Come on, man, think positive. Think axe, muscle and fame. Think gliding through the air. Think Astrid, I know you want to think Astrid, just catch the idea and go on… One scene at the time? Imagine her the day she first confronted Toothless. Anxious to learn my secret, fierce and ready to do anything necessary to win…
Bah, it's useless. No thoughts can be of much help when you have to clench your eyes shut in order to even try and fall asleep. I might as well…
With a silent groan I sit up and let my eyes open to the surrounding darkness. Nothing is amiss, no sound brakes the winter silence, save for the usual – fire crackling in the fireplace downstairs, wind howling outside while trying its best to breach the defenses of thatched roof and wooden walls, creaking of the building, peaceful breath of sleeping Dad. Somebody might suggest that I am tied to consciousness by the temperature, as even inside the fire-warmed house my breath is coming out as a white mist. This isn't the case, having spent a lifetime in Berk I'm pretty much as used to the cold as anyone – therefore, in spite of having almost no fat to keep me protected, I feel comfortable under a thin duvet. So what is keeping me awake? I have no idea. Maybe I just need to get a breath of fresh air.
I throw the cover off dully, slide my legs to the side of the bed and put them on the floor… with a thud. Cursing the forgetfulness under my breath, I listen closely if Dad wasn't disturbed by the noise, but he seems to be sleeping as sound as he has before. Now more carefully, I stand up and limp towards the stairs, putting my whole weight on the healthy leg and placing the other down slowly and delicately. Having reached the stairs, I smile at my own resourcefulness – this is something I've figured out a long time ago, how to descend them without making a sound. I simply lie on my side and slide down, holding the artificial limb in the air. After months of being used that way, the wood doesn't obstruct me anymore. Several more steps and I'm at the door. I glance back, at the huge figure of Dad sleeping in the room before quitting swiftly, trying not to let the cold breeze inside.
There is no source of light outside – whatever shine gets out from the homes through doors and other hollows doesn't really count; and however bright the moon glows, it's never able to provide such an effect as this present at hand – and yet visibility is far better than indoors. Almost as though the snow were fluorescent. I see no one, which is really no surprise. It's quite cold and late – and since the dragons ceased to be the constant threat, there's no need to keep guard at every time of day and night. None of them appears to be around either – they usually spend nights in their old nest, craving its natural warmth. Whenever temperatures rise, there's an abundance of them sleeping in every possible place in the village, but now it's far too cold. We even tried to keep some of them home - unsurprisingly I was the first to propose such thing - but we soon learnt that was not enough heat to please them. The lesson came the hard way and cost us two houses burnt after the inside dragons decided to enhance their sleeping places by breathing some fire around.
I inhale deeply, realizing post factum that whole my effort was actually counter-productive, as I'm now wide awake, contrary to what I hoped to achieve. Perhaps going back to the coziness of my bed would do the trick now? Deciding that's probably the best shot, I turn around to put this plan to life, but before I can push the door to get inside, a sigh reaches my ears, causing me to stop dead in my tracks. I would recognize Toothless's voice everywhere. But can it be? He's nowhere around, I would spot him immediately on the white background, plus if he were here, he would surely let me know directly. Nah, it must have been an illusion. I shiver as the coldness really kicks in and once more try to go back home, but the possibility of my best friend being around doesn't let me proceed.
"Tooth-thless?" I call silently, my teeth starting to dance on their own in the chilly air. There is no response, which only confirms my doubts. That must have been a gust of wind which I misinterpreted for some inexplicable reason. "Toothless?" I ask again, anticipating no answer though. And yet, it comes, the same barely audible sigh. I scrutinize my surroundings again, but sure enough he's not anywhere to be seen. I make several steps away from the house, even though my bare foot protests against stepping into the snow. But I don't care anymore since the movement allowed me to see the long black body sprawled atop our roof. "Toothless!" I repeat for the third time, with a mixture of happiness and fear this time.
The apprehension only deepens after there is no reaction to my call. He just continues to look blankly towards the sky, his large eyes half-closed and filled with emotions I cannot yet discern. Why would he ignore me after coming here? The only reason for leaving the lair must have been to see me. He must suffer in the cold. How long has he been sitting there? I wouldn't know.
Moving as fast as my prosthesis would let me, I close in on the side of our house. Once there, I climb some empty barrels, which in turn enables me to reach the steep surface covered with straw. Clinging to every curve available, I haul myself onto it, searching desperately for a point to stand my leg against. Neither the bare foot nor the metal one are able to give me any support, sliding on stalks flattened by wind, rain and cold. My hands are slowly giving way, unable to hold my whole weight for so long. What's more, even despite my minimal weight I am slowly proving to be too much for a bunch of dried stems. I am about to let go and start over as a familiar elongated black shape comes in contact with my arm. In a flash I reposition my hands and embrace Toothless's tail. With no apparent effort, he pulls me to the top, but still does nothing to appropriately acknowledge my presence.
