Grendel the þyrs

The second part of my "Grendel's Gigantism" post is here already...despite concerns that it would take me a year to get my lazy ass to write it, Easter has proven so mind numbingly boring and awful that I may as well do it now.

I may as well also mention that, in my time spent holidaying (avoiding) from this blog, I have two published articles. And yes, I am totally just bragging here.

1. The Grendel-kin: From Beowulf to the 21st Century - Boolean Journal, UCC, November 2015
2. The Monster in the House: Grendel's Mother and the Victorian Ideal - Sibeal Feminist and Gender Studies Network, March 2016

Grendel by Charles Keeping

In my last post I spoke about Grendel's gigantism in relation to the term eoten, A second term used of Grendel is þyrs, once again, generally translated as "giant" or "ogre" or "demon" or bla bla bla. þyrs is generally agreed to be a pretty negative term, both in Old English, Old Norse, Old Saxon and Old High German sources. All these cognates appear to have descended from Proto-Germanic *þurisaz, which itself, according to the Etymological Dictionary of Proto-Germanic, was perhaps a God of war or sea-monster, as evidenced in the Iku-Turso or Turisas of Finnish folkore, a giant who appears to reside in the ocean. The Iku-Turso appears in The Kalevala, Finland's national saga.

Iku-Turso - Minna Sundberg

þyrs doesn't appear many times in the Old English corpus, which is pretty damn annoying when you want to develop some sort of in-depth understanding of its conception in Anglo-Saxon England. But saying that, the few examples that do exist are pretty clear-cut and damning. þyrs appears also in Maxims II to describe a creature which dwells alone in the fens - Ðyrs sceal on fenne gewunian ana innan lande, and again appears in Wright's Anglo-Saxon glossses to describe Cacus, Orcus and cyclopes . . . 

Hercules killing Cacus - Sebald Beham (1545)

Orcus Mouth 

Polyphemus, Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein, 1802

. . . all of which you can see, don't look like the most upstanding folks. Furtermore, if we look at Old Norse þurs, it only gets bloody worse. In two Rune Poems, the Icelandic and the Norwegian, the word þurs is associated with some very bad things indeed;

–Þurs vældr kvinna kvillu; kátr værðr fár af illu, “Giant causes anguish to women: misfortune makes few men cheerful” (Norwegian Rune poem, Dickens 25)

–þurs as kvenna kvöl ok kletta búi ok varðrúnar verr, “torture of women and cliff-dweller and husband of a giantess” (Icelandic Rune poem, Dickens 29) 

In general, it appears that they were associated with female anguish - perhaps rape? They are also associated with malevolent magic in the Poetic Edda's Skirnismal. As well as being a rune (þ) associated with hostile magic and woman-torture, the þursar also appear to be a race in mythology. Although often lumped together with the jotunn, it should be noted that the þursar had pretty much nothing going for them - they were a shower of bastards really, it seems. They were completely antagonistic towards the deities (especially Thor) and were also known for being a bit thick. Cleasby and Vigfusson, in their ON dictionary cite the phrase hár sem risi, sterkr sem jötunn, heimskr sem þurs, “tall as a risi, strong as a jötunn, stupid as a þurs” (498).

As with all mythological figures worth their while, they appear as a beer

While the OE þyrs isn't necessarily completely comparable to the ON þurs (we don't really know how much influence ON mythology and paganism had on Anglo-Saxon England, besides a few similarities like Woden and Odin), it still seems like a pretty shitty figure - even if we forget the ON sources, there is still its appearance in Maxims II - living alone in the fens is NEVER GOOD, and its connection to ancient Greek and Roman mythological baddies also does not help this term's case.

But...does this mean that Grendel is a giant? That he is a þyrs? Well, it is important to note that it is not the poet or the narrator who names Grendel as one of these creatures, but rather Beowulf, the lad himself. This may lead us to the possibility that maybe perhaps maybe not, it is not meant as a definitive term for Grendel - perhaps it is a means for Beowulf to belittle his foe. And as I noted in the last post, Robert E. Kaske believes eoten is used in this way of the Frisians in the Hildeburh passage. Similarly, Alexandra Hennessey Olsen believes that the use of þyrs changed to that of an insult for large, dim-witted men. Perhaps this really seems like grasping for straws, but it does seem to me to be a conceivable alternative (although this is coming from someone who thinks that doing a PhD in Old English will lead to job opportunities, harhar, kill me now please).

folio 139v, ðing wið þyrse

næfne he wæs mara þonne ænig man oðer

It has been too long (pretty sure I said that last time) - for the past few months a sense of guilt over not updating this thing has crept into my dreams and shadowed my life, resulting in an existence of anguish and marginality ... yeah, not really. But I was reminded that I do actually have this blog, so thought I really should get back to it, seen as it apparently helped me in forming ideas?

