- We meet our as-yet-unnamed narrator in a standoff with... an excited ram.
- This dude may be venting on the old goat but we learn pretty quickly that his fruitless anger is directed at the sky. And by "sky," we totally mean "God." Or the maker of the universe. Or whatever it is up there.
- Our fuming narrator reveals that this is "the twelfth year of my idiotic war."
- The dude dwells on the mindlessness of the ram and asks the "sky" why natural creatures can't have more dignity.
- Does this guy get a cosmic response? Of course not. In his anger, he flips God the bird and declares his hatred for a power that seems as mindless as the rest of the natural world.
- Our angry narrator knows that he is no more noble, dignified or purpose-driven than the rest of creation.
- We learn that this dude is a miserable murderer—children, cows, you name it—and that he doesn't really care what you think about it.
- In a manic romp across the landscape, our narrator throws himself to the ground, sobbing and laughing, identifying the places he's murdered (and eaten) people by the foliage that is now growing from their remains.
- We get more self-identification from our narrator. He is the "shadow-shooter," "earth-rim-roamer," "walker of the world's weird wall." Sounds legit to us. Basically, he's an outcast—in a big way.
- Our crazed narrator feels that even the oak trees are judging him. (He's wrong. It's totally the apple trees who are judgy.) He calls himself "disfigured son of lunatics."
- Things have been worse for this guy, if you can believe it. Everything around him irritates him and makes his mood worse.
- When a doe reacts badly to his presence, our narrator wails about injustice (he has never even eaten one). Why does the stupid deer hate him so?
- Our narrator laments some more about the unseeing nature of the natural world—and that includes people. They see, he grumbles, but they don't observe. No one understands him. Sound familiar?
- We learn that this dude feels helpless and lonely. He feels locked in to his existence, forced on this cursed path. He shows his only form of compassion by leaving an upended baby bird alone on the road for a fox to eat (compassion for the fox, that is—not for the baby bird).
- Did you think all this grousing could go on long without any mention of this guy's mother? She's literally living underground with only red fire for light, she's fat and foul, and she's plagued by nightmares. Isn't she lovely?
- Living in that disgusting den with Mummy builds up a strong sense of anger in our narrator that spring only intensifies. It drives him to seek the light of the world.
- We get a little geography lesson as our narrator surfaces to the world above: the den is underground, but it's also underwater, at the bottom of a lake inhabited by lots of unpleasant creatures.
- Once he lands in the natural world, our narrator is gripped again by a foul mood. He stands at the edge of a cliff and begs the "dark chasms" to take him. How stupid is this, he thinks: I'm asking an inanimate object to act. Whatever.
- There is only one thing to do: wreak havoc on Hrothgar's meadhall. He's got to take out all this pent-up rage on someone.
- Here we take a mental health moment. Somehow, in the middle of all his whining, our narrator recognizes a "sickness" in his own brains, as if he were someone else observing from a distance.
- As our narrator moves toward an unprepared King Hrothgar, he thinks again about his mother and a conversation he had with her as a boy. He asked her why they had to live in their putrid hole in the ground. She refused to reveal anything, and he assumes it is a terrible secret.
- Mum never reveals more about their condition, but the narrator hints at something about an old dragon (not a friend) revealing the truth.
- Hrothgar's hall is now in sight. We learn that, in fact, this isn't our narrator's first time there. He's been terrorizing for almost 12 years.
- Finally! We get a name: Grendel. You might have guessed this from the title, but you know what happens when you assume.
- We get a quick glimpse of the inhabitants of the hall: the blind Shaper (or scop, a singing poet) who grabs his lyre and hops out the window; Old Hrothgar, who hides in his bedroom with his young queen; and the thanes (warriors loyal to Hrothgar) who stupidly try to combat the monster force of Grendel.
- Grendel grabs a few snacks—yep, we're talking about those thanes—and takes his food to go.
- As he munches and runs, Grendel hears the reaction of Hrothgar's people and hates them more as they talk about punishment, God, and sin.
- The "sour meat" of his man-snacks hurts his belly and fuels his hatred.
- Grendel sees the fire of the funeral pyres (he did drop some heads and arms in his haste) and can't understand the "theories" that humans operate on.
- Gold rings and cherished weapons are heaped on the funeral pyres, and Grendel sees something like joy on the faces of the humans.
- Grendel is perplexed and angry and leaves the scene clawing away at his own flesh in his rage.