Oh what a day it has been! This morning was like any other-we awoke to news being sent of an attack by Grendel. The demon had struck a village on the west side of our country. All I could do was shake my head when I heard the news. That monster had caused more frustration to me than any other in the past twelve years. I had dodged it so far but I knew it wouldn't be long until the monster came to take me from this dreaded misery called life. As legend told, Grendel would approach a village at night, when everyone was sleeping and attack. He left no survivors, that is, until "Hope" arrived.
             Drinking very close to my last bottle of ale, I had suddenly heard the striking of metal on metal outside the door of the castle. Quickly I ran and opened the door where fourteen men lay before me, their armor shining in the setting sun. The leader, as it had seemed, Beowulf, spoke first. The brave young man had come, with his men, to fight the evil Grendel for my Hrothgar. I felt like laughing at him-an entire kingdom's army has fought this creature for over a decade-and suddenly one man can win? But, help is help as hospitality is hospitality, so I let them in.
             The Hall of the Hart had started to change by now. You see, for the past twelve years, the castle would transform at night. In daylight, the Great Hall sparkled with the Sutton Hoo gleaming on top. The castle was bright and magnificent with shimmering gold and ancient artifacts inside. However, at night, the castle turned into a gloomy place of dark and cold slate. A place where a warm summer breeze would send chills down your spine.
             At the feast welcoming Beowulf, my dear friend Unferth, envious of his kinsmen's admiration of Beowulf, began to taunt the Geat. He claimed that Beowulf once lost a swimming match against Breca and that Beowulf would meet with defeat for a second time when he faced Grendel in the mead-hall. Now I t
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