I’ve slain giants and sea monsters, similar stuff to Grendel. Furnish me this favor - let me finish your foe. If the fiend eats me, funeral expenses will be few. I fear nothing, Fate does what Fate feels like. Just, if I’m slain, send home my stuff.”
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X Hrothgar departed, desiring to doink his wife. The war-Geat got up, “Grendel wields no weapon. To not be gauche, I go swordless ‘gainst the man-gourmand. Who gets pummeled to pulp? The Prince of Peace decides.
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The men slept, pretty sure they’d soon die. But God, boss of man, brought victory.
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All slept but the great Geat. God decides who dies, yes, But when battling hell-beasts, best to hedge one’s bets.
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XI Grendel prowled moors, munchy for man-meat, Hurtled toward Heorot. He saw thanes inside. Armored men asleep - all you can Geat buffet.
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Beowulf bore up, bare of weapons Grendel lapped up one man, a loathsome luncheon. Hygelac’s best’d had enough, hand-gripped the hell-demon, Who decided then, one dane was dinner enough. He hollered hard, for his ass was headlocked.
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