My son Grendel was the first to terrorize Herot. They lived in a world of peace and happiness while we were cursed for our relative, Cain’s actions; he just killed his brother, what’s the big deal? I’ve killed entire villages! Anyway, we’d been living underwater for a while, having to watch them and their happy lives up there in Herot, so Grendel did what any real soul would do, he snapped. The jealousy overcame him. He became impatient and killed thirty men. No mother could have been more proud! For twelve years, my son, Grendel, haunted them, paving the way for more monsters, but, unfortunately, some selfish “hero” severed my poor baby’s arm. King Hrothgar could only feel grief for his kingdom before some warrior came to help. His name was Beowulf, and supposedly he was the strongest of all the Geats. He was trying to honor some code. He said that he had to be brave and fight for his king. They laid a trap for Grendel, it was terrifying to watch him get caught by their trap. What could I do though? The time wasn’t right for me to storm up and save him; they were still too fresh from battle. One day Beowulf shall pay for my son’s pain!
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