I crawl towards his more communicative end, using his body for support in dearth of other ways, all the while pondering over this strange irresponsiveness. He breathes steadily and I can find no visible wound on his scale-covered body as I advance forward. Only after I situate myself on his slightly risen neck, stroke it and utter his name silently does he glance at me before refocusing his greenish eyes on the moon and producing the same sound that got my attention in the first place.
Another gust of freezing cold wind blows past us, making me shudder. After several minutes spent outside without any proper thermal protection I really begin to feel the chill getting to me. In a futile attempt to gain any warmth, I nestle against the dragon's long neck, but to no avail - the shivering continues. Feeling his muscles shift underneath myself I don't even have to look back to know when he raises his right wing. I gladly accept the veiled invitation and wiggle my body into the shelter he offered. His soft scale feels wonderful and as he tightens his wing against my back I immediately begin to feel snug, but the concerned gaze he's giving me doesn't escape my attention and so I smile to reassure him. He nods lightly and resumes the seemingly absent-minded staring.
I follow his example and observe the moon. There are no clouds today and it's getting close to the full moon, so the whole sky shines and twinkles. Steady surface of surrounding ocean only doubles the effect… So why is he so disconcerted? Though he doesn't look at me, from my current position I have a clear view at his eyes and it's evident that his dominating emotion right now is sadness. It bothers me endlessly. After all, he's my best friend…
We're flying towards the moon. I don't remember putting the saddle on Toothless, but there's too much joy in this common flight for me to delve into the matter. I click the pedal, he looks at me with an understanding smile and arches his body back, beginning a wide somersault in the air. I feel my hair standing up as Berk moves over my head and adjust the foot once more, thus making Toothless dive wildly. We're plummeting with an insane velocity, joined by infinite trust in each other. In the right moment I change the direction of our fall, his wings do the rest and instead of crashing against one of the homes we glide over its roof, so close I could rip a straw from its top.
The hamlet stays behind as we find ourselves over the bay. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice calling me by my name. Looking around, I'm quick to spot Astrid standing atop one of the Guardians – huge stones with caverns facing the outer sea, carved so that they resemble Viking heads with fire burning in their mouths, its shine allowing ships to reach our island safely under any weather conditions. I have no idea how she got there or what purpose she had to climb it, but it doesn't matter to me much.
From the corner of my eye I notice abnormal abundance of fog beneath us. It is really uncommon for such a massive cloud to gather here. Toothless must have spotted it too, because all of a sudden he becomes very uneasy, emitting apprehensive shrieks. As I try to figure out what could move him to this extent, a deep, distant bellow resounds from below. Before either of us has a chance to as much as think there's nothing that could produce such a noise normally found in the bay, an enormous head emerges from the fog and approaches us with purpose made clear by fast opening jaws. I reposition the pedal as fast as I can and yank the saddle upwards. Toothless helps with all his energy, but it's already too late. Everything darkens as rows of deadly teeth win the upwards race and shut around us.
"Noooooo!" I scream, waking up with a start. In an involuntary reflex, I kick Toothless in the ribs, making him stir noticeably and fold his wings. Now fully awake, I feel my body bump against the quasi-soft straw cover twice before hitting the ground, hard. Pain shots through my whole body in a flash, but I don't scream as my mouth is full of a mixture of snow and ice I landed upon. There is a concerned squeak that could only be emitted by one creature and a loud thud right afterwards. I feel my friend touch me gently with his head, trying to turn me over. I struggle to help him achieve it, then sit up and spit the snow from my mouth. Before I have as much as a chance to examine my body for any broken bones I must fend off his delight-filled affectionate gestures. It takes a while, but once he's done cuddling to me I slowly stand up and make sure every part of my body is in working order. Fortunately, it is so, as I had the luck of falling on the right side of our home, where nothing lay.
It's morning already; I must have fallen asleep in Toothless's embrace and spent the whole night fondled tightly by him.
"Okay, bud, you up for a little morning exercise?" I ask with an indiscreet yawn, scratching the curiously extended head and getting a gleeful burble in response. Glad to have made this appointment, I turn to get all the gear from my room. In all sincerity, I would love to run all the way, but I don't even have to be reminded about my disability this time. This isn't going to stand in my way of having a lot of fun though. Without a care in the world about the noise this time, I push the house's front door open to find Dad awake, moving about the room.
