Snotlout's Bride Chapter 1

A/N
It's Snotlout's turn to find a wife. He has high standards, but to his amazement, he gets the girl he deserves. Hoo-boy, does he ever! Will either of them survive the experience? This is a sequel to "Hiccup's Bride," and you should read that story first if you haven't read it already. Snotlout xOC, bits of Hiccstrid. Rated T for adult themes; the language is all K.

This story's predecessor, "Hiccup's Bride," was a story idea that got into my brain and gave me no rest until I'd written it. This tale is the total opposite – it's a mostly harmless little fluff piece that I wrote purely for the fun of it. This won't be my most popular story, seeing how Hiccup isn't the star (although he and Astrid play important supporting roles), but that's okay. I owe a "thank you" to Haganeochibi for the e-mail exchange that gave me the idea for this story.

o

Almost everyone in Berk rejoiced at the marriage of Hiccup and Astrid. The Vikings wanted their local hero to be happy, and they'd all expected him to marry her in the first place. His politically-motivated marriage to Thora of the Meatheads had taken them all by surprise, and even though they understood the reasons for it, the Hoffersons weren't the only ones who were shocked by that turn of events. They'd grown to love Thora anyway, and grieved at her loss, but now that Hiccup and Astrid were together for keeps, there was an unspoken sense of "This is how things were supposed to turn out. Now everything is good."

One of the very few people who didn't rejoice at that marriage was Snotlout. He'd thought Hiccup was out of the picture and Astrid was his for the taking. She'd never gotten the message and continued to cherish her connection to Hiccup, even though he was married to someone else. Against all odds, she'd gotten her heart's desire, and now she was out of the picture. That left Snotlout without many options.

"You're better off without that one," his father Spitelout said off-handedly. "Maybe she wasn't really shamed this time, but it's just a matter of time before she breaks the rules again. I know the type. I almost married one like that, but my mother saw trouble at the last minute and talked my father out of making the marriage contract."

"How do women do that?" Snotlout asked. "I mean, they don't have any good reason to see trouble, but they see it anyway, and they're usually right."

"Nobody knows," his father answered, "except for the women, and they won't tell us. 'I can't explain it,' they always say. Don't worry, son. You'll get your chance to figure these things out first-hand once you find your own wife."

"But who, Dad? Astrid is the only girl on this island who's good enough for me. You don't expect me to settle for Ruffnut, do you?"

"No, of course not," Spitelout replied patiently. "There are other Viking tribes on other islands, and there are sure to be a few girls in those tribes who are good enough for a chief's nephew, and more importantly, good enough for a Jorgenson. The Thing is due to meet in a few months, and Stoick has asked me to go with him this time. Suppose you come along with me, and check out all the chiefs' daughters who will be there? We'll find you a bride who will put Astrid to shame, and everyone will know who's the real man among the teens on this island. What do you think?"

Snotlout smiled. It wasn't his usual smirk, but a sincere smile of hope. "I'll be there, Dad."

o

The Thing was the annual meeting of all the Viking chiefs in the area. It was a week-long chance to negotiate peace treaties, settle grievances, look for trade partners, and work out any other issues that came up when tribes full of belligerent, acquisitive Norsemen came into contact with each other during the year. It was a festive occasion; the chiefs would bring special decorations for their tents and put on a show for the other chiefs. Everyone tried to appear more prosperous than his neighbor.

Over the years, the chiefs had come to include their daughters and nieces among their decorations. A man's daughter could become a source of great prestige to the right husband (and great wealth to the girl's father). The chiefs turned their tents into pavilions where their unmarried daughters could cook, sew, spin, and pursue other useful crafts to show everyone what fine wives they could be. The Thing took on the secondary function of a singles market for chiefs, successful warriors, and prosperous traders who were looking for high-quality brides for their sons. The daughters didn't protest, for the most part. They knew that the Thing was their only chance of meeting the finest young men in the Northland. If a young lady did object to being put on display like a piece of meat in a butcher shop, her father would remind her of Alwilda, the girl who deliberately burned the food she was cooking because she didn't like the looks of any of the young men she saw. Her father had betrothed her to a coal-digger's son to teach her a lesson. (Nobody ever told them that Alwilda wound up very happy with her coal-digging husband. It spoiled the effect of the story.)

This year, it was the Visithug tribe's turn to host the Thing. Colorful longships from all over the Barbaric Archipelago converged on their island, overfilling the harbor and forcing the latecomers to ground their ships on whatever rocky beach they could find. The fields outside the Visithug capital of Wreckopolis blossomed with the fancy tents of the wealthy men and the more humble tents of the daughters. Men walked the paths between tents, searching for traders who owed them money or chiefs with whom they had to resolve a border dispute. Their sons walked close behind them, checking out the pretty girls and sniffing their cooking as they walked by. Most of the girls kept their eyes on what they were doing. There was no reason for them to look at the boys anyway. If a boy liked the looks of a girl, he'd mention her to his father, and the fathers would arrange the marriage contract. The girl would have little or nothing to say about it.

Spitelout was one of those fathers, and Snotlout was one of those boys. Stoick had many contacts among the chiefs that needed renewing, a few treaties that needed signing, and at least one possibly hostile neighbor who needed pacifying; he didn't think he could do it all in a week. He brought his second-in-command along to take care of the routine business of the Thing. Spitelout brought his son along to take care of the non-routine business of finding himself a wife.

