, my older brother and the better man, also a son of Halfdane's, had died. Finally I healed the feud by paying:                                                            470 I shipped a treasure-trove to the Wulfings and Ecgtheow acknowledged me with oaths of allegiance. "It bothers me to have to burden anyone with all the grief Grendel has caused and the havoc he has wreaked upon us in Heorot, our humiliations. My household-guard are on the wane, fate sweeps them away into Grendel's clutches--                                      but God can easily halt these raids and harrowing attacks! "Time and again, when the goblets passed                                                  480 and seasoned fighters got flushed with beer they would pledge themselves to protect Heorot and wait for Grendel with whetted swords. But when dawn broke and day crept in over each empty, blood-spattered bench, the floor of the mead-hall where they had feasted would be slick with slaughter. And so they died, faithful retainers, and my following dwindled. "Now take your place at the table, relish the triumph of heroes to your heart's content."                                             490 Then a bench was cleared in that banquet hall so the Geats could have room to be together and the party sat, proud in their bearing, strong and stalwart. An attendant stood by with a decorated pitcher, pouring bright helpings of mead. And the minstrel sang, filling Heorot with his head-clearing voice, gladdening that great rally of Geats and Danes. From where he crouched at the king's feet, Unferth, a son of Ecglaf's, spoke                                                                 500 contrary words. Beowulf's coming, his sea-braving, made him sick with envy: he could not brook or abide the fact that anyone else alive under heaven might enjoy greater regard than he did: "Are you the Beowulf who took on Breca in a swimming match on the open sea, risking the water just to prove that you could win? It was sheer vanity made you venture out on the main deep. And no matter who tried,                                                 510 friend or foe, to deflect the pair of you, neither would back down: the sea-test obsessed you. You waded in, embracing water, taking its measure, mastering currents, riding on the swell. The ocean swayed, winter went wild in the waves, but you vied for seven nights; and then he outswam you, came ashore the stronger contender. He was cast up safe and sound one morning among the Heathoreams, then made his way                                                 520 to where he belonged in Bronding country, home again, sure of his ground in strongroom and bawn. So Breca made good his boast upon you and was proved right. No matter, therefore, how you may have fared in every bout and battle until now, this time you'll be worsted; no one has ever outlasted an entire night against Grendel." Beowulf, Ecgtheow's son, replied: "Well, friend Unferth, you have had your say                                                 530 about Breca and me. But it was mostly beer that was doing the talking. The truth is this: when the going was heavy in those high waves, I was the strongest swimmer of all. We'd been children together and we grew up daring ourselves to outdo each other, boasting and urging each other to risk our lives on the sea. And so it turned out. Each of us swam holding a sword, a naked, hard-proofed blade for protection                                                   540 against the whale-beasts. But Breca could never move out farther or faster from me than I could manage to move from him. Shoulder to shoulder, we struggled on for five nights, until the long flow and pitch of the waves, the perishing cold, night falling and winds from the north drove us apart. The deep boiled up and its wallowing sent the sea-brutes wild. My armour helped me to hold out;                                                                550 my hard-ringed chain-mail, hand-forged and linked, a fine, close-fitting filigree of gold, kept me safe when some ocean creature pulled me to the bottom. Pinioned fast and swathed in its grip, I was granted one final chance: my sword plunged and the ordeal was over. Through my own hands, the fury of battle had finished off the sea-beast. "Time and again, foul things attacked me, lurking and stalking, but I lashed out,                                                             560 gave as good as I got with my sword. My flesh was not for feasting on, there would be no monsters gnawing and gloating over their banquet at the bottom of the sea. Instead, in the morning, mangled and sleeping the sleep of the sword, they slopped and floated like the ocean's leavings. From now on sailors would be safe, the deep-sea raids were over for good. Light came from the east, bright guarantee of God, and the waves                                                         570 went quiet; I could see headlands and buffeted cliffs. Often, for undaunted courage, fate spares the man it has not already marked. However it occurred, my sword had killed nine sea-monsters. Such night-dangers and hard ordeals I have never heard of nor of a man more desolate in surging waves. But worn out as I was, I survived, came through with my life. The ocean lifted and laid me ashore, I landed safe                                                                   580 on the coast of Finland.                                     