Summary: "Oh Merciful and Sacred Twelve who watch over all, protect me and my brother here in the Meridian of Misery." Revamped and redone for Hedgehog Quill and potential sueing. Tuffnut x OC
August 3rd:
I finally procured paper from our stores! I have long wanted to have my own diary and now I managed to sew one together, and am very proud for it is even embroidered with flowers and horses.
My name is Layla and I am the daughter of Gal and Wilos, a good merchant couple, and sister to Inrik who is a part of the crew on our merchant vessel called the Weeping Tiger. I have only just gotten paper from our trip to a great seaside town in Italy. What I am writing upon is papyrus shipped in from Egypt so it is floppy and granular, but it is mostly easier to write upon than the vellum from sheepskin we mostly use for records. I hope to document many more journeys here as my father aims to sail as far north as he can for exotic treasures.
Father, who was a scholar before he was a merchant as custom in our family, has taught me the newer names for the month that have quickly grown popular all over the world. They sound amazing and new and I think my favorite months sound like May and January. I love to taste new words.
August 5th:
I wish I had more time to write. I am usually with my mother fixing the sailor's clothes, or cleaning the deck, or helping our cook, so I have little to leave in my precious diary. I hope to pass it onto a daughter or niece someday, who might find my adventures exciting to read about. My mother keeps a collection of diaries from aunts and grandmothers who have also lived the lives as merchant women. I am still learning the secrets of bargaining and knowing sea routes, so this diary will mostly be full of personal things rather than encounters at sea.
We are still heading north to a place the Romans call Britain, after a mighty king who first ruled there. Perhaps it is just me, but as we sail farther and farther north, the people grow bigger, sturdier, and paler. Perhaps it is only because my skin is far darker, being from India. My family comes from an ancient place that believes in the Sacred Twelve, gods devoted to the balance of the elements and nature, with each one devoted to their own being in nature. Father says that the village shrinks every year, and in a thousand years it may only be just ruins. But for now we thrive and exist, and I am happy to be at sea, breathing the salty air with my beloved and honorable parents and my good, handsome brother, who loves the sea to and unnamable extent. He will inherit all that is our father's when he's older, and I hope to marry a merchant so we may expand and see all of the world…and maybe even start a caravan.
Inrik says it will be two weeks to Britain on a fair day. The name Britain is still foreign and sweet on my tongue, like all new things. Just like the sugared milk and oatmeal we had for supper. Some of the men eat copious amounts of meat, which boggles my mind, but father lets them eat what they will and believe what they will, for a tolerant merchant lasts a lot longer than an intolerant one.
August 12th:
Frightening news and sights today. We were meant to drop to a town belonging to the Franks on the shore, but Father chose to steer out to open sea and dodge a ship called a drekar, which is a foreign word that means dragon ship. I wanted to see it but Mother kept me down. Drekars are supposed to be loaded with Vikings, which everyone even as far as India fear for not only are they infidels that worship frightening and vicious gods, but they mimic their gods very well. Still, I have never seen a Viking and I'm already 13 years old, almost a woman.
I got to thinking about it later today. If Vikings are foreign and exotic as the word August and skilled as the gods, wouldn't they be good to trade with? I asked father about it, but he says they would be more likely to forget the trading and merely take what they like. But I didn't say that I thought of them as most other pirates, or even merchants. People overall are very good at taking what they like.
August 20th:
What good luck! I have doubled my prayers to the Sacred Twelve for watching us as far as here for good wind and strong tides have swept us to Britain early! And what a fascinating place!
I wore my clean and embroidered clothes, which had a shimmering thread my father bought for them that my mother skillfully embroidered, and even my gold shoes with a curled tip, but it was so very cold that I had to wear a heavy cloak and thick clothes called stockings to stay warm. Mostly the people gawked at us, perhaps they have never seen Indians. Still, my Latin and Norse was skillful enough that I supplied some skill in offering up twelve bolts of lovely purple cloth and ten crates of tea. Tea is good, but in a place like Britain I don't know if it'll ever be popular.
August 21st:
I'm happy to be able to write the next day, but I only have a moment so I will say that while cold, these places are mostly interesting. The people here are telling me, with my brother to translate for he knows as many languages as there are birds, about mystic, lost islands to the north home to magical beasts of wonder. They are showing me a dragon carving traded from a Viking tomorrow. I cannot wait to tell father that Vikings really do trade.
August 22nd:
We sold the entire ship's cargo! We now have traded and sold enough to head home three times richer and five times fuller with exotic goods so we are throwing a party to lighten the load somewhat. The sun barely shows itself here, but there will be warm fires, music, and dancing. I will have to get my traded harp out to play, and maybe dance with Inrik some. He is mostly busy working on the ship, raising sails and bringing them down again, making repairs, steering the helm when the captain is busy. He insisted he start his work at the bottom so he may learn every skill gradually, so even though the workers are of different faiths they are deeply impressed with him. And so are the village girls, for they like to hang by the docks to watch him climb to the rafters. I would like a sister in law, but not yet, so I am protecting him by embroidering on the deck. They aren't moving much because of me.
I saw the dragon carving today. It was small enough to fit in my hand, but very well done. The dragon, or so it seems, is just a big winged lizard, although the villagers swear that they breathe fire and poison and can carry off an ox in one swoop. I think this is mostly exaggerated, for I have seen elephants and whales which most definitely outweigh dragons. They certainly eat enough.
The party is tonight and no matter what the chill I will dance and play my harp and wear my good clothes. The villagers may think our clothing for girls is scandalous but I have never thought so, so I'll keep wearing what I love. I can't wait for the festivities.
August 24th:
I only recall the date out of a need to distract myself for if I don't I will most definitely be overcome with screaming and terror.
The party that went on when I last wrote was the last good thing I remember. The villagers loved our music, to them it was exotic and beautiful, and I even saw new instruments from them, like the lute that one of them was teaching me to play. It's on the ship now, although I may never get to play it now. The food was different, heavier and richer than the light food we ate. The people of the north like their weapons heavy as they showed off their big broadswords, axes, and hammers which were so heavy that even my brother, who has grown strong from working with sails, staggered under its weight. We believe it is the talent of the swordsman that counts, but the art is not as thoroughly practiced here. Perhaps it is all the wars that tend to happen here…if we had as little time as they did to slay our enemies we would grow big and burly and carry weapons that weighed a ton.
It lasted all night, and while my parents and most of the men desired the softer, warmer beds on shore, my brother and I could not sleep without the gentle rock of the waves below us. I have known those waves since I was a baby, and the sound of cresting waves and seagulls sounds much like a lullaby as any mother's song.
But disaster has hit us, and I think myself unfortunate that I was not simply killed when it happened.
Inrik thinks it was a storm, which we predictably would have slept through since we are quite used to storms, but something snapped the rope at the dock and our ship has gone sailing into the thick mists. I can't help but think over and over of the mystic islands the villagers spoke of and be filled with terror. What if we become lost souls, doomed to wander foreign lands forever, starving to death over and over? It is all I can do but write, for my pen is shaking as I sit with Inrik here on deck by the helm so we don't crash into the rocks.
Inrik is strangely calm and quiet. When the party raged on, he was in the thick of the dancing, even pulling me from my harp to dance. The girls there, despite some being twice his girth, tried to as well, but he played games with the men and even sang some old songs with us. It is chilling to seem him so grim and calm as he protects us from death.
I wonder if our parents know. My poor mother will weep when she finds we're missing.
August 25th:
I am so exhausted, but I need to stay awake.
I've been helping Inrik with the ship, and its back breaking work. We eat as little as we can to save food, and never stop working. If I am not squinting at the helm under my brother's bellows to turn this way or that way, then I am on the deck running amok on some chore. When I begin to complain or cower Inrik merely shouts to keep moving. "Don't talk, just work" is all he says when he isn't giving me orders. I miss when we were still full of a crew and with our parents, for now I am feeling bitter and angry at him. But now that he sleeps, he seems calmer and more at ease with me at the helm and I am trying hard to keep us afloat.
August 26th:
The urge to die came over so quickly when I was bailing out the ship that in my hysteria Inrik slapped me for the first time. It worked and while my cheek is bruised I am more willing to live than ever and cannot be pried from Inrik as we sail. When will the mist clear?
