From Grendel’s arm cut on the floor to telling us about his mother’s existence.

In the morning, as I have heard [hinting that the narrator might have heard the story from a direct eye witness], there was many a warrior around the gift-hall. Tribal chiefs came from far and wide over distant paths to behold the wonder, the tracks of the enemy. His parting from life did not seem grievous to any of the men who saw the splendor of the inglorious one’s footprints, how he weary in spirit, overcome in the fight, doomed and driven out, bore his death-marks to the mere of the water-monsters. There the water was seething with blood, the terrible swirling of the waves all mingled with hot gore, with sword-blood; the death-doomed one dyed it, when deprived of joy he laid down his life in his fen-refuge, where hell received him [a strong image].

Thence they turned back, the old companions and many a young one from their glad journeying, proud from the lake, riding their horses, the young men on their warhorses. There Beowulf’s glory was proclaimed. Many a one often said that south nor north between the seas, over the broad earth, under the span of heaven, there was no better shield-bearer among the nations, none more worthy of a kingdom [hinting at him becoming a king later]. They did not in the least find fault with their own friendly lord, gracious Hrothgar, for he was a good king [there is now irony in the repeated pattern of “he was a good king”].

At times the war-famed ones let their fallow horses gallop, competing with each other where the turf-roads seemed most suitable, known for their excellence. At times a king’s thane, a man laden with glorious words and mindful of songs, who remembered a great many of the old sagas, bound words in truth. The man ingeniously began to recite Beowulf’s exploit, and aptly to utter an artful tale, to exchange words [here the narrator is talking about himself]; he told everything that he had heard of Sigemund’s mighty deeds, much that was unknown: the strife of the son of Wæls, his far journeys, which the children of men did not know well at all, the feuds and the crimes, except for Fitela with him. He had always spoken about such things to his uncle, when he had to report anything concerning the deeds - uncle and nephew were always companions in every struggle, they had cut down many of the race of giants with their swords. No little glory sprang up for Sigemund after his death-day, after the brave warrior, fierce in battle, died; he slew the dragon [foreshadowing of Beowulf’s coming story], the guardian of the treasure-hoard; he alone, the prince’s son, ventured the daring deed under grey stone, Fitela was not with him. However it befell him that his sword went straight through the wondrous serpent so that it stuck in the rock, the lordly blade - the dragon died violently. The warrior had won by his courage that he could enjoy the hoard of rings by his own choice. He loaded the ship of the son of Wæls, bore the shining treasures into the bosom of the boat - the dragon melted in heat.

He was the most renowned of wanderers among the peoples, protector of warriors for his valor; he thrived first through this. Later war carried off the nephew of Heremod, battle and hostility; he became a hapless solitary among the warlike Jutes. Sorrow ensnared him, his companions passed away. Yet in earlier times many a prudent man often lamented the hero’s hardship, he who expected him to be a help to his people, to take his father’s place, hold the nation together, the hoard and stronghold, the realm of heroes, the homeland of the Scyldings. He (Beowulf) became altogether well-beloved to the nations; but wicked malice overthrew Heremod. [this is a tale of what could happen to Beowulf if he survived his story]

At times those bold in the fray rode their yellow [a touch of color, yellow once more] steeds along the paths - morning-light advanced and hastened on. Many a courage-bold man went to the high hall to see the rare wonder. Likewise, the king himself from the bridal chamber [this is now the second time that he is described as spending his time in the bridal chamber], guardian of hoard-treasures, trod majestically forth, renowned for his excellence, and his queen with him, passing along the path to the mead-hall with her troop of maidens.

Hrothgar spoke - he went to the hall, stood in the entrance, gazed at the gold-plated roof, Grendel’s hand: “Let thanks be given at once to the Almighty for this sight! I have suffered much from Grendel’s scourge, many sorrows. It was not long ago that I did not expect relief from any of my woes for the rest of my life, when this best of houses stood stained with sword-blood, gory from battle. Woe scattered all my wise men who did not expect that in their lives they could ever protect the people’s stronghold from foes, from demons and devils. Now a hero has performed a deed we could not manage before with all our wisdom. See, whatever woman brought forth this son among the human race, if she still lives [this hints at the existence of Grendel’s mother], may rightly say that fortune was gracious to her in childbearing. Now, Beowulf, noblest of men, I will love you in my heart like a son [hinting at beowulf taking on the lineage]. From now on, keep well this new kinship. You shall not lack any desire in the world that I have power over. Often I have in the past rewarded a lesser warrior, a weaker in battle, with treasures, who did not fight so boldly; that man made himself immortal by his deeds. You have achieved such glory that your fame shall endure forever and ever. May the Gods reward you with good as they have so far.”

