Grendel's first attack on the Danes
Storyboard Text
- A powerful monster, living down in the darkness, growled in pain, impatient. As day after day the music rang. Loud in that hall, the harp's rejoicing. Call and the poet's clear songs, sung. Of the ancient beginnings of us all, recalling. The almighty creation of earth. As now warriors sang of their pleasure: So Hrothgar's men lived happy in his hall. Till the monster stirred, that demon.
- Then, when darkness had dropped, Grendel went up to Herot, wondering what the warriors would do in that hall when their drinking was done. He found them sprawled in sleep, suspecting nothing, their dreams undisturbed. The monster's thought were as quick as his greed or his class: He slipped through the door and there in silence snatched up thirty men, smashed them. Unknowing in their beds and ran out with their bodies. The blood dripping behind him.
- At daybreak, with the sun's first light, they saw how well he had worked, and in that gray morning broke their long feasts with tears and laments for the dead. Hrothgar, their lord sat joyless. In Herot, a mighty prince mourning. The fate of his lost friends and companions. Knowing by its tracks that some demon had torn his followers apart. He wept fearing the beginning might not be the end.
- That night Grendel came out, so set on murder that no crime could ever be enough, no savage assualt quench his lust for evil.
- Then each warrior tried to escape him, searched for rest in different beds, as far from Herot as they could find. Seeing how Grendel hunted when they slept. Distance was safety; the only survivors were those who fled him.
- So Herot stood empty, and stayed deserted for years, Twelve winters of grief for Hrothgar, King of the Danes. Sorrow heaped at his door by hell-forged hands.
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