I swam
In the blackness of night, hunting monters
Out of the ocean, and killing them one
By one; death was my errand and the fate
They are earned.
So the living sorrow of Healfdane's son
Simmered, bitter and fresh, and no windsom
Or strenght could break it: that agony hung
On king and people alike, harsh
And unending, violent and cruel, and evil.
Beowulf and his men sail over the sea to the land of the
Danes to offer help to Hrothdar.
They are escorted by a Danish guard to
Herot, where Wulfgar, one of
Hrothgar's soldiers, tells the king of their arrival.
Hrothgar knows of Beowulf and is ready to welcome
The young price and his men.
