A/N: Well, here is my second HtTYD one-shot :) Again, this is a rather old piece – written back in January. Yet, I have to say that I rather like this one – it's quite funny and light-hearted :) I hope you'll like it as well :) But I have to apologize for one thing: I simply can't write accents. I hope it won't bother you too much. Well, enjoy! :) Oh, and please: would you leave a word or two after you've finished reading this story? It would mean a lot to me :) Thank you!

The Rumor Says

The women in Berk might be as fierce warriors as their husbands and brothers and sons, but there's one little thing they do not differ in from any other woman in Midgard.

They love gossiping.

And oddly enough, considering Berk's size, these gossips tend to run rather wild. For example, if a Terrible Terror happened to break a pot on one side of the island, it would be told on the other side that a Monstrous Nightmare had burned down a whole stable.

And exaggerations like this tend to cause problems sooner or later. In most cases, rather sooner than later.

It happened during the spring following the battle against the Green Death, on a rather delightful day. In the early hours of the morning, Ebba Hofferson was walking towards the village market, to get some fresh bread and butter for breakfast, alongside with some other supplies. She was in a rather good mood; it wasn't raining or hailing, her husband had just gotten home from a successful hunting trip, and her eldest son was only an inch from getting engaged. Yes, things were really looking up.

Then she heard it.

Three women, two around her own age, the third much younger than her, with a toddle balanced on her hip, were standing in front of one of the stalls, deep in conversation.

"…knocked her up, so the fathers are hurrying the wedding up." Stated one of the older women solemnly. Ebba almost stopped – after all, she was also a Berkian woman, who liked to know what was going on in the village. But she also had more important things right then, so, resisting the temptation, she continued walking, but then she heard the other, rather large middle-aged woman speak up.

"If I were that scrawny boy, I'd hid in Hel before her brothers send me there!" she barked out a laugh. "I bet Alvar is not so happy right now."

Now, that made Ebba stop in her tracks. There were not so many men named Alvar in Berk, in fact, she couldn't even recall any other by this name other than her very own husband. But that would mean… no, no, it's impossible. She must have misheard it. She shook her head, was just about to walk away, when the young mother spoke.

"Who would have thought?" she sighed. "He used to be such a clumsy, awkward boy. I swear, until last year, I was pretty sure he was going to die a bachelor or married off to some peasant girl, just keep his line alive. And now! And poor Astrid, she used to have such a great reputation…"

Ebba dropped the basket she was holding. So she didn't mishear it; they really were talking about her husband, her daughter, and that Haddock boy. But even then, this couldn't be true. Or could it?

Her staggered mind immediately started to put the things together. Alvar did spend the evening with no other's company than the chief – they could have even gotten to the negotiations behind her back, to the negotiations which the three of them agreed wouldn't start until Astrid turned sixteen. Then there was that secretive air around the two kids in the last few days – intimate glimpses at each other, when they thought that no-one was looking, stolen kisses, hand-holding... Not that they weren't doing this – and more – in the last six months or so, but even then! There must have been something more behind it.

Not bothering with the bystanders' curious gazes, she grabbed the fallen basket, and jogged back to home. Most importantly, she wanted to speak with Astrid, begging her to contradict what she'd hear in the market, to have her daughter laugh at her, saying that this is nonsense, but of course, by the time she got home, she only found her three sons around the table, alongside with her very sleepy husband. Her daughter must had left to meet that boyfriend of hers, possibly planning their elopement. Oh, the gods may help her!

So, in Astrid's absence, she turned her rage on her husband.

"When did you plan to tell me?" she bellowed. Her sons promptly fell silent, and Alvar, who even though was used to his wife's loud voice, but, because of his half-awake state, was unable process what was happening, and could only blink in confusion.

"What?"

"What, what? That Astrid is… I mean, that Astrid and Hiccup..." she stammered, unable to say the words out loud.

"What's up with Astrid and Hiccup?" Alvar was absolutely clueless – it was apparent even to his enraged wife, which made her calm down a little. She took a deep breath, and asked again.

"What were you talking about last night with Stoick?" She could almost see a candle being lit behind Alvar's eyes.