So, at the moment I am currently working on a paper that I will be delivering next month at Borderlines XX in Trinity College Dublin, dealing with Grendel (NOT GRENDEL'S MOTHER WHAAAT) and his gigantism. For this I am just going to talk about the word eoten, and will continue on with this topic in further blog posts (in like a year based on the rate I'm going).

Grendel by J.R Skelton

When people think about Grendel (as they often do), the images that come to mind are much like J.R Skelton's ape-like hula skirt Grendel shown above, or the Grendel of Zemeckis's 2007 work, which tends to remind me of some sort of whingy snot-covered ent from LOTR - ugh. Basically, Grendel is fugly, and generally sort of huge, and one of the terms which supposedly proves this, is eoten. 

Eoten itself is generally translated as "giant" or "troll", or something along those lines, when it comes to its reference to Grendel and also often in its appearance in the list of creatures who sprang from Cain - just sprang out of him. When reading a translation of the poem, which to be honest most people do, this is grand. But then you realise the Jutes who appear in the Hildeburh Fragment...well, they might not even be Jutes! They may be Frisians. Shit, they may even be god-damn GIANTS. The appearance of the word eoten in the Hildeburh Fragment has thus caused much debate - firstly cause, well, what the hell are the Jutes doing here, we thought this was a feud between the Danes and the Frisians? What. Secondly...well, if eoten means Jutes...how can it also mean giants? Did the Jutes spring from Cain? IS GRENDEL A JUTE (it seems like today is a regular all-caps day)?

Zemeckis's giant snot-monster

A few theories seem to stand out for this eoten problem:

• R.W. Chambers is of the opinion that the scribe was just some dipshit who wrote down the wrong word - he meant to say eotnum, not eoten, the fool. So basically, in Chambers' mind, the Jutes are at the Battle of Finnsburg
• R. E. Kaske says that the Jutes are not ever mentioned in this piece and the word eoten is actually just an insult for the Frisians - not one that means Jutes, but one that means "giant". Kaske refers to jotnaheiti, "giant-terms" being used in Old Norse as insults for ordinary men.
• David Williams says that the word eoten is used as a reference to Cain and his murder of Abel, and that he is likening them to Finn and Hnæf - presumably he sees the eotenas as figures associated with Cain - possibly the giants of Genesis, the Nephilim. 
• Signe M. Carlson, then, argues that eoten means neither Jute nor giant, but means "blood-thirsty one", a theory which I quite like!

Carlson argues that eoten is related to etan, "to eat" (which it also is in Proto-Indo-European), and so, rather than referring to height, is actually just a term referring to blood-lust. Grendel is blood thirsty, and so, you could say, are the Frisians; they kill the shit out of the Danes.

Arthur Rackham's Giants and Freyja

It may also be useful to look to Norse mythology and the jotunn, or jotnar, the giant-race prevalent in many myths. In general these lads are pretty hostile towards the gods, but it must be noted that this isn't always the case - some of them are related to the Gods, some are described as beautiful (Skaði), and importantly, some of them aren't tall. It may even be argued that the name jotunn is also related to Proto-Indo-European *etan, and refers rather to gluttony or blood-thirstiness as opposed to gigantism.

Lastly, we also the eoten appear in relation to the sword Beowulf uses to kill Grendel's mammy - okay, sure you may say Beowulf is a strong lad, he can pick up any sword he wants. But...Wiglaf and Eofor also have eotenisc swords, and they are never said to have superhuman strength as Beowulf is...unless there are shitloads of lads with superhuman strength running around Denmark, but this I doubt. If the swords are pretty easy for someone (granted, a warrior) to pick up, surely the eotenas must not have been of huge stature and strength either? Yes? No? 

Anyhow, those are my thoughts on the word eoten. I always find I start off strong with these posts and then gradually everything just goes so downhill the more fed up I get. Hopefully sometime in the next year I will write about þyrs and Grendel's connection  with the Nephilim and whether these also make him unnaturally large. Gōd-sped.