"Hiccup!" he exclaims in wonder upon seeing me. "I was sure you must still be sleeping, son. Any plans for the day?"
"Yes," I confirm, already halfway up the stairs. "Let me just collect my stuff and I'm off for a morning flight 'round the island with Toothless!" I add enthusiastically, picking up the saddle with all the necessary cords, straps and buckles and putting my aviator outfit on – right after the fur coat, of course. It's the lack of it that's made me so uncomfortable the previous night - before Toothless decided to share his warmth with me, that is.
"I wish you all the best winds," he says, squinting his head into the room – he doesn't even need to stand on the steps. I can feel the ever-present uneasiness in his voice. I got used to it; ever since I was five and it became clear to him I'm not going to turn out like all the other young Vikings it was a constant reminder of his disapproval and letdown. As of recently, he lost the attitude, but the uneasiness remained. Not that I'm surprised – we never had much to talk about, so neither of us has much skill to even try and mend this particular hole. "But… if you would like to spend some time, you know… with me…" he stutters and I can't help smiling, never having expected him to be the first to reach a hand.
"Sure, why not," I agree, turning around, at which point he promptly clears the passage for me. I slide down the stairs with the saddle tucked underneath myself. Not that I care about the noise; it's just so much faster than making those shaky, awkward steps while balancing on the "leg". I see Dad smile and rub his hands, surely thinking of a good way to seal the conversation.
"That's great," he finally says. "I will see you then, son."
"It's a deal," I promise and leave the house, eager to set off for the appointed flight. Sure enough, there is a black dragon sprawled right in front of the door, waiting impatiently for my return. Without a further delay, I place the saddle in its place and start to fasten every single strap. Once it's finished, I grab the cord linking the steering pedal with Toothless's artificial tail fin – the lame making the two of us look like one person in two bodies. Of different species, that is.
First, I have to undo a knot on a rope already tied around his tail. It's a recent addition, allowing Toothless to fly even without my help… theoretically. It's still not easy for him, since the fin is unresponsive to the muscle movement, relying entirely on mimicking it's counterparts actions instead - but it's better than nothing. It took him some practice, but I believe he has already mastered it to the maximal extent allowed by such a crummy device. Other arguments aside, he can safely make it to the dragons' lair and back, hunt and perform some simple maneuvers while mid-air. It's not much, but I think he accepted his fate. Nevertheless, I can imagine why every time I propose a common flight he reacts with nothing but unspeakable enthusiasm.
I hop onto the saddle and barely have time to put my leg in the pedal before he takes off, beginning today's adventure with a wild barrel roll hardly ten feet above ground. Fortunately, I'm used to his infinite supply of energy and join what is unmistakably a cry of sheer joy. With two strong flaps of the mighty black wings we gain altitude and fly away from the village. A glance at the bay makes me shiver inwardly, though contrary to the dream I had, there's no fog down there. I have little time to think about that, however, as we rise even higher, right into the cloud cover. Now, flying in the chilly, crystal-clear winter air is one thing, but finding yourself inside the snow-bearing clouds is something entirely different. Before we emerge from them on the other side I am already frozen to the bone, but for the astonishment that awaits us there, I believe it to be worth it. It's like we entered a different world, totally independent from ours. The clouds are stretching in every direction as far as the eye can see and above them there's nothing but pastel-blue sky with its single brilliant eye. Every time I turn, I almost expect to see the rainbow bridge of Bifrost and entrance to Asgard.
We fly around for a while, practicing the usual turns, rolls and somersaults, but it soon bores both of us, so after a sharp turn Toothless folds his wings and straightens his entire body. Knowing perfectly well my part in this move, I draw myself as close to his neck as possible. If I didn't, the force of air pressing against my chest would definitely throw me off the saddle, possibly killing both of us – with his fin off the blocking rope, he's almost as helpless in the air as I am. But we know perfectly well what to do and so the air roars around us as we plummet with increasing speed towards the still surface of the ocean.
There is no feeling to compare the free fall with, when you suspend any control you have over your body and simply let it dive, having no fear in the world. It's describable only in fictional comparisons, like the whole system deciding to ignore every external impulse but those evoking sheer euphoria.
About thirty meters before imminent crashing into the sea we join efforts to level the flight and use the energy gained during the descent to rise back into the air, then our usual play begins. I replace the pedal to enforce Toothless performing some maneuver – and he proceeds with something entirely different. The effects vary from even, unaffected flight to unexpected back-flips. The idea for such a pastime originates in the times when Toothless would fight my every effort aiming to steer him. Adapted as a repetitive means of entertainment, it's actually very useful too. Thanks to such practice, we can be prepared to face the consequences of misunderstanding the other's plan for our next move. Should such a need arise anytime again, I believe we will be more than ready to engage enemy mid-air. But I doubt it – we've made peace with the dragons, what more could threaten us?