Now I cannot recall any fight you entered, Unferth, that bears comparison. I don't boast when I say that neither you nor Breca were ever much celebrated for swordsmanship or for facing danger on the field of battle. You killed your own kith and kin, so for all your cleverness and quick tongue, you will suffer damnation in the depths of hell. The fact is, Unferth, if you were truly                                                              590 as keen or courageous as you claim to be Grendel would never have got away with such unchecked atrocity, attacks on your king, havoc in Heorot and horrors everywhere. But he knows he need never be in dread of your blade making a mizzle of his blood or of vengeance arriving ever from this quarter-- from the Victory-Shieldings, the shoulderers of the spear. He knows he can trample down you Danes to his heart's content, humiliate and murder                                                     600 without fear of reprisal. But he will find me different. I will show him how Geats shape to kill in the heat of battle. Then whoever wants to may go bravely to mead, when morning light, scarfed in sun-dazzle, shines forth from the south and brings another daybreak to the world." Then the grey-haired treasure-giver was glad; far-famed in battle, the prince of Bright-Danes and keeper of his people counted on Beowulf, on the warrior's steadfastness and his word.                                                   610 So the laughter started, the din got louder and the crowd was happy. Wealhtheow came in, Hrothgar's queen, observing the courtesies. Adorned in her gold, she graciously saluted the men in hall, then handed the cup first to Hrothgar, their homeland's guardian, urging him to drink deep and enjoy it because he was dear to them. And he drank it down like the warlord he was, with festive cheer. So the Helming woman went on her rounds,                                                   620 queenly and dignified, decked out in rings, offering the goblet to all ranks, treating the household and the assembled troop until it was Beowulf's turn to take it from her hand. With measured words she welcomed the Geat and thanked God for granting her wish that a deliverer she could believe in would arrive to ease their afflictions. He accepted the cup, a daunting man, dangerous in action and eager for it always. He addressed Wealhtheow;                                       630 Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, said: "I had a fixed purpose when I put to sea. As I sat in the boat with my band of men, I meant to perform to the uttermost what your people wanted or perish in the attempt, in the fiend's clutches. And I shall fulfil that purpose, prove myself with a proud deed or meet my death here in the mead-hall." This formal boast by Beowulf the Geat pleased the lady well and she went to sit                                                         640 by Hrothgar, regal and arrayed with gold. Then it was like old times in the echoing hall, proud talk and the people happy, loud and excited; until soon enough Halfdane's heir had to be away to his night's rest. He realized that the demon was going to descend on the hall, that he had plotted all day, from dawn-light until darkness gathered again over the world and stealthy night-shapes came stealing forth                                                   650 under the cloud-murk. The company stood as the two leaders took leave of each other: Hrothgar wished Beowulf health and good luck, named him hall-warden and announced as follows: "Never, since my hand could hold a shield have I entrusted or given control of the Danes' hall to anyone but you. Ward and guard it, for it is the greatest of houses. Be on your mettle now, keep in mind your fame, beware of the enemy. There's nothing you wish for                                          660 that won't be yours if you win through alive." Hrothgar departed then with his house-guard. The lord of the Shieldings, their shelter in war, left the mead-hall to lie with Wealhtheow, his queen and bedmate. The King of Glory (as people learned) had posted a lookout who was a match for Grendel, a guard against monsters, special protection to the Danish prince. And the Geat placed complete trust in his strength of limb and the Lord's favour.                                                    670 He began to remove his iron breast-mail, took off the helmet and handed his attendant the patterned sword, a smith's masterpiece, ordering him to keep the equipment guarded. And before he bedded down, Beowulf, that prince of goodness, proudly asserted: "When it comes to fighting, I count myself as dangerous any day as Grendel. So it won't be a cutting edge I'll wield to mow him down, easily as I might.                                                                680 He has no idea of the arts of war, of shield or sword-play, although he does possess a wild strength. No weapons, therefore, for either this night: unarmed he shall face me if face me he dares. And may the Divine Lord in His wisdom grant the glory of victory to whichever side He sees fit." Then down the brave man lay with his bolster under his head and his whole company of sea-rovers at rest beside him.                                                                       690 None of them expected he would ever see his homeland again or get back to his native place and the people who reared him. They knew too well the way it was before, how often the Danes had fallen prey to death in the mead-hall. But the Lord was weaving a victory on His war-loom for the Weather-Geats. Through the strength of one they all prevailed; they would crush their enemy and come through in triumph and gladness. The truth is clear:                                                        700 Almighty God rules over mankind and always has.                             Then out of the night came the shadow-stalker, stealthy and swift; the hall-guards were slack, asleep at their posts, all except one; it was widely understood that as long as God disallowed it, the fiend could not bear them to his shadow-bourne. One man, however, was in fighting mood, awake and on edge, spoiling for action. In off the moors, down through the mist bands                                                  710 God-cursed Grendel came greedily loping. The bane of the race of men roamed forth, hunting for a prey in the high hall. Under the cloud-murk he moved towards it until it shone above him, a sheer keep of fortified gold. Nor was that the first time he had scouted the grounds of Hrothgar's dwelling— although never in his life, before or since, did he find harder fortune or hall-defenders. Spurned and joyless, he journeyed on ahead                                                     720 and arrived at the bawn. The iron-braced door turned on its hinge when his hands touched it. Then his rage boiled over, he ripped open the mouth of the building, maddening for blood, pacing the length of the patterned floor with his loathsome tread, while a baleful light, flame more than light, flared from his eyes. He saw many men in the mansion, sleeping, a ranked company of kinsmen and warriors quartered together. And his glee was demonic,                                                  730 picturing the mayhem: before morning he would rip life from limb and devour them, feed on their flesh; but his fate that night was due to change, his days of ravening had come to an end.                                    