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8 Cards in this Set

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At home in the mere, his underground realm, the monster Grendel watches an old ram stand stupid and inert at the edge of a cliff. Grendel yells at the creature, stamps his feet, and throws stones at it, but the ram refuses to so much as acknowledge Grendel’s presence. Grendel lets out a howl so terrible that it freezes the water at his feet, but the ram remains unmoved. The ram’s stubborn stolidity reminds Grendel that spring has arrived in a similarly undeniable fashion. The commencement of the growing season marks the beginning of the twelfth year of Grendel’s war with the humans, a conflict he derides as stupid and pointless. Grendel is further disgusted by the fact that the arrival of warm weather has awakened the ram’s mindless, animalistic sexual urges. He rhetorically asks the sky why the idiotic animal cannot discover any dignity, but the sky, like the ram, refuses to respond. Grendel responds with an upturned middle finger and a defiant kick. He admits, however, that he himself is no nobler than any of the brainless animals, calling himself a pointless, ridiculous monster who stinks of death. As Grendel walks through his realm, he notices the signs of spring all around him and also notes places where he has committed various acts of violence. Grendel’s presence frightens a doe, and he claims the reaction is unfair—he has never done anything to harm a deer. Passing the sleeping body of his fat, foul mother, Grendel swims through firesnake-infested waters up to the surface of the earth. His seasonal journey up to the world of men is just as mechanical and mindless as the ram’s springtime lust, and Grendel laments the necessary repetition.
When he reaches the edge of his territory, he stands at the edge of a cliff and stares down into an abyss. He yells into the chasm and is surprised by the volume of his own voice. Grendel continues down the cliffs and through the fens and moors on his way to the meadhall of Hrothgar, king of the Danes. As he makes his way to the meadhall, Grendel thinks of his mother, who continues to sleep in their underground haunt. She is wracked by guilt for some unnamed, secret crime. She has lost the ability to speak, and so is unable—or unwilling—to answer Grendel’s questions about the nature of their existence. Grendel arrives at Hrothgar’s meadhall and coldheartedly ravages the human community. This is the twelfth year of Grendel’s raids, and he calmly, laughingly anticipates the reactions of the men. They turn off the lights in an attempt to confuse Grendel, but Grendel can see in the dark, and he easily bests the humans. In the chaos that ensues, Grendel sacks up several dead bodies and retreats to the woods, where he eats them and laughs maniacally. When dawn comes, however, the sour meat of the humans sits heavy in his stomach and he is filled with gloom once again. Grendel listens as the Danes attribute the attack to the whims of an angry god, and he watches as the slow process of rebuilding the meadhall begins. A funeral pyre is erected, and as the corpses burn, the Danes throw golden rings, swords, and helmets onto the fire. The crowd sings a song together, and to Grendel’s ears the song seems to be one of triumph. Nauseated and filled with rage, Grendel flees for home.
After establishing the novel’s linear plotline in Chapter 1—namely, the twelve-year battle between Grendel and the Danes—Chapter 2 takes us an unspecified number of years into the past to tell the story of Grendel’s first exposure to the human world. In his youth, Grendel explores his vast underground world with childlike abandon. He is always alone, as the only other creatures in the caverns, aside from his mother, are strange, unspeaking beings that watch Grendel’s every move but never interact with him. One night, Grendel arrives at a pool of firesnakes. He senses that the snakes are guarding something, and after a moment of hesitation he dives into the pool. When he breaks the surface of the water he finds himself, for the first time, in moonlight. Grendel goes no further the first night, but as time passes he ventures farther and farther out into this strange new world. Grendel’s exploration of the world of humans changes the way he perceives the creatures in his underground world. He realizes that the unspeaking strangers seem to look past him or through him; only his mother truly looks at him. She looks at Grendel as if to consume him, and he has an inexplicable understanding that they are connected, possibly even a single entity. At times, however, the intensity of his mother’s gaze causes Grendel to suddenly feel separate from her, and at those times he bawls and hurls himself at her. His mother responds by smashing him to her breast as if to make him part of her flesh again. Comforted by this gesture, Grendel can then go back to his exploratory games. One day, lured out to the upper world by the smell of a newborn calf, Grendel finds himself painfully trapped in a tree. He bellows for his mother, but she does not come. In his pain and desperation, he imagines he sees her shape in a black rock, in a shadow, and in a cave entrance, but each vision turns out to be a cruel tease. A bull appears and, despite Grendel’s screams, comes charging at him, its horns ripping Grendel’s leg up to the knee. Grendel realizes that the bull has struck too low and will always strike too low; the bull is a creature of blind instinct. Grendel knows that if he can twist his body away, he will be able to avoid the bull’s thrusts. This event causes Grendel to experience a revelation that the world is nothing but a chaotic mess of casual, brute violence.