Gaiman and the Golden Grundwyrgenne

It has been too long, but alas, my brain cells had run dry and my spirit was broken from the cataclysm known as the IRC, most famously depicted in Albrecht Dürer's The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. 

Saying that, it hasn't been all bad, as I got to speak at the EMICS Stories and Storytelling in the Medieval World in University College London last April, where I spoke about Zemeckis's -let's be honest - god-awful adaptation of Beowulf, which this post is going to be about.

Despite the film's absolute over-indulgence in CGI, cringe-worthy quotes, and frat-boy-inspired antics, it must be said, the 2007 adaptation is one of the most engaged with the actual poem, and with scholarship surrounding the poem. This can't be too surprising, seen as the film's script was actually written by Neil Gaiman and Roger Avary. Neil Gaiman is a pretty adored author who obviously goes to a shitload of effort when researching his work (as we can see with American Gods) and he also has written two short adaptations of Beowulf  (Bay Wolf and The Monarch of the Glen which can be found in Fragile Things and Smoke and Mirrors). Roger Avary then, co-wrote the screenplay of Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs and the screenplay for that mad bastard, Bret Easton Ellis's The Rules of Attraction - an impressive enough CV.

So it's safe enough to say the film's storyline was in good hands. Minus the terrible dialogue which included Hrothgar naming Unferth as "violator of virgins" and the mind-numbing song that would appeal to teenage boys and (hopefully) nobody else.

The most obvious thing that stands out in this Beowulf when comparing it to the Anglo-Saxon poem, is the sex. Especially the Grendel's mother sex. And the fact that she's a naked, high-heel-footed, golden, reptile (but sexy reptile) thing. Pretty much along the same lines as Graham Baker's less well-known 1999 adaptation, which was so bad that it was sort of okay (let's not get ahead of ourselves).

Despite this being an extremely sexualised view of Grendel's mother, and one which can be described as a great example of what Anita Sarkeesian calls the "Evil Demon Seductress" (think Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body, or Scarlett Johannsson in Under the Skin, or that roboty wan in one of the Transformers films - a trope which generally allows audiences to sexualise and demonise women at the same time), there is the possibility of there being a deeper meaning to this portrayal (not that the young men this film was obviously targeting gave even one solitary crap!).

As with most adaptations, it says something about its own time, the 21st century - a time where the main concerns are not anything like those of the Anglo-Saxon's, but circulate more around the self, with anxieties about sexuality and masculinity. Zemeckis's film could have left out the sexual element included, but heroes always get the girl (even if she's not really a girl, as in this case), and if Beowulf wasn't seduced by naked-golden-Ridley-Scott-Alien-Angelina, then there would be no doubt people would think, "what a fag, like, I'd totally nail her". Anxieties about homosexuality still exist, and the film-makers do not want to put Beowulf's sexuality into question. And if there's anything we can learn from films, it's morals (the couple always die first in the horror film, guys, so ABSTAIN. And the black guy always dies too...so...don't be black?). And because we live in a society where people are still shit-scared of sexually- and otherwisely powerful women, those women must be demonised, while the chaste Wealhtheow's of the world are revered.

But, there is a faint glimmer of hope. There lies the possibility that Jane Chance's article "The Structural Unity of Beowulf: the Problem of Grendel's Mother" had somewhat of an influence - in this article, Chance argues that there exist sexual undertones in the scene of Beowulf and GM's battle, with each other fighting for a dominant position astride the other and the ripping of chain mail and trying to penetrate each other with daggers and rolling about and, god, I gotta open a window. Seriously though, it's possible.
Of more importance is the sword, which in the poem, melts when Beowulf decapitates Grendel's corpse, but in the film, melts ("into gory icicles") when Grendel's mother caresses it, in the most obvious sexual innuendo in film history. And the poem itself seems to treat the giant's sword in the same way - it is described as being "a blade that boded well . . . an ideal weapon, one that any warrior would envy, but so huge and heavy of itself on Beowulf could wield it in battle" (from Heaney's translation). Like, seriously.

