Grendel by John Gardner Page A

for the season. Care, take care of the gold-egg-laying goose! There is no limit to desire but desire’s needs. (Grendel’s law.)
    The scent of the dragon. Heavy all around me, almost visible before me, like my breath.
      I will count my numberless blessings one by one.
    I . My teeth are sound.
    I . The roof of my cave is sound.
    I . I have not committed the ultimate act of nihilism: I have not killed the queen.
    I . Yet.
    (He lies on the cliff-edge, scratching his belly, and thoughtfully watches his thoughtfully watching the queen.)
    Not easy to define. Mathematically, perhaps a torus, loosely cylindrical, with swellings and constrictions at intervals,knobbed—that is to say, a surface generated, more or less, by the revolutions of a conic about an axis lying in its plane, and the solid thus enclosed. It is difficult, of course, to be precise. For one thing, the problem of determining how much is queen and how much queenly radiation.
    The monster laughs.
    Time-Space cross-section:
Wealtheow.
    Cut
A:
    It was the second year of my raiding. The army of the Scyldings was weakened, decimated. No more the rumble of Hrothgar’s horsemen, riding at midnight, chain-mail jangling in the whistling wind, cloaks flying out like wimpling wings, to rescue petty tribute-givers. (O
listen
to me, hills!) He couldn’t protect his own hall, much less theirs. I cut down my visits, conserving the game, and watched them. Nature lover. For weeks, all day and far into the night, he met with his counselors, talking, praying, moaning. I became aware, listening to them, that I was not their only threat. Far to the east of Hrothgar’s hall there was a new hall a-building, its young king gaining fame. As Hrothgar had done, this younger king was systematically burning and plundering nearby halls, extending the circle of his tribute power. He was striking now at the outer rim of Hrothgar’s sphere; it was only a matter of time before he struck Hrothgar. The counselors talked and drank andwept, sometimes Hrothgar’s allies among them. The Shaper sang songs. The men stood with their braceleted arms around one another’s shoulders—men who not long before had been the bitterest of enemies—and I watched it all, wringing my fingers, smiling rage. The leaves turned red. The purple blooms of thistles became black behind the people’s houses, and migrant birds moved through.
    Then, from all corners of Hrothgar’s sphere of influence and from towns beyond—the vassals’ vassals—an army began to form. They came walking or riding, oxen dragging their wagonloads of shields, spears, tents, clothes, food. Every night when I went down to look there were more of them. Cartwheels tall as a man, with rough, square spokes. Big-hoofed gray horses spackled like wolves, that rolled their eyes and whinnied at my footfall, leagued with men as if strapped to their business by harness I could not see. Horns cracked out in the darkening stillness; grindstones screeched. The crisp air reeked with the aftersmell of their cooking.
    They made camp in a sloping pasture rimmed by enormous oak trees and pines and nut trees, a stream moving down through the center, over steps of rock. Where the forest began, there was a lake. Every night there were new groups of campfires to push away the frost, and soon there was hardly a place to stand, there were so many men and animals. The grass, the withering leaves were full of whispering,but the campground was hushed, muffled by their presence, as if blighted. I watched from my hiding place. They talked in mumbles or not at all. Message carriers moved from fire to fire, talking softly with the leaders. Their rich furs shone like birds’ wings in the firelight. Heavily guarded, the younger soldiers pushed through the crowd and, all night long, washed clothes and cooking ware in the stream until the water was thick with dirt and grease and no longer made a sound as it dropped toward the lake. When they slept, guards and dogs watched