But how to choose? Snotlout felt like he'd somehow gone to Valhalla – he had never seen so many girls his own age in one place! And they were all there to make themselves appealing to boys like him. Not all of them would be on his list, of course. The high-ranking chiefs would never settle for a minor chief's nephew for their daughters, no matter how rich the bride-price offer might be. That kind of girl would cost most men several years' worth of their income. Only the most wealthy and prestigious men could hope to land a catch like that for their sons. But Snotlout had a secret weapon in negotiations like those. Let the other young men boast about their flocks and their herds and their battle trophies. He was the only boy on the island who rode a Monstrous Nightmare!

"Go ahead and wander around, son," Spitelout told him. "I have nothing to do until the chiefs gather to hear the Law-Speaker after lunch, so if you stick with me, you'll see nothing. Besides, there are a lot of young men here this year. The competition for pretty girls is going to be intense. Find out who's in the market, and don't be too slow about it, or you could miss out on somebody really special."

"You got it, Dad! But how do I know a good one from a bad one?"

Spitelout smiled. "I'm glad you asked me that. Remember, no matter how pretty a girl is today, she's going to be plump and wrinkly in forty years. But if she's a good cook and a good housekeeper today, she'll do a good job for the rest of your life, no matter what she looks like. Pick one who can make you happy even if your eyes are closed. And don't forget that you're a Jorgenson, and you're picking someone who's going to become a Jorgenson beside you. Look for a girl who can uphold our family reputation!"

"Okay, Dad." Snotlout nodded and set out through the maze of tents and pavilions in search of someone to spend his life with.

Regardless of what his father said, he was determined to find a girl who looked good. After all, he'd have to look at her every day for as long as he lived! But Dad was surely right about the cooking and cleaning part, too. He didn't care much about cleaning, but he knew that other people did care. It was possible that something bad might happen to Hiccup and leave him, Snotlout, the heir to the tribe. If that happened, he'd want to make a good impression on people when he made his bid for the chieftainship, and a house that looked like a disaster area wouldn't do the job. As for cooking, that was a no-brainer – like most men, he liked to eat. A wife who couldn't feed her husband properly didn't deserve to be married to anyone, and certainly not to him.

Upholding his family reputation meant she had to be a fighter. A girl like that might not be so easy to find. Sure, there were plenty of warrior maidens among the Vikings, particularly in the smaller tribes that couldn't provide enough male warriors to protect their lands against raiders. But a fighter who was also pretty… that was an unusual combination. Astrid was the only girl he'd ever known who could measure up to that standard. From what he'd heard, she was a lousy cook, though. He was looking for a girl who combined the vital trio of good looks, good domestic skills, and good warrior potential. Most of the other boys would be looking for a similar combination. There couldn't be too many of those girls sitting around, waiting for the perfect husband to find them. He needed to get started.

The first girl he passed was certainly pretty enough, but she was trying to sew a tunic, and she was having trouble threading her needle. That suggested that sewing wasn't something she did all the time. He certainly wasn't going to mend his own clothes if he tore them! He kept walking.

The second girl was working a small loom to make colorful fabric; it looked like she was weaving a baldric for her father's sword. That was an unusual skill, and she seemed to be very good at what she was doing. But she glanced at him as she worked, and he realized that her face could stop an hourglass. He'd keep her in mind, but he kept walking.

The third girl… he saw her jet-black hair pulled up in a side-braid from fifty feet away. Could it be her? He almost broke into a run, but kept himself under control. It wouldn't look good if he seemed too eager. That would only encourage her father to jack up her bride-price. But yes, it was her.

"Well, hel-lo, Heather!" he beamed. He hadn't seen the object of his attention in well over a year, but she still looked great to him. She was preparing some kind of meal as he watched.

"Hi, Snotlout," she said in a half-friendly tone. Well, at least she remembered him.

"I admit I'm surprised to see you here among all these chiefs and conquerors," he said, hoping to get a conversation started.

"I'm kind of amazed myself," she nodded as she sprinkled some herbs into her kettle. "My family's fortunes were never that great, but they've finally turned around. When we got home after our little adventure with you, my dad made some trade deals with the Outcasts."

"The Outcasts!?" Snotlout burst out. "They're the biggest cheats in the Archipelago! Nobody in his right mind trades with them."

"That was their reputation," she said, "and it was killing them. Like you said, nobody wanted to trade with them, and on that barren island of theirs, they needed trade or they'd starve. My dad thought it was worth taking a chance. He's taken lots of chances in his life, but this one actually paid off. Now the Outcasts are dealing with us, and dealing fairly for the most part, and as for my family… well, we aren't exactly wealthy, but I don't have to wear clothes with patches on them anymore." Indeed, her forest-green robe was well-made and embroidered with fire-breathing dragons on each sleeve. No chief's daughter could have worn a fancier garment, or looked as good in it.

"What'cha cooking?" he inquired.

"Redfish," she replied. "It's one of my specialties. Crunchy redfish over greens." She reached down, pulled a red-colored fish out of a basket, and skilfully began preparing it for the kettle. Snotlout watched in silence until she dropped it in the water.

"Uhh, you didn't take the bones out," he observed hesitantly.

Heather rolled her eyes. "If I took the bones out, it wouldn't be crunchy, would it? You just don't think, Snotlout!"

Snotlout felt his stomach take a sudden lurch to the right. "Maybe I'll come back later and see how it turned out." Without waiting for her answer, he turned on his heel and strode away. Even Astrid's yak-nog wasn't as bad as that. Heather might be the second-prettiest girl in the Northland, but if that was typical of her cooking… ugh! A guy had to have standards, after all.

Behind him, Heather smiled and removed the bony fish from the kettle with wooden tongs. Then she pulled another fish from her basket, already prepared and with the bones removed, and dropped it in the steaming water. She'd take her chances with the Alwilda treatment. She knew she was here to find a husband, but Snotlout… ugh! A girl had to have standards, after all.