Maybe a stronger argument for the depiction of GM as a golden sex beast, is because of its (possible) influence by the work of Frank Battaglia, which seeks to view Grendel's mother as an ancient earth goddess, Gefjon (related perhaps to Freyja and Nerthus). Grendel's mother does look a bit more like a goddess than a monster (or normal woman as I like to argue!), right? And besides, in Caitlin Kiernan's novelization of the film, she mentions Nerthus, and other Germanic and Norse gods, for whom GM has been presumed to be. Despite appearing to be a rather obscure source of inspiration for a film, it seems to fit pretty well. I think. Whatever.

So, although at first the portrayal of GM is kind of ridiculous, and kind of roll-eyes worthy at first, it appears that some thought did actually go into her appearance, besides whatever would make the most money (although I'm sure this was priority!). It goes to show that some of these films can't be presumed to be uneducated pieces of garbage (most anyway!), and they are interesting to study in relation to their engagement with the poem. Basically, every adaptation has something to offer, whether in how it uses the poem to express its own concerns, and how it chooses to engage with the poem and with scholarship.

Fridaye funne

Hit is Frigedæg, se dæg Frigge.

Ich am lyke the poeme Beowulf Undateable
— Chaucer Doth Tweet (@LeVostreGC) October 10, 2014

It's a slow abstract-writing and IRC day. But if things go well, I will be presenting at a conference soon, and if things go really well, my PhD will be funded (but there's less chance of that happening than if someone found out the exact date of Beowulf's composition.

Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed. So begins and ends the masterpiece that is The Dark Tower. 

(I know this is completely irrelevant, but whatevuh)

Last night I finally finished Book VII of the series, after beginning two years ago. I will admit that this is nothing compared to the people who have stuck with it from the very beginning, when Part I: The Gunslinger was released in 1982 (or when the first part of this book was published in 1978 in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Ficiton): In a way I'm quite relieved that I did not have to wait the 20 years it took King to finally complete it! I'm not including The Wind Through the Keyhole here - I have yet to read this, which is some consolation to me. 

Michael Whelan

Stephen King was one of my favourite childhood authors - when I was about twelve, I picked up The Green Mile, I think it was, and then went on a spree, picking up whatever King book I could find - and luckily for me, every god-damn newsagent, even grocery shops out in the shticks, had a bloody Stephen King novel. So I flew through The Shining, Misery, Black House, Carrie (still one of my favourite novels and films), Salem's Lot, along with numerous others. And then all of a sudden, I just stopped reading them. And then two years ago, I looked up Stephen King on Goodreads and went through the reviews of his books, and found that The Dark Tower got amazing reviews, so I said, sure feck it anyway, and went ahead and bought The Gunslinger. 

And I must say - this is probably my favourite series that I've read...maybe ever. That doesn't say much when I haven't read many series, but, the story is one of the best I've ever read. I can say that I've never gotten so attached to fictional characters as I did with this. I honestly thought by the end of it I was falling in love with Roland Deschain of Gilead. And I will admit, that in the final book, I cried numerous times - and I do not cry from books. In fact the last time I cried from reading a book is either when Dumbledore died in the Harry Potter series, or maybe even when I was in fourth class of primary school and that damned horse, Pegasus, died in Lauren Brooke's series Heartland (in the third book if I remember correctly!). But The Dark Tower made me cry. Stephen King made me cry and fall in love with his characters. And because of this book especially, I will defend him until the end of time, and rebuke any muhfah' that says he writes unworthy lowbrow crap. I'll go Detta Walker on their ass. 

Michael Whelan

One thing King has received some criticism for, is the ending of this series. But...I think it ended quite perfectly really. Y'know, after all, ka is a wheel. And as King says in the final chapter, the story is about the journey, about Roland's quest for the tower, and if we are here just for the ending, then all you have to do is read the last few pages. And I do love how he gives us the choice, one may call it, of putting down the book and not finding out. But like Roland, we can't stop ourselves. I had no idea how this was going to end, and I certainly did not expect how it did end up, but damn, it really makes me want to re-read the series again! And maybe one day I will. Because it was actually heartbreaking saying goodbye to it, to Roland and Jake and Eddie and Susannah and Oy.

May I add that Susannah Dean is one badass female character. One who actually has depth, which I think many female fantasy characters lack.

And another thing - the references to other books and films. So many of King's other works tie into The Dark Tower, and so many of the characters from other books appear in it. Like Pere Callahan from Salem's Lot, and Dandelo, who is of the same species as Pennywise from It. 