August 27th:
Still lost. I threw an empty bottle with a note out to sea in all the languages Inrik and I could write and prayed help would come soon. May the Sacred Twelve give me comforting dreams tonight.
Later:
I am reentering to keep myself grounded from fear. As we traveled through the mist, I hear something growling and hissing in the sky and a faint shadow dashed in the misty moon. Now neither of us can sleep.
August 28th:
I am now afraid in an almost resigned way. For even if I die, the person who finds this will know I tried my best to live and that I existed; I was loved by my family, befriended by my crew, and in love with my life upon the sea. They will know I had my dreams of marrying a merchant to keep living this way and to see my brother happily married to a woman who would follow him out onto the seas. I wonder if the next life for us will have oceans and boats…life doesn't seem right for either of us without the sea. We were both born on it as a fish is, so maybe we will become dolphins, guiding whoever gets lost in these mists next to safety. Its what I would want.
I am still so guilty for trying to scare off the village girls from my brother. He could be married now, and safer than stuck out at sea with a sister who is mostly weak and unhelpful.
Later:
Inrik told me he never thought I was weak or useless, and I felt better. Better enough that I could let him sleep and sail on my own. The hissing and growling sounds have returned so I am trying to growl back to tell the wandering spirits here to stay away. They must be vengeful for drowning for they sway around the rocks.
August 30th:
Thank the gods we're alive for we came to our closest stave of death ever.
When I saw the carving of dragons in Britain, I underestimated it deeply. I could not fear what I had not seen, and to me they were just big lizards. But there are not vengeful, drowned spirits floating and hissing around us. There are dragons. And they are far from being elephants or whales.
One landed on our ship this morning. I had been unable to write from exhaustion, and had emptied out foul fish and moldy bread from the hold, gone dank despite my bailing of countless buckets of water. For a moment seagulls swarmed and my brother rejoiced, for seagulls never travel too far from land. We let them eat for a while…and then came the most terrifying thing I have ever seen. It even bested hurricanes that tore our mast in two when I was six and a stampede I had seen from the ship four years ago.
It was enormous, and I wish I could draw but I am untalented in that department. It was very rockily shaped, like the earth had come together to form a beast that was so big the deck barely had space to hold it. Its wings flapped so fast they blurred like a dragonfly, and it was a stubby brown. It swooped down to gnash at the bad food.
My brother was not quite the size of the dragon, but he is quick and clever. He cut the sails so it fell upon the dragon, who thrashed in blind panic, trying to fly away. Inrik then used the sail holds to swing a heavy set of iron to latch onto its leg. So now it is covered in a sail and weighed down by tons of iron, flying blindly out into the mist. But it shot out fire when the sail draped over it, and the side of the ship is marred with charred wood. Inrik is too exicted to sleep now that we have a different problem to deal with. While I did not believe the villagers before, I most certainly do now.
September 2nd:
I can't be excited for new words now. There is too much to be afraid of that I feel the fear is pushing out the excitement. I will be happy to write the new month down in later days.
September 3rd:
I could stand it no longer. The endless work and smothering fog finally seemed to make something crack in my chest, for in the middle of bailing the ship, I dropped my bucket and began to cry loud and true.
Inrik didn't yell at me to get back to work or to suck it up like he usually did. Instead, he left the helm, a dangerous move for a ship can alter its course at any minute, and picked me up. He held onto me as I bawled into his salt stained clothes for what seemed like hours. He was colder, hungrier, and more exhausted than me, but his spirit is as unshakeable as a mountain. I wish I were stronger. It hurts to merely work and hope. But I feel better now that the misery is out. September, September, September. We are alive to see a new month.
September 10th:
I am not terribly pleased with our new situation but at least the Sacred Twelve are looking after us even from such a distance.
We spotted dragons approaching us as we sailed today, and braced ourselves for fire and fury and death. But what shocked us was that this time, they had riders! Like a herder on a horse, they were seated upon two new dragons, one colorful with eyes on each side of its head, and another which was lean, long, and mean looking, loaded with spikes.
Inrik recognized where the men were from. They were Vikings, who found the Gronkle, a species of dragon and the one we encountered, tied with iron, lost in a sail and flying haphazardly out from the mist. It incited a search, and now our ship is being pulled by the dragons to the island of Berk, located on the Meridian of Misery which we have been floating on, the Viking home of the dragon tamers. I am still frightened of both the Vikings and the dragons, so Inrik is keeping me close to him as we are gradually pulled into clear skies and waters. I almost cried to see a blue sky rather than an endless fog.
The Vikings were curious to see such dark-skinned people and such strange accents, but it is their accents which are hard to understand. I feel like I'm trying to talk to a thundercloud the way they rumble. Fortunately they know Norse. Their names are Giant Buggerwink and Timber Thudansmack. I am happy to have something to giggle at.
September 11th:
We are now safely on a habituated island, although we remain strongly suspicious and careful not to encourage our hosts to have us fed to the dragons. Our lodgings are in a gigantic house that is very drafty, but warm, and belongs to the chief of the village called Stoick the Vast. It makes sense…he is one of the biggest men I have ever seen.
The day was clear when our ship was pulled in and we gratefully spoke our prayers in our language as soon as we hit solid earth. They thought us strange but let us pray, before moving on. Maybe they thought we needed to pray, for being so wet, hungry, cold, and frightened this far out at sea. None of them have even heard of India, much less seen its inhabitants. While our father has not quite traveled all around the world as he wishes, we certainly have done quite a job for him.
Berk is on an island, the village on a great big bluff with fields for sheep, dragons, goats, and cows alike. I know that people grow bigger as we travel north, but I swear upon all in this world that these men were the size and weight of galleon anchors. They are bedecked in armor, furs, and leather, each one a tribute to what he or she has killed. The place is crawling with more dragons than I can describe, all in different shape, sizes, hues, and temperaments. Even the tiny ones called Terrible Terrors, no bigger than a milk jug, are vicious…picking fights with even Gronkles and Nightmares. At least I have more exotic experience than any other girl in the world.
Even the women are powerful! I saw one woman carry a giant axe and hammer, ones that would have made my brother collapse under its weight. The youngsters are big, and curious too, although I mostly clung behind my brother.
I think they are interested in what cargo we still keep for ourselves from home. I still have my loom, my harp and lute, my embroidery kit and other things for livelihood. I noticed they paid attention to the embroidery on my clothes, which was far more than they had. I couldn't help but admire the metalwork on their armor and weapons.
Inrik was tall and unafraid. Vikings are supposed to smell fear from a mile away, its how they pick their villages, and even though Stoick could throw him into the ocean with a flick of his finger, Inrik boldly introduced us and asked for shelter in exchange for goods. The food was long gone or rotted but we still had cloth, gold and silver, iron and other novelties. He must have seen the hold before meeting us and he agreed. I felt relaxed that Vikings could bargain despite my father's warnings.
Stoick apologizes that the village was missing one of their central figures; his only son, who was out on a small trip with his friends to gather honey in a nearby island. So now I am sleeping next to Inrik on a borrowed pallet, and am full of bread, milk, and root vegetables. They are still puzzled as to why Indians won't eat meat. I'll correct them later. Right now I am missing the rock of the ship as my lullaby and cradle, and am getting to sleep with much more difficulty.
I am still unused to the sound of dragons in the night, but for now we are safe and alive. If only we could find our parents. Still I am afraid that either dragons or Vikings will come and eat us in the night. Oh Merciful and Sacred Twelve who watch over all, protect me and my brother here in the Meridian of Misery.
September 12th:
Another cold day. I miss the heat of India, and now I'm wearing a bartered set of clothes that are not quite like my airy ones, but close for I have arranged them so with my sewing kit. I'll embroider them later.
Inrik has offered his help to a man named Gobber who owns the smithy here. Gobber was eyeing the valued metals of our ship and let him work in exchange for a goat to milk and sheep wool for me to make into warmer clothes that better suit us. But now I am alone to take care of personal chores, including insuring my brother eats well without offending the Sacred Twelve. So after selling a crate of iron, I went on errands to make a vegetarian meal, mostly compromised of root vegetables. The food is tough and tasteless, but I will use a handful of spices from the ship which have not gone bad. The people here seem hungry for our goods. I wish my brother could help me with it before their will snaps and they merely steal it all. I know merchants must be tolerant, but those dragons are very hard to work by when you are attempting to buy something simple as food.
