You Got it All Wrong {Beowulf}

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"No, I don't have an appointment, and I don't need one!
"Why don't I need one? Because I'm an angry Viking and I'm armed!
"Don't you dare call security..."

Astrid was ranting. Clearly. She was also standing in the foyer of the local newspaper, waving what appeared to be a copy of said newspaper. Well, she was waving it in one hand. The other was clutching onto the handle of a small axe, the knuckles whitening. The girl was standing, well, actually, more like looming over a poor woman sitting at a desk. Said woman was obviously a secretary, looking it from her perfectly neat bun to her sensible shoes (clearly the paper hired secretaries for their skills, as opposed to their appearance). She was also sputtering in the face of the wrathful Viking teen.

Why was Astrid ranting?

"There's a bloody war going on! Right there! On our doorstep! I'm a scout for Thor's sake! And you're busy reporting on my social life?"

See, of course it would be a perfectly sensible reason, since this is Astrid we're talking about. The copy of her paper added more clarity to her purpose: this was an argument, one about the recent article linking Astrid to a certain Viking prince in a manner that she was not altogether pleased with.

Hence the ranting.

What Astrid didn't notice, nor did the poor bemused secretary, though the doorman (who were hesitant to approach the ranter, if only because she amused them), was that someone else was coming into the office, likely someone with an equal reason to complain...

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Beowulf didn’t often read the newspaper because it was full of stupid and absurd things, but he had read the most recent paper in order to gain information. Then he had glanced at the rest of the stupid nonsense and had seen his name. Then he had to look and actually the read the stupid things some writer had written about him and Astrid of all people. Beowulf was not pleased.

He had planned to storm into the building, find the journalist and demand an explanation. Of course as he entered the building looking hostile, he could see that Astrid had beat him to the punch. He folded his arms over his chest and watched for a moment as Astrid ranted and raved and was getting absolutely nowhere with these heathens.

Beowulf strode over, coming to stand next to Astrid and glaring at her before turning his glare to the woman Astrid was screaming at. He stared her down, glowering at her. Then, without speaking Beowulf slammed a copy of the paper onto the counter and pointed at the article. “Astrid and I are none of anyone’s business,” he growled. “I want to talk to the filthy heathen that wrote this. Now.” But Beowulf didn’t plan to do much talking. At least not verbally. He was here for one purpose: to make sure this never happened again.

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Oh look, Beowulf, because this wasn't just awesome already.

"Don't say it like that," hissed Astrid through clenched teeth, waving a hand. She first waved them in general, nearly windmilling, before purposefully gesturing toward the secretary. Said secretary appeared to be caught somewhere between amusement and pure, stark terror. Both Astrid and Beowulf did have a tendency toward looming, and it was rather obvious to tell that they were armed and knew how to use said arms. On the other hand, they were young, and they had just been acting out what would make for an excellent scene in a sit com.

"At any rate," said Astrid, rounding on the poor secretary, "he's right. We demand to see the--quit reaching for that phone!"

She really just wanted to pull out her weapon and start swinging, but something told her that just wasn't going to work this time.

"The only reason you should be picking up anything is to contact whoever wrote that nonsense!" said Astrid. And there was more arm waving.

Clearly, they were getting places.

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Beowulf had no patience for Astrid at the moment so he ignored her for the moment because if he didn’t, he might have to beat her face in or something equally violent. He was not in the mood to be toyed with. She, of all people, should know not to mess with him. He’d beat her up twice and almost broken her nose. Or he had broken her nose. Whatever the case was, he wasn’t sorry. She was annoying and deserved it.

And all the arm movements were clearly not helping the case either. He was trying to intimidate the puny woman who knew nothing into getting them into the author of the article so he could beat them. Not that this woman needed to know that he was going to be violent.

And then Astrid was shrieking in his ear and then the arms were going again. Beowulf turned his glare on her instead. “Stop that,” he demanded sternly. “You look ridiculous.” With all the arm waving it was hard to take her seriously. Not to mention it was highly annoying. “You’re a Viking, woman! Pull yourself together.”

He turned back to the woman behind the counter. “Now. We want to see the person who wrote the article. Take us to them immediately,” he demanded, glaring at her too. This was why he tried to stay away from women. They were annoying.

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For a moment, Astrid thought that her arm waving and shouting would produce the results she was looking for. Of course, Beowulf clearly didn't agree with her, almost immediately bursting her bubble. Astrid gave him a glare that would melt the bowels of most weaker men, a glare that suggested all kinds of fear and death, a glare that would literally kill small rodents and reptiles.

"Are you two sure there's nothing between you?" asked the secretary, looking from one person to another. This was not her best decision. Beowulf had already ignored Astrid, and now Astrid ignored Beowulf in favor of facing the secretary. This meant that the poor woman was now under the combined glares of two of the fiercest Vikings that Trenale had ever seen.

