Twisted Revenge
I watched him approach, Beowulf, that murderer of children. Oh, how he disgusts me! Beowulf sank slowly to the bottom of my lake, carrying his gleaming sword and armor. I nearly laughed at his folly; those forged metals would not help him here. I would avenge my son!
As I emerged from the shadowy depths, I reached for him, grabbing, tearing at him, but his metal clothes withstood the wrath of my claws. Suddenly, I saw my neighbors, the others who lived down here with me; they came to attack Beowulf too. I snarled lividly, Beowulf was my kill, not theirs. I snatched him up in my arms. Beowulf struggled uselessly against me as I carried him off to my home. There we could fight privately without the others stealing my kill, my chance at revenge.
I carried him effortlessly into my hall and set him down. He drew his sword and swung it at me. Shock spread across Beowulf's face as he realized his sword couldn't harm me. In my grief for my son, rage overtook me and I fought back without hesitation. I hated him for ruining my life and killing my son. All we ever did was eat a couple of humans. Grendel, my dear son, always brought me food. Humans hunt and eat animals yet they call us evil for hunting and eating humans. Now time has come to avenge my poor son's death.
We wrestled on the floor. I was able to bite holes in his the metal he wore on his head and tore it apart. Beowulf still did not give up. Instead he dropped his sword and tried to kill me with his hands. I must say he did have courage. By pure luck, he managed to shove me to the floor; this was the strongest man I had ever fought. But before he could take advantage of his stroke of fortune, I rose again, retaliating against him for that fall. He succumbed to my strength and it was his turn to fall to the floor. I immediately pinned him down and grabbed my dagger.
I was pleased to see that Beowulf had fear in his eyes, he should have fear and respect for me! I raised it and brought it down hard onto his chest. What was this? That metal on his chest sheltered him from the blow. I must have underestimated the strength of his metal clothes. In my shock, Beowulf wormed his way free. He ran over to the wall and snatched my treasured relic on the wall. That brute, Beowulf, ripped down my special sword, a present from the giants with no regard for its value. I realized that if he managed to wield that sword, I would be doomed! The power of that sword was the only thing that could hurt me. But no matter what, I would go down fighting for my son!