The fight ends with an event that seems to us particularly savage. Beowulf’s men gather around, and as Beowulf appears to be essentially unhurt and rejoicing, they take from him the arm he still holds. Perhaps we are to imagine this arm as about six feet long, or longer. It is thick, and its fingers are claws. The narrative suggests that they saw it “under the curved roof,” and this may indicate that they hoisted it up with rope so that all could see it without pushing or shoving. “It was a clear sign,” says the poet (833).
In line 837, the sun comes up and it is morning. The people in town are already awake but have not dared to come out. Who knows if the monster may flee, taking one last victim as he passes? But they heard his dying screams as they faded into the distance, and in the morning quiet, perhaps they can hear the Geats talking and calling out the news. Many people all around the Heorot neighborhood came to see what had happened. Not only that, but from far away, land-owning earls arrived on horseback to see what had happened. Grendel’s footprints and arm are the talk of the countryside. In fact, many of them set out to follow the tracks and see if they can find the dead troll. The tracks lead them to a pool of water that is welling and boiling with blood.
An impromptu horse race seems to stem from the field-trip to see Grendel’s tracks to the end. How many of these warriors would have dared to take this path, only the day before? While any gathering of fighting men on horses must have quickly included a competitive, drag-racing element, this race has a different feel. They are taking back the ownership of the land from the monster who has terrified them. Like the people of Oz as they realize that the witch is dead, they want to swarm over the paths Grendel used and set their horses’ hooves right into his footprints in triumph.
Then the king pays a formal visit, coming in a parade with all his surviving thanes and the queen with all her maidens. Hrothgar, looking on the bloodied arm of Grendel, makes a heartfelt speech. First, he simply states that he can’t quite believe his eyes. Is it real? They never thought this day would come, and now a man has conquered Grendel. He blesses Beowulf’s mother, if she is still alive, for if so she can celebrate having such a son. But what reward can Hrothgar give for this immense deed? Hrothgar proposes to adopt Beowulf, at least “in my heart,” and perhaps more formally. He will give him great riches, having given treasures for much lesser deeds.
Like a true warrior, Beowulf seems to be still too full of the fight for ceremonial words. Telling Hrothgar that he took on the challenge for free, he breaks out in enthusiasm, “I wish you could’ve seen him yourself! He was covered in blood! I tried to pin him, but he got away!”
Looking on the torn arm with its immense claws, Unferth is silent. Some translations may follow the Old English text and call him the “son of Ecglaf,” but this is Unferth himself who gazes at the arm. Confronted with the wrecked hall, a torn, bloodied Beowulf, and the awesome claws of the monster, he faces more clearly than ever before the difference between words and deeds. The last words of the episode are given over to the viewpoint of the watching thanes, as they gaze for the first time at the dreadful, steel-like claws that killed so many of their friends.
The narrator tells us, also, that a poet sings for them. Instead of telling us the songs, he tells us about the songs: gives sketchy summaries of the content. The most that historians can say is that the singing poet chooses to remind the Danes of a warrior who was great like Beowulf, and another who was strong — but ended badly. One is to serve as a point of praise, the other perhaps as an example of what not to do.
Sigemund and Fitela (called in Norse “Sinfiotli”), uncle and nephew of the Volsunga Saga, are cited first. After doing many great deeds and traveling about together, the most glorious battle for Sigemund arrives without Fitela at his side. Sigemund alone is able to kill a dragon, pinning him to the wall to melt in his own heat, and then is able to load his ship with the dragon’s treasure. Sigemund was a very famous legendary warrior, and to be compared to him was as high praise as comparing an American President to George Washington. It is clear that the singing poet has selected this song for the occasion, in order to imply that now, in their own time, they have found Sigemund’s equal.
The second song is very difficult to understand. While we have the stories of Sigemund in full form in other Germanic literature, the story of Heremod is difficult to piece together. Heremod appears to have been an earlier king of the Danes. He may have been a relative, or he may have been the king who was in power before Scyld arrived; perhaps his downfall left the Danes ready to accept the miraculous baby in a boat as their next king, since their royal house had come to disaster. The song of the poet in lines 898-915 tell a fractured, confusing story that appears to imply Heremod’s downfall through his own flaws. He went into exile, having struggled to keep his throne but finally lost. Among a foreign people, probably the nearby Jutes, he was betrayed and met death at the hands of his enemies, perhaps the avenging relatives of people whom he had killed.
The rest of the song expresses the disappointment of his people at his downfall, for he had come to power at a young age, and they had hoped he would turn out well. While the story is hard to understand, the moral is given plainly. Beowulf became a friend to all mankind by ridding them of a monster, but sin possessed Heremod and he came to a bad end. So may all young men take warning: don’t be like Heremod.