And as well as that, the references to Harry Potter - I loved these bits. 

There have been talks (for a looong time) about turning this into a number of films, but it keeps seeming to fall through. But it better happen - because Russell Crowe is apparently in talks to play Roland, and I think he would be perfect. I love Roland and I love Russell Crowe. So, happen already!

And for those of you who haven't read the series, read it. And for those of you I have forced to start it and ye gave up, then screw you. 

Long days and pleasant nights, stranger
There are other worlds than these

The Victorians and the ides aglæcwif (and I delve into the murky mere of tutoring)

Students re: cases

I have (just about) survived my first week of tutoring Old English to second years, and....well, let's just say, I had expected university students to be a bit more communicative. Instead, it appears to be a "who can hold off responding the longest" competition. Am I just paranoid?....am I just stoned? If only I could go back to the times when listening to a Green Day album was the most productive thing I did in a day.


Whilst trying to maintain my sanity, the rest of my life must go on (my life being thesis, sleep, painting, thesis, sleep, staring into space, thesis). And the other thing my life appears to revolve around...Grendel's mother. Again?! Yes, again.

grendles modor ides aglæcwif

Today, I ask 'why'. Why has Grendel's mother been turned into the "monstrous ogress" with the "talons" and the wolfish ways and the gold paint and the scales and the everything?

I have pretty much established that she was not demonised by the poet himself, not even her actions (see previous posts!). Not even Beowulf and Hrothgar think she's doing something terrible. The only people who do think that, are the translators and scholars who decided secg means "warrior" for Beowulf, but shit, look, it's also used for Grendel's mother... eh, it probably means "creature" in that instance. Just put down "creature"...or I know, I know, "monster". Yeah, that's as accurate as we're gonna get here.

So, I recently started delving into this a bit deeper, wondering who the hell is the bane of my existence (and at the same time the reason I'm doing a PhD in this subject...thank you), and, well, I guess there's a few possible reasons.

The most obvious of these is that, firstly, she is the mother of Grendel, and is therefore assumed to be monstrous. Whether or not Grendel is as monstrous as he is assumed to be, this is not enough proof for his mother to be monstrous. Secondly, she is an antagonist, therefore is bound to get the short end of the stick (is that the phrase?? Hard end of the stick? The ugly stick?) when it comes to translating her.

Berit Åström argues that the reason for her characterisation, and for other women's dismissal, lies in the fact that in the 1800's (when Beowulf was first given much attention), history was viewed in a linear fashion - meaning that, in their opinion, the centuries got progressively more civilised. The Anglo-Saxon era then, must have been all about power, glory, and manstuff, meaning that female figures in history got ignored because they were presumably unimportant to the Anglo-Saxons. 

I think Åström was on the right track here - after all, for a period that treated women so horrendously, of course women were treated even worse by the Anglo-Saxons. I can picture a Victorian scholar musing over how much they'd progressed in their treatment of women in that 800 year gap. "Sure at least we're not as bad as those old Anglo-Saxons! Edith, get me some tea, woman!"

But there's most likely more to it than that. After all, the Victorian era was pretty renowned for its sexism, its lack of women's rights, and its strict confines to what femaleness meant.
Being a time of staunch Christian belief and conservative morals (carried on from the Middle Ages), the bible was a pretty big reference book on how to behave. Unfortunately for women, the bible is also a pretty misogynistic text.

Which are you?

And basically, when it comes to the bible, really only two kinds of women are prevalent. You can choose to emulate the Virgin Mary, submissive, willing to carry God's child (even though they hadn't even gone on one date yet - sluuuut) or you could emulate Eve, the one who overstepped the boundary and went against God's will (the patriarchy, man!). You can only be one or the other. You're either all good, or you're a FUCKING WHORE.

For the Victorians, this Virgin-Whore, Madonna-Eve complex was present, especially for middle and higher class women (while the working class made shit in factories and spoke in strong cockney accents according to TV). But it was probably more present in an angel-demon dichotomy. For some strange reason, in the 1800's, the ideal woman started to be seen as an angel - whereas before this, angels were muscled, androgynous figures with spears (or freakishly muscular babies). The ideal woman's role revolved around marriage and childbirth and the homestead and shutting the fuck up. And somewhere along the line, the terms 'angel' and 'domesticity' seemed to become almost synonymous, as Auerbach argues (in Woman as Demon). This possibly started with Coventry Patmore's poem "The Angel in the House", which was basically “a convenient shorthand for the selfless paragon all women were exhorted to be, enveloped in family life and seeking no identity beyond the roles of daughter, wife, and mother” (Auerbach, 69).

