Authors: Frederick Rebsamen
 | each twilight in Heorot tortures us all |
 | with nightblack murders. My men are fewer |
 | some carried awayâwyrd has swept them |
 | into Grendel's grasp. God could easily |
 | stem this heart-sickness sweep it away. |
  480 | Often my hall-thanes hearts strong with beer |
 | bold in their ale-cups boasted in firelight |
 | that they would linger lie here in waiting |
 | for Grendel's ravaging ready with swordswings. |
 | Then was this meadhall at morning's raven-call |
 | dark with their doom as the day shoved forth, |
 | benches and bolsters black with battle-gore |
 | hall-rafters trembling. Heorot grew cold then |
 | stronghearted warriors were snatched into night. |
 | But sit now to banquet bear us good news |
  490 | tell us good tidings in time as you wish.” |
 | Benches were bared the beer-hall made roomy |
 | Geats were gathered together with all. |
 | There the stern-hearted settled by the fire |
 | welcome and ready. The warden of ale-cups |
 | brought to their hands the bright hall-drink |
 | taught them greetings. At times the minstrel |
 | touched his harpstrings. They were happy together |
 | a great band of them Geats with the Danes. |
U
NFERTH
(meaning “discord” or “nonsense”) is a complex character who is twice called a
thyle
(“orator” or “jester”) and sits at Hrothgar's feet, a position of counselors or jesters or poets. Here he is the traditional “court challenger,” enabling Beowulf to establish his credentials as a monster killer and giving him license to insult both Unferth and the Danes with impunity. Beowulf calls him a fratricide who will suffer either “in hell” or “in the hall,” depending on how the manuscript is interpreted, and it is later said that he was “not honorable towards his kin in swordplay.” This may mean that he found himself serving one lord and his brothers another, or he may have refused to support his brothers in battle. In any case, Unferth is well tolerated by the Danes and lends his respected sword to a grateful Beowulf.
Before and after the killing of Grendel, Hrothgar leaves Heorot to sleep in his “bower,” an outbuilding within the palisade compound characteristic of many Anglo-Saxon “burgs.”
 | Then up spoke Unferth Ecglaf's swordson |
  500 | held to his station at Hrothgar's feet |
 | unbound battle-runes. Beowulf's errand |
 | boasting of sea-strength burned in his heartâ |
 | never would he grant greater adventures |
 | on land or sea to sailors or hall-thanes |
 | than he had survived, hale sword-champion: |
 | “Are you that Beowulf who with Breca swam |
 | on the broad sea-swell struggling together |
 | proud wave-wrestlers wagering your lives |
 | with reckless boasting risking for praise |
  510 | deep water-death? Not one counselor |
 | friend or enemy could force you to cancel |
 | that sorrowful swimâshipless wanderers |
 | rowing with your hands reaching for salt-swells |
 | measuring the sea-road with stroking arms |
 | embracing the ocean broad water-fields |
 | wintry with waves. You worked at your folly |
 | for seven nightfallsâhe outswam you there |
 | stronger than you. The sea at dawning |
 | heaved him ashore on Heatho-Raemas' ground. |
  520 | He found his way then fared to his home |
 | beloved country land of the Brondingas |
 | proud timber-hall where his people waited. |
 | That son of Beanstan beat you at swimming |
 | bettered your boasting brave sea-warrior. |
 | Now I expect, proud though you swagger, |
 | brave at battle-rush bragging as you go, |
 | a grimmer contest with Grendel here |
 | if you dare sleep now in this darkened hall.” |
 | Beowulf spoke then son of Ecgtheow: |
  530 | “Unferth my friend you find much to say |
 | eased with beer-cups all about Breca |
 | his seafaring ways. I say to you now |
 | I was greater in swim-strength gliding through waves |
 | longer with arm-strokes than my lagging friend. |
 | We boasted togetherâboys eagering |
 | young in judgment yearning for renown |
 | game for water-wolvesâthat we would gamble |
 | lives against the sea loud ocean winds. |
 | With naked swords we slashed through the waves |
  540 | ready with warblades for wandering whales |
 | dark sea-monsters. No swifter than me |
 | could Breca swim thereâI stayed beside him |
 | unwilling to leave him alone against all. |
 | Through five nightfalls we floated and swam |
 | on the ice-hard waves till an angry sea-flood |
 | broke out above usâblackening sky |
 | and freezing northwinds forced us apart |
 | towering salt-swells struck between us. |
 | Strange sea-creatures surfaced around meâ |
  550 | the mailcoat I wore woven with gold |
 | hard and hand-locked held me from death |
 | laced by wonder-smiths linked against carnage. |
 | To the deep sea-floor something pulled me |
 | hard gripfingers hauled me to sand |
