The noble Beowulf valiantly sallies forth to engage in mortal combat with Grendel's mother. This is an immensely brave action indeed, even by the standards of a hardy Nordic warrior. For Grendel's mother is fighting mad. Her son, even more repulsive and maniacal than she, has been slain by Beowulf, and now she's thirsting for bloody revenge.
As Beowulf finds himself unceremoniously thrust into the vile creature's dank and dingy den, he knows that he...
The noble Beowulf valiantly sallies forth to engage in mortal combat with Grendel's mother. This is an immensely brave action indeed, even by the standards of a hardy Nordic warrior. For Grendel's mother is fighting mad. Her son, even more repulsive and maniacal than she, has been slain by Beowulf, and now she's thirsting for bloody revenge.
As Beowulf finds himself unceremoniously thrust into the vile creature's dank and dingy den, he knows that he must do or die. Grendel's mother's maternal instincts have kicked in hard and she's just nearly killed Beowulf after snatching him up from the inky depths of the lake and dumping him deep in the bowels of her foul, cavernous lair.
At a time like this, what a noble Nordic warrior really needs is a trusty sword. But Hrunting isn't up to the job. Beowulf's sword, lent to him by Unferth, thegn of Hrothgar, king of the Danes, cannot penetrate the monster's hide. It's tougher than a suit of armor. But then, as luck would have it, Beowulf happens to find another sword just lying around the cave. Now this is a sword. It looks a whole lot better than Hrunting, for one thing. It truly is an awesome spectacle to behold; a thing of beauty. Its hilt is so gorgeous, so wonderfully ornate; it'd almost be a shame to get blood on it. And as for that blade! It is quite simply magnificent, much longer than your average blade, that's for sure. Poor Hrunting looks like a blunt pen-knife by comparison.
So noble Beowulf gleefully takes the super sword in his hands and splits the vile sea-hag right down the middle. Grendel's mother fought the good fight, but now it's all over. And Beowulf's not done just yet. By way of an encore he hacks the head off the monster. He needs something to show the folks back home that he really did perform this noble deed. And the head would make such a nice trophy back at Heorot, tastefully adorning the walls alongside Grendel's severed arm. Together, they should create just the right ambiance for the Danes' next lusty meat feast.
After Beowulf has lopped off the head, the mighty sword starts to melt. Grendel's blood must have had magic properties. The moral of this tale? If you're going to slay vengeful old sea-hags still brooding over their sons' deaths, then you might like to take along a proper weapon with you, one forged by a race of magical giants. It's certainly no good charging into mortal combat with a monster using a sword made by mere mortals, even if it has been so graciously loaned to you by Unferth, thegn of Hrothgar, king of the Danes.
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