Coarse hair hurtled through the air, borne on cold, biting winds, whipping it into the inky black night, greedily swallowing it from sight. I looked down at my furred limbs, shaking my head over the terrible gashes covering them and a good portion of my massive chest. Boiling red blood splashed across the snow-covered ground, marring its purity. Vile steam rose up from where it dripped steadily, bringing to my nose the stench of what I imagine week old rushes and latrine refuse would smell of. Anticipating my gag reflex and throwing up what little I had in my stomach, I heaved myself to my hind legs, and wobbled unsteadily to my home-away-from-Hell cave. Plopping down onto my moss covered "throne" I reached for the wooden medical container I keep within close range. I stroked my paw fondly over the roughly hewn box, my very first attempt at carving. It contained medicine and bandages, along with the bittersweet memories that always haunt me. Sorrow clogged my throat. Hoping a deep breath would chase it away, I immediately wished I hadn't, for the slashes on my chest began to ache fiercely, and the wounds on my arms began to burn, as if on cue. As quickly as my sluggish state allowed, I lifted the top off and dug around for the gauze and healing plants.
The irony of the situation did not escape me, and as I rifled through my supplies, I couldn't help but fall into a state of melancholy. Big, bad Grendel, the monster everyone feared, reduced to huddling in a cave, feeling self-pity and doubt, instead of gallivanting across the countryside, killing anything and everything just for the pleasure of it. A rueful sigh escaped. If only I had been born the blood thirsty savage mother had wanted.
Not wanting to think on it, I returned to the task at hand: trying to put myself back together. My attempt at forgetting the past was futile, however, as I set about stitching up the wounds. Previous scars covered my body, but they had long ago healed. Yet, the ragged one on my heart would forever remain.
With wicked needle held expertly between index and thumb claws, I deftly started threading it through my flesh, not even wincing at the stabbing pain it elicited. The chore was easy for the most part… until the fresh gashes began to bisect the old. Leathery skin became difficult to pierce as I tried, unsuccessfully, to seal up the recent injuries. Finally, giving vent to my frustration, I snapped the sharpened bone in half. Slouching over in a posture of defeat, I cradled my head in my massive paws and let the inevitable happen, and the memories I try fruitlessly to suppress came crashing down upon me…
Mother stood over me, the blood slicked blade flashing in the green orbs emanating dim glows of light. I struggled against the chains restraining me, wishing that I was older than my mere fifteen years, so I could break free and turn that honed steel against her. Alas, I was not near strong enough to break the magic infused shackles, yet I refused to give in. That's what she wanted. In her eyes I saw her need to watch me beg for mercy. It wasn't going to happen. My body may be weak, but I swore upon all that is unholy, that she would never destroy my will. But she could kill me. I saw the sword swing towards me, hoping that the blade of the giants was strong enough to cut through my neck in one swift chop, so I would not suffer. Instead of slicing through my skin, the blade veered slightly to the left, easily hacking through the fortified handcuffs.
I fell to the floor, but quickly struggled to my feet, so as not to show any sign of feebleness, only to see her pivot around and lumber away. When I knew it was safe, I slid against the slimy cave wall to land with a soft thump on my backside. I needed something to symbolize my victory. Something that would forever stay with me
Searching around for an idea, my eyes lit upon a pointed rock sliver, not two feet from me. Picking it up, I tested the sharpness against the wall, and with much satisfaction, saw it would carry out the job wonderfully. Putting blade to palm, I slowly sliced the center of my paw, cutting through the hair and thick pads, wanting to feel the pain, reveling in the fact that I controlled it for once, not her. When I judged the slice to be the right length and depth, I made a fist of my paw, squeezing out a solitary bead of blood onto my makeshift blade. That willingly shed drop was the binding contract for the vow that I would bring her down.