September 13th:
Stoick's son and his gaggle of friends have returned, so there will be a proper introduction.
The chief's son is a scrawny, freckled boy named Hiccup, with one missing foot and the handsomest dragon I had ever seen. It was a Night Fury named Toothless for his gummy, retractable teeth, and a sleek black set of scales on a muscular form that would have made a horse envious. Dragon taming seems a lot like horse-breeding, and am very familiar with horses from when I lived in our home in India, so maybe it won't be so bad. Hiccup is a good fellow, and I relaxed around him since he seemed safer than the bigger Vikings. Inrik was cool and polite as ever, shaking his hand in greeting as he thanked him and Stoick for keeping us. Toothless even got a part in the introductions as Hiccup let me gently pat his nose. He was sniffing like a curious dog and was happy when Inrik scratched his ears. Something about Hiccup and Toothless makes me feel at ease. They have a natural air of goodness, no doubt forged from a long time of flying together.
Hiccup's friends are all from dragon training before Hiccup, as I learned with great interest, rescued the dragons from the tyranny of a giant, forever-hungry dragon. There was a pretty, slim girl named Astrid who rode one of the Deadly Nadders from training, a fat boy named Fishlegs on a Gronkle, a big, boastful boy named Snotlout on a Nightmare, and a pair of twins named Ruffnut and Tuffnut on a dragon I had seen, but had not known the name of called a Zippleback. I always thought of twins as lucky with a double birth, but there was more arguing and bickering with the twins than luck. Maybe Viking twins are just born that way.
All the younger boys are staring at me. I don't feel exotic, but with my darker skin and hair perhaps I am and don't know it. I already feel lost on the waves of exoticness with all this blonde, red, and auburn hair around me.
As soon as we sat down for a meal with Stoick and his son, they asked us why we don't eat meat. Inrik explained it was against the Sacred Twelve to eat living creatures, and Stoick commented that without meat we'd end up shriveling from hunger. Inrik then offered to show him his skill with a saber, a light sword the Vikings didn't know of, to see just how shriveled he seemed. Stoick laughed and agreed and Hiccup looked mostly embarrassed. I also noticed the three boys that traveled with him are glued to the windows. I am trying not to look at them but they are gawking rather intently. I stayed close to Inrik during the meal. Toothless ate with us too, he was very close to Hiccup after all, but when I he realized I wasn't afraid to give him bits from my meal, he ended up shimmying over to me until I found his head in my lap. Hiccup laughed until it was bedtime when he had to pull him off.
Time to sleep. I hope to get back to my loom soon for these Viking clothes are bulkier and itchier than I am accustomed to.
September 17th:
How strange these days have passed. Our entire shipment is now safely off the now hazardous Weeping Tiger, and secure in a makeshift storage house. Vikings are more honest than people make them, for everyone always waits to see Inrik before asking to trade.
While Inrik made girls swoon further south with his muscles, the women here are more entranced by his sleek beauty. I think if he could be a dragon, he would be a Night Fury, smooth and handsome. I don't know any dragons I might be like, but Inrik said I was a curious Terrible Terror. I think this is because he's remembering a time when we were young when in a fit of temper I spiced his food to be scalding on the tongue.
I am a bit embarrassed to be outside. Its true I speak their language fluently, but as they stare at my dark skin, my thick accent, and my strange clothes, I just want to hide myself away to embroider. I tried to show Astrid and Ruffnut how, but they quickly lost interest and hand me try to throw an axe. I very much failed as it almost split my shoe in half. Viking girls must be made of iron!
The boys are still cloistered at the windows. I was still nervous when Hiccup invited them in, especially as they all asked so many questions at once. What was the animal embroidered on my book? How did I work the loom? Why didn't I eat meat? Where was I from? I scooted over to Toothless for some protection, but I don't think he planned on helping as they still crowded and asked their endless questions. Tuffnut, who's hair is dirty and milky blonde, is especially clingy. I felt like a ship encrusted with barnacles. I think he's trying to encourage his twin sister to finally show some girly interests, but she is as strong and hunched as he is and wouldn't do it. Astrid is merely uninterested. By the Sacred Twelve Hiccup seemed more likely to learn than her.
September 18th:
Inrik is tired of me hiding in the chief's house so he has taken a day off of making saddles and hammers and has me touring the village. Tuffnut, if his sister's shouts meant anything, obviously won a bet and tagged along, pointing out things like the dragon stable and the great feasting hall. I have had boys interested in me before, but as a Viking he seems extra determined. It might be flattering if he didn't smell so bad or wasn't so very brusque about it. Inrik was the one feeling protective now, keeping a cool but warning eye on him.
Inrik agreed to try riding a dragon when Tuffnut offered but I quickly turned it down. I didn't want to risk losing my place on earth and flying off into the distant heavens before I was ready, so despite Tuffnut's disappointment and his sister's guffaws, I would stay grounded another day. I did agree to help at the grooming stable, so long as the dragons I cleaned kept their claws, spikes and fangs to themselves.
September 19th:
Survived my first dragon grooming, although I found out to my shock that if you rub down a dragon under its chin it falls into a goop of happy ecstasy. And now I am bruised on both my feet and forced to limp back to the house. And those boys are still following me! And I the most feminine person they've ever met?
Inrik says that most men imagine that the more womanish a girl, the easier they are to court. But if these boys remain as rough and dirty as they are, I don't think any girl, Indian or Viking, will think about dating them. Although Hiccup's interests are strangely distant. While polite and friendly, I notice his gaze always drifting.
Later:
I think there might be more negative feelings for me and my brother stewing in the village, for I found the cloth I was embroidering tangled in a mess where I left it. I never tangle my strings, so someone must have sabotaged it. There is also a heap of fur hair around it, so someone obviously threw in a good kicking to finish it off. Inrik is now more possessive than ever.
September 23rd:
Ruffnut managed to come down to my level apparently as I managed to show her how to use the loom. I was making a blue-red blanket for Inrik, who gave me his spare to be extra warm, and I showed her how to weave the shuttle and clamp it onto the fabric. She got the hang of it after a while, but didn't go further as to embroider. Her brother is already teasing her to an extent where she's eventually going to clobber him.
I learned that the reason Hiccup's gaze wanders is because it usually falls on Astrid. When I asked him if he liked her, he grew flustered and embarrassed. If it weren't for that making it obvious enough, it was Toothless with is rumbling dragon laughter at his feeble attempt to cover it up. Maybe this also is the source of my ruined embroidery if Astrid's gaze wanders just as much.
It does.
September 25th:
I don't know how Vikings can live with the cold for after days of chattering teeth I am finally sick with a cold. Inrik stopped working to care for me and it's strange seeing him do a woman's work with his strong hands that can swiftly raise a sail but clumsily crush herbs for soup or make breakfast.
I can't help but feel a bit pleased when the twins came over with some medicine from the village elder, the smallest woman here who is old and wizened but wise in the ways of medicine. My cough is better although I'm still cold and wrapped up in blankets. I'm praying more quietly to the Sacred Twelve to make me better, although I'm a bit interested in hearing the twins go on about their gods. Strangely enough they have a god called Loki who is the god of tricks. I asked them why they needed one to where Ruffnut laughed and said, "Life isn't fun if you can't trick your brother into putting his boots on the wrong feet."
Tuffnut and Ruffnut are fighting now and Inrik's patience is wearing thin so I'll stop for now to try to get them back to talking about gods.
September 28th:
Well again. Inrik is back at the forge so I'm out in warmer clothes and a pair of boots given to me by the twins. Snotlout and Fishlegs look a bit down now that the twins have forcefully rooted themselves into my life first, but they cheered up when they found they had grooming duty with me. Fishlegs is very intelligent for his size although Snotlout is mostly unbelievable. His Nightmare was under my care, so I avoided the knock-out spot on the neck and picked off the loose scales that itched him. There were so many spikes on his back it was very difficult.
Fishlegs managed to wrangle me into looking over dragon manuals while Snotlout managed to wrangle me into fishing. I feel a bit vain and guilty for the attention, but I don't think I'll tell them I invited my brother to both trips.
