They couldn't hope to keep the child.

It was a simple fact; there had been no question that as the tenth month began, the two stole away to Midgard for the birth. Up until then, the two had miraculously kept it a secret, with an intricate web of excuses and illusions, until they had decided giving birth in Asgard was not a wise decision- the Allfather would never approve of his own two sons doing such things, much less having a child together. Thus, the escape had been a tricky one, getting a weak and pregnant Loki to be able to conjour the magic to transfer them to the realm of humans. It nearly killed him doing so.

And so they had ended up in a small, rainy forest close to a coast, as the sound of crashing waves indicated. Thor had carried the sickly trickster to a small outcropping of rocks, the most even, safe place he could find. It was there that in the dark and cold of the night that Loki gave birth without aid; it was a miracle that both he and the child lived. For this, Thor was forever grateful.

In a small stream nearby Thor had washed the blotchy, crying babe and wrapped him in furs, then presented him to Loki. With a smile devoid of any malice whatsoever, the mischief-maker had cradled his baby boy, cooing gently before he could keep his eyelids open no longer, and drifted into dreamland.

The morning found the three chilled to the bone by the ocean air and the settling dew. It was no better that Loki was still in a weak condition- and the baby needed feeding. Figuring there must be a village in some proximity, Thor set out, his brother leaned against him limply, their nameless child in the elder's arms. It was nearly three days before they saw the first flickering lights of a small sea-side village, which upon approching, they found was called "Berk". By this point, both were exhausted beyond belief. Dark circles hollowed Loki's face, and the weak cry of the babe rang in his ears. They were a heart-rending sight.

The two taken in by the town chief, a vast, ginger-beared man with a bold, though borderline melancholy disposition. Loki discovered that this was caused by the loss of his wife and child naught but a year previously- it had weighed down on him, and he hadn't been quite the same since.

In spite of this, the couple found his company enjoyable. He was hospitable enough, offering up his immense bed for Loki and Thor to stay in, and using his would-be child's cradle for the tiny infant (who, at that point, was fast asleep, his belly full of the goat's milk he had been fed.) All was content in that moment, and the sense of well-being was contagious.

Two days they stayed, and on the morning of the third, the couple packed their few belongings and went to depart. Loki, now in significantly better health, was able to conjure enough magic to take them safely back to Asgard.

They stood silhouetted on the docks of the village, saying their goodbyes to the kind people of Berk, and to their host, who felt that something was missing. It nagged at him as he stood back, watching with the others as the trickster began his spell. It wasn't until the last moment that it dawned on him. He stepped forward, calling out to the Aesir.

"What of your son?"

Both turned, their smiles bittersweet. Thor stepped forwards, placing a hand on the stocky man's shoulder.

"My friend, we thank you for your hospitality-"

Loki's smooth voice cut in, "-and we find you more than capable of taking care of the child. We can not hope to keep him...it simply isn't safe, either." His emerald eyes shone with a tender sadness. Few people witnessed this side, and those who did were lucky.

"So, please. It is our wish that you raise him, O Stoik the Vast."

Watching with wonderment as honey-colored light began to shine from the sky, the viking stepped forward, shouting at the disappearing pair, "What of his name?!"

There was a smile, then in unison, they called, "Hiccup!" and dissolved into the blue of the sky.

This was painfully short, but I had to get the idea out. I may re-write it later with much better writing, as this is really just a sort of outline. Sorry for the crappyness.