My young companion is so pale because he is worried about the cursed Grendel! He is right - I would too, if I were his age, with so much yet to live and to do and to dream. Warriors like to boast, but I have yet to meet one who really cares little about laying down his life, no matter how worthy the cause. I instead have reached the point when an honourable death is plenty of satisfaction. Of course, as long as I can still be useful to my liege, I will try to conserve my life!

So I gladly take up my sword; my muscles are becoming rusty with waiting, and I was never a patient man to stand aside when there is a monster nearby. I wonder how Beowulf is faring. But it is *his* monster; he has to defend his people and his loyalty. I trust he will not fail. It would be painful to watch a brave young man destroyed by this... this darkness.

"Alas, it is true," I whisper, "Hrothgar's warriors are painfully few and past their prime. Grendel has struck hard on this place - he likes young flesh, damn him! However, if Thidrek were here -" I parry Amleth's sudden thrust and circle around him.

"He is good, very good - I trained him," I say with pride. "But you are just as good. We would be unbeatable together! And then, when peace returns, I look forward to see you two spar as we are doing. It would be hard to tell the winner, I am sure!"