On seeing a vessel with armed men approach their shores, the Danish coast guards challenged the new-comers, who rejoined their intentions were purely friendly, and begged to be led to the king.  There Beowulf and his attendants—­after paying their respects to Hrothgar—­offered their services to rid him of the terrible scourge which had preyed so long upon his people.  On hearing this, the king immediately ordered a feast prepared, and at its close allowed Beowulf, at his request, to remain alone in the hall with his men.  Aware that no weapon could pierce the armed hide of the uncanny monster, Beowulf—­who had the strength of thirty men—­laid aside his armor and prepared to grapple with Grendel by main strength when he appeared.

  Then the brave-mooded hero bent to his slumber,
  The pillow received the cheek of the noble;
  And many a martial mere-thane attending
  Sank to his slumber.

Just as the chill of morning invades the hall, Beowulf hears stealthy steps approaching and the great door bursts open, admitting a monster, all enveloped in clammy mist, which—­pouncing upon one of the men—­crunches his bones and greedily drinks his blood.  Beowulf, intently watching the fiend, seeing him stretch out a horny hand for another victim, suddenly grasps it with such force and determination that the monster, notwithstanding frantic efforts, cannot free himself.  A terrible struggle now takes place, in the course of which Beowulf and Grendel, wrestling madly, overturn tables and couches, shaking the hall to its very foundations.  Nevertheless, Beowulf clings so fast to the hand and arm he had grasped, that the monster, trying to free himself by a mighty jerk, tears his arm out of its socket and disappears, uttering a blood-curdling cry, and leaving this trophy in his foe’s grasp.  Mortally wounded, Grendel hastens back to his marsh, leaving a trail of blood behind him, while Beowulf, exhausted but triumphant, proudly exhibits the huge hand and limb which he has wrenched from the monster, declaring it will henceforth serve to adorn Heorot.

When Hrothgar beholds it on the morrow and hears an account of the night’s adventures, he warmly congratulates Beowulf, upon whom he bestows rich gifts, and in whose honor he decrees a grand feast shall be held in this hall.  While they are drinking there and listening to the music of the skalds (who sing of Sigmund the dragon-slayer and of a fight at Finnsburgh), Wealtheow, Queen of Denmark, appears in their midst, and bestows upon Beowulf a wonderful necklace and a ring of the finest gold, bidding him wear them in memory of his triumph.

The feast over, Hrothgar escorts his guest to the palace, where he is to rest that night, leaving his own men to guard Heorot, for all feel confident Grendel has been too sorely wounded ever to appear again.  But, while the warriors sleep peacefully, the giant’s mother—­an equally hideous monster—­comes into the hall, secures her son’s gory arm which hangs there as a trophy, and bears away Aeschere, one of the king’s friends.