He came, with wrathful step and eyes aflame, bursting open the iron bolts
of the great door, and laughing at the goodly array of men sleeping before
him. On one he laid hands and drank his blood; then he clutched the
watchful Beowulf.
Ne'er had he found a foe like this! Fearful, he turned to flee to his home
in the fen, but the grip of Beowulf forbade flight. Strongly was Heorot
builded, but many a gilded mead-bench was torn from the walls as the two
combated within the hall. The sword blade was of no avail, and him must
Beowulf bring to death by the strength of his grip alone. At last, with a
scream that struck terror to every Dane's heart, the monster sprang from
Beowulf and fled, leaving in the warrior's grasp his arm and shoulder.
Great was Beowulf's joy, for he knew that the wound meant death.
When the king and queen came forth in the morning with their nobles and
maids, and saw the grisly arm of Grendel fastened upon the roof of Heorot,
they gave themselves up to rejoicing. Gifts were heaped upon Beowulf,--a
golden crest, a banner bright, a great and goodly sword and helm and
corselet, eight steeds with headstalls ornamented with gold plate, and a
richly decorated saddle. Nor were his comrades forgotten, but to each were
given rich gifts.
When the mead-hall had been cleansed and refitted, they gathered therein
and listened to the song of the bard who told how Healfdene's knight,
Hnaef, smote Finn.
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