Mighty and canny, Hygelac's kinsman was keenly watching for the first move the monster would make. Nor did the creature keep him waiting but struck suddenly and started in; he grabbed and mauled a man on his bench,                                                       740 bit into his bone-lappings, bolted down his blood and gorged on him in lumps, leaving the body utterly lifeless, eaten up hand and foot. Venturing closer, his talon was raised to attack Beowulf where he lay on the bed; he was bearing in with open claw when the alert hero's comeback and armlock forestalled him utterly. The captain of evil discovered himself in a handgrip harder than anything                                                                      750 he had ever encountered in any man on the face of the earth. Every bone in his body quailed and recoiled, but he could not escape. He was desperate to flee to his den and hide with the devil's litter, for in all his days he had never been clamped or cornered like this. Then Hygelac's trusty retainer recalled his bedtime speech, sprang to his feet and got a firm hold. Fingers were bursting, the monster back-tracking the man overpowering.                                              760 The dread of the land was desperate to escape, to take a roundabout road and flee to his lair in the fens. The latching power in his fingers weakened; it was the worst trip the terror-monger had taken to Heorot. And now the timbers trembled and sang, a hall-session that harrowed every Dane inside the stockade: stumbling in fury the two contenders crashed through the building. The hall clattered and hammered, but somehow                                                  770 survived the onslaught and kept standing: it was handsomely structured, a sturdy frame braced with the best of blacksmith's work inside and out. The story goes that as the pair struggled, mead-benches were smashed and sprung off the floor, gold fittings and all. Before then, no Shielding elder would believe there was any power or person upon earth capable of wrecking their horn-rigged hall unless the burning embrace of a fire                                                                    780 engulf it in flame. Then an extraordinary wail arose, and bewildering fear came over the Danes. Everyone felt it who heard that cry as it echoed off the wall, a God-cursed scream and strain of catastrophe, the howl of the loser, the lament of the hell-serf keening his wound. He was overwhelmed, manacled fight by the man who of all men was foremost and strongest in the days of this life. But the earl-troop's leader was not inclined                                                         790 to allow his caller to depart alive: he did not consider that life of much account to anyone anywhere. Time and again, Beowulf's warriors worked to defend their lord's life, laying about them as best they could with their ancestral blades. Stalwart in action, they kept striking out on every side, seeking to cut straight to the soul. When they joined the struggle there was something they could not have known at the time,                                800 that no blade on earth, no blacksmith's art could ever damage their demon opponent. He had conjured the harm from the cutting edge of every weapon. But his going away out of this world and the days of his life would be agony to him, and his alien spirit would travel far into fiends' keeping. Then he who had harrowed the hearts of men with pain and affliction in former times and had given offence also to God                                                                      810 found that his bodily powers failed him. Hygelac's kinsman kept him helplessly locked in a handgrip. As long as either lived, he was hateful to the other. The monster's whole body was in pain, a tremendous wound appeared on his shoulder. Sinews split and the bone-lappings burst. Beowulf was granted the glory of winning; Grendel was driven under the fen-banks, fatally hurt, to his desolate lair. His days were numbered,                                                      820 the end of his life was coming over him, he knew it for certain; and one bloody clash had fulfilled the dearest wishes of the Danes. The man who had lately landed among them, proud and sure, had purged the hall, kept it from harm; he was happy with his nightwork and the courage he had shown. The Geat captain had boldly fulfilled his boast to the Danes: he had healed and relieved a huge distress,  unremitting humiliations,                                                                                     830 the hard fate they'd been forced to undergo, no small affliction. Clear proof of this could be seen in the hand the hero displayed high up near the roof: the whole of Grendel's shoulder and arm, his awesome grasp. Then morning came and many a warrior gathered, as I've heard, around the gift-hall, clan-chiefs flocking from far and near down wide-ranging roads, wondering greatly at the monster's footprints. His fatal departure                                                     840 was regretted by no-one who witnessed his trail, the ignominious marks of his flight where he'd skulked away, exhausted in spirit and beaten in battle, bloodying the path, hauling his doom to the demons' mere. The bloodshot water wallowed and surged, there were loathsome upthrows and overturnings of waves and gore and wound-slurry. With his death upon him, he had dived deep into his marsh-den, drowned out his life                                                              850 and his heathen soul: hell claimed him there. Then away they rode, the old retainers with many a young man following after, a troop on horseback in high spirits on their bay steeds. Beowulf's doings were praised over and over again. Nowhere, they said, north or south between the two seas or under the tall sky on the broad earth was there anyone better to raise a shield or to rule a kingdom.                                                                  860 Yet there was no laying of blame on their lord, the noble Hrothgar; he was a good king.