That was the oath I had made at such a young age, not knowing that soon it would be forged in the burning hot passion of hatred, and tempered with the need for vengeance…
Before long I was able to steal away from that cave of horrors, but instead of experiencing euphoria I felt fear when I lost my way. And then, I heard the sweetest sound carried faintly on the night breeze. Communication between my mother and the other horrible creatures I lived near were generally kept to snarls and grunts. Not knowing what to make of this pleasant noise I froze. Partially from the fear of the unknown. Mostly out of terror of scaring it away. But she found me anyways.
Suddenly, a sliver of light became visible, shining like a beacon in the darkness, and bobbing closer to me. My first look of her is what I still believe to be the true face of goodness. Stepping lightly over the fallen tree limbs and raised roots, she finally came to a stop in front of me. Holding out a slender hand the color of moonbeams, she laid it gently, ever so gently, atop my massive head. I was too entranced to even think of getting away, much less giving in to my baser monsterly instincts and killing her. Stroking my fur, too harsh and coarse for her, I thought, she turned on her heel and began to walk. Fearful that she was abandoning me I got up with an economy of motion that had me standing by her in one thumping heartbeat. I wondered at her lack of fear until she tilted her head up and smiled at me with a light that would rival the sun in the sky. A sun that she had never seen.
Despite her disability, she maneuvered through the woods as nimbly as a forest sprite. Finally, I began to notice the changing surroundings. Instead of trees and wildlife, it began to thin out, revealing the lake. I waited for relief to wash over me at being back, except it never came. Instead, I found myself wanting to stay with this mystical creature that had yet to say a word to me but who conveyed much more with the movements of her body. She seemed to sense my reluctance and laying that gentle hand upon my arm, gestured towards the eerie lake that would lead me to my underwater cave. She pivoted slowly and headed once again to the trees, while I stood watching till the darkness had converged upon her slight frame.
Unsurprisingly, mother didn't even mention my absence. But the gnawing need to meet once again with that enchanting being ate away at me, until I finally gave into the urge to seek her out. Her clean scent had stayed in my snout and I used it to track her down to a lone, solitary hut in the center of the woods. However, when faced with the daunting challenge of actually being with her, I was at a loss for what to do. Amazingly, she seemed to know I was there.
That was the first of many meetings I began with Alexis. I wished I could speak her name just once, but to my everlasting exasperation, I could not get my tongue around the language, so chose to remain silent. Yet, no matter how much I resented my inability to speak as she did, hearing her dulcet voice was all I really needed.
She taught me small things that, as a monster, I would never have to do, but loved that she thought to teach them to me. She showed me basic healing plants and how to stitch up wounds, how to use my claws to do delicate things, such as turning the pages in a book. But of all the things she educated me in, it was the art of whittling that captured my interest. Because of my sharp talons, it was easy for me to cut through the wood and shape it into what I wanted it to be. The first thing I had made was a little box with a swan etched on the lid, that I gave to her as a present. It was shoddy craftsmanship, but she treated it as the finest piece of work in the world.
My life was perfect bliss for the two years I knew Alexis. I had come to love her and hoped that she felt a certain fondness for me as well. But how could she ever love a monster when she herself was perfect? No matter my conflicted feelings on that subject, I never wanted those days to end, but had the terrible sense that my peaceful world was about to be destroyed. My feelings were proven correct.
On that summer day my mother came bursting through the hut's door. I was too caught off guard to do anything but gape like a dolt, and for the rest of eternity I will never forgive myself for not saving my precious Alexis. My mother leaped across the distance, picked up Alexis by her slender neck and tossed her against the wall, as if she were so much trash. After seeing my shattered expression, mother snarled in satisfaction at a job well done, before leaving to stalk through the obliterated doorway.
