Left to themselves, the Danes chose a king who ruled long and well and left his son Hrothgar to make of them a wealthy and prosperous people.
After years of warfare, when the prosperity of Hrothgar was fully established, it came into his mind to build a great hall where he and his warriors and counselors could meet around one common banquet table and where, as they drank their mead, they could discuss means for increasing their power and making better the condition of their peoples. High-arched and beautiful was the great mead-palace, with towering pinnacles and marvelous walls, and the name that he gave to the palace was Heorot, the HART or, as some say, the HEART. When the noble building was finished, Hrothgar's heart was filled with joy, and he gave to his counselors a noble feast, at which he presented them with rings and ornaments and entertained them with music on the harps and the inspiring songs of the Skalds.
Far away in the marshes, in the dark and solemn land where dwelt the Jotuns, the giants who warred against God's people, lived the grim and ferocious Grendel, more terrible than any of his brethren. From out of the fastnesses of his gloomy home he saw the fair building of Hrothgar and grew jealous of the Danish king, hating the united people, for peace and harmony were evil in his sight.
The feast was long over, and the thanes and warriors slept in the banquet hall, worn out by their rejoicing, but dreaming only of the peaceful days to follow their long years of warfare. Into the midst of the hall crept Grendel, and seized in his mighty arms full thirty of the sleeping men and carried them away to his noisome home, where he feasted at leisure upon their bodies.
The next morning there was grief and terror among the remaining Danes, for they knew that no human being could have wrought such havoc and that no human power could prevail against the monster who preyed upon them.
The next night Grendel came again and levied his second tribute, and again there was mourning and desolation in the land. Thus for twelve years the monster giant came at intervals and carried away many of the noblest in the kingdom. Then were there empty homes everywhere in the land, and sorrow and suffering came where joy and peace had rested. Strange as it may seem, Hrothgar himself was never touched, though he sat the night long watching his nobles as they slept in the mead-hall, hoping himself to deliver them from the awful power that harassed them. But night after night Grendel came, and while Hrothgar remained unharmed he was equally powerless to stay the ravages of the giant. Hrothgar bowed his head in sorrow and prayed to his gods to send help before all his noble vassals perished.
Far to the westward, among strange people, lived a man, the strongest and greatest of his race, Beowulf by name. To him came the news of Grendel's deeds and of Hrothgar's sorrow, and his soul was filled with a fiery ambition to free the Danes. From among his warriors he selected fifteen of the boldest and strongest, and put out to sea in a new ship, pitched within and without, to seek the land of the Danes and to offer his help to Hrothgar. Over the white sea waves dashed the noble vessel, flinging the foam aside from her swanlike prow until before her showed the cliffs and wind-swept mountain sides of Denmark. Giving thanks to God for their prosperous voyage, they landed, donned their heavy armor and marched in silence to the palace Heorot.
Entering the hall with clanking armor they set their brazen shields against the wall, piled their steel-headed spears in a heap by the door, and bowed to Hrothgar, who, bowed with sorrow and years, sat silently among his earls. When Beowulf rose among his warriors he towered high above them, godlike in his glittering armor. Hrothgar looked on him in wonder, but felt that he saw in the mighty man a deliverer sent in answer to his prayer.
Before Hrothgar could recover from his surprise and delight, Beowulf stretched forth his powerful arms and spoke: "Hail, Hrothgar, king of the Danes. Many a time and oft have I fought with the Jotuns, evil and powerful, and every time have I overcome, and now have I come unto the land of the Danes to undertake battle with the fierce Grendel. No human weapon hath power against a Jotun, so here in your mead-hall leave I my weapons all, and empty-handed and alone will I pit my strength against the horrid Grendel. Man to man, strength to strength, will I fight, till victory is mine or death befalleth me.
"If I perish, give my companions my shroud and send it home by them in my new ship across the sea. Let there be no mourning for me, for to every man Fate cometh at last."