Later:
Tried the very fashionable armored helmet. It made me temporarily blind when it sank down and got stuck over my nose and brow. While Ruff and Tuff like their double horned helmets I think I'll keep my hair braided and tied with a ribbon instead. Astrid, while tense and cool, very calmly accepted my gift of ribbons when I mentioned that boys liked girls with them. I tried to give her a look that meant I knew what she liked to look at, but she didn't give me a clue if she knew. Maybe I'll see her hair braided and dressed in the blue that suits her eyes. Ruff merely used the ribbons to tie up her vest.
Inrik has grown into a bit of a storm cloud when it comes to the attentions of boys on his little sister. He is nearly nineteen and very mature, but he almost made me laugh aloud with his steely gaze on the very nervous Fishlegs and Snotlout, although they both would out grow him soon. Ruff cannot stop laughing at her twin, who's off to sulk by the beach. Only Hiccup is unaffected as he watches at Astrid in blue ribbons, making Toothless mad as he keeps dipping and knocking into roofs.
October 1st:
Things have grown frightening again.
Perhaps it was the terrifying days lost at sea that made it so, but the fog has rolled around to stay a while as the weather prepares to hail. Inrik has grown intensely jumpy, and comes close to throwing his hammer at the anvil at anyone who surprises him. The flying of dragons has become only a sound now that frightens me and I barely leave the chief's house. I have left our hosts bewildered at our terror, but the dragons seem to know our fear best. I found a cluster of Terrors who took root in the window dumping fish at my feet, which I didn't eat, and later nuzzling into my pallet. They do so to most everyone, like stray cats, but the pallet was so warm with Terrors that I think one or too may have snorted in their sleep and scorched it.
The twins are walking more carefully around me. Like Gobber with Inrik, who has become a fast friend, they talk very gently so as not to surprise me. There were fewer questions about my old life and old things, and more easy talk like they were calming down a shaky dragon. I think they might have become my best friends, although Ruff is very mischievous and Tuff very dirty. Soap I have noticed, has not made its way here. But there's plenty of sheep and goat fat to go around so I'll see if I can crush some herbs to make nice-smelling soap. Or does the cold make it too bothersome to clean? It certainly does for me and Inrik, as we are left with goosebumps all over every night we bathe. Stoick and Hiccup seem a lot more self-conscious, clean and shivering since we came to live with them, and there are dirty bathtubs drying out back now.
I can't help but fear the mist. It means uncertainty and danger, it means being lost at sea not knowing whether or not you would survive or if your parents would ever be able to bury your corpses.
Later:
I told the twins of my fearing. Despite the smell, they're both sleeping in cots by my side, in case I wake up on a ship in the fog in the dream world. Tuff smells like the stables and Ruff has elbows that jab me some in sleep but they are a soothing presence. Inrik never made a comment once.
October 5th:
What is this feeling I have?
Last night I had dreams, frightening ones that shook me like an earthquake. I am flying away from the earth in a thick, blinding fog, trying to control my flight even though I didn't have wings or anything. Then the fog became a suffocating smoke, and I saw that something was cutting into my arms, dragging me off to die. I woke up choking and coughing to Inrik who holds me until I find myself and my breath again.
The dragons are just like me. Its as if my fear of the fog has infected them, and now they infect the Vikings as the fog remains grounded. While the dragons are accustomed to flying in the fog, it is that same feeling as I have that something is hovering over the place like an eclipse. I once tried to describe it to the twins, but I have only seen pictures in books and descriptions from wizened old men. It mostly sounds unbelievable, but after seeing dragons I think I could believe anything.
Hiccup is trying to keep Toothless from scratching at the door again. I think Toothless feels my terror more pungently since we're living in the same house. He's a bit of an head dragon here, and forever wants to circle Berk since the fog set in. But Hiccup is only human and needs rest so I'm trying to coax Toothless to bed with bits from my supper. Even though I'm vegetarian, Toothless doesn't seem to mind herbs on butter with bread much.
October 13th:
It is Friday the 13th, the unluckiest day of the year and I am positively doomed.
It is through pure chance that I had this on my person because now I am in a giant cave with hoarded gold, silver, jewels, tapestries, paintings, and a great gilded dragon who watches me write from where I cower in the corner until he eats me. Sacred Twelve, protect me now for I need it more than I ever did in the mists of the Meridian of Misery.
The past few days had raised anxiety everywhere. Dragons kept circling the village, the Vikings now always kept an axe on hand, and Inrik is always watching the skies. Three nights ago I caught him in a sleep trance outside with his hands on a helm that was not there as he looked for rocks at sea that were beyond him. I think we truly left something inside of us in the fog because it has crept back into our lives awkwardly and painfully. It was hard to pull him away from his steadfast gaze out into the abyss in front of the stunned chief and Hiccup, but Toothless was quiet and merely watched as I pulled a blanket over Inrik's shoulders and brought him back in. For the first time, it was me holding onto him, not the other way around.
I learned why the dragons were circling the village the next day.
I had done a rare trip into the fog. The twins were with me, ever since I told them of my fear, and we were carrying buckets of water back up to wash in. Tuff was cleaner, perhaps he too was feeling self-conscious or maybe he was merely using my fresh batch of soap, and he's been giving me more specific gazes now. They were not the ones previously of Snotlout and Fishlegs, who are now simply friends, but they are warm and strong like the rays of the sun. And like the sun he always returns. His sister is like the moon, an unlikely sentry of the night, as she is often there to shake me out of fog dreams
Then, as I fell back to unhitch a stuck lace on my shoe, I heard a great roar. It wasn't unlike the ones of the resident dragons, but this one sounded of greed and hunger. I looked up in panic to the skies, and just as Tuff and Ruff yelled at me to duck, I found myself swept up by the golden claws of a long, sleek, golden dragon.
I screamed loud enough that even the gods in heaven couldn't have missed it. I was too terrified to be ashamed, knowing no Viking woman would have cried out quite like I did. My screaming brought out everyone in the village, but all I could see was the fog and the gold claws of my captor. I was truly transported into my nightmare as I screamed and flailed. Dragons and their riders dipped in and out of sight, but the fog was so thick it must have been hard to tell who was the captor and who was the rescuer. My brother must have been there, for he was screaming for me all the way, mixed in with Hiccup's calls and the twins hollering, and while I tried to call them towards me, they grew more and more faint until all there was, was the flapping of the dragon and myself. My diary was tucked into my skirt pocket and was safe with me, so now I am writing with charcoal. Oh please let me live, blessed Twelve! I want to go back to Berk! It is cold and scary sometimes but it has Inrik and the twins and our rescuers. I want to live to see my parents find us and to marry and be a wife! Sacred Twelve and gods of the Vikings, help me live!
The dragon, whom I have called Greed, is closing in on me. I am dead.
October 14:
I'm alive. How am I alive?
Greed is the strangest dragon I've ever seen. He goes in an out, and he brings back tons of valuables. But he never really looks them over, never uses them, merely sleeps, eats stolen livestock, and stares at me with interest. He doesn't seem to mind my writing, so I'll describe him better. He's very long, with forelegs and back-legs, and he reminds me of animals in Chinese prints I've seen. He has a row of serrated teeth and a pair of extra long fangs from his drooling mouth, as well as smooth straight horns and long, wafting antenna. His wings are broad and full as the sails on a ship, the scales on them flutter as they puff out to glimmer like sun across water. When he came at me during my last entry, he ran his long antenna over me. It tickled and terrified me, but he seemed to enjoy my reaction and kept doing it until he lost interest. He could wrap around every dragon in the village with his length and looks as if he's rolled in gold dust. I am so afraid that my brother will come to save me only to fail. While the dragons at Berk are tamed and talented, they are not quite the size and danger of Greed.
Later:
I have changed my mind. I don't want anyone coming to save me. I don't care if I end up being a part of a dragon's hoard, I just want them all to be safe. And may the Sacred Twelve bless those dunderheads for they won't stop till they find me. And then we both will be doomed. Mercy.
October 15th:
The dragon likes my embroidery. This is why he kidnapped me and made me one of his treasures. I saw it as he looked over my skirts, with their embroidered flowers and animals. So I am entertaining Greed with sewing.
