The Story of Grendel
February 13th 2011
Nicole Matthews
Grendel stumbled through the moors back to his filthy husk of a lair, drunk on the spilt blood of the Danes. Puss oozed from his ears as evil descended upon him again. The slaughter had been quick; Herot had been left unguarded, the men in swinish sleep on mead. He had taken many but his true target remained: Hrothgar, kept safe on that hateful throne blessed by the Almighty.
Grendel shuddered as his distorted ears rang with the sounds of merriment; he roared his outrage to the heavens, only to receive the cold silence of the softly drifting storm clouds as they gathered anticipating the upcoming battle. Impossible! They had lost men not a fortnight ago! Stomping angrily through the swampy marshes towards Herot, but something was strange: it was defended! In Grendel's many months of pillaging Hrothgar's mead hall never once had it been defended! Grendel stomped up to the guard and batted them away as if they were gnats; he tore the great door off its iron hinges with no effort and stalked inside. The room was dimly illuminated by the gruesome light cast by his eyes; Hrothgar's men lay asleep, drunk on mead amongst foreign warriors. Geats, if Grendel recalled correctly. His stomach growled in anticipation over the fresh blood and human flesh it was going to digest. A grin seeped across Grendel's features as he recalled his last meal with mead in the blood of his kill.
In blind gluttony Grendel snatched up a Geat, proceeded to rip him in half with his jaws and drank his blood; the iron-honey taste, sweet and tangy danced across his tongue. Ending the pitiful human's life in one delicious swoop, Grendel moved on. Stepping lethargically over to the next body, for he was in no hurry, and plucked up his next victim. Only to be grasped instead! Grendel gave an inhuman shriek as his own claws that had broken the backs and necks of many a hero, were halted by the strength of one unnamed warrior. Fear engulfed Grendel's mind, a sickness that entombed his entire being, screaming RUN! But he couldn't for the warrior held his claws fast; it was blood the Geat wanted, not a fight, not Grendel's retreat, not glory; blood. The warrior held Grendel fast, turned and slammed him into a banquet table, heavy with the remains of a feast, sending bits of foul and mutton spewing across the ale-soaked stone floor.
As they battled, the evil grew around Grendel, causing black bile to work its way up his throat and slowly seep out the corners of his mouth. He roared in anguish as the Geat began to win Fate's favour towards victory. Glancing around Grendel noticed his foe's cohorts begin to raise the iron and steel weapons against him; as if they could possibly be of harm! Grendel had bewitched human weapons long ago to be unable to harm him. Yet still the fear was rising within him. Maybe the long feud with the Almighty is finally drawing to a close? Grendel mused. For Cain, was unfavoured by God's grace, so too then was his son: Grendel. Yet still his foe was adamant, Grendel was to five up his blood or his life. Frantic he called forth his power, yet none came. He was hapless; the warrior had taken his strength. Writhing in pain Grendel twisted about, until finally a release was triggered; a meagre means of escape, but he was desperate. He twisted his shoulder until tendons snapped, leaving ringing echoes in his puss-filled ears. Finally the sickening pop and click of his polluted bone-marrow cracking resounded inside his tumour-engulfed brain; He was free!Grendel turned and ran far from Herot and that hateful warrior –who was proudly holding Grendel's arm as some demented trophy– back to his lair in the non-judgemental moors.
Grendel sat, favouring his socket as gout and coagulation set in on his blackened, exposed inner-flesh. He could hear it, the laughter of Hrothgar's men and the Geats, they thought he was done for, they… Grendel's body shook as the disease bread from evil plagued him. He knew he was not long for this world, there was no hope. Slowly Grendel approached his mother's pool and descended into the water to receive his mother's final embrace.
The last thing Grendel was conscious of was his mother's soft humming.
