The sirens and shouts were nothing more than white noise to Astrid Hofferson that night so many weeks ago. But as she sat at her kitchen table, a single, dim ceiling light swaying just above her head inside her small trailer home, Astrid felt nothing more than anger and regret for not having payed closer attention to the tire screeches and shouting which had carried through the frosty February air that evening. A heavy huff of air blew from her nostrils. Her chin raised, her arms crossed, and she finished with a confident lean onto the back of her chair. Across her modest kitchen table, a young man sat nervously sipping from a mug of hot cocoa. His hair was red, and his eyes were scavenging the room for anything to look at instead of hazarding eye contact with Astrid's scornful glare.
"So let me get this straight," she leaned forward, placing an elbow on the table, tipping it slightly. "For the past three weeks, you've been living in my backyard?"
The young man recognized her pitch as too calm and casually intrigued for her to actually be calm and casually intrigued, but there was something about her blue stare-something too demanding and bold to disregard-that convinced him of the idea that trying to con his way out of this situation was not a good notion to dwell on. Still, he stayed silent.
"Listen you," Her patience vanished into the thin, mountain air. "You're lucky I haven't called the cops on you yet. So answer me already." She demanded, leaning further across the table with her lips pursed tightly. The young man swallowed his hot cocoa hard, setting the mug nervously onto the table. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Astrid waited for him to continue, but to her surprise he didn't say anything at all. Instead he lifted a hand from the warm cup and pointed at his throat.
"What?" Astrid raised an eyebrow. The young man kept on motioning to his neck, then would shake his head, and point at his neck once again. With sudden realization, Astrid's mouth popped open, then shut immediately. "Oh, I see. So you can't talk..." To this, the silent man shrugged, tilting his head and making a face that read something along the lines of a very uncertain "eeehhhh,".
"So you can talk?"
The red head flattened his hand in the air and tipped it from side to side, making a sort of "half-half" motion. But just as he finished doing that, he paused for a moment, looked up into the air to question himself, then nodded in affirmation. Astrid opened her mouth to speak when she saw the young man across from her shake his head, now seeming to doubt his answer. She stared at him angrily, her lips pressed firmly into a frown-but to be fair, if you could see the way his eyebrows were bunched up in thought... he really did appear to be a very perplexed individual. Astrid, however, wasn't buying it. She shoved her chair back as she stood, and, reaching into a drawer in her small kitchenette, she pulled from it a notepad and a pencil; slamming it down onto the table in front of the vagabond she'd discovered roasting a hot dog over the firepit in her backyard. Astrid felt like she was being played with, and she didn't like it one bit. (She had also, soon after finding him having supper in her backyard, discovered a sleeping-bag underneath her back porch-not to mention a few select items she had thrown out a few weeks ago, i.e. toaster oven, shower head, a cracked this and a busted that etc.) Astrid huffed in anger, pointed a long finger at the notepad and commanded bitterly, "Write."
Immediately, the red haired man discovered writing to me his new favorite hobby-not that he had the privilege of having many hobbies in the first place, that is.
As he scribbled down on the paper, Astrid watched him closely. He was left handed, she noticed. And when he moved-even just a little-his whole body seemed to take part in the motion, whatever it happened to be. A few minuted later, the man lifted his head and passed the note across the table, patiently waiting for it to be read. Astrid hesitated a moment, unsure whether she really wanted to know why this man was chowing down and snuggling up in her backyard. With a second thought more, she hurried and picked it off the flat wooden surface, squinting at the words under the dim lighting.
The note read:
"Hello there. Sorry about surprising you like I did earlier, it was a misunderstanding, I apologize. I would have cooked the hot-dog out in the forest, but I didn't want to take any risks by doing that. Fire hazards and all."-well... it was a humanitarian reason at the very least-"I had, and still have no intentions of stealing your fire-pit or any of your belongings."-"Any of my belongings?" She huffed, throwing a hand into the air. "Than what do you call all of those things you took from my garbage-can?!" Her nostrils flared.-"Also, it may look like I stole your stuff, but I swear I didn't. If you take a closer look at the appliances and re-install them, you'll see that I fixed them for you. I even added a little upgrade to the mini-oven."-She glanced at the young man, embarrassed at her outburst. He could be lying, however. Glancing at him again, she watched him scratch the back of his head, awkwardly looking around the room. Oops.-" I felt bad for sneaking around your place and sleeping underneath your porch, so I fixed them as a sort of payment. I was planning on leaving them in front of your front-doorstep, though you caught me before I could properly return them. Again, I'm really sorry. It was wrong of me to stay here and I'm sorry to cause you trouble like this, I really am; my only excuse is that I just would rather not die by being shredded by wild animals while I'm sleeping. If you find anything you believe I broke, I will repair it-pay you back even, too, if I can. Also, thank you for not sending me off to prison. If you give me a chance I can prove to you that I'm really not a bad guy."
