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Grendel enters Herot. He tore its iron fasteners with a touch and rushed angrily across the threshold.
Grendel stepped to a still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws. Grasped at a strong-hearted wakeful sleeper. He knew he had met his match
He twisted in pain, and the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder snapped, muscle and bone split and broke.
Grendel escaped but as wounded as he was , he could flee to his den. His miserable hole at the bottom of the marsh, only to die.
When he'd dragged his corspelike way doomed and already weary of vanishing life.
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