I have all the choices here in tapestries and embroideries, with gold needles and thread, cloth in a million colors, and every painting for inspiration, but all I want is to go back to Berk…to where I now realize is home.
So I embroider that. Greed looks over my shoulder as I embroider our treacherous drift into the Meridian of Misery, to Inrik sending off the Gronkle, to arriving at Berk, and even some simple ones of everyday things like making meals or embroidering itself. The process bores him, but he waits for the finished product. I hang them up away from where I work to keep him from gawking too much. It's hard enough to sew in this cave without him staring at me.
October 16th:
I need to keep sewing. Greed is ill-tempered from a less than profitable trip this time, only two gold daggers and a bolt of silk. I can't write anymore now, although my stomach aches and my eyes and hands are pinched and sore.
October 17th:
Greed brought me food in a stolen basket of bread. I'm guilty for taking stolen goods, but even I know it's foolish to say no. Although now its harder to sleep. First my sleeping troubles came from missing the sway of the sea below me. Now its because of the horrible snuffling coming from Greed. I embroidered a whole scene from Inrik's scaring off the Gronkle which seems to please Greed, so I'm beginning to hang my embroidered things where he won't look at me to admire them.
October 18th:
I was so exhausted with eating stolen bread, embroidering, and in Greed altogether that I threw my needle and newest tapestry across the cave and began to cry alone in my corner. Even though Greed's hauls grow smaller lately, my misery seems to entertain him and he watched my weeping with his dragonish chuckles. I hope he chokes on a gold dagger when he flies it in.
It felt more painful to be crying alone. I could always depend on someone to be there to hold me as I cried. And when I stopped crying their embrace always made me feel whole again. But with no one here but a horrible, greedy beast, I now only feel empty and hollow. I don't think I'll sleep well tonight.
Later:
Because I can't sleep, I tried recalling the sweet words of the months, and every new word I learned to calm myself into sleep. But now the only two sweet words that ease my suffering are "home" and "rescue".
October 19th:
When I felt the urge to run out of the cave door and jump into the seas to drown, I remember what Inrik did to give me sense and I forced myself to bang my head against a gold gong. The sound and action made Greed guffaw loudly, but now I want to live again. I miss Inrik and the twins. My head is spinning and now it seems there are a dozen Greeds.
October 20th:
I need to stop thinking about my brother and friends at Berk. I can't bear to wish they would come help me. But it's all I have to think about as I embroider for Greed.
October 21st:
I had the scare of my life and now I'm huddled in a big empty silver pot from an angry Greed and my newest embroidery is in burnt tatters.
I was embroidering a scene from the grooming stables at Berk, where I am joined by all my new friends cleaning a fine Nadder of its scales. It made me feel warm and almost happy in the good memories I have of the dragons there. But Greed looked at it once, and I began to run to the far wall of the cave when I saw that anger in his eyes.
He spat fire at it, blasting a hole right through the now cindered tapestry, his fire like small balls of hot air. He spat one or two at me, one missing and one grazing across my side. I screamed so loud from the burn but it wasn't severe. The metal was growing hot under my feet so I hid and huddled away from Greed as he flew off to let loose some steam. He didn't seem bothered in finding my hiding place…we are at a cave almost two houses above rocky seas in a thick fog, and miles from Berk. I can hardly escape.
I'm rubbing cave water on the burns and have covered it up with moss. Sacred Twelve protect me.
October 22nd:
Still hidden, although Greed is back, mollified from a giant catch of gilded armor. All I can think of now is…where is Inrik? Where are the twins? Where is anyone?
October 23rd:
Can't write. This is the only time I have to rest from embroidery.
October 24th:
I am filled to the brim with hope. Inrik is on the hunt for me!
I found it out from the gilded armor Greed brought in three days ago. They were big and beautiful, and I thought of the Vikings at Berk from their design. But then I noticed markings on the shoulder that were Arabic. But the people of Berk don't know Arabic, so I took a look while Greed was out. It was a message from Inrik! He told me not to worry, for they were looking for me. They discovered that Greed had been looting several other villages of beautiful valuables, and after finding all the ones he'd stolen from, they found a general area to search. But the fog was difficult, so they instructed me that in three days time I should make something that catches light so they could find the cave…and me.
I've already begun a tapestry, although I have to sew fast. I'm using a pure gold thread on shimmering gold cloth, both which will please Greed and signal my brothers and Berk. I've decided that since Greed likes violent scenes, I am sewing the scene of my capture. It hurts me to do it, since it mostly means I am submitting to this life of embroidery and sewing, but it will keep Greed appeased and under-guarded. In three days time, when Greed is out hunting for gold, I will hang it by the cave entrance. Weighing it down will be easy…there are tons of heavy gold swords and armors here I can drag to the entrance.
October 25th:
I think I know why Greed steals treasure. I have always thought he was the strangest dragon in the world, but it appears that even he has his motives.
I stumbled upon a smaller chamber as I pulled heavy gold axes away to weigh down my half-done tapestry. It was big enough for a average sized dragon to fit in, and Greed was still out hunting, so I investigated. Inside there was no treasure, but another dragon like Greed, sleeping on the ground, but smaller and with sleek silver scales and claws.
I was anxious, but then I noticed something odd. When Greed sleeps he grinds his claws against the gold coins he sleeps on. But this one did not even seem to breath. So I chanced edging around it and looked at its face. Its eyes were hollow and void of eyeballs, and from the angle I could see only bones remained inside the intact silver scales. This dragon was dead. And from the other side jutted a big golden sword, sticking into where its heart must have been.
As I embroidered, it occurred to me that the smaller dragon must have been Greed's mate. Maybe that's why he hoarded, to give tribute to his lost love. Hiccup told me that dragons mate for life, which explains why he's all alone out here. If he had not become such a corrupted dragon through is greed and hoarding, I could pity him. But now he is not even a dragon anymore.
October 26th:
The tapestry is done. I have decided to use silver threads to make the people and other dragons while Greed is big and golden as he carries me off. All of the other dragons are smaller than him, and the fog is in rolling clouds of silver and gold. I added smaller words in Arabic and Norse along the sides, which Greed probably can't read, that say "I am here, I am alive" over and over. To him they probably just look pretty.
He growled happily about it and watches it fondly now. Tomorrow is the big day. He leaves at predictable times, roughly as the sun comes up, and when he does I will hang the tapestry over the side to signal my dear brother.
October 27th:
Life is truly a blessing. The events of this day were so intense that I can barely believe they happened. It almost feels like I have stepped into a dream world when Inrik and I became lost in the fog.
As soon as Greed flew out I pulled over the heavy armor and draped the tapestry over the side. I got a good look at the rocks below and gulped. It was a very long way down, and if I fell in attempt I would die very painfully.
The fog was still thicker that soup but stray bits of light reflected off the tapestry brightly even from where I was. I couldn't risk the wrath of Greed if he saw my beacon so I left it to hang there and hurried to hide in the giant silver pot. And I waited. And waited. All I could heard was the sounds of the wind there and I was certain that if it did work, I would be saved. If not, Greed would not let me live even if I sewed the most beautiful embroidery in the world.
Then I heard the flapping of wings. By the Sacred Twelve I think my heart froze in my chest, and not because of the cold this time. Was it Greed? Or my friends?
"Layla!"
The cry of my name was so loud and familiar, and so was the sound of bickering. It was the twins! I got out of my pot fast and ran to give them the tightest hug either of us had ever had. They squeezed back just as hard and I think we were all covered in bruises from the hugging. Their Zippleback looked nervous as it looked around the treasure hoard, which the twins looked at with awe. But I urged them out, Greed would realize I was missing soon, and while they were tempted to take some of the gold, I think Greed would know if they took even a single coin. So we flew off, Ruff blowing on a horn to signal the others as I clung to Tuff on his side of the dragon.
I had only flown once before, the terrible night I was kidnapped by Greed. I was still unused to the flapping of wings below me, but it seemed much like being on a ship with a swaying rock of the wind now rather than the water. Tuffnut was babbling away about how no one had slept for over a week, asking around the surrounding villages and islands. It turns out that when Greed left after I began sewing for him, his spiny back caught and tore on one of the tapestries. When my brother recognized my handiwork, he was determined to find the hoard and me.