 | with grappling-tight clawsâit was granted to me |
 | to reach this devil rush him to sleep |
 | with sharp sword-pointâswift blade-slashing |
 | strong in my hand haled him deathwards. |
 | Then more came at me many a water-sprite |
  560 | seagoing demonsâI served them all |
 | with quick sword-thrusts sent them to hell. |
 | They missed their supper sea-bottom banquet |
 | squatting on the sand serving their hunger |
 | with my tasty corpse cold ocean-feast. |
 | By gray dawnlight lapped with salt-foam |
 | rolled by tidewaves they rested on land |
 | sleepened by swordswingsâthe sailpath was cleared |
 | sun-bright waterways washed of their blood. |
 | Light from the East lifted the storm-clouds |
  570 | God's bright beacon burnished the seaâ |
 | looming headlands leaned high above, |
 | wind-scoured cliffwalls. Wyrd often spares |
 | an undoomed man when his mind-strength prevails. |
 | With sword's edges I sent into death |
 | nine sea-monsters. I have not yet heard |
 | of a harder struggle under heaven's archway |
 | a riskier night in narrow ocean-streams. |
 | From dark water-death waves bore me up |
 | weary of swimmingâthe sea lifted me |
  580 | led me to shore in the land of Finns. |
 | I have never heard tell tales of yourself |
 | strong with swordplay swimming through nightwaves |
 | with gnashing sea-demons. Never has Breca |
 | fought through darkness in deep waterwaysâ |
 | and you were never known for such deeds |
 | nothing to brag of renowned as you are |
 | for killing your brothers bringing them down, |
 | your own blood-kin. You'll answer for that |
 | wandering in hell though your wit be strong. |
  590 | I'll say one thing son of Ecglafâ |
 | never would Grendel grieve all of you |
 | mangle your hearts with murder in Heorot |
 | torture your lord in this tame meadhall |
 | if your courage held strong as you claim it does. |
 | Grendel has learned through long wintersâ |
 | no need to bother with brave Shield-Danes |
 | no interruptions of his nightly visits. |
 | He takes what he needs no one stopping him |
 | finds no contest with cowering Danes |
  600 | snares and slashes safe in Heorot |
 | owning you all. But I'll show him |
 | sooner than he knows a new kind of battle |
 | with men of the Geats. On the morning after |
 | when southern sunlight shines on this hall |
 | we will lift our meadcups to merciful peace |
 | bright bench-laughter banishing your grief.” |
 | Grief-heavy Hrothgar murder-stunned king |
 | heard in those words hard promises |
 | news of deliverance from long heartbreak |
  610 | found in Beowulf fair morning-thoughts. |
 | Laughter and song leapt to the rafters |
 | warm welcome-words. Then Wealhtheow came forth |
 | folk-queen of the Danes daughter of Helmingas |
 | Hrothgar's bedmate. She hailed all of them |
 | spoke her peace-words stepped to the gift-throne |
 | fetched to her king the first ale-cup |
 | warmed his mind-chill wished darkness away |
 | from the tall high-seatâhe took from her hands |
 | the gleaming cupful gave her his thanks. |
  620 | Through the high meadhall went Hrothgar's queen |
 | offering hall-joy to old and to young |
 | with rich treasure-cups till time brought her |
 | where Beowulf sat. She bore him a cup |
 | with gold-gleaming hands held it before him |
 | graciously greeted the Geats' warleader |
 | gave thanks to God for granting her will |
 | sending her mercy a man to believe in |
 | hope from abroad. He held the meadcup |
 | high in his hands hailed the queen there |
  630 | brought to Wealhtheow battle-strong words. |
 | Beowulf spoke son of Ecgtheow: |
 | “I swore to myself when I sailed from home |
 | mounted my ship with my men around me |
 | that I alone would ease your heartgrief |
 | settle this feud here or fall deathwards |
 | in Grendel's grasp. I'll give you his lifeblood |
 | deliver his fiend-soul or finish my days |
 | here in Heorot high treasure-hall.” |
 | His words were welcome to Wealhtheow's heart |
  640 | that bountiful boastâthen back with her lord |
 | the proud folk-queen found her station. |
 | Cheers from the benches chased night-shadows |
 | strong warrior-songs soared through the hall |
 | rose to the rafters till ready for sleep |
 | Healfdene's son heavy with thane-grief |
 | yearned for evening-rest. Years had taught him |
 | that Grendel roamed raging with envy |
 | Heorot on his mind from the moment that sunrise |
 | flushed towards the sky till final nightshades |
  650 | dark with shadow-shapes shoved across the meadows |
 | wound around Heorot. Hall-feasters rose. |
 | Their weary war-king wished for Beowulf |
 | luck in the night left him the gift-throne |
 | that great meadhall gave him farewell: |
 | “Never have I offered to any other man, |
 | from the first moment I found shield-strength, |
 | this hall of the Danes house of our nation. |