The Beowulf That They Don't Teach in Schools

Grendel, suspicious of Beowulf's intentions with Hrothgar, set out to spy on the men. "It is not well," he thought, "when one's enemies receive reinforcement from the sea, nor when men value life so little." His efforts to evict the interlopers from his ancestral land have thus far proven ineffective. They are willing to give more life than he is willing to take. His mother knows little of their presence, and nothing of his campaign against them.

Sigrún

Glad that Grendel was gone _ absent from Grethe
Had wandered into the world _ and would not return
Until the sky-spirit _ began to nod,
Sigrún prepared the palace _ to make proud
Her beloved son _ that bright boy
Her only child _ who she cherished
More dearly than any miser _ more greedily than Midas
Relished in his riches. _ That son of Rasmus
Was the song in her heart _ and spring in her step.
She cleared floors _ and filled rooms
With glowing globes _ glorious fire from her fingertips
Driving out shadows _ that might dare to disturb
The gaieties to come _ with their lengthening
Fingers grasping at guests _ and teasing Time's hands
_ _ To a more fleeting tempo.
She hummed a tune _ as she hammer-headed nails
That sprouted up _ from the ancient floor
Like the thorns _ of a creeping briar
Ready to tear _ at tender feet,
As she honed Hjördís _ to a handsome edge
A singing sharpness _ that was Sigrún's song.
A dance floor cannot _ be dangerous to down-steppers
Nor a dull blade botch _ a beat in a syncopated battle
Even a stone-soled spectator _ and tone deaf friar
Know that so things are _ so they have been
And so they will stay. _ The security in uncertainty
The comfort in conflict _ and the cares of queens
Who keep their castles _ as if entire kingdoms.
Thus she prepared her home _ for that honored hour
When she and countless _ other creatures of the deep
Would spin about _ the light-soaked space
Boasting bright garb _ and feasting bountifully
On the wild riches _ found in her realm.
Each turret and tower _ teeming with friends
Each wall and window _ echoing with lifejoy
Such as comes _ solely from creatures
Without wickedness _ or sorrow weighty
Upon their hearts. _ Happy in life
And careful not to squander _ that coveted gift.
She prepared her home _ for that honored hour
When she and that _ shining horde
Would spar with words _ and also weapons
Carefully building their minds _ as well as their bodies
In strength and agility _ in tribute to their wonder
_ _ And in merriment.
She threw wide the windows _ and wove wildflowers
Into awesome arrangements _ their aroma borne
By a current _ which came cool and calm
And danced with the light _ that leapt about
From glistening crystal _ to glittering gold
Of a castle constructed _ of countless treasures:
Looking glass walls _ laced with webs
Of gold speckled _ with spidergems and stardust.
It was an ancient place _ of another age
Of souls long at slumber _ and songs long since sung.
The stars that shone _ upon those spires
When first they rose _ reaching ever upwards
Were not those _ which would throw down their light
On the night anticipated _ by Sigrún, anxious.
She readied her realm _ and rallied guests
To make revelry _ and when the time came
Give praising voices _ to glory-born Grendel
Who had seen _ his seventeenth September sun.


Grendel, aware of Beowulf's arrival and receipt by Hrothgar, goes to Herot to uncover their scheme. Wearing a disguise, he loiters outside the hall's main entrance, carefully collecting intelligence.

The Plot Against Grendel

They awoke with heads _ heavy from mead
And purses light _ from the lavish bacchanal
Of the bygone night. _ Those noble warriors
Those pillars among men _ who muttered of righteousness
During daylight hours _ not daring to offend
The eye of God _ but who gargled of misdeeds
Boasted of brutality _ and bore shame on banners
When that beautiful orb _ blinked, casting
The world into darkness _ and the Danes into sin
And with them the Gaets _ were as glorious by day
And as wicked by night _ as any warped man
_ _ Of Hrothgar's guard, court, or country.
These shamers of mankind _ malady upon the land
And upon the people _ and upon peace
Awoke with heavy heads _ and hearts hoping
To lessen a lord _ of the land that was
Rightfully his, _ yet wanted by Hrothgar.
Their tongues beat _ like booming war-drums
And their eyes glinted _ with dreams of gold
And of bloody scenes, _ shimmered at the thought
Of weeping wounds _ wrapped around the form
Of a majestic youth. _ A monster, said they
Unto the peasants. _ A demon, unto the priests.
Lies carefully concocted _ to crust the minds
Of men who may _ remember and respect
The truth of Grendel _ and his great ancestors.
All this he _ heard, and hated
His vehemence waxing _ with every word,
Spoken or soundless, _ that slithered
From foul tongues _ and fermented minds.
His anger festered _ and his heart feared,
The lord in him _ livid about this scheming
And the mortal _ mightily mindful of death:
A prince of peace _ perceiving war
In all its terror _ for his first time.
"Surely," thought he, _ "something can be said
Words can be woven _ with which we
Can curtail conflict. _ Cruel as they are
Their blood is also red _ their bones also break
They live and love _ and so, life-loving,
Cannot care _ to create death.
Let us talk together _ as men of thought.
Let me join them _ that we may joust
With words rather _ than with weapons."
And so speaking _ he swung wide
The double doors _ upon a drinking hall
Seasoned with sworded enemies _ and suddenly silent.

*This work inspired by characters and events from the Beowulf epic.