Beowulf spoke, son of Ecgtheow: “We undertook that mighty work, that perilous enterprise, with great good will; we dared the strength of an unknown enemy. I wish most heartily that you yourself could have seen the creature, the fiend weary from the fray. I thought to bind him swiftly with strong grips onto his death-bed, so that he must lie struggling for life in my hand-grasp, unless his body escaped me. But I could not hinder his going; I did not cling well enough to the mortal foe, the foul ravager - he was too powerful in his going. However, he left his hand, arm and shoulder behind to save his life, to mark his track. Yet no comfort at all has come to the wretched one in this way - none the longer will the evil-doer live; but pain has embraced him tightly in its deadly clasp, in baleful bonds, there shall the crime-stained wretch abide, the terrible judgment of his fate, as the gods may deal it out to him.”

Then was the warrior Unferth, son of Ecglaf, more silent in speech and boastful talk of warlike deeds [the exact one who accused Beowulf of being boastful], after all the nobles beheld the hand through the might of the earl, the fiendish fingers, lying on the lofty roof: each of the firm-nailed places, each of the claw-spurs, was most like steel, the spikes, the battle-warrior’s horrible talon [this might be one of the first detailled description of Glendel], were all agreed that no excellent sword of warriors could have cut it off, the bloody battle-hand.

It was ordered immediately that Heorot be adorned inside by hands [playing on the severed hand!]. Many were there of men and women who prepared that wine-hall, that guest-house. Gold-shining tapestries gleamed along the walls, many a wondrous sight for any who gaze upon such things. The bright dwelling was greatly damaged, though fastened inside with iron bands. The hinges were wrenched apart; the roof alone remained entirely sound, when the monster, guilty of wicked crimes, despairing of life, had taken to flight.

It is not easy to escape death, let him try it who will; but each soul-bearer for the necessity of the children of men, dwellers on earth, shall gain a place prepared where his body will sleep fast on its deathbed after the feast.

Then was the time and occasion that Healfdene’s son should go to the hall; the king himself wished to partake in the feast. I have not found out [hinting that the narrator did research on the topic] that a greater number of people, a larger host around their treasure-giver, ever gathered more splendidly at the bench. The prosperous ones took their places at the benches, rejoiced in the feasting. Courteously their kinsmen, the great-hearted Hrothgar and Hrothulf, partook of many a mead-cup in the high hall. Heorot was filled with friends - at that time the Scylding people had not at all contrived treacherous acts.

Then the son of Healfdene gave Beowulf a gold-adorned battle-banner as reward for his victory, an ornate standard, a helm and coat of mail, a mighty treasure-sword many saw borne before the warrior. Beowulf took the cup in the hall; he had no need to be ashamed of that treasure-giving in the presence of warriors. I have not heard [once more, we heard of the narrator] of many men giving to others more graciously on the ale-bench four such gold-adorned treasures. Around the crown of the helm, a head-protection, wound with wires, kept guard over the head so that the tempered battle-blades, file-hardened, could not injure it when the shield-warrior must go against fierce enemies. The protector of earls then commanded eight horses with gold-plated bridles to be led into the hall, into the enclosure; on one of them rested a saddle skillfully embellished, adorned with treasure. That was the battle-seat of the high king when Healfdene’s son wished to take part in the sword-play; the strength of the famous one never failed in the forefront when corpses fell. And then the prince of the Ingwines, Hrothgar, gave to Beowulf possession of both these things, horses and weapons; bade him enjoy them well. Thus the renowned prince, the treasure-guardian of heroes, rewarded the battle-onslaught with horses and treasures, in such a way that no one could find fault who wishes to speak the truth according to what is right [another theme of the poem: acting according to what is right, note also the fact that there is a lot of gold being gifted].