Grendel understands that he alone exists, that everything else in the world is merely what he pushes against or what pushes back against him. The bull continues to attack Grendel, but Grendel ceases to pay attention. Nothing seems to matter anymore, and eventually Grendel falls asleep. Grendel wakes in the darkness to catch his first glimpse of men. Surprisingly, they speak Grendel’s own language, though it sounds strange. The men are baffled as to what this strange creature in the oak tree might be. At first they think Grendel is a kind of fungus, but then they decide he must be a tree spirit. They further resolve that the spirit is hungry, that it eats pig, and that they must feed it. Grendel is overjoyed at the prospect of food, and he laughs out loud. The humans take this laugh as a sign that the spirit is angry, and they try to attack Grendel. Grendel tries to communicate with the humans, but they do not understand his words. As Grendel watches them plan their attack, he realizes that the humans are no dull-witted animals, but thinking, pattern-making beings, and therefore more dangerous than any creatures he has thus far encountered. Just as Grendel feels he will fall to the humans, his mother arrives to save him. Grendel wakes up in his mother’s cave. He tries to share his revelation about the nature of existence with her, but she only stares blankly at him. Grendel becomes more and more agitated at his mother’s unresponsiveness, and she reacts by rushing to embrace her son. Grendel is sickened with fear, and feels he is suffocating in his mother’s mass.
As a preface to telling the story of his war with the Danes, Grendel recalls the growth and social development of men. In the beginning, nomadic tribes of men roam the forest. Occasionally, two bands of men meet in the woods and battle each other, and when they are finished they crawl back to their separate huts and caves and tell wild stories about what happened. When the bands grow larger, they settle in particular areas and set up large communal halls. The insides of these buildings are beautifully painted and decorated with tapestries and woodcarvings. The humans plant crops and domesticate animals; women stay at the camp to tend to home and field while the men go out each day to hunt. At night, the humans drink and tell stories about what they plan to do to neighboring halls. Each band follows a similar pattern of development, and Grendel watches them all. He is amused by their drunken boasts about conquest, and believes that they are only partially serious. One night, however, Grendel finds a hall in ruins, burned to the ground and sacked of treasure. Grendel watches a change come over the humans. They enter an age of conflict and warfare. With the advent of war come war songs that glorify battle heroes and military events. Goldworkers, who craft exquisite handles for battle-axes, gain an esteemed place in society. Grendel remembers one such worker with a cool, superior laugh—“Nyeh heh heh.” Confused, Grendel watches as human warfare escalates and battles gain a kind of nauseating repetitiveness. He is safe and secluded in his tree, but he and the humans share a common language. He is somehow related to these creatures who are capable of such pointless waste. Grendel watches as King Hrothgar—the same king whose men attacked him when was hanging in the tree—begins to grow more powerful than other leaders.
Hrothgar is a capable strategist who understands the principles of organization. Soon, he has neighboring meadhalls swearing allegiance to him and paying him monetary tributes. Hrothgar and his men begin to build a system of roads, with Hrothgar’s meadhall lying squarely in the middle. The Danes’ military prowess and prestige grows along with their hoard of treasure, which soon overtakes the meadhall and forces the Danes to sleep in the outbuildings. Hrothgar’s influence becomes widespread, and Grendel is filled with a murderous unrest. One night, Grendel watches as a blind old man and his young assistant gain admittance to Hrothgar’s meadhall. The man is a Shaper, an Anglo-Saxon court bard. To the music of a harp, the Shaper tells the story of Scyld Shefing, an illustrious ancestor of Hrothgar and the founder of the Scylding (Danish) line. The Shaper sings a generously fabricated version of Danish history. When he finishes, the Danes go wild with glee, infected and uplifted by the Shaper’s glorious account of their society and heritage. Grendel slinks away from the meadhall, strangely affected by the Shaper’s magnificent lies. Although he has himself witnessed the true, savage history of the Danes firsthand, the Shaper’s account has the feeling of truth merely through the power of its artistic technique. Crying and whimpering, Grendel runs to the top of the cliff wall, where he can see the lights of all the human realms. He screams into the wind, and the sound comes rushing back at him. Grendel screams again and then runs back to the mere on all fours.
