Out from the marsh, from the foot of misty Hills and bogs, bearing God´ś hatred, Grendel came, hoping to kill anyone he could trap on this trip to high Herot Eyes were watching his evil steps waiting to see his swift hard claws.
Grendal snatched at the first Geat he came to, ripped him apart, cut his body to bits with powerful jaws, drank the blood from his veins, and bolted him down, hands and feet, death and Grendel´ś teeth came together.
Clutch at Beowulf with his claws grasped at the strong hearted wakeful sleeper and was instantly seized himself. All of Beowulf's band had jumped from their beds, ancestral swords raised and ready, determined to protect their prince if they could their courage was great but wasted they could hack at Grendel from every sie, trying to open a path for his evil soul but their points could not hurt him.
The sharpest and hardest iron could not scratch at his skin now he discovered once the affliction of men, tormentor of their days what it meant to feud with almighty God.
Grendel saw that his strength was deserting him, his claws bound fast, Higlac's brave follower tearing at his hands. The monster's hatred rose higher but his power had gone he twisted in pain and the bleeding sinews deep in his shoulder snapped, muscle and bone split and broke the battle was over Beowulf had been granted new glory.
Grendel escaped, but wounded as he was could flee to his den his miserable hole at the bottom of the marsh only to die, to wait for the end of all his days. And after that bloody combat the Danes laughed with delight he who had come to them from across the sea bold and strongminded had driven affliction off purged Herot clean he was happy now with that night's fierce work. the Danes had been served as hed boasted hed serve them. Beowulf a prince of the geats had killed Grendel and ended the grief