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Out of the darkness, the monster began to walk. The Warriors slept
in that gabled hall where they hoped that He would keep them safe from evil,
guard them From death till the end of their days was determined and the
thread should be broken. But Beowulf lay wakeful, watching, waiting, eager
to meet His enemy, and angry at the thought of his coming. |
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Out from the march, from the foot of misty Hills and bogs, bearing
God's hatred, Grendel came, hoping to kill Anyone he could trap on this
trip to high Herot. |
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He moved quickly through the cloudy night, up from his swamp land,
sliding silently toward that gold-shining hall. He had visited Hrothgar's
home before, knew the way--but never, before nor after that night, found
Herot defended so firmly, his reception so harsh. |
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He journeyed, forever joyless, straight to the door, then snapped it open,
tore its iron fasteners with a touch and rushed angrily over the threshold.
He strode quickly across the inlaid floor, snarling and fierce: his eyes
gleamed in the darkness, burned with a gruesome light. Then he stopped,
seeing the hall crowded with sleeping warriors, stuffed with rows of young
soldiers resting together. And his heart laughed, he relished the sight,
intended to tear the life from those bodies by morning, the monster's minds
was hot with the thought of food and the feasting his belly would soon know.
But fate, that night, intended Grendel to gnaw the broken bones of his last
human supper. |
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Human eyes were watching his evil steps, waiting to see his swift
hard claws. Grendel snatched at the first Geat he came to, ripped him apart,
cut his body to bits with powerful jaws, drank the blood from his veins
and bolted him down, hands and feet, death and Grendel's great teeth came
together, snapping life shut. |