Perhaps her bowels would turn to jelly.

"Really, we don't--"

"You know he's a prince, right?" asked Astrid, her voice quick and about two decibels lower. She jerked her head toward Beowulf. "do you really think it's a good idea to tick off a--"

"I'll see if the editor's in," said the woman, rising so quickly that you'd think her seat was on fire. Smiling cockily, Astrid folded her arms over her chest and looked to Beowulf. Clearly she'd won that round, for a change.

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If looks could kill, the look that Beowulf was giving the woman behind the desk would have killed the whole office. The audacity of this woman, who was probably heathen, was truly astounding. Clearly, she didn’t know who he was. She had no idea how important he was back in Geatland. She wouldn’t have been mocking them if she knew that the two of them could kill her so fast she would barely be able to utter a single syllable before her soul would be sent off into the afterlife. In fact, he was thinking about vaulting this counter and slitting the woman’s throat in a minute until Astrid pointed that he was a prince.

Surprisingly that worked. Beowulf was surprised how well that worked. He looked over at Astrid with her smug expression. It annoyed him. She might have gotten the woman to do something useful, but it was all luck. He punched at her, aiming for her arm and hard enough to make it hurt enough to let her know that he’s annoyed with her. They still had to wait to see if the editor was in or not anyway.

Beowulf crossed his arms, hoping to still look intimidating. He wasn’t fond of waiting for people, but he could do it if he had to. “Don’t look so smug,” he told Astrid. “It’s unseemly.” He brooded quietly and then the woman was coming back. “Well?” he asked expectantly.

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"Bite me," retorted Astrid. She then did her level best to completely ignore Beowulf, which given her current feelings toward the man, wasn't all that difficult. It mostly involved staring at the door through which the woman had just recently left and counting the seconds until she appeared.

Appear she did, looking nervous and eying Beowulf as if he were every inch the honey bear his name hinted him at being. The secretary swallowed, then gestured toward the very door through which she'd just came. "I couldn't get a hold of the actual writer, what with that being mostly anonymous and all--"

"So who did you get a hold of?" asked Astrid, cutting in before the woman could finish, and hopefully before Beowulf really had a chance to comment himself. The secretary swallowed, that false smile returning.

"Our editor's here, and she's ready to-- wait a moment!"

Astrid was already heading to that door, and she quite frankly didn't care whether the secretary or Beowulf followed.

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Beowulf didn’t know what to say when Astrid told him to bite her. She couldn’t possibly mean it, but the prince wasn’t sure. Astrid was a bit of a ‘loose cannon’ as it were, whatever a cannon was. It made sense to him. Don’t question it. He just stood there silently and looked menacingly.

When the stupid little woman came back into the room he continued to glare at her. Then he allowed Astrid to do the talking. When she started to say something stupid then he would step in. Until then, she could talk. He probably couldn’t get her to shut up anyway, so it was best to let her talk.

Astrid was doing alright with the talking anyway. He grunted at the other woman when she mentioned the editor was in. He didn’t know what kind of job the editor did, but it was probably important. He snatched the paper off the counter and strode purposefully after Astrid. He wasn’t about to allow her to be victorious over this editor person.

Beowulf marched to the editor’s desk and threw down the paper, then stood there with his arms crossed. “Explain yourself,” he demanded, not quite realizing that this editor person might not have any idea what he was talking about.

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Astrid was perfectly content to do the lion's share of the talking. Beowulf was much better at glowering and looking intimidating than actually vocalizing anything, so the situation suited the two of them perfectly. She confidently strode into the office, determined to once again take over and explain their situation to the person sitting behind the counter.

Astrid even began talking, right before Beowulf took over and slapped a paper down on the table. So instead of the speech she was totally ready to give, the blonde simply pointed and nodded toward Beowulf. "What he said."

The editor, being a sensible woman who'd worked hard to get where she was, looked at the two Vikings. This wasn't her first time dealing with angry members of the locality. You didn't get to be the editor of a paper dealing with fairy tale characters and myths without knowing how to deal with angry princes and Vikings.

"I'm an editor," she said, looking up at the two of them calmly. "I edit the paper and make sure things sell," she gestured, "and you're going to have to be more specific about what set you off. I'm guessing you didn't like a rumor we printed...?"

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Beowulf wasn’t wholly comfortable with a lone woman in power. One woman couldn’t possibly do the whole job by herself. Women should be in the home looking after the children, not in an office setting working by themselves. It was unnatural. This whole place was unnatural. And absurd.

He listened while the woman spoke. She was calm throughout the whole thing and seemed immune to his glowering. There were very few people who were completely immune to his glares. Well that wasn’t fair at all. She was too calm and collected. He was supposed to be powerful and intimidating to other people. They weren’t supposed to be so calm in his presence. Stupid woman.

