Eleven winters I have ravaged this village. Every night I emerge from our home in the mere to wreak havoc on the prey in their dwelling. I am very pleased with my prey: though I return every night, they have yet to leave; they remain trapped in their hall for my amusement. And here I am again, in the blood-tinged glow of Heorot Hall, salty blood flooding my mouth as I bite a man in half. I leave the other half, bored. After 11 years, even raiding these halls gets dull. It's always the same: I rush in, they attack me, they fail, yadda yadda yadda. They have yet to realize that iron cannot harm me. Idiots. I yawn, antagonizing them. Blood drips from my teeth, a gruesome tattoo on the floor. And in this moment, I ask myself what has brought me to this point. I am suddenly struck my how ludicrous my life feels. Why am I here, fighting these people? During this attack, I am forced to question this turn my life took, 11 years ago.
I rip off another man's head, contemplating. I was born in the mere, close to Heorot Hall, just another monster. I was fairly happy, although I did feel that something was…off. Oh, I was normal enough. Like everyone else, I observed the customs of our society to the letter. I was an average hunter, perhaps a bit better. Nothing to make anyone suspect me. I grab a dozen men and toss them against a wall. But I was hiding a secret. I didn't feel like everyone else. I felt…human. I had this odd connection to them, feeling as if I had perhaps once been one of them, in another life…but that was of course absurd. Nevertheless, I felt like I didn't belong with the others. I wanted to meet these humans. I toss one of said humans into the air. But of course I never said anything, not once I knew better. Humans in those days were feared. When I was younger I used to question this fear. "Surely we are stronger than them!" I would cry. I was always shushed, told that they were far superior to us with their weapons. I was always skeptical of that.
One night I had had enough. I snuck out in the middle of the night and trekked to Heorot hall. A man charges me, and I sidestep, sending him running into a table. Once there, I spied on them, these people so like me and unlike me at the same time. And I was so jealous. They had good food, friends, and at night, beds to sleep in. I, I had raw meat, a hierarchal society, and a rock as a pillow. I felt cheated, punished for something I hadn't done. I allow some of the men's swords to hid me; they deflect off my hide. That night I returned home miserable. But it got worse. My community discovered what I had done. It wasn't a punishable offence, but they ridiculed me. It was horrible. If before I had felt out of place, now I felt unwelcome, a stranger in my own society. I decided that day I would join the humans.
That night, again I visited the humans. This time I showed myself. I had expected a welcoming feast, honor at my presence, an overjoyed crowd. This I did not receive. Their faces took on a now familiar look that spoke of fear, revulsion, disgust…I was shocked. I start to wind things down, knocking over the last few men. I was surprised; I let out a bellow of shock. This seemed to wake something up in them, and they charged at me, swords and spears and shields appearing out of nowhere. Stunned, I rushed from the hall. I, too, leave the hall, now a mess of humanity at its worst. I was devastated. An outsider in both communities, shunned from anyone I had ever been close to or had hoped to be close too, I felt a rage like no other. I decided then and there that I would never again rely on anyone, that the only way to make sure I was never again hurt by these foul beasts was to fight everyone. And this I have done for the last 11 years.
Walking home, I realize I made the right decision all those years ago. The only thing I have now is myself and my fights, and I will have that forever. You can't trust anyone, they will turn on you; they won't try to accept you. All I know is that I will always fight the humans of Heotor Hall. And I shall always win.
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