His legs were stretched out before him, and he was leaning back against the warm body of his dragon. His eyes were closed, a small smile playing on his face. His dragon was just as sound asleep as he was.
This was how Astrid Hofferson found Hiccup and Toothless, relaxed and sleeping on an isolated, well-hidden cliff overlooking the ocean. Astrid smiled; it was nice to see them so peaceful, particularly after recent events. She and Stormfly approached them. Toothless, immediately on guard at the sound of newcomers, lifted his head to get a good look, while being careful not to rouse his human. Seeing it was only Astrid and Stormfly - not anyone with more sinister intentions - he curled up once again, allowing himself to fall back into a contented slumber. Stormfly touched down, and Astrid hopped off her back smoothly, walking quietly over to Hiccup.
"Hey," she said gently as she approached. Hiccup made no move, but his smile grew wider.
"Hi, Astrid," he greeted, his eyes still shut. Astrid laughed softly and sat down by him. He hadn't been sleeping after all. She looked him over carefully - a sweeping, studying glance, taking him in. His hair had been ruffled by the wind. His left arm was crossed over his stomach, his hand resting near his other arm. His fingers were lightly touching his sleeve, as if he had been pulling at it earlier. Astrid studied his face, and was pleased to find that there were no bags under his eyes. Hiccup, feeling her scrutinizing stare, opened one emerald eye, and looked at her questioningly.
"You ok?" she asked. Both eyes opened now.
"Yeah!" he said, sitting up and smiling at her reassuringly. She grinned, glad, but then noticed him pulling at his sleeves again. Silently, she grabbed his arm, pulled it into her lap. She fingered the sleeve.
"Something wrong with your shirt?" she asked, rubbing the coarse green fabric between her thumb and forefinger.
"No," he said, and she looked at him sharply. He had sounded nervous. That set off an alarm.
"Hiccup, what's wrong?" she asked. He averted his eyes, and looked sullenly at his muddied boots. She looked back down at where she still held his sleeve in her fingers, and on an impulse, pulled the fabric down, revealing his arm.
She gasped. There, on his arm. A kind of spider web of white lines, spreading crookedly across his skin, up his arm. The lines branched out in all directions, a crazy pattern of eerie, unearthly scars. She looked up at him, and her eyes shone with all the worry, fear, and bewilderment she felt. Hiccup met here eyes briefly, swallowed, and then slowly pulled his sleeve back down.
"The lightning," he said softly. "It was the lightning." He didn't look at her, instead watching the rise and fall of the ocean's waves. "When you get struck by lightning, it leaves these kinds of scars. It might go away; it might not. It depends a lot on the severity of the strike. But, well, considering what happened… And knowing my luck…" He trailed off, shrugged. Astrid was staring at his arm still, at the spot where she knew the scars were, beneath the fabric. Thinking back, the scars have even looked like lightning - like little lightning bolts, etched across his skin.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, looking at him.
"No," he said, and she could tell he was being honest this time.
"Well, then there's no problem," she told him firmly. He looked at her, surprised. "And you know how Vikings are about scars. I bet if you showed the others, they'd think it's really cool." Hiccup peered over at her intently.
"Do you think it's cool?" he asked. She huffed out a breath - a little laugh without any real humor. She looked over at him, and saw that he was completely serious. She looked down, stared once more at the worn green fabric. Did she think it was cool? Was it nice to have scars? Fun? She swallowed, began to play with her own shirt.
"No," she admitted quietly. Because scars meant pain, injuries, terrible happenings. And seeing them on Hiccup, she was only reminded of that moment, watching helplessly from the ground with horrified eyes as the lightning struck. She shivered, and when she met eyes with Hiccup, she could tell he knew it wasn't from the cold.
"Yeah, I don't like 'em much either," he agreed softly. His emerald eyes darted to Toothless' tail fin.
"Well, they aren't all bad," Astrid spoke up, an attempt to defend the Viking admiration of scars.
"You're right," Hiccup agreed immediately and Astrid looked at him in shock.
"What?" she asked, not believing her ears.
"They aren't all bad," he repeated, shrugging a little. He nodded to his sleeves. "Those scars… Well, I think they show what I'd be willing to do for Toothless. What I would go through. And I'd do it again, any day." He nodded to himself, and Astrid knew that he meant it. "Scars also show what you've overcome," Hiccup added. "I think that's what Vikings like about them so much. It means you're tough - you've survived hardships." He picked up a pebble lying nearby, launched it into the ocean to give his hands something to do. They watched it fall over the edge, disappear beneath the waves.
"That's the thing about scars," Hiccup said. "It's just fine when they're your own, but when they're someone else's, it's terrible."