I was so ecstatic for that moment, that I forgot I'd ever been kidnapped. But good feelings can pass quickly, and these were about to when we heard Greed's infuriated roar behind us. The Zippleback was tempted to save itself, but with three riders already securely on its back, it had no choice but to make chase.
"Ruffnut! Tuffnut! Layla! Where are you?"
I heard Hiccup calling out to us in the fog. We tried calling to him, but with Greed on our tail, and the twins trying not to fly into rocky pillars, it was hard. I had a sudden idea, remembering our trick with the flashy tapestry. "Fly to the sun!" I told the twins, who were baffled but obeyed as they spiraled up to where the cloudy sun was, until we burst into clear skies where Greed came out flashing brightly. In the sun he was almost blinding, but now almost impossible to miss.
Like a beacon, it drew dozens of dragons with their riders into the open sky where Greed yowled and snarled and bit at whatever he could reach. I saw Inrik on a Nightmare and nearly cried, but the situation was so severe that all I could do was hold onto the twins and pray for a miracle.
My next idea was so much crazier, so much more idiotic. But even when swarmed by more dragons than he could count, Greed could still out do all of us in flight and battle. I know his cunning by know. So without asking Tuffnut for permission, I grabbed his knife from his sheath, and despite his howls I braced myself and jumped, right on top of Greed's head! And as I landed on the hard scales, the blade sunk right into his right eye.
How he howled! Up close his screeching was louder than anything I'd ever heard in my life, and he bucked and writhed in the air as his eye gushed blood all over my hands. I felt sick and queasy and terrified, but when his momentum from flying caused the dagger to jerk out, I let it sink into the other one. Now blinded and bleeding, he swirled and wobbled dangerously as he howled and I tried to find a place to jump off of but there was nothing but hazardous seas and rocks. Still, when I saw him careening out of control towards the rock wall, I had no choice but to fall to my death. All I thought about as I fell was how I at least was able to help save my brother and friends. I thought I could die peacefully. But I think life is surprising and generous, for I found myself caught in the claws of a Nightmare, my brother sobbing and crying in the saddle as he looked down upon me in relief.
Berk was in an uproar as we landed, the sky clear and blue as dragons flew in an I was dropped down to the ground, only to be whisked up again by my brother. My hands and clothes were smeared with Greed's blood, and I was exhausted all over, but I hugged him back fiercely. And even with a face full of tears, he told me I smelled terrible, and I laughed.
Once everyone was down, cleaned, and given a meal, I told them my story; of how I was kept to make tapestries for Greed, of how he was collecting a tribute to his lost mate, and of how I'd sewn together a golden tapestry to catch the light for my rescue. It all sounded more heroic than it felt, but Ruff told me I'd just earned more glory than the most battle-hardened Viking. Greed died on the rocks, his gilded skull smashed on impact while the rest of him drowned in the water. I felt a stab of pity…I wonder if this was what his mate really wanted for him. Tuff merely gripped my shoulders and said that while he himself was a terrible dragon, he was a pretty decent mate at least.
Snotlout made a suggestion to go back for the hoard, but I firmly said no. "I don't think that treasure does anyone any good." I said, cutting off all arguments, "It certainly didn't do Greed any." So while some bemoaned the loss of treasure, they otherwise didn't complain. They seemed happy enough that I was back alive.
Everyone wants to throw a party to celebrate, so once we've all caught our breath and had some rest we will. Inrik is sleeping by me now. While the hail has begun to rain, meaning the fog has cleared, he hasn't quite gotten over me being kidnapped yet.
Later:
The twins told me that he couldn't eat or sleep since I was gone. I don't think its because he couldn't cook for himself. No wonder he sleeps so soundly now. I'll make him some extra hearty soup tomorrow at the party.
October 28th:
The party is still raging on, but I need a little peace to myself so I'm watching it from our room in Hiccup's house. It's still hailing, but we have lots of tents up and the party spreads to each house so the whole village looks like one really big house. The Terrors don't like to go out in the hail so they've cuddled up in my now scorched skirts.
I helped with the monstrous loads of cooking, although I didn't want to work with the meat, so I baked big loaves of bread, stirred vegetable soup, churned butter, and did other such cooking. The dragon's feeding bowl has been taken off its stand to serve as a giant stew bowl, although we had to clean it out pretty thoroughly.
My hands still feel dirty from where they were sprayed with Greed's blood, and I hope the Sacred Twelve don't punish me for this. I only wanted to protect my friends but I never thought I'd have to take life to do it. I scrubbed at them in the bath today that I shared with Ruff and Astrid, who did not comment. I think the Vikings are growing more understanding of the emotional wounds Inrik and I carry.
Speaking of the girls, I helped them dress for the party. Ruff unwound enough to let me braid her hair with green ribbons in a long, pretty braid while Astrid had her headband replaced with a braided collection of ribbons. They wore my borrowed embroidered clothes and can't stop swishing the layered fabric. Ruff likes the feel of silk and I caught Astrid checking her appearance in the still water and I tried not to laugh.
After we girls bathed and dressed, the boys did too, trying on the sleek tunics Inrik wore, hemmed to fit, and they almost look like Indians except that they are paler, freckled, and bulkier. I had to let out Inrik's green tunics quite a bit for Snotlout and Fishlegs, although Hiccup fit just right, except it draped over his feet like a skirt and for the sake of his manliness I shortened it. They are even trying on turbans for fun, although it mostly makes them look silly. I think Tuff wears his turban best. It suits his hair.
In respect of my friends trying on the Indian look, Inrik and I are doing our best to dress as Vikings. Which means now I'm wearing a fur-line vest and a thick purple tunic with leggings, and furry boots, as well as Hiccup's Viking helmet. I put it on and polished it with care when Stoic told me it was from a matching set that was forged from his wife's armor. It's the only helmet small enough to fit and the twins think I look tougher in it. But I still can't lift an axe and neither can Inrik so for now we merely dress the part.
I wanted to try to put a turban on the dragons, but we don't have long enough cloth or patient enough dragons so I think I'll let them dress as themselves tonight. Maybe another time.
As the feasting began, I noticed the musicians were growing a little tired and hungry of banging on their drums so I pulled out my harp to play a thrumming tune I learned at sea. It was supposed to be good for dancing, but no one had heard me play so all of the talk quieted and they merely listened. The dragons, scattered at the windows and doors, even stopped their snuffling for food to watch. The harp is carved with white cherry wood and painted with flowers, but the eyes were mostly on me. I felt hot and embarrassed, but I strummed along.
The musicians eventually grew rested and full enough to play again, and rather than my solo harp, there were drums, horns, and brass playing loudly along. The tables screeched as the Vikings pushed them aside and began to dance, the force of their dancing so strong it made the rafters rattle. I remembered dancing from all corners of the world, but this one was special as every step was simply made up.
Tuffnut and Ruffnut wanted to dance, but they couldn't do it without purposefully stamping on each other's feet so they yanked me off my harp and we danced in a circle, uncoordinated and spinning like loose wheels. Inrik was dancing, Hiccup was dancing, even Toothless had climbed down from the rafters to frolick on the ground in an even shakier way that made all of us wobble. It was stranger than any other party I'd ever been too, and so much better. There was so much to be thankful of that I surrendered myself to it.
We danced until the sun came up before collapsing into sleepy heaps on the ground. The floor is hard and cold, but I'm nestled into the twins so its not so bad. Tuffnut's turban makes a nice pillow.
October 29th:
Still celebrating. The Vikings have more stamina than I, so while they dance I'll catch my breath. Maybe I'll write more tomorrow.
October 30th:
Still partying, so I still can't write. I'm too excited to get back to dancing so I'm leaving now.
October 31st:
Apparently this is the date where spirits come to roam the earth, so we managed to stop our wild partying to hang charms on the door and to now quietly roast food by the fire while we tell stories and hope ghosts don't haunt our doors. I don't really think ghosts exist, but who knows? If dragons exist with elephants and whales (none of the Vikings believe me when I tell them about them) then maybe ghosts do too. I am more afraid that Greed or even his mate might come knocking so I'm listening to the old adventures of Hiccup and his friends from dragon training, recalling how he used to outwit dragons with reflected light. Tuff told me about the time he and his sister purposefully challenged each other to a contest of stamina on a bucking Gronkle, in which Tuff would have won if Ruff hadn't thrown a rock at his hands to loosen them. This incited more bickering, which I have grown used to. What are the twins if they don't argue?