The young man sat back, taking a deep breath in and giving a nervous series of taps to his leg. The young women he had intruded on was reading what he had wrote, and he was hoping- praying-that she believed him. He knew he could make things work out for himself if she sent him away as he was anticipating, but since his life seldom gifted him with second chances, if it even looked as though she would call the cops, he would bolt.
He watched her as she read, suddenly realizing that he didn't even know this woman's name. A wave of guilt struck the innards of his stomach. He didn't know anything about her life. Biting his lips, he looked down, eyes heavy with regret. He really hoped this hadn't messed things up for her somehow. As she finished reading the letter, he stayed this way, mentally berating himself for not having searched the woods harder for some old abandoned shed or the like.
Astrid, however, had already finished reading it, unbeknownst to the strange man sitting at her kitchen table. Over the top of the paper, she observed him; his downcast eyes, sunken shoulders, rustled red hair, and half-hidden lower lip. She was furious with the young man, and moreover, he had intruded on her private property, used her belongings, and even stole some of them, too! Anger was bubbling up inside of her. There was, though, albeit small, a voice inside her, popping those bubbles one by one. This tiny voice was reminding her that she, too, knew what is was like to have to sleep out in the open, and that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't lied about fixing her appliances, and that he could possibly be genuinely sorry for intruding on her and causing her this problem. Her first instinct was to boot him-call the police, even. But then again, when she peeked over the top of the letter once more, she noticed his eyebrows pinched together and his green eyes mournfully swept downward; how he rubbed his thumb nervously on his hand and how when he exhaled, his chest looked as though it might cave in. She didn't know what to do. She didn't trust him, not really, but she pitied him. She understood-at least a little-the need for a kind stranger.
Decidedly, Astrid lowered the note, laying the lined paper on the table to gain the stranger's attention. It was then, as they watched each other that Astrid remembered that the young man hadn't written his name on the letter.
"What's your name?" Sitting down, she pulled her chair closer to the table. The young man across from her reached for the pencil and notepad, but just before he took hold of them, she held up her hand to stop him. "No, I want you to say it." She crossed her arms.
The red head slumped his shoulders. Really? Hadn't he just gotten across to her that talking just wasn't his thing? He knew, however, that he was in absolutely no position to deny her command. He was, quite literally, at her mercy.
Uncomfortably, he shifted his weight in the chair. This was one of those things that you had to give the car a little gas before it began to roll down the hill. She continued watching him as he awkwardly remembered how talking worked. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighed. What a weirdo.
"Hiccup."
Her head shot up, utterly surprised. Looking at him, she discovered she wasn't the only one who wasn't expecting that. Clearing his throat, eyes wide, the stranger continued. "My name is Hiccup." And then, in a much softer voice, "Woah…"
Astrid sat their in silence, surprised by his voice, let alone his name and accent. "Hiccup?" She asked doubtfully. He nodded, his cheeks blushing red in embarrassment.
"Well, I can't imagine someone using that as a pseudonym on purpose." Astrid covered her mouth, stifling a small laugh. At this, Hiccup's cheeks colored themselves a shade brighter. Grabbing the pencil and paper, he wrote quickly, laying the pencil down firmly once he finished. Hiccup stretched his arm, pushing the paper across the table.
The note read: "What about yours?"
Smiling gently, Astrid crossed her arms. "Nope. That's private information."
Hiccup raised an eyebrow, a puff of air escaping his lips.