Hrothgar, inspired by the Shaper’s song of a glorious meadhall emanating a light that would “shine to the ends of the ragged world,” decides to build a magnificent meadhall high on a hill to stand as an eternal testament to the mighty justice of his Danes. Hrothgar plans to achieve glory by dispensing treasure from his new meadhall, and he hopes for his descendants to do the same. He sends to far-off kingdoms for artisans and builders to create the marvelous building. When it is finished, Hrothgar names the hall Hart and invites all the races of men to witness it. Grendel scoffs at the pomposity of it all, but he still manages to get caught up in the joyful celebration and the endlessly optimistic display of Hrothgar’s supposed goodness. Overcome with grief and shame at his own nasty, bloodthirsty ways, Grendel slinks away from Hart. Grendel wanders through the forest, puzzling aloud over the Shaper’s mysterious power. The forest whispers back at him, but he feels as if a darker, more sinister force were speaking to him as well. The chilly, invisible presence grows in intensity and continues to unnerve Grendel. He grabs at a fat, slick vine, thinking it is a snake, only to discover it is harmless after all. The presence follows Grendel to the edge of town before mysteriously disappearing. At the outskirts of town, Grendel observes young couples courting. While circling the clearing, he steps on a man whose throat has been cut and whose clothes have been stolen. Grendel is baffled by the contrast between the innocent picture of the pairs of lovers and the violently murdered corpse. Just as Grendel lifts the corpse over his shoulder, the Shaper begins to play his harp. The Shaper sings of the creation of the world by the greatest of gods, and of an ancient feud between two brothers that split the world between darkness and light. The Shaper claims that Grendel is on the side cursed by God. The Shaper’s words are so powerful that Grendel almost believes them, although he takes the corpse—a man murdered by his fellow men—as proof that the notion of a clear divide between man and monster is flawed.
Nonetheless, overcome by the power of the Shaper’s song, Grendel staggers toward the hall with the body in his hands, crying for mercy and declaring himself a friend. The men do not understand Grendel’s cries, and they chase him out of the town with battle-axes and poison-tipped spears. Grendel throws himself down on the forest floor, causing a twelve-foot crack to appear in the ground. He swears at Hrothgar’s Danes with curses he has picked up from human conversations he has overheard. When Grendel regains his calm, he looks up through the treetops, half expecting to see the god whom the Shaper described. Grendel asks the sky why he cannot have someone to talk to, as Hrothgar and the Shaper do. Grendel comforts himself with the knowledge that the Danes are doomed: he knows enough about human nature to realize that Hrothgar’s descendants are very unlikely to follow Hrothgar’s glorious ideas of philanthropy. Two nights later, however, Grendel returns to hear more of the Shaper’s song. Though he is increasingly addicted, he nonetheless is enraged by the Shaper’s hopeful words, convinced of the mechanical brutishness of reality. Though Grendel dismisses the Shaper’s proposed religious system as a crackpot theory, he admits that he desperately wants to believe in it himself. Once again, Grendel hears sinister whisperings in the darkness, and he can feel the mysterious force pulling at him. He grabs a vine to reassure himself, only to discover this time that the vine really is a snake. Back in the cave, Grendel’s mother whimpers at him, straining for language, but the only sound she manages to produce is the gibberish sound “Dool-dool! Dool-dool!” Grendel sleeps, only to wake up to the darkness pulling at him even more inexorably than before. He leaves the cave and walks to the cliff side. Grendel makes his mind a blank and sinks like a stone, down through the earth and sea.