Tuff was more strongly affectionate than ever, sitting closer to me, and looking at me very warmly. During our parties he'd yank me away from Ruff to dance alone, and he looks at me with that gaze that makes me bubble inside. I care deeply for the twins, but I don't know what to do if Inrik disapproves. I don't know what I could do without Inrik's approval. Does he dislike Tuff's gaze?
There is a whispering sound of wind outside. Everyone tenses, but I didn't. I couldn't fear ghosts. I didn't know any well enough.
Stoick told us a story about how Hiccup defeated the giant dragon over a year ago, and Hiccup's blushing hard from the story. Stoick can tell a story like its an epic saga very well, but Hiccup swears it was a lot more frightening, painful, and scarier than he made it sound. I told him most stories were like that.
It turns out Fishlegs was the one who had the idea to forge treasure with a message as bait for Greed to pass onto me, but it was Snotlout who carried it to lure Greed, a dangerous task for it wasn't everyday someone went and purposefully lured a dragon. Whatever girls these boys come to marry will be lucky to have such brave and intelligent men. When I look at Tuffnut, I think I already am that lucky.
I want to pay attention to the stories about elves and trolls so I'll stop now.
November 1st:
My new month has been speckled with new arrivals and a heavily anticipated pair of faces. My mother and father. Here in Berk.
Not only the Vikings were looking for news about me. My parents were temporarily searching a village, when they overheard a group of Vikings looking for a young Indian girl kidnapped by a great golden dragon. They then quickly narrowed their search to Berk. I can't stop smiling at seeing them, although their smiles are somewhat smeared by the size of the heroes and hosts responsible for our safety. Inrik swears that for all of the things he's prayed for, this was one of the two. I can gather a guess as to what the other prayer was.
The partying finished today, mostly out of necessity. At this rate of celebrating, all of the food will be gone before everyone retreats into their houses for a solid month of hailing. The dragons will rest under care of their trainers, and the world outside will be a frozen mass of hail and snow. A "light" shower has already started. But as it began, father started talking about leaving before it grew too severe. He already has the navigation, ship, and crew necessary to begin sailing back home for the warmer seasons. So why am I so hesitant?
I know Inrik wants to go. As much as he owes to Berk, and as much as he cares about it, he belongs to the sea. It won't surprise me if he marries a lady sailor, or even a mermaid the way he looks at it, the way he has been looking at it since our episode in the mist.
But I love Berk too much. Everything has become familiar to me, more familiar than my loom and sewing kit, more familiar than warm seas and ships, and even closer. I feel like the hibernating villagers as father keeps talking about planning to leave…curling tighter inside myself until I am snug as a snail in its shell.
Father wants to leave in three days, two days before the hail begins to rain down non-stop for two weeks, and then just heavily for the rest of the month. What can I do? The ship has my family on it.
Mother is with me to go to bed now so I'll sleep. I used to think that sleeping without waves below me was impossible. Now I don't want to leave the loft of Stoick's house.
November 2nd:
"Tuff's gone off fishing, but I think he's being sulky. What are you going to do?"
That was the first thing Ruff said to me when I was milking a goat for morning's breakfast. I felt inexplicably guilty at her confused, yet irritated expression, and mumbled something under my breath. I could've sworn she tried to kick at me as I left for the house again, but it could've been the wind. I could see Tuffnut fishing from the house, but his bucket was empty, and his line without bait. He seemed to be staring at something beyond his reach. Guilt twisted my insides, and my meal seemed tasteless and sickening. Father won't stop talking about going out to sea again. Sometimes I wished Greed had finished me off. Inrik is already saying goodbye to Gobber and the others, but I haven't touched my things save to use them.
I…I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm in between a pair of spiked walls, closing in on me. No matter what I pick, it feels like needles breaking the skin. What family am I going to abandon?
November 3rd:
The ship leaves tomorrow. Mother keeps asking why I haven't packed and I'm spilling excuses like a leaky bucket. I must have used every little thing in my person for something, and ever time I catch mother trying to pack anything of mine I swear it still needs cleaning or some other pitiful excuse. Inrik actually pulled me over about it today.
"We prayed for this Layla," he reminded, "Our parents have given us everything. I thought you wanted this life."
But I don't know that anymore. I used to dream of marrying a sailing merchant, but I just don't know that anymore. I can't sew, I can't cook as well as I used to, I feel like I've finally learned to control my puppet strings, only to grow winded and tangled.
"You could always…stay,"
The twins offered me that. It wouldn't be hard, the village could house me until the weather was clear to build another house. But I can already see the disappointment on my family's faces, and I can only bow my head and be quiet. I was screaming at them to help me when Greed had me in his golden claws. Now I can barely squeak. The twins aren't used to it, Ruffnut squirming like I'd dropped worms down her back, and Tuffnut unusually quiet and still. What have I done? Or what am I doing? The decision seems easy, but the steps to it seem hard.
Mother's trying to pack up my things, and I don't know if I have the heart to make excuses this time.
November 5th:
I shouldn't have done this. I…must be out of my mind since Greed caught me.
I've run away. From both the village and the ships. When faced with walls, I sprang up out into the sky. Not literally of course, but all the same I'm hiding in one of the many caves Berk has. Berk isn't big, but it has hiding places.
So what do I do? Hide until the ships leave without me? Hide until Berk turns into a ghost town? Hide until the hail freezes me into a block of ice? What? Each option seems crazier than the last.
I hear them calling for me, even in this thudding hail. I need to go deeper into my cave so I'm not found. I'm dressed in two extra sets of clothing, a coat, a vest, and a cloak with boots, and I'm still too cold.
November 6th:
Are the ships gone? I can't tell from where I am. Must stay hidden. I don't even know why anymore.
November 7th:
Oh sweet Twelve. Tuffnut is with me now, in this little cave.
The hail is beginning to rain down hard. I stuck a hand out to feel its force and quickly brought it in when it was slapped down like a snake bite. But Tuff has a helmet and a thick whale-skin coat and was a bit more determined than everyone else.
Apparently my parents are frantic and my brother angry and confused. He's not telling me too much, but by the weight his shoulders seem to hunch even more from, its altogether a wretched mess. We're huddled under his coat now, and while he sleeps I'll write to keep my mind off of things.
Father only has a day to decide. Will he leave? Or-
November 9th:
Oh sweet Sacred Twelve. I have had a side chosen for me but now I know that if your decision isn't your own, its usually chosen for you in the most painful way.
It's been a day since I could control my shaking hands to write. I'm on my father's new ship, the Victor's Glory. It's well named and a beautiful ship, but I am in the hull in my new room and locked in, for the first time. Father's never locked me in anywhere before. It's a good and clean room, but the action frightens me more than fog and gilded dragons, so I'm trying to write to lessen the panic.
Father himself dragged me from my hiding place and took me wordlessly back down to the docks. The hail made a cut on my head, but he didn't heed it to have it wrapped. I felt so tiny and humiliated as everyone, even the dragons, watched from their windows. Poor Tuffnut is going to wake up all alone in that dank, chilly cave and think he's walking in a nightmare, like Inrik and I did when the fog came. I wish the twins were here to comfort me now.
I should have begged to stay in Berk. How is it that one never realizes what they truly need until its gone? But the roll of the sea is turning my stomach. I feel queasy and heavy with guilt. And now the hail is pouring in a solid sheet of ice behind us. I hope that at the very least Tuffnut can make it home to a warm fire, even if he wakes to disappointment.
Inrik is in a bad sort. He's cross to the men, despite them being ones who know him from the Weeping Tiger, is overly forceful on the deck, and all he does is drink water and work. He can't bear to look at me. In any case, I'm locked in, so at least its easier to avoid me. Father seethes in silence, and mother in unhelpful and neutral. Can one swim well enough in hail? Can I manage to swim back to Berk in hail, cold water, and fog? What about a lifeboat?
I'm tired and scared, but at least when I sleep I can hope for good dreams.