Cover of Norton edition

And so, those women who were not the ideal, who were not submissive and domestic, were often to be seen as monstrous (not necessarily Alien or those terrifying things from The Descent (shiver) type monstrous) or often were described with imagery harking back to the Fall, categorising them as snake-like. Basically, unfeminine actions like physical exertion and having an opinion made you monstrous.

Furthermore, a 'discipline' that was very popular in the Victorian era was that of physiognomy - basically, the assessment of someone's character by their outward appearance. Fierce scientific stuff, really! Yet its impact appears throughout Victorian literature (and still somewhat today), in works of Dickens, Brontë, Wilde, Austen, and more, and was also influential on art. Even if you look at old illustrations of suffragettes, they are often characterised as ugly women (who probably couldn't get a man anyway - why does this sound familiar! Still!). Bad guys were, and still are, often made to look like bad guys. And women who did not fit the ideal of the angel in the house (prostitutes, spinsters, feminists, female authors, fallen women), were often illustrated as ugly

Physiognomy in 19th century illustration - maybe the guy on the left has a fiery temper, harhar.

So...what the hell did these moral crusaders do when it came to Grendel's mother and translating her for a modern audience? Well, they could not have that blasphemy going unchecked (A woman? Fighting? Killing? Never!), so the easiest way to deal with it is *BAM*, tell everyone she's a monster and make her reaaaallly ugly!
Who knows if she was actively changed or subconsciously believed to be representative of a monster anyway? Perhaps a bit of both? Don't ask me anyway.

This is something I hope to immerse myself more in, and at the end of the day, it's all a bit of guessing and a bit of speculation. Any other opinions (opposing or otherwise) are very welcome.

Wife of Cain

Okay, first of all, the suggestion that Grendel's mother is Cain's wife is a ridiculous one (but hey, what can we expect from yahoo answers), but I have decided that if in the very unlikely event I start a death metal band, it will be called Wife of Cain. WIFE OF CAAAAIN.

And yes, I downloaded a font to make my dreams more solid. It's a slow study day. It's almost as illegible as some Anglo-Saxon manuscripts. 

Back to the issue at hand then... well first things first, Cain is obviously not Grendel's wife because...well...time. For us measly human beings, we perceive time as linear, and Cain could not have existed both for numerous generations before the Flood and the many many years after the Flood that Beowulf is set. Cain, you are NOT the father! If that's not a condescending paragraph then I don't know what is! Please accept it as the lowest form of humour. But you must admit, that would make for a great Jeremy Kyle episode, eh? I think it could even push for a two hour Christmas special.

*facepalm* Cain by Henri Vidal

As a side note, do you know how hard it is to find a decent artistic depiction of Cain where he's not bating the shite out of Abel or walking into exile? 

Now, to start taking things a bit more seriously. The issue on the table today is Grendel's relationship to Cain, and whether or not she is descended from him as Grendel is. 

Firstly, Grendel's mother is never described with such devilish language as Grendel is. Grendel, throughout the poem, is called Godes andsaca ("God's adversary"), a feond on helle ("enemy from hell"), he is fag wið God (not what you're thinking, but "hostile with God"), he is helle hæfton (a "captive of hell"), and when he finally dies, him hel onfeng ("hell received him"). I mean, he has a pretty strong connection with hell here, and it seems he's not on the very best of terms with God (although I imagine raping and pillaging put the Danes not too far down the naughty list also). Grendel is a bad guy, he commits serial murder for no exact reason, except that he was possibly feeling a bit left out or the scop's mainstream music choices just weren't to his taste, but basically he is like Historic Denmark's high school shooting perpetrator. 

The story of a mother's struggle to control her son, spawn of Cain, eotan

On the other hand (not Grendel's other hand anyway, harharr), such language is never used of Grendel's mother - she is called sinnige ("sinful, guilty"), sure, but that's about as far as the narrator calls her that has any relevance to God. She doesn't commit rampant murder like her son does, and her only crime is to avenge him...which in Old Norse society was not a crime - she follows the rules of wergild, an eye for an eye sorta thing - but that's about it. 