"So why, Hiccup, were you in my backyard? And why even come to this town in the first place?" Astrid, though cautious, was growing curious of the young man with the strange name. He was a lanky sort of character, but he carried himself in a friendly manner, and the wander in his eyes felt a little contagious. He seemed like a restless character, someone searching for something. The question, though, was what was he searching for?
As he picked up the pencil, he paused, waiting to see if the young women would stop him again from writing. Instead, Astrid nodded to him and motioned with her hands for him to continue. Judging by the look of utter surprise he gave at the sound of his voice, she noted that it probably had been a while since he'd last spoken, or at the very least had a conversation. And since she barely knew him, who could say that if she bothered him enough that he wouldn't spring up and attack her? Who knew if he was a dangerous man? Although, to be honest, he looked a bit scrawny to be life-threatening.
Another few minutes passed as he wrote before he handed her the sheet of paper.
"Well, so I scavenged the woods for a few days looking for any sort of shelter, but that mission was fruitless."-A few days? In the woods? Was he really that desperate?-"There was another house a mile or two away, but they had a handful too many German Shepherds and Rottweilers for my taste."-Ah, yes. Mildews house. After all, he was the reason she was able to afford her little home.-"After a while longer I discovered this place. It looked quiet and I never saw any lights on in the house so I assumed the owner was gone."-Astrid looked up from the letter at Hiccup. He had gone back to nervously sipping from his mug. "I work a lot." He glanced up at her as she spoke. "That's why you never saw any lights." Hiccup gave a short, questioning look before deciding it wasn't his business to ask. Astrid sighed curtly. "I work at the local dragon habitat; short staff, long hours." At this, the young man nearly choked on his drink. He stared up at her in awe, wonder, and all things glorious. A sudden, urgent look came over him as he raced to write down another note to her. As he did so, Astrid watched on with curiosity, then went back to finishing her current read.-"I didn't think I'd be bothering anybody if I traded place with the raccoons you had under your porch so… sorry about that, again, by the way.
As for why I came to this town, I was just looking for something I'd lost is all."
Well that last part wasn't vague at all. And he really was searching for something, huh? Intrigue had been sparked in her mind. What was he looking for? Who knows... maybe she could even help the guy and he could be on his way and out of her life all-the-sooner.
As soon as Astrid lay down the current note, another was was quickly passed to her. She glanced over at the red head before turning it over to read. She paused when their eye's met. His green were filled with so much… she couldn't really tell. It was like an un-mask-able urgentness lifted high by hope. She almost began to feel guilty, fearing that what she was about to read might cause her to pull his sky-dive down to a puddle-jump.
To Hiccup, the young women couldn't have turned and read the note any slower. But when she did, her eye's popped a little, then her face turned stone. She knew something.
Hiccup sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for her response. Come on. Please.
"Yeah, I think I might know something about this." She waved the note in the air. Hiccup nearly passed out with relief, though not half a second later he was back on the edge of his seat, his heart pumping adrenaline instead of blood.
"I won't be able to find out for sure until tomorrow morning, though." She bit her lip for a moment, contemplating things. Suddenly, she stared fast at him, making eye-contact and all, forcing her way into his nervous focus. The young man stared back, holding on tightly to the steadiness of her gaze. "I have a basement." She started.
Hiccup sucked in a gasp full of air. Was she really…?
"You can sleep there tonight, but I'm locking you in."
Yes! Definitely! Absolutely!
He nodded quickly, his eyes nearly overflowing with relief. Finally. Please, please please. Oh, finally!
Astrid watched the stranger shiver with relief. He certainly didn't look like a brutal psychopath. Though you could almost never tell these days.
"I'm locking you in there though, you got me? I don't trust you one bit. This is the only chance you're getting." She leaned on the table, tipping it. The young man nodded his head vigilantly.
"I don't trust you, Hiccup. But I need to trust you in order to let you stay here. I need to hear you promise me that you won't try any funny business."
Hiccup took a moment, registering how big of a deal this was for her; letting a complete stranger stay with her and all. This was important. For both of them. "I understand." Both their eye's were wide as he spoke, neither quite recognizing his voice. She gave a curt nod.
"Good," She smirked. "Now I won't feel bad about beating you up if you try anything."