Beowulf blew air out of his nose shortly then unfolded his arms so he could speak. “One of your writers wrote about Astrid and me in an unfavorable light. Fix it,” he demanded. “We are companions only. Sparring partners. Nothing more.” Then he nudged Astrid so that she could back him up. She was better at this talking thing anyway.

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"Right," agreed Astrid. She shot Beowulf a glare for the nudging, and even raised a fist as though she wanted to hit him. Something, likely the editor sitting just a few feet away, made Astrid lower her fist instead. That didn't stop her from shooting Beowulf a glare that would melt most men's bowels. That expression barely dimmed when Astrid turned back to the editor. "That's Astrid Hoffersson and Prince Beowulf son of Heathcliff or whatever--"

"Ecgtheow," said the editor, getting the pronunciation exactly perfect.

"That," managed Astrid. She folded her arms over her chest and worked on directing her meaningful glare at the editor.

You had to admire the woman for not withering in response to the two Vikings' glares. For one thing, either one of them could likely break the editor's bones into teeny-tiny little pieces, or remove her head with a good stroke. For another, the two Vikings had pull, Beowulf in particular. However, the editor simply flicked her fingers.

"That was posted in our rumors section," she said, her tone level. "Those are mostly anonymous letters sent in from the citizens of Trenale. If you're that worried, maybe you should consider doing something in public to make sure people know. Maybe one of you has a sweetheart who's not the other person?"

The editor raised a brow at that, clearly not digging for more material or anything.

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Beowulf returned the glare that Astrid sent his way. Clearly she wasn’t getting that she was supposed to be doing more than just agreeing with him. The glare intensified when she got his lineage wrong. That wasn’t anywhere near right. The least she could do was learn whose son he was. It wasn’t that hard to learn. It also wasn’t too much to ask. The only thing that the editor had going for her was that she knew and could pronounce his father’s name.

But the positive points for the editor quickly turned negative when she brought up the subject of significant others. Beowulf glowered at her. That was an absurd question and she shouldn’t have asked it. “Love makes you weak,” he snarled. “Put that in your paper.” Just the idea of love was repulsive to him. Love was not for him if he was going to be an effective warrior.

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"Write in an anonymous letter, and I will," suggested the editor, spreading her hands and smiling. She hadn't stopped finding the whole experience amusing from the moment the two stormed into her office. It was hardly the first time people had come in, more bluster and irritation than any real thought.

Astrid was beginning to feel like the wind had been taken out of her sails. It certainly didn't help that she really didn't agree with Beowulf's assessment. She'd seen love firsthand in her parents and in some of the Vikings in the village. Sure, it could be a problem, but that was because of the sheer power of it, really.

"Right, well," she said, looking back to the editor. Oh, that amused look was not making the female Viking happy. She could feel the growl revving up in the back of her throat. "How about printing something that says the paper doesn't endorse it? What do they call it... a retraction. Yeah, that would be a good idea."

"We can't just go about--" began the editor.

"It's a lie," said Astrid, jerking her head to Beowulf, "obviously. Now do you want us to attack...?"

The editor looked from Astrid to Beowulf, obviously trying to gauge the likeliness of the threat...

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Beowulf was not in a mood to deal with the stupid woman behind the desk. If she wasn’t going to listen then he might as well just sic Astrid on her. She wasn’t cooperating, but they could make her cooperate. And by they, Beowulf meant that Astrid would be beating up this incompetent woman and he would guard the door and take out the security. They could do it too. It would be easy. Both the Vikings could lay siege to this office and they would come out victorious. There was no way they wouldn’t win.

Beowulf let Astrid talk because it was easier to let her do the talking. She seemed to have a better handle on it. The Viking Prince could stand there and look as menacing as he could and back up whatever Astrid said. There was nothing romantic between them, but they were a team all the same. In fact, when Astrid threatened to attack the feeble woman Beowulf growled menacingly for good measure and grabbed hold of the hunting knife that was attached at his waist. Pulling it out of its sheath he brandished it at the woman. He would attack if necessary.

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The editor saw Beowulf seem to react to Astrid's promised threat, moving as though he had trained to do so. Because yes, clearly there was nothing between these two. Something existed there, some unspoken bond that made them react to one another and move together. The editor had seen such bonds before, and she knew better than to do much to one now. She smiled a public smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, and nodded.

"Alright, alright, you win," she gestured in surrender. "I'll print a retraction in the next issue. It will say that we were wrong to place that letter. In fact," she gave the two of them a look, "if you really wanted to set the record straight, you could offer an interview."

Astrid recoiled from that, actually taking a step back to stand next to Beowulf. "An interview?" she repeated. "As in you ask us questions and we answer...?"

Astrid paused. She shifted. This sounded... well, it sounded like a trap, for one thing. And hadn't they already interviewed Beowulf before? she turned slightly to look his way now.

"Didn't they already interview you, a while back?" she asked, figuring that if nothing else, the direct question might draw him more into the conversation.