A Person
A/N This is an unabashed tearjerker, partially inspired by "The Velveteen Rabbit" by Margery Williams. One-off. Warning: character deaths.
o
The village priest had been expecting this call. Everyone in town knew that their aging hero's days were drawing to an end. It was always this way – the ones who had no use for the gods, except to invoke their names in oaths, suddenly developed a taste for religion when they saw the ends of their lives approaching. Well, better late than never.
"Thank you for coming so quickly." Astrid met the man at the door, and ushered him in. The room was warm and well-lit, thanks to the central fire pit heaped extra-high with wood. Against the far wall was the bed where Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III's life was slowly fading away.
His breathing was clear but labored. The small amount of manly bulk he'd acquired in adulthood had slipped away, and he was as thin as he had been in his teens. His hair had long since gone gray, but his eyes were still that strong shade of green, when they were open. His metal leg stood against the wall nearby, like a faithful soldier awaiting orders. He probably would not need it again.
He lay on half of the bed. The other half was taken by a great scaly black head, which was dominated by two great green eyes that never wandered away from Hiccup. Toothless apparently had not aged a bit since that day when Hiccup first met and befriended him. Dragons didn't age like people did; he clearly didn't understand what was happening to his friend. Every few minutes, he would croon and nudge Hiccup with his nose. Astrid knew why. Hiccup had once told her about how the dragon had made similar gestures just as he'd finally awakened after fighting the Red Death and losing his leg. There was no doubt in her mind that Toothless was trying to make Hiccup all better, like he'd done before.
She crouched beside the bed. Her white hair fell in her eyes, like it had been doing all her life; she brushed it back. "Hiccup, the priest is here, like you asked for." After a moment, he slowly turned his head toward her and opened his eyes. She stepped aside and the priest took her place by the bed.
"Hiccup, are you looking for hope in the next life?" he asked.
"No," Hiccup whispered. The priest wasn't expecting that.
"I'm not worried about me," the dying man went on, painfully slowly, drawing a breath between each short sentence. "I fought bravely. I won my battles. I served my people as chief. I raised my sons well. Valhalla is waiting for me... or maybe the Fólkvangr field. I hope I go where my parents went. I want to know about him." He weakly waved a hand at Toothless.
"The dragon?" The priest wasn't sure he understood.
"Will Toothless go to Valhalla... with me when he's gone?" Hiccup asked. The conversation was draining him already.
The priest had studied his people's beliefs about gods and goddesses, giants and dwarves, the realms of fire and ice, the stories of initial creation and final destruction. He had taught children, and he had consoled dying men and bereaved widows. Nothing in his past had prepared him for that question.
He thought hard and fast. What would be the best answer? Should he say something comforting, or should he say what he thought was true? He was not like some priests, who would tailor their words to their hearers in the hopes of earning a little bonus with the next sacrifice. He had always tried to be an honest man.
"Hiccup, Valhalla is for the brave and true heroes among men. Dragons aren't people. Toothless has been a valiant warrior and a good friend; the whole village knows it, even after all these years. But he's not a person. I don't know what will happen to his spirit after his life ends. But Valhalla and the Fólkvangr field are not for him."
Hiccup let his eyes close, and rolled his head back so he was facing straight up again. "Not fair," he whispered.
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Hiccup?"
"No. Thank you." After a few moments, the priest nodded and rose.
"Again, thank you for coming," Astrid said as she showed him out the door. He nodded and left. This visit had been a lot less depressing than his usual visit to a deathbed, but at the same time, it was more unsettling.
Astrid had returned to her husband's bedside. She sat next to him and laid a hand on his forehead. He always responded in some way to that gesture. He turned toward her and half-opened his eyes.
"You're way too nice to me," he whispered. "I don't deserve you."
She lightly batted him on the shoulder. "That's for being a flatterer," she smiled, then kissed him on the cheek. "And that's for everything else."
"What makes a person a person?" he whispered.
"I don't understand," she said.
"The priest says Toothless can't go... to Valhalla because he isn't a person. Why isn't he? What makes a person a person?"
"I don't know," she answered. "I never thought about it. I always thought people were persons, and anything else wasn't a person."
"Not fair," he softly said again. "Toothless loves more than many people. He's more loved than many people. He's braver than many people. Kind, unselfish, faithful. Not fair."
"We don't control these things, my sweet," she answered, trying not to say the wrong thing. "It will all work out in the end, somehow. Try not to worry about it."
He shook his head slightly. "If he can't go to Valhalla... I want to go where he goes."
"You're not going anywhere yet," she lied. "Try and rest." She stroked his hair until his breathing became shallow and regular. He was sleeping. Good.
She turned to Toothless. "Won't you please eat something? I'm getting worried about you, too." Every day, one of their children had bought a fresh fish in town and brought it to the house for him, and every day, he refused to eat. He nudged Hiccup with his nose and crooned, then looked up at her with those huge eyes, and somehow she knew what he was thinking. Please make him better.
