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Out from the marsh, from the foot of misty Hills and bogs, bearing God's hatred, Grendel came, hoping to kill anyone he could trap on his trip to Herot.
Then He stepped to another still body, clutched at Beowulf with his claws, grasped at a strong hearted wakeful sleeper- and was instantly seized himself.
They Hacked at Grendel from every side, trying to open a path for his evil soul, but their points could not hurt him, the sharpest and hardest iron could not scratch his skin.
Gendel saw that his strength was deserting him, his claws bound fast, Higlac's brave followers tearing at his hands.
His hole at the bottom of the marsh, only to die, to wait for the end of all his days.
From the rafters where Beowulf had hung it, was the monsters arm, claw and shoulder and all.
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