Moreover, the lord of earls, for each of those who had made the sea-journey with Beowulf, gave a precious gift at the mead-bench, an heirloom, and commanded that gold be paid for the one whom Grendel had wickedly killed earlier - as he would have done to more of them if wise gods and the hero’s courage had not turned that fate from them.

There was the sound of singing and rejoicing blended together before Healfdene’s battle-leaders; the harp was touched, a song often recited when Hrothgar’s scop was to recite the hall-joy along the mead-bench–about Finn’s offspring, when dire peril overtook them:

“Hnæf of the Scyldings, a hero of the Half-Danes, must fall in Frisian slaughter. Certainly Hildeburh had no need to praise the good faith of the Frisians; she was bereft of her innocent loved ones in the clash of shields, sons and brothers - they fell as was fated, wounded by spears; she was a mournful lady. Not without cause did Hoc’s daughter grieve over the decree of fate when morning came, when under the heavens she could behold her slain kinsmen, where she had earlier possessed the greatest of world-joys. War carried off all of Finn’s thanes except a mere few, so that he could not contend with Hengest at all on that battlefield, nor fight to defend the wretched survivors from the prince’s thane. But they offered him terms, that they would fully yield to him another dwelling, a hall and a high-seat, so that they might share half of it with the sons of the Jutes, and the son of Folcwalda each day would honor at the giving of gifts the Danes, Hengest’s troop with rings, would grant them treasure-plated gold just as much as he would furnish in the beer-hall to the Frisian people. Then on both sides they confirmed a firm treaty of peace. Finn declared to Hengest, fairly and without contest, with oaths, that he would govern the wretched survivors honorably according to the decree of his counselors, so that no man there by word or deed should break the pact, or ever mention it through guileful intent, though they, lordless, followed the slayer of their own ring-giver as they must do by necessity. If, then, any of the Frisians with reckless speech should recall that murderous hatred, then the blade’s edge should avenge it. The oath was given and massive gold lifted up from the hoard. The best of the warlike Scyldings was ready on the funeral pyre. The blood-stained tunic was easily seen on that pyre, the swine all made of gold, the boar of hard iron, and many a noble destroyed by wounds - some had fallen in the slaughter. Hildeburh then commanded her own son’s body be committed to the flames at Hnæf’s pyre, his bones be burnt and placed on the pyre. The lady moaned miserably beside him, lamented with songs. The warrior ascended, wound up to the clouds; the greatest of death-fires roared before the mound; the heads were consumed, the gashes burst open, the slaughter-bites of the body; then the blood sprang forth. The greediest of spirits, the flame, swallowed all of those whom war carried off from both peoples; their glory was gone.”

The warriors left then, deprived of friends, to see their homes, to go to Friesland, their dwellings and high city. Hengest still lived the slaughter-stained winter with Finn entirely peacefully; he remembered his homeland, although he could not drive his ring-prowed ship over the sea. The ocean surged with storm, fought against the wind; winter locked the waves in icy fetters until the next year came, as it still does, the seasons which always observe their proper time, the weather gloriously bright. Then winter was gone, earth’s bosom fair. The exile hastened away, the guest from the court. But he thought more on vengeance than on a sea-journey, whether he could bring about a deadly encounter, for he inwardly remembered the sons of the Jutes. Thus he did not refrain from his deadly course, when Hunlafing placed in his bosom the best of battle-lights, the sword called Flame. Among the Jutes were renowned such war-blades. Violent sword-slaughter came later to the fierce-minded Finn in his own home, when Guðlaf and Oslaf referred to the grim attack after the sea-journey, lamented shared woes - his turbulent spirit could not restrain itself in his breast. Then the hall was reddened again with the blood of enemies, Finn was slain, the king among his troop, and the queen taken. The Scylding warriors bore to their ships all the household possessions of the earthly king, whatever they could find at Finn’s home of jewels and gems set in ornaments. They brought the noble queen over the sea-roads to the Danes, led her to their people. [The lay is intended for an audience that mostly knows the story. As other pieces in Beowulf, it is about doing what is right.]