November 10th:
I am watching Inrik from my window at the door. He seems less sleek and handsome as he used to be and now seems haunted and tired. It hurts me to think I'm responsible for this sticky soup of a mess.
I've never been the sailor Inrik is but I noticed that the ice is beginning to freeze so hard that it looked almost solid enough to walk on. Could I? Would I? I have to try.
Mother's been slipping me things to sew, but for the first time I don't have an interest in embroidery. I need to find a tarp and a way out. That hail is still coming down pretty heavily. But maybe the ice will hold until I escape to Berk.
November 11th:
I am on the ice, and can only pause a minute to explain before the little light the sky provides fades. Here's what happened last night.
Mother and Inrik sprung me from my locked room. I don't know what they were thinking exactly, but Inrik handed me a tarp to keep the hail from pummeling me senseless, and mother dressed me up as warmly as I could. I can't take anything with me…the ice will be precarious enough without my luggage. They didn't say anything, but what did I expect them to say really? They seemed to understand.
I don't need the sea. I don't need to marry a merchant and live a life I expected. I don't need to follow tradition. What I need is home, and home is a chilly place called Berk where everyone is twice my size but twice as honorable and kind. I need to be home where dragons fly, where men fight against all odds, where strange and foreign gods that linger in the people who love them. I need to be with my friends and the twins. I think I even feel an even deeper need for Tuffnut. Mother and Inrik seem to know this almost as well as I do. So I gave them one last hug farewell, and stepped out onto the ice.
Sacred Twelve, the hail was raining harder than monsoons in the jungle. Even under the thick and dragging tarp I could feel its bite and sting. I can barely see the peaks of Berk, but its better than not seeing it at all. I have to keep walking.
November 12th:
How can Berk seem so close and yet be so far away? It feels like a distant dream to me at this point. Or was it my old life that was a dream? Or am I trapped in a place in between wakefulness and dreaming? I can't tell, the hail is coming down to hard and the cold is making me want to shrink back into the tarp.
November 13th:
I can't believe its been a month since the day Greed first kidnapped me. It feels so much longer.
November 14th:
Berk is close, I can tell. There's fires visible as I walk closer, although I think my feet might have turned into ice at this point. I'm thinking fervently about the fires now…
What makes me think they'll forgive me? I don't think I can live if they don't. And…oh this is it. Sink or swim.
November 17th:
Almost three whole days of fever and chill and I'm back home. Berk is forever cold, but my heart is warm with the wholesome feeling of being at home. But this time its in the big, drafty home of the twins. Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Saying and writing those two names sound sweeter than June, May, or any other new word I might learn. We're all nuzzled together with a Zippleback like a litter of puppies, and underneath a thick fur coat and after a hearty meal, I think I might even be feeling overwarm.
I arrived at the village after walking for what felt like an entire day nonstop. The hail was stronger here, and the ice slippery and cold, but I trudged my way up the familiar stairs from the dock. Everything here seemed to give me sweet feelings. It was more familiar to me. Even the dragons, which I had never known before my arrival here, are as familiar as ships and goods for a merchant, all nestled in their warm nests as they sleep out the hail. Some rustled as the tarp noisily sent beads of hail, some as big as oranges, scattering across the ground. I kept walking. I couldn't feel my feet. And finally I fell against a doorway with a thud. All I heard was the sound of footsteps as I passed out.
I didn't wake up for a full day. But when I did wake, it was as I am now, warm with the people I love and who love me. Although I didn't feel so sure when I woke up and I had Ruffnut screaming that I was the stupidest girl in the entire world for not staying and that if I wasn't so sick and if she wasn't so glad to have me back she'd have thrown me back onto the ice. Tuffnut did more grumbling and growling, but I managed a small sigh of apology. It was all I could do I was so exhausted. I was happy to see their faces relax some. They were still hunched and dirty, although that's mostly from curling up in bed for the past several days for the hail and from the chill keeping them from baths, and they'd always have fierce expressions, but even softness can find a way on their faces.
"I'm staying. For real this time."
I was happy to tell them that, and they certainly weren't complaining. After all, as Ruffnut joked, who else would get kidnapped or sew girly things or have such patience in this village if I weren't here. I might have rolled my eyes, but I was still sick and not terribly capable. Tuffnut said I was like a foreign version of one of their deities named Sigunn. Not a bad name, but I don't know if I'm vain enough to let that happen. I let Snotlout and Fishlegs spend time with me out of vanity but I don't think I'll press that further.
So I healed. I ate enough food without insulting the Sacred Twelve by devouring meat. And once I was better, we all just huddled back into the same big blanket by the warmer Zippleback and slept. It appears that not only dragons hibernate now.
November 20th:
Only writing because I realized I've slept for almost three days straight. We really are hibernating.
November 21st:
Oh my. My heart feels like a Terror flapping like mad because Tuff most definitely gazes at me and I think I'm most definitely gazing back.
He pulled me away from our little puddle of warmth to sit by the fire to talk. I thought Ruffnut was sleeping, but not even the most patient human in the world could keep from giggling at what happened at the fireplace.
"I guess you being her kinda squashes out everyone else's chance of dating you." he said firmly. When I tried to question it, he stopped me. "You helped take down an evil dragon, you're exotic and beautiful as Sigunn, and you came back to me. Do you really think I'm going to let anyone else take you for themselves after all that?"
As always, his stubbornness makes perfect sense. Perhaps I'll be a bride of a different breed this time around. So we sat by the fire together for a while, and I guess the mood was too much for even Ruffnut, who managed to fling off her blanket to cap us both in a headlock, squealing about her twin finally getting on with it. I think they both were warmer that evening from the force of their bickering while I merely sighed and tried to get warmer by the fire. Oh well. At least I'll always have a sister now.
Since everyone's cooped up in their houses, I won't see my good friends for a week. Oh well. I still have the twins.
November 28th:
What a day! The hail finally halted for a while, though clouds keep creeping on the edges of the horizon. But I'm where I belong, and construction on a little house for me has already started.
Stoick was very stern on my return. He said he would forgive me, but I must swear never to run away again. Indeed, I don't think even Greed could've forced me off if he really wanted to. I loved Berk and everyone there. Although when he finally gave me his nod of approval, I might've made him a little embarrassed when I gave him as big of a hug a girl my size could manage. More than his beard was red, I can tell you that.
Everyone was very scolding. I suppose I earned it, first with the hiding in the caves and then with letting my father drag me off. Although I'm glad I started coming back as soon as I did. The ice is beginning to crack, and if I had stayed another day, I might have died of cold or drowning before I made it here.
Life begins again. My good friends are overall happy to see me, and the dragons are all preparing to fly in unison after a long nap. I'm sitting here on the roof of the twins house as they fly, without riders save for Toothless who needs Hiccup, and it's an indescribable sight. Its best to imagine it for yourself rather than to explain.
The sun is visible. It's light is bright and pure, but not like the garish gold Greed encased himself in. This gold is lighter and far more precious than any treasure, and I let it spill across my face as the sun broke through the clouds. Like my friends, like the dragons, like me, the sun always comes back. It lives and dies for a day, but it is never disappointing.
I think I can be happy on Berk. I won't have the ocean or my family, and I'll be forever adjusting to life here. But it has something that I wouldn't trade for, not for Greed's hoard, not for the sea, not even for all the power in the world. It has my true family, the family of my heart.
And Tuffnut.
I think I'll give this book to him. I'm not afraid to have him know my thoughts and feelings. A diary is just a book sewn together with pages and leather, but the sensations and thoughts this one holds feels too precious to hoard. And who knows…maybe I'll even show myself more boldly than a merchant's daughter is accustomed to. I am here in Berk. I have chosen this place over my old life. Maybe that makes me as strong as they are.
And Tuffnut's just kissed me, in front of the entire village. This treasure however, I plan to hoard.
UGH. Finally.
I know and apologize for taking the writer of Catherine Called Birdy's style for my previous one. THIS ONE HQ, I MADE SURE I DID NOT. NO MORE MAN.
I kinda dig this. Travelling merchant girl meets Viking. I mean, if Hiccup in the books can discover America, then anything's possible. I feel like Layla's a bit Mary Sue-ish, but I don't care, I'm not going to change anymore, and now I'm going to collapse from revampirific blood suckage. Blurgh. Happy reading.