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AN: I wrote this for English class because we're studying Anglo-Saxon literature. Beowulf like yeah. Basically it's an epic poem about a hero named Beowulf who goes to a foreign land ruled by this guy named Hrothgar to defeat the great monster Grendel. This is the alternate POV for the fight scene. He's a soldier Beowulf took to Hrothgar's kingdom.
This situation is ridiculous; probably the stupidest decision I’ve ever made. I didn’t want to go, let me tell you, honest; my job paid plenty well back in Geatland. I curse Beowulf every second for being so persuasive and intimidating. If he hadn’t talked me into this, I’d be home with my wife and children right now.
I’d be home, safe in my bed with my wife, instead of here on the dirty mead hall floor with thirty sleeping, snoring men. I’m crouched on the ground next to another sleeping soldier, but I won’t find any rest tonight. I’m tired, but I can’t fall asleep, not when I know that at any moment a monster will crash through the door of Herot Hall.
I hate how vulnerable I feel right now. I have my sword, but what good will that do against a monster that is invincible to weaponry? What if Beowulf doesn’t stay awake as he said he would? What if every single one of us gets eaten by this horrible monster Lord Hrothgar spoke of so fearfully?
My worries are interrupted by a soft knock at the door to the mead hall. It’s followed by another harder knock, and another, and another, until whatever’s outside the door is pounding to get in.
I know it’s the monster, but a small part of me hopes it’s just Lord Hrothgar or one of his men coming to check on us.
I’m so nervous; it’s getting harder to breathe. As the pounding on the door grows louder, my breathing becomes shallower. Pretty soon, I’m gasping and sputtering for air.
When the door crashes to the floor, I almost cry out, but I remember Beowulf’s orders to be entirely silent. I tilt my head to the side to get a look at the monster Grendel.
He’s a tall, skinny thing with grey, ashen skin and eyes red like the devil’s. He’s got enormous hands, and even in the darkness I can see his claws shining. He growls quietly and makes his way towards me.
I stop breathing altogether; whether it’s because I’m so scared, or that it’s simply quieter without my ragged breaths, I haven’t a clue.
Grendel stops, and I look up to see him looming over me, snarling and drooling and growling like a rabid dog. He snatches up the soldier next to me and tears him to pieces.
I duck my head, but it doesn’t make the sickening crunch of bones any quieter. The feeling of warm liquid dripping down the back of my neck makes me want to vomit, and I really hope it’s Grendel’s saliva. I know better though.
The pungent smell of blood reaches my nose, and the urge to vomit grows. I feel sick, and I can hear the monster chewing. Bits and pieces of flesh bounce off my back, and then something hits me in the head.
I look down and see a human finger. I quickly look away before I can think about becoming sick.
Grendel snaps his jaws several times and moves past me quietly.
I risk a glance and lift my head. I look around me and see the blood. There isn’t much, but it’s enough to make me queasy. Grendel isn’t far off, chewing on another soldier whose name I never knew. The smell of blood gets stronger, and I become very dizzy.
The last thing I remember is Beowulf and the monster crying out at each other and a spatter of blood across the floor. Tomorrow, all the other men will poke fun at me for fainting. I'm not ashamed though; I didn't even want to be here anyway.
This situation is ridiculous; probably the stupidest decision I’ve ever made. I didn’t want to go, let me tell you, honest; my job paid plenty well back in Geatland. I curse Beowulf every second for being so persuasive and intimidating. If he hadn’t talked me into this, I’d be home with my wife and children right now.
I’d be home, safe in my bed with my wife, instead of here on the dirty mead hall floor with thirty sleeping, snoring men. I’m crouched on the ground next to another sleeping soldier, but I won’t find any rest tonight. I’m tired, but I can’t fall asleep, not when I know that at any moment a monster will crash through the door of Herot Hall.
I hate how vulnerable I feel right now. I have my sword, but what good will that do against a monster that is invincible to weaponry? What if Beowulf doesn’t stay awake as he said he would? What if every single one of us gets eaten by this horrible monster Lord Hrothgar spoke of so fearfully?
My worries are interrupted by a soft knock at the door to the mead hall. It’s followed by another harder knock, and another, and another, until whatever’s outside the door is pounding to get in.
I know it’s the monster, but a small part of me hopes it’s just Lord Hrothgar or one of his men coming to check on us.
I’m so nervous; it’s getting harder to breathe. As the pounding on the door grows louder, my breathing becomes shallower. Pretty soon, I’m gasping and sputtering for air.
When the door crashes to the floor, I almost cry out, but I remember Beowulf’s orders to be entirely silent. I tilt my head to the side to get a look at the monster Grendel.
He’s a tall, skinny thing with grey, ashen skin and eyes red like the devil’s. He’s got enormous hands, and even in the darkness I can see his claws shining. He growls quietly and makes his way towards me.
I stop breathing altogether; whether it’s because I’m so scared, or that it’s simply quieter without my ragged breaths, I haven’t a clue.
Grendel stops, and I look up to see him looming over me, snarling and drooling and growling like a rabid dog. He snatches up the soldier next to me and tears him to pieces.
I duck my head, but it doesn’t make the sickening crunch of bones any quieter. The feeling of warm liquid dripping down the back of my neck makes me want to vomit, and I really hope it’s Grendel’s saliva. I know better though.
The pungent smell of blood reaches my nose, and the urge to vomit grows. I feel sick, and I can hear the monster chewing. Bits and pieces of flesh bounce off my back, and then something hits me in the head.
I look down and see a human finger. I quickly look away before I can think about becoming sick.
Grendel snaps his jaws several times and moves past me quietly.
I risk a glance and lift my head. I look around me and see the blood. There isn’t much, but it’s enough to make me queasy. Grendel isn’t far off, chewing on another soldier whose name I never knew. The smell of blood gets stronger, and I become very dizzy.
The last thing I remember is Beowulf and the monster crying out at each other and a spatter of blood across the floor. Tomorrow, all the other men will poke fun at me for fainting. I'm not ashamed though; I didn't even want to be here anyway.
Last edited by sb on Thu Nov 18, 2010 7:03 pm; edited 1 time in total