The lay was sung, the song of the scop. Merriment rose up again, the noise grew louder, cupbearers served wine from wondrous vessels. Then Wealhtheow came forth, walking under a golden diadem to where the good men sat, uncle and nephew - their peace was still unbroken, each true to the other. Likewise Unferth the spokesman sat there at the feet of the lord of the Scyldings; each of them trusted his spirit, that he had great courage, though he had not been loyal to his kinsmen at swordplay.

Then the lady of the Scyldings spoke: “Receive this cup, my lord of the people, giver of rings. Be joyful, gold-friend of men, and speak to the Geats with kind words, as a man should do. Be gracious to the Geats and mindful of gifts [once more, she is shown as a diplomat]; near and far you now have peace. Someone has told me that you would have this warrior as a son. Heorot is cleansed, the bright ring-hall. Bestow while you may many rewards, and leave to your kinsmen the people and realm, when you must go forth to look upon eternity. I know my gracious Hrothulf, that he will honorably govern the younger warriors if you, friend of the Scyldings, leave this world earlier than he. I believe that he will repay our children well if he remembers all that we two have done for his pleasure and honor while he was still a child.”

She turned then to the bench where her sons were, Hrethric and Hrothmund, and the sons of warriors, all the youth together; there the good man sat, Beowulf of the Geats, between the brothers [as if himself part of the family].

To him the cup was borne, and friendly invitation offered with words, and twisted gold graciously bestowed: two arm-ornaments, mail-armor and rings, the largest of neck-rings of which I have heard tell on earth. I have not heard of a better hoard-treasure under the heavens since Hama carried off to the bright city the necklace of the Brosings, the ornament and its setting - he fell into the cunning hostility of Eormenric, chose eternal gain. That ring Hygelac of the Geats, Swerting’s nephew, had as his last possession, when under his banner he defended his treasure, guarded the plunder of battle. Fate carried him away, when he out of pride sought woe, feud with the Frisians. He bore then over the cup of the waves, the mighty prince, the precious stones, he fell beneath his shield. The body of the king came into the possession of the Franks, his breast-mail and the neck-ring together; lesser warriors plundered the slain after the slaughter of battle - the people of the Geats held the place of corpses.

The hall resounded. Wealhtheow spoke before the host; she said: “Enjoy this neck-ring, dear Beowulf, young man, with good fortune, and make use of this mail-coat, the princely treasures, and prosper well. Make yourself known by your strength, and be kind in your guidance to these boys. I will remember your rewards. You have brought it about that men shall esteem you far and near, forever and always, even as widely as the sea encircles the windy walls. Be, while you live, a prosperous nobleman. I wish you well with the treasures of honor. Be kind to my sons, joyful giver of rings. Here every noble is true to the other, gentle in spirit, loyal to his lord; the thanes are compliant, the people all ready. Ye warriors, cheered with wine, do as I bid.” [she personalize doing what is right]

She went to her seat. There was choicest of feasts, the men drank wine. They knew not fate, the grim lot as it had gone forth of old, for many a noble. After evening came and Hrothgar had departed to his lodging, the mighty to his rest, countless heroes guarded the house as they had often done before. They cleared the bench-boards and spread throughout the hall beds and bolsters. One of the beer-servants, readily doomed and fated, lay down to his rest on the floor of the hall. They set at their heads their battle-shields, the bright wooden boards. There on the bench over each noble, easy to see, was the towering helmet, the ringed corslet, the mighty spear-shaft. It was their custom to be ready for war at home and abroad, at whatever time their lord had need of them. That was a good people! [good king and good people! but this might be ironic since the good king has been shown failible and the weapons are not going to defend the good people]

Then they sank into sleep. One sorely paid for his evening rest, as had often happened since Grendel occupied the gold-hall, perpetrated evil, until his end came. It became widely known to men that an avenger still lived after the hostile one, for a long time after the war-sorrow - Grendel’s mother, monster-wife, brooded on her woes, she who had to dwell in the terrible water, the cold streams, greedy and gloomy-minded, wished to go on that sorrowful journey to avenge the death of her son.