Hiccup gave a short chuckle at this, though with little more thought, he realized she totally could-and probably would-absolutely beat him to a pulp if she even suspected him of anything. After this thought, he sipped the last from his mug with a sudden, nervous gulp.
Roughly five minutes or so later-twenty minutes until midnight, she directed the stranger to the trapdoor and stairway to her basement. She had rolled up the rug in her living room and slid the coffee table to the edge of the small room, leaving the door to the basement open for a few minutes to let the air circulate so he wouldn't suffocate while he slept.
"There's a light down there if you need it." As soon as the young man was close enough to the door, she motioned for Hiccup to vamoose. "You've got a sleeping bag, right?" His red hair seemed to wave at her as he shook his head, carefully climbing down the stairs into the dark room. Just as Astrid was about to shut the door behind him, he turned around, looking her squarely in the eyes. "Yes?" She waited, she was starting to feel impatient. He looked around the room below him nervously, then looked back up to her.
"Thank you." This time, however, when he spoke, he didn't seem so shocked to hear his own voice. Just a little surprised that he had really said anything at all. A small smile lit his face, shedding a bit of light into the darkness around them.
"Don't thank me, Hiccup." Astrid looked down at him, feeling uncertain. Holding in a sigh, she continued, "I haven't done anything useful for you yet." She then waited until he had found the light-switch, then quickly closed the trap-door, sliding the bolt locked and pushing the coffee table over it-just in case. She sat on her couch, staring at the door, but thinking deeply. It was at least and hour and a half later when she stood up from the sofa, stepping carefully so as not to wake the man sleeping under her floor. She headed to the kitchen where there was a bit more privacy. Her heart was racing. What had she done?! Letting a total stranger stay in her house. Especially when…
That reminded her. She needed to make a call.
Pulling an old flip-phone from her pocket, she diled in the ten digit number and waited.
There was a click on the other side of the line, a groggy voice sounding just after.
"Ah, what d'ya want, las?" The voice paused for a quick yawn. "It's nearly two in the morning!"
"I know, Gobber. I'm sorry, I just didn't know who to call besides you." She rubbed her arm, suddenly realizing that she was rather cold.
Gobber's end of the line was silent for a moment. "Is everythin' alrigh'? Yer no' in trouble I hope?"
"No, Gobber." Astrid gave a soft laugh, though thankful for his worry. "I don't think I'm in trouble. At least I hope not." Her tone grew more serious. "But listen, I need you to come over her as soon as you can. Like, right now type of soon."
"Nhnn, alright-ty. And what should I bring? Bed-time stories? A sad movie? A shovel?" He chuckled a bit at his joke. The young women huffed at the middle-aged man. "It's about that one of those dragons we took in the other day at the habitat. I think I found our bad guy."
At this, the other end of the line was silent. Though fun as it was, Gobber took his job as owner of the local dragon habitat very seriously. Sure, the animals had taken a hand and foot, but he had moved on from that long ago. "Are ya sure, Lassie?" He asked, holding his breath. Astrid hesitated. "Not entirely sure, no. But we haven't released any information to the public about those dragons, and then he comes along, and, well…" She wasn't exactly sure how to explain everything that had gone down that evening with the Hiccup. It was a little complicated, if not simply an embarrassing tale to pass around. "Look, Gobber. I just need you to come as soon as you can. I've got the guy locked up in my basement. So hurry on over. Please. And if he isn't our guy, I'm confident he still knows something."
A long, tired sigh was heard from the speaker of her phone. He just wouldn't ask. "I'll be there in twenty."
A short click of a button later, Astrid was, was once again, alone in the dark, staring silently at the trap door on her living room floor.
She really hoped she was right, not that she was particularly doubting herself. But this was a very serious matter that had lot's of room for error.
Sitting back down at her kitchen table, her shoulders slumped. What a long day…
For a moment, she eyed the chair her unexpected guest had sat in before picking up the last note he had handed to her, the one he had been so willing to write to her.
Under the dim light of her kitchen, she squinted at the young man's handwriting.
"I'm looking for a Night Fury. If you can tell me anything, I'm begging you. I've got to find him."
Based off a dream I had. I don't own the characters. Also, I have no idea when I will be updating this, just so you know.
And I know I've yet to finish Ten Years Too Soon, but just to let you know, I'm currently re-writing it.