Fitt XI — All Sleep Save One

Hrothgar departs from the hall with his earls to seek his bedchamber, having formally entrusted the building and its watch to Beowulf — a hall-watch against the giant, a special service. Beowulf accepts the trust. He takes off his iron armor, the helmet from his head, hands his chased-hilted chain-sword to his attendant, and bids him guard the battle-equipment. The removal of armor is not negligence but deliberate matching of terms: he will fight Grendel as Grendel fights, with his hands, because the wise-minded Father will decide the outcome and weapons are beside the point.

Beowulf's speech before lying down is measured and clear. He holds himself no meaner in matters of prowess than Grendel himself; so he will not use a sword to put the monster to sleep, though he well could. Grendel has no skill with weapons, cannot strike a blow with a shield — but he is mighty in strife and destruction, and the fight will be conducted without edges, if the monster dares come to weaponless warfare. God ever-holy will assign the glory to whichever side seems proper to him. The formulation is not resignation; it is precision about the terms of an encounter he intends to win.

The brave-minded hero bends to his slumber. The pillow receives the noble's cheek. Many a warrior of the sea-band sinks into sleep. The poet pauses to note what they did not know: it seemed unlikely that any of them would ever afterward hope to visit friend-lords or the lordly stronghold of their childhood. They had heard about Grendel's raids; they were sleeping anyway. This is the poem's argument about the hall in its most compressed form. Outside, through the dark, the twilight traveler comes tramping: the warriors who should have kept watch are sleeping. All but one. Beowulf, serving as warder, a terror to foes, angrily awaits the outcome of battle.