Grendel finds himself in the presence of a huge, red-golden dragon that lives in a cave filled with gold and gems. The dragon has been expecting Grendel, and he takes cruel pleasure in Grendel’s fright and discomfort. He laughs obscenely and points out that Grendel’s reaction to him is just like the humans’ reaction to Grendel. Angered by the dragon’s spitefulness, Grendel picks up an emerald to throw at him, but stops at the dragon’s sharp words. Grendel, pausing to consider the dragon’s comparison between himself and the humans, decides to stop scaring the humans merely for sport. Reading his mind, the dragon scoffs at the idea, asking him brusquely: “Why not frighten them?” The dragon claims to know everything about everything. As a more highly evolved creature than Grendel and the humans, the dragon has a vision of the world that is beyond anything these low creatures can comprehend. The dragon sees both backward and forward in time, though he quickly disabuses Grendel of the notion that this vision gives the dragon any kind of power to change things. The dragon ascertains that Grendel has come seeking answers about the Shaper, and he begins by explaining the flaws in human thinking. Lacking the total vision that the dragon has, humans approximate by gluing isolated facts together and trying to link them into logical chains and rational systems. Every once in a while, the humans sense that their systems are actually nonsense—that is where the Shaper steps in. The Shaper, through the power of his imaginative art, provides the Danes with an illusion that their systems are real. In reality, of course, the Shaper has no broader vision than any other man, and he is still working within the same limited system of facts and observations. His system may be neat and ordered, but it is entirely contrived. The curmudgeonly dragon launches into a sprawling philosophical discussion, in which he has difficulty making his points understandable to the simple, childlike Grendel. Grendel, for his part, is skeptical about the dragon’s conclusions, but he listens anyway.
The dragon explains that humans have a tendency to extrapolate theories and grossly generalize from the limited evidence they have, hampered as they are by their restricted vision of the world. The dragon also explains to Grendel how all nature inevitably moves toward more complex forms of organization. He illustrates his point by comparing a vegetable to an animal. If a vegetable is split into many different pieces, nothing changes from piece to piece; its organization of molecules remains consistent throughout its body. An animal, however, has a center of dominant activity—the head—and if that center is severed from the rest of the animal, the entire coordination collapses. The dragon makes the same comparison between a rock and a human. The rock, a less complex object, makes no distinctions about what it attracts gravitationally. Man, on the other hand, organizes, makes selections, and then acts systematically upon his environment. Grendel and the dragon reach a frustrated impasse. Finally, the dragon reveals that the world Grendel knows is no more than a small ripple in the stream of Time, a gathering of dust that will fade away completely when enough years pass. All of man’s monuments, systems, and inventions will eventually fade from the world entirely. Even the dragon himself will be killed someday. In light of this vision, the dragon scoffs at Grendel’s attempts to change or improve himself. He grants that Grendel does have a kind of purpose in life: he is man’s “brute existent,” the enemy against which man will come to define himself. Grendel drives man toward the lofty planes of art, science, and religion, but he is infinitely replaceable in this capacity. Whether Grendel sticks with man, helps the poor, or feeds the hungry is irrelevant in the long run. The dragon, for his part, plans only to count all his money and perhaps sort it out into piles. After ridiculing humankind’s theories about God, the dragon gives Grendel a final piece of advice: “seek out gold and sit on it.”
After his encounter with the dragon, Grendel begins to see the world as a meaningless place. Despite this new outlook, he still has no intention of systematically terrifying the Danes. One night, Grendel finds himself watching the meadhall and listening to the Shaper’s song. The song has a different effect on Grendel now: rather than feeling doubt, distress, loneliness, or shame, he feels anger at the listeners’ ignorance and self-satisfaction. Suddenly, Grendel hears a stick snap, and he turns to find a guard behind him. The guard strikes at Grendel, but is mysteriously unable to hurt him. Other Danes rush up to attack and are similarly thwarted. Grendel slowly realizes that the dragon has put a charm on him that renders him impervious to weapons. Laughing grimly, Grendel backs towards the woods, holding a guard whose head he bites off gleefully. A few nights later, Grendel launches his first raid on the humans, thus beginning the twelve-year war. He is filled with joy but, strangely, also feels more alone than ever before. A few raids later, Hrothgar’s thanes meet Grendel’s attack on the meadhall with much poetic boasting, retaliating with whoops and howls in the name of Hrothgar. Grendel has a vision of these attacks continuing mechanically until the end of time, and in his rage he begins to smash the hall. From across the hall, a thane named Unferth approaches Grendel. Unferth challenges Grendel very lyrically, and Grendel responds sarcastically, surprising Unferth with his capacity for language. Grendel goes on to taunt Unferth about the difficulty of being a hero. He tells Unferth that he pities the hero’s terrible burden—always having to watch what he says or does, never being allowed to slip up.