"Why didn't you ask this first, woman? 'Bout the trading voyage in the summer, of course. I've already told you 'bout that, haven't I?" He scratched his chin. "But what does it have to do with Astrid and Hiccup?"

"Er, nothing, I mean, I hope nothing…" she mumbled, then without another word, she turned on her heals and left the house, leaving the empty basket on the table. Alvar looked after her, dumbfounded.

"Hey, and where is our breakfast?" he called after her, but got no answer. That was when their sons started laughing.

Okay, so Alvar might did not know about this whole ordeal, but this didn't mean that there was no truth in what she'd heard at the market, Ebba was thinking as she was again walking towards the centre of the village. And there was only one way to find out if a gossip was true or not – the source had to be found.

She had a quick luck finding the first woman she heard talking; but of course, she wasn't hard to find: Ebba was sure that this woman had the widest hips in whole Berk. She was exactly where she was earlier that morning, but alone this time; her partners must have gone to do their household chores, and now she was looking for others to talk – gossip, really – now. And apparently, she seemed to be quite happy to see Ebba.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hofferson!" she called from a good twenty steps. Ebba returned the greeting, but didn't have the time to propose the topic she wanted to talk about, because, without any chit-chat beforehand, the woman asked.

"Is it true? The news about your daughter, I mean. That you're going to be a grandma soon." She was actually smiling. Ebba suppressed the urge to hit the woman.

"I most sincerely hope not." The excitement immediately washed from her partner's face; obliviously, there was no agreeable material for a good gossip there. "But I was actually going to talk with you about the very same topic." A spark of hope reappeared in the large woman's eyes. Ebba just sighed in exasperation. "Don't you get your hopes up that much. I just wanted to ask who did your hear this from?"

The other woman responded without any hesitation.

"From Gittan, of course." She said, like it was the most obvious thing on the face of Earth. Upon hearing this, without any word, with just a quick wave of her hand – after all, she didn't want to seem that rude – away Ebba went, to locate this Gittan.

And so, her morning expedition began. Considering the size of the island, rather many know about the gossip – and much of them believed it to be true. She went from person to person; Gittan, who was the wife of the engraver pointed to Agot the head chef of the Mead Hall, who heard from Gry, the vegetable vendor, to whom the story was told by Dagfinn – even some men took part in the gossip-chain -, one of the best hunters in the village, who picked it up from his wife, Ase, who heard it from Grete, who heard it from Carina… and the list went on and on.

And in the end, Ebba located a very unlikely person as the source of this particular gossip.

Gobber the Belch.

The blacksmith was deep in work in the smithy, humming a cheerful tone, a sleeping Terror at his feet, with Hiccup nowhere to be seen – Ebba took this as a not too good sign. Gobber looked up from what he was working on, and smiled broadly at the woman.

"'Morning, Ebba!" A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "Don't tell me that that charming daughter of yours broke her axe again." He had every reason to be merry about it – he, or most likely Hiccup, had to repair Astrid's axe at least a dozen times it the last year alone.

"No, it's not the case right now, thank Thor." She sighed. "I just wanted to ask if you know anything about Astrid and Hiccup I might not?" She asked hesitantly. Gobber seemed to think about it for a moment, then said:

"No, I don't think so. Why'd you ask?"

'There's been a word in the village. Some people said…"

"Oh, I get it! Some people said this, some people said that – Ebba, I thought you didn't believe a word of that madness." With that, he turned back to his work.

"Oh." Ebba said, a kind of relieved. "Oh. If you're so sure that there's nothing going on between them…"

"Well, I didn't say that." He smiled a half-smile. "That two kids, they so remind me of myself when I was their age! Swear, these two are cuter than a baby Terror!" He laughed. "Even this morning – I walked in on them kissing. No need to say, they broke apart the moment they saw me. Hiccup, of course, was redder than a Nightmare, and couldn't stutter out a proper sentence, you know him. I told them to go, enjoy this great weather – no need to keep these lovesick teenagers apart." He shrugged. "But I told right away the first customer how funny they looked, those two kids in love." He chuckled to himself, not noticing Ebba's bewilderment.

See, remember what I told you about the pot the Terror broke and the stable the Nightmare burned down? Gossip really runs wild in Berk.

But Ebba decided that she'd make sure to start those negotiations, the sooner the better. Just to be safe.