With as much dexterity as was manageable, I hurried to Alexis's side, kneeling beside her, wishing there was anything I could do. She didn't speak a word of condemnation to me, but I damned myself with every painful breath she took. Spurred on by fear and the overwhelming need to help my love, had me scrabbling for the box I had given her so long ago, the one she had put her medical supplies in. I hastened back to her side, dumping the contents and placing her palm over them, wordlessly asking her to show me what to do. She shook my touch off, however, and pushed the container towards me, in an obvious command for me to take it. I did, setting it aside, and taking her tenderly in my arms, being careful of her shattered bones, and cradled her as if she were a small child. But instead of giving her comfort, she was the one to send me soothing waves with the soft strokes of her hands over my chest, as it was racked with my tormented sobs.
I never wanted her to die but prayed she would be taken to the next life soon, to put her out of the misery she refused to admit she was suffering.
I couldn't stand to hear her, my own slice of sunshine, wheezing for her next breath, refusing to leave me until I was comforted. Eventually, my tears subsiding enough so I could see, I looked down at her angelic face, as she turned her sightless eyes to mine, and with one last gasp of breath, she left me forever. I could not live without her. Only exist. My tortured howl shook the windows in their panes and sent animals scurrying for cover miles around. Villagers bolted, gathering their children and hid behind locked doors. My need for vengeance would not be wasted on them, however. It was all for the truly heinous monster who had birthed me.
I was jerked out of my nightmares by a spine-chilling howl that I knew all too well. My raw throat, tear-stained face, and sweat soaked body was the state I usually awoke from, when I recounted those long ago, torturous memories. I could not face what had happened to her any more than I could undo the vow I made so long ago as a young monster, and then renewed with everything in me when I lost her.
I have been biding my time, waiting for the perfect revenge.
For a while now I have been going to Hrothgar's palace, killing many men, knowing that soon he would send for someone to defeat me. Warrior after warrior has attempted, but none have won, yet I knew it was just a matter of time before he sent for the legendary Beowulf, and how my prayers have been answered. The hall would be crowded with drunken men and this legend, who was a key player in my stratagem. Knowing my plan was finally in motion; I felt renewed with energy and decided to set out for the hall.
I journeyed across the country to get to them, wanting to rend and tear enough to rile up Beowulf's heroic nature. Upon entering the hall, I grabbed the closest man to me, knowing it was not Beowulf, but hoping to incense him to fight me with everything in him. He did not disappoint. The pain he put me through, as he tore my arm off bare handed, was worth it. My plan hinged upon my survival, so I didn't give in to the crippling anguish and fall to the floor, because I still had to lead him to my mother's lair, knowing he would follow. I laid in wait, watching for Beowulf's approach so I could make it to the cave before him. When he came striding towards it, I hurriedly slithered into the water and swam as best as I could with only three working limbs.
I dragged myself into Hell and crawled across the floor to prop myself on the wall, where I was sure to get a good view of the battle. She surged into the room, furious that I was there and raising her claws to rake me over, but before she could, Beowulf showed up, and while it seemed at first that he would fail, I willed him to look up and see the sword that was mounted on the wall. The one that she had used so long ago to torture my young body. The one thing that could kill her. I watched every blow he delivered with absolute joy; my dying body forgotten in the euphoria that her death was happening before me. Alexis was avenged, and although not by my hand, then at least by a man with an honorable heart who could pay unwitting homage to her resting soul.
Although I wanted to stay alert, to take down every detail, the weight of my own death was pressing down upon me, until I finally lay down on my side. Eyelids continued to drift down, but they would fly open at the sound of another chunk of my mother hitting the floor. Beowulf was taking her apart, piece by piece, and I was loving every minute of it. I wanted her to suffer as I had, and as if obeying my silent plea, he chopped, stabbed, and hacked at her with enough force as to inflict unbelievable agony, but not kill her.
My life force was almost gone completely when I saw him lop off her head, to ensure she could not come back to life. Knowing he was coming my way with the intentions of doing the same, I let myself go. I'm coming to be with you, Alexis, I thought on my last shuddering breath. This soulless monster will finally be reunited with his soul.