But on second thought, Grendel figures, the burdens of heroism are probably all worth it for the feelings of superiority and comfort of self-knowledge that come with being a hero. Unferth withers under Grendel’s verbal attack; then, to add insult to injury, Grendel begins pelting him with apples. Unferth begins to cry, and Grendel leaves the meadhall with mixed feelings of disgust and satisfaction. Three days later, Grendel awakes in his cave to find that Unferth has followed him. Though exhausted and battered by his journey through the pool of firesnakes, Unferth nevertheless launches into an impassioned argument that his journey to Grendel’s cave will be the subject of Danish songs for generations. Before Unferth finishes, however, he abandons his poetic tone and confronts Grendel about his condemnation of heroism. Unferth claims that heroism is about more than simply fairy tales and poetry. He claims that, as no human will know whether he actually came to Grendel’s mere or simply fled like a coward to the hills, his decision to challenge Grendel shows he has inner heroism. Grendel, however, feels that Unferth has just contradicted his earlier assertion that he will live on in the Scyldings’ poetry. Unferth becomes enraged at Grendel’s apparent indifference. Unferth claims that heroism gives the world meaning, for a hero sees “value beyond what’s possible,” thereby fueling the struggle of humanity. Grendel retorts that heroism also breaks up the boredom of life. Further angered, Unferth declares that either he or Grendel will die that night in the cave. Grendel, however, says that he plans to carry Unferth back to the meadhall unscathed. Unferth swears he would rather kill himself, but Grendel points out that such an action would appear rather cowardly. Beaten and spent, Unferth falls asleep on the cave floor, and Grendel carries him back to Hrothgar’s hall. Unferth lives throughout the twelve-year war, crazy with frustration at the fact that Grendel taunts him by sparing his life during every raid.
It is the second year of Grendel’s raids on the Danes. The attacks have decimated Hrothgar’s dominion. His glory is waning, and other feudal lords are rising up around him. To the east, one such king is extending his circle of power much as Hrothgar once did, plundering neighboring villages and forcing them to swear allegiance to his hall. Hrothgar responds by gathering an army from the farthest reaches of his realm of influence. Grendel watches as these forces gather at Hrothgar’s meadhall and grow in number.One night, when Grendel comes down to spy on the humans, he sees that they have left their campsites. He follows their tracks eastward, to the hall of the young King Hygmod, lord of the Helmings. Hrothgar assembles his troops before Hygmod’s door and calls him out. Hygmod appears on the doorstep with six retainers and a great bear on a chain. Hrothgar makes a speech, and it is clear that his troops would easily best Hygmod’s in battle. Extraordinarily calm, Hygmod drops his sword at Hrothgar’s feet with his left hand—a sign of a truce—and offers him gifts in order to avoid a battle.Hrothgar refuses the Helmings’ treasure, but Hygmod tells him he has a treasure that will change his mind. Hygmod returns to his hall and emerges with his sister, a beautiful woman with long red hair. Hygmod offers her to Hrothgar, telling him that from now on she will be known as Wealtheow, or “holy servant of common good.” Grendel finds himself wracked with pain at the sight of Wealtheow; despite himself, she moves him just as the Shaper’s song once moved him. Weeping children run up to Wealtheow and snatch the hem of her dress, and Grendel can imagine himself joining them. Hrothgar accepts her as his bride. After a few days of speeches from both the Scyldings and the Helmings, Hrothgar’s men return home to Hart.
