Once he threw her on the ground, but the second time she threw him,
and drew her glaive to pierce his breast. Strong was the linked mail, and
Beowulf was safe. Then his quick eye lighted on a sword,--a magic, giant
sword; few men could wield it. Quickly he grasped it, and smote the neck
of the sea-woman. Broken were the bone-rings, and down she fell dead. Then
Ecgtheow's son looked around the hall and saw the body of the dead
Grendel. Thirsting to take his revenge, he smote him with his sword. Off
flew the head; but when the red drops of blood touched the magic blade it
melted, leaving but the massive golden hilt in the hands of the hero.
Beowulf took no treasure from the cave, but rose through the waves,
carrying only the head of the monster and the hilt of the sword.
When Hrothgar and his men saw the mere red and boiling with blood they
deemed that Beowulf was dead, and departed to their citadel. Sorrowful sat
the comrades of Beowulf, waiting and hoping against hope for his
reappearance. Up sprang they when they saw him, joyfully greeted him,
relieved him of his bloody armor, and conducted him to Hrothgar,
bearing--a heavy task--the head of Grendel.
When Hrothgar saw the hideous head and the mighty sword-hilt, whose
history he read from its Runic inscriptions, he hailed Beowulf with joy,
and proclaimed him the mightiest of men.
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