She sat on the bed next to Toothless and stroked his great head. "Toothless, people aren't like dragons. We don't live as long as you do, or stay as healthy as you do. We live seventy years, maybe eighty or ninety if we're lucky, and then... we're done. It's natural. There's nothing anyone can do about it." She had to stop and take a deep breath. "I don't want to lose him, either. But he's had a good life. You're one of the main reasons for that. Thank you."
She had to blink back the tears, so she couldn't see clearly for a few seconds. But then she watched one great teardrop well up in Toothless' eye, roll down his nose, and splash onto Hiccup's sleeping furs.
"That priest has to be wrong," she said softly.
After a few minutes, she had to get up. Their daughter had brought supper for her, and the pots and plates needed a quick cleaning. She was drying them when Toothless made a sound she had never heard before. It was almost a cross between his sad croon and a wolf's howl. She looked over at him in surprise. Hiccup had worked one hand out from under the furs and rested it on his friend's head. She waited for her husband to draw his next breath.
She waited.
No...
Her children made the arrangements. If any Viking ever deserved a flaming funeral ship, it was Hiccup. Everyone in the village knew what he'd done all those years ago, even the young ones; the bleaching bones of the Red Death were still plain to see, for anyone who wanted to take the voyage to see them. His time as chief of the village had brought growth and prosperity to the town. Perhaps his greatest legacy was the flock of dragons that called Berk home, and lived in peace with their human friends.
It was customary for a family member to light the funeral ship as it sailed away from the shore, but Erik, Hiccup's oldest son and the current chief, thought it would be good to break tradition this time. After all, Hiccup was not exactly known for doing things the traditional way. The sail was raised, the ship slowly bobbed in the waves as it sailed away, and two Monstrous Nightmares from the village swooped down to set it afire.
"I think he'd approve," Erik said stiffly. He had been very close to his father, and maintaining the usual tough Viking front was difficult. Astrid tried and failed; no one held it against her when she broke down weeping. They stood on the cliffs and watched until the ship was gone.
She returned to the house along with Oddvar, their second son, and his wife. They had volunteered to keep her company tonight, and she was grateful. They would sleep upstairs, in what had been Hiccup's room when he was younger, and she would sleep downstairs. They had to speak to Erik about something, so she went on ahead.
She opened the door. The dragon had not moved from his place beside the bed. "I guess it's just you and me now," she said softly.
There was no answer, no motion. The great green eyes had closed for the last time. It was as though he had simply let go of life, now that the light of his life was gone.
When Oddvar arrived, he quietly suggested that he could round up some strong men and carry the dragon's body out. Astrid asked him to wait until the morning. He nodded, and accompanied his wife upstairs.
Astrid didn't think she'd be able to sleep that night. But somehow, her physical exhaustion overwhelmed her emotional trauma, and her body passed into a restless sleep. Somewhere during the night, she dreamed.
She dreamed she saw a great field of green grass, dotted with colorful wildflowers. In the distance was a large building of some kind; it shone with a light of its own, so bright that she couldn't make out any details. The sky was blue, with just a few white clouds. The air smelled pure and clean. In the foreground was a white wooden fence with a gate set into it.
A hundred feet from her, two people stood. They seemed out of focus; she couldn't see their faces. One was a huge, burly Viking warrior. He had one arm around a beautiful young woman. Both of them were looking toward the fence.
As she watched, the gate opened, and a thin young man with green eyes stepped through. He stopped, looked around him, then ran on two perfect legs to embrace the woman, then the man, then the woman again. Astrid fought back tears of joy as she watched the reunion. She could hear their voices, but couldn't make out what they were saying.
Then the young man turned back and looked at the gate. He seemed to be waiting for something, but nothing happened. His father motioned for the other two to follow him. They turned and walked into the distance. The young man kept stopping and looking back. As they got further away, they looked more and more blurry, as though they would fade away altogether if they went much further.
And when they were almost gone, the gate opened again, and a long black dragon leaped into the field, running as fast as he could, crying and keening for his friend to wait for him. The young man ran back to meet him halfway, and flung his arms around the thick black neck in an embrace that need never end. She couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying; perhaps both.
They both looked back now, and she realized that the young man was looking right at her. Was she supposed to step through the gate and join them?
"Not yet, my sweet," he said clearly, "but soon."
Then he climbed onto the dragon's back, and for the first time since the beginning of all things, two worthy souls didn't walk to their eternal reward. They flew.
As they were in life, so they would be forever. Together.
Oddvar and his wife had heard Astrid stirring, so they crept down the stairs to check on her. She was still asleep. Oddly, she was smiling.
"She must be dreaming about Hiccup," Oddvar whispered.
"It's a good dream," his wife agreed.
THE END