Throughout the winter, the presence of Wealtheow keeps Grendel from attacking Hrothgar’s hall, even though he understands that Wealtheow, in her goodness and selflessness, is no different from any other female creature he has encountered before. Even Grendel’s mother, disgusting and wretched as she is, would give her life to lessen his suffering. Sometimes Grendel goes to Hart to watch Wealtheow as she passes the meadbowl around the hall. Her presence seems to have affected all the Danes: the Shaper now sings songs of comfort, beauty, and love, and Hrothgar seems somewhat softened as well. One night, the other thanes taunt Unferth for having killed his brothers, but Wealtheow manages to stop the barrage with a word. One time during the winter, Hygmod comes to visit Wealtheow, bringing with him a great troop of Helmings. Grendel watches the festivities through a hole in the wall. He notes the doting manner in which Hrothgar watches Wealtheow, and also the cunningly duplicitous looks that Hygmod shoots at Hrothgar. Back in his cave, Grendel is tortured by visions of Wealtheow, which tease him away from the nihilistic truth he has received from the dragon. The next night, Grendel storms the hall and catches Wealtheow up in his hands. He spreads her legs and thinks about cooking the “ugly hole” between them over a fire. But then Grendel, realizing that killing Wealtheow is just as meaningless as not killing her, suddenly releases her. He returns to the mere, happy that his forbearance has surprised the men and wrecked another one of their theories.
When Hrothgar’s brother, Halga, is murdered, Halga’s fourteen-year-old son, Hrothulf, comes to live at Hart. By this time, Hrothgar and Wealtheow have two sons of their own. Hrothulf, though polite, is sullen and withdrawn. Hrothgar tries to attribute the boy’s malaise to the trauma of losing his father, but he also suspects that the boy may be plotting against him.In a soliloquy in the yard, Hrothulf describes the unfair socioeconomic situation he sees in the Scylding community. The peasants labor stupidly for the smug, self-satisfied thanes. Hrothulf wishes the laboring class could view the aristocrats critically and see that the thanes’ riches depend on the peasants’ labor. Hrothulf describes the system that keeps the two classes apart as a violent one, no more legitimate or just than the violence of savage animals.In a second soliloquy in the woods, Hrothulf contemplates a large nut tree that provides a home for squirrels and birds, but kills any plants that sprout in its shade. Hrothulf wonders if he should call the tree tyrannical, as only it and its “high-borne guests” survive in its presence. He goes on to compare the tree and the birds to Hrothgar and his thanes. Though Hrothulf has nicer things to say about the kind and loving Wealtheow, simple love is not enough for him to justify the divide between the rich and the poor.In a soliloquy immediately following, Wealtheow stands above the sleeping Hrothulf and marvels that such sadness can exist in one so young. Wealtheow knows that Hrothulf, though he shows kindness to her sons now, will come to resent them when they ascend to Hrothgar’s throne.A year passes, and Hrothulf becomes even more taciturn and remote. The only times he speaks are on his walks with Red Horse, a deaf and cranky old peasant who acts as his counselor and mentor.
One day, as the two are walking in the woods, Red Horse gives the prince advice on the revolution he is planning. First, Red Horse tells Hrothulf that it will be necessary for him to discover ways to frame his revolution—which will necessarily be brutal and violent—as a heroic, meritorious undertaking. Red Horse then goes on to claim, cynically, that the purpose of government is to protect the interests of those who already have power and to deny protection to everyone else. Red Horse also jibes Hrothulf for his revolutionary ideas, claiming that a revolution merely exchanges one tyrannical government for another. All governments, Red Horse claims, are essentially evil.At a dinner back in Hart, Hrothgar watches Hrothulf sit between his young sons. Hrothgar marvels at the fact that there will come a time when Hrothulf, despite his current outward kindness and lonely awkwardness, will rise against him. Hrothgar scans the crowd before him and sees a series of traps. In addition to the threat that the resentful Hrothulf presents, there is the problem of Wealtheow’s brother, Hygmod. Furthermore, Ingeld, the increasingly powerful king of the Heathobards, also poses a threat to Hrothgar’s kingdom; Hrothgar plans to marry his elder daughter, Freawaru, off to Ingeld, but he has no guarantee that this measure will stave off an attack. Hrothgar sees Wealtheow as the worst trap of all: the youth she has wasted on an elderly husband reminds him of all the pain and potentially meaningless suffering they have endured together. Grendel figures that the reader, after seeing Hrothgar in such a pitiful state, must be wondering how Grendel can stand to torment the Danes any further. Grendel responds by claiming that his attacks give men dignity and nobility: he made men what they are and, as their creator, has a right to test them. Grendel grows angry with the reader for pestering him with questions, saying that all this grief and energy must eventually lead to something important. Grendel then comes up with a dream that he will “impute” to Hrothgar, about a tree with two joined trunks that gets split by an ax.