As to her relation to Cain...well, we know Grendel is related, because it is said twice in the poem, and referenced once more. Whereas Grendel's mother, although we are told se þe wæteregesan wunian scolde cealde streamas siþðan camp him wearð to ecgbanan angan breþer fæderenmaege ("She who dwelt in terrible waters and cold streams since Cain raised the sword against his brother, his father's kin"), once Cain is mentioned, the narrator says þanon woc fela geosceaftgasta wæs þaera Grendel sum ("from him awoke many spirits, Grendel among them"). Edward B. Irving argues, “the total effect of this passage, illogical as it may seem, is to suggest that Grendel is a lineal and faithful descendent of Cain in a way that his mother is not . . . she appears in no theological context” (Rereading Beowulf 71). Of course, this is up for speculation, but it does seem rather odd that the poet says Grendel was among his descendants, yet doesn't say his mother is. 

Again on line 1352, when we are told that the Danes knew about two figures mooning about the marshes, Hrothgar tells us of Grendel's mother, then of Grendel, and only says Grendel walked in the tracks of the exile (Cain). If he meant for Grendel's mother to be related to Cain, could he not have just said so, the way he is constantly telling us that Grendel is? Come on, man, stop beating around the god-damn bush!

Sticking to this paragraph, WHY THE HELL DID HROTHGAR FAIL TO MENTION ABOUT GRENDEL'S MOTHER? Well...one possibility is because she was not a monster and therefore not a threat to Heorot. Either that or Hrothgar is a fucking dope. But I am going with the former, because hey, let's give him a bit of credit. Sure, the poem is full of some unbelievable things, but I think Hrothgar's a guy I could trust.

So....how is Grendel related to Cain? Well...there's quite the possibility that there is a father. I mean, that's how reproduction works right? And seen as all the evidence (in my humble opinion) points towards Grendel's mother being human, then I don't see how there couldn't be a father....except...if...wait.. maybe it's an immaculate conception... and Grendel is Christ, and Beowulf represents the Jews. Oh god, I think I'm definitely onto something here, shove over Frederick Klaeber. On a more serious note... no, she isn't analogous to the Virgin Mary, and no, I don't think she impregnated herself (unless she's a komodo dragon). So yes, I think there's quite the possibility that a father exists. I know Seamus Heaney calls them "fatherless creatures" whose "ancestry is hidden in a past of demons and ghosts", but if there's one thing I try to express in my blog-posts it's "ixnay on the anslatorstray", because what is said is:

no hie fæder cunnon, hwæþer him ænig wæs acenned dyrna gasta

Which I will now use my super translating skills (yep, don't trust me either, I'm one of them *theme music to The Twilight Zone*) as "They do not know the [or 'a'] father, or whether any mysterious spirits were born before him". So, it's possible. This, coupled with the fact that Grendel's mother is never explicitly mentioned in any theological contexts, suggests that a paternal link to Cain could well exist.

See, Grendel has a hunk of a daddy in Gunnarsson's adaptation

Then, on top of all that (yes, even more is coming, God hilpeþ þu), there's the whole thing about the melting of the giant-sword. Well, it only melts after Beowulf beheads Grendel. It could have just conveniently been waiting for him to behead him before Grendel's mother's blood decided to set in, but...no. No? 
On top of this, after Grendel is beheaded, the water in the mere goes a bit 2012 apocalyptic on us - the water turns bloody and turbulent - ". . .the turbulent water saw blood drifting up, a churning foam; the spreading stain was dark, lake-wide" (Chickering) - much like a scene from Jaws. And yes, this is sometimes attributed to Grendel's mother's death also, but good woman herself, M.W Hennequin notes that the mere does the same thing the night Grendel returns home to die - “There the lake water boiled with blood, terrible surgings, a murky swirl of hot dark ooze, deep sword-blood". 

And one last thing (I promise....for any of ye still left reading...ie, nobody), she is never described as an eoten ("giant", or possibility of "blood-thirsty one" - see Signe Carlson). Both her and Grendel are called micle, "large" or "great" (literal or metaphorical), yet a few lines later Grendel is described as being the one who is "bigger than any other man" and "misshapen/ wretched-looking" and it is only about Grendel that it is wondered hwæþer him ænig wæs acenned dyrna gasta. 


Just saying.