"Stoick! Chief!"

A hurried figure came panting through the crowds gathered in Meade Hall, pushing people with tankards of beer out of her way as she ran towards Stoick the Vast. Stoick turned and saw the woman moving towards him.

"Helga? What is it?" he asked.

She stopped in front of him, gasping for breath. "It's... It's..." she wheezed. Somebody gave her a drink and she took a large swig before continuing. "It's not time but... The baby's coming."

Stoick's face fell and he frowned deeply. There was fear behind his eyes.. "Val..." he breathed.

"You must come," Helga pressed quickly. "The elder said she might not survive it."

Stoick simply nodded and ran swiftly out of the hall, Helga panting at his heels, trying to keep up with his huge strides as he raced to find his wife.

The door to the Chief's hut banged open and hurried footsteps pounded up the steps two-at-a-time to the large bed, where Valka lay screaming for air. The elder and Gurda, a midwife, sat beside her, wiping sweat from her brow and talking calmly to her. Valka was in agonising pain but when she saw her husband appear at her side and take her hand in his, she felt like it was suddenly bearable.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. This was her fault: she just knew it. She felt as though she must have done something to induce the early labour.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," said Stoick gently, kissing her hand.

Valka let out another scream as another wave of pain washed over her. She clenched Stoick's hand with all her might but he did not flinch or relax his grip.

The elder and Gurda now on the other side of the room were discussing something in hushed and worried voices. Well, Gurda was talking - the elder merely mimed her words.

Then Gurda spoke: "There's no other option - the baby must come early or it may die."

Stoick looked at her, then looked at the elder. The elder nodded solemnly.

"Then it's the only way," he muttered to himself.

He looked at Valka and gently pressed his forehead to hers and gazed into the eyes he had fallen in love with. He murmured to her softly: "You can do it, Val."

Valka nodded her tear- and sweat-stained face. Gurda stood over Stoick as she waited for him to leave the room. Vikings believed a male presence during childbirth was bad luck, and Stoick didn't want to tempt the gods anymore. They had done enough to put his happiness on edge already that night.

"Look after her, Gothi," Stoick commanded the elder, a slight dip in his tone as he held back a choke, and he strode out of the room quickly, going downstairs to wait for news.

After what felt like hours of anxious pacing and listening to Gothi and Gurda's murmurs and his wife's screams of pain, the ordeal was over and nothing else was to be heard. Stoick became suddenly worried.

Upstairs, Valka lay back into the headboard, exhausted and relieved that it was over. The baby was born.

"It's a boy," said Gurda, but her face was still.

Something was wrong.

"Where is his cry?" asked Valka frantically. "Why isn't he crying?"

She dragged her body to look and saw through blurred vision Gothi and Gurda bending over the baby. They were doing something, but Valka couldn't see what.

It was a tense few minutes in which both Valka and Stoick, downstairs, held their breath, desperate to hear their child.

Then there came a baby's wail.

Valka let out a sigh of relief and sobbed with relief. The baby boy was swaddled in bundles of cloth and handed to her by Gothi as the other woman ran downstairs to tell Stoick.

In the fewest of movements, Stoick had bounded to Valka's bedside and was kneeling beside her, where he saw his son for the first time.

The couple gazed at the tiny baby. Valka was afraid to move while she held him in her arms: the boy was so very fragile.

"He is so small," breathed Valka. A tear slid down her cheek. "He is so weak."

"But, Val," said Stoick, wiping away the tear. "He is small now, but he will grow. He isn't weak. He will be the strongest warrior of them all, you'll see."

In that moment of perfection, the new family was at their happiest.

But then that moment ended. Valka became pale, much paler than was normal. She leaned back on the bed and passed out cold. Gothi hobbled over and placed a hand on the woman's forehead.

Stoick, taking the baby in his hands, looked down at Gothi. She glanced back up at him and gave him a look that screamed: 'This is worse than I could have imagined.'

For three days solid the fever took hold of Valka, filling her sleep with tossing and turning and pain and agony. Even the villagers, who should have been rejoicing at the birth of the Chief's heir, felt cold and clammy as they waited for news of Valka's condition. The village became a world of grey.

But none was as heartbroken as Stoick. He stayed at Valka's bedside, day in, day out, watching her and waiting for her to regain consciousness. The baby boy was given to Stoick's best friend, Gobber, to look after him for the time being, and a wet nurse was employed to nurse him. Baby Hiccup was still weak.

The fever reached it's worst during its fourth night. When Gothi was called again, she told Stoick that if Valka survived the night, she would live. It was a serious case indeed and Stoick still refused to move from her side as he had refused the last three days. He had neither slept nor ate in that time, and all who spoke to him could tell instantly how cranky this had made him. The combination of insomnia, hunger and worry was consuming him.

"No!" insisted Stoick when it was suggested that he rest. "I will stay with my wife."

And so began a tense night, filled with waiting and prayers to the gods to bring Valka safely through the fever.

As Stoick sat beside her on that fateful night, he suddenly felt an overwhelming force that made his eyelids droop and his head to rest. It was out of his control, and soon Stoick the Vast was fast asleep.

He jerked awake. Sunlight streamed through the open window. Stoick cursed and looked over to Valka.

She lay still and silent on the bed. Hardly moving at all.

She was still as pale as the night before, but the sweat was gone and she looked at peace.

Stoick, fearing the worst, took her hand in his. His eyes overflowed and he sang hoarsely and quietly the song he knew best above all others.

"I'll swim and sail on savage seas, with n'er a fear of drowning and gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me.No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will stop me on my journey. If you will promise me your heart..."

His words faded out as he sobbed and pressed her cold hand to his cheek letting the tears roll down.

"And... love me for eternity," came a soft voice, small and weak.

The hand Stoick clutched so dearly moved itself so it cupped his cheek. Stoick looked up, joy glimmering through the tears as he smiled back at Valka, awake and singing the rest of the song very softly and quietly, as only Valka did.