He was here. And she wasn’t wasting anymore time. She’d watched her son crawl into their home, bleeding and in agony – barely able to conduct coherent sentences. He’d clutched onto his shoulder that was saturated in blood. She knew something wasn’t right, however due to her state of mind, she had no time to wonder what was missing.
She rushed over to Grendel’s side, in tears, mortified at the image that was before her. There he lay, her son, without his left arm, crying in pain. It was an educated guess that he had already began dying on his way to their abode, but it seemed as though now he was at his final breaths. She cried in anger and in discomfort, who would have taken her only son? She held him close to her, with only one question on her lips, who? He clutched his wound, and took sharp breaths in, attempting to reveal the name, but visibly struggling. He closed his eyes, using the last energy that dwelled within him, whilst she clasped his hand. Hoping for anything, but knowing reality was a cruel mistress. Beo…Beowulf…Beowulf was his name, and Beowulf was whom she was going to slay. To avenge her now dead son. She was going to slaughter him brutally, so that he felt every bone in his minuscule body tighten and crumble as she killed him. She descended her son into the murky lake that flowed between her legs, and stood looking at the crescent moon in the sky – she’d be patient, she told herself. Sooner or later, this Beowulf would come looking for her, and once he did, she’d destroy him. Destroy him along with any hopes and legacies that came along with the name Beowulf.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The wait was finally over. He was here and she was prepared. He crept through the cave, eyes alert and sword drawn. Slaying Grendel was not a task that Beowulf couldn’t handle, however he wasn’t going to assume the same for his mother. He knew the anger that ran through her veins and pulsated around her body was because of him – because he killed her only son. He’d come across a lake, but to proceed with his journey, he’d have to swim through the lake to enter her chamber. The path before him reminded him of his swimming contest with Breca, many moons ago. Even though he failed to win the match with Breca, he was sure he’d defeat any sea monsters that would cross his path. Just like he had during that contest. He placed the knife between his teeth, bit down and then dived into the lake.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Stupid human, she thought. She was the queen of her domain and now she was going to show him why he should have never trespassed her land. She saw his body swimming through the lake, without warning, her body lunged towards him, pulling him out of the water. As she held him, other sea monsters came to her side, attacking this outsider, clinging onto his armour and pulling at his weapon. However, this man was stronger than what she had anticipated. He summoned power from above and loosened Grendel’s mothers grip from around his waist, whilst pulling the sea creatures off of him.
Beowulf then proceeded to swim to the surface, revealing a golden aura within the cave. He drew his sword and faced Grendel’s mother, who was stalking her prey ready to strike. He turned to face her and for once was stunned; never had he imagined such beauty or elegance from such a monstrous creature like her. She managed to hold an unimaginable picturesque appearance that he physically couldn’t raise his arm to strike her.
But it wasn’t only he that was shocked, her son’s murderer was beyond any regular human, he was a god. A god with such features that any creature would bow to him under any command. She came close, not believing what she was seeing, she wanted to touch, wanted to feel, smell him even. The finest Gods from above made him. He was enchanted by her beauty, nobody had capsulated such exquisiteness like she did, he threw his sword to the ground and stripped himself of his armour. Not fearing the other sea creatures that lurked closely around him, instead he solemnly focused on Grendel’s mother and how a monster could hold such a beauty that would disarm a man without any words.