Judging by the position of the sun, it must have taken us several hours, but eventually we feel tired and agree to go back. I honestly expected him to land back where we took off from, but Toothless apparently decided it would be more fun to try something new, so in an out-of-the-blue stunt he semi-alights on a roof of a random house, uses his momentum to jump onto another one's top and so on. After the fourth leap he turns sharply and jumps headfirst to the ground, spinning around just in time to set down gracefully on all fours… back where we took from, I must admit. Still, I won't be able to walk straight for at least a quarter.
Feeling a tad queasy, I dismount him, unlatch the saddle and re-block the artificial fin to allow Toothless to move by himself. He utters a goodbye shrill and flies away – to catch some breakfast, I think, for right now I'm hungry like a wolf. There was a time we used to feed him, but soon after he grasped the basics of flying alone again he started to refuse to eat the provided food. Most likely, he didn't – and still doesn't – want to lose the hunting skills by having the meals delivered for himself.
"I'm back!" I yell, entering the house with a heap of equipment in my hands.
"You must be hungry, huh?" asks Dad, standing up from the seat in front of the fireplace he must have occupied ever since I settled out.
"Yeah, let me just grab a snack and we can be off to whatever you've planned for today."
"That won't be necessary," he replies, taking the saddle and harness from me, reaching up and throwing them onto my bed. His help must have speeded the whole process at least five times.
"Thanks," I say sincerely. "But what do you mean it won't be necessary? I'm starved, riding a dragon is a tiring activity, however easy it might look from earthbound perspective."
"No, I don't doubt you've exerted yourself! I just packed lunch already," he answers, gesturing to a basket standing in the corner, right between two fishing rods, giving me a pretty clear idea of what the afternoon is going to look like.
"We're going fishing?" I ask for the sake of the conversation.
"Yes… is that good for you?" he says, the usual uneasiness kicking in. I can't imagine how amusing it must be for others to watch our relationship, based seemingly on the belief that your interlocutor is made of fragile china and an inappropriately stressed syllable can break him to pieces.
"Sounds like fun," I respond, putting more heart to it than I actually have for the idea. It may not be as fun as spending time with Toothless, but if it's a step towards enhancing our relation, so be it.
"Splendid," he beams, then collects everything and looks at me expectantly. I take the clue and start for the door as fast as one and a half leg can carry me. He closes it behind us and joins me almost immediately. No more words follow, but I think he is as content with this silent one-to-one as I am.
We stroll down Berk's main road, stretching all the way from the port, branching out to reach every single abode and ending a furlong above the highest-placed home, belonging to the Elder. I observe with some amusement the teeny wee steps Dad has to make not to outrace me – what with my much shorter legs, not to mention the limping. To him it must appear almost as though he were standing still, moving at such pace. Even when not at haste, he can cover nearly two yards in a single step – now it's taking him twenty to do so. It's downright admirable how far out of his way he's ready to go not to make me feel like I'm a burden to him.
Every passer-by greets us affably and we both respond with similar cordiality. I exchange salutary nods with Snotlout and a handshake with Fishlegs several minutes later. We're already on the last straight section of the path as we come by Astrid. I catch a mixture of emotions running through Dad's façade, though he quickly composes himself. It's not a mystery what must have crossed his mind: first, pride upon seeing one of the best proofs of my recently elevated status, then resignation with a shade of contempt after realizing I'm probably going to choose her company over his and cancel the trip. Well, he was wrong to assume that and I'm going to prove it.
"Hey there," my girlfriend (the title having been official for quite some time already) cheers, subsequent to verbally bowing to Dad, then hugs me affectionately – and still manages to nearly choke me. Talk about delicacy among Vikings. "I hoped you would be around, you could join me in-" feeling Dad's heart sinking in the proximity, I put a finger to her lips.
"I'm sorry, but not today. I have an important matter to attend to with my father."
She glances at him and finally notices the equipment, quickly taking the hint. "I see," she says with understanding. "I'll see you around later then, huh?"
"Indubitably."
As she wanders off, I turn to see Dad gleaming. To warm his heart even further, I grin and hint that we continue by resuming the seaward motion. As we near the pier, he increases his pace, no doubt to prepare the boat. I cannot follow his actions with my eyes, forced to focus entirely on placing my metal appendage in the middle of every plank to avoid getting stuck in-between. Normally, my speed is one of an old snail, here it situates slightly above a dead one's. Nonetheless, I reach my mark and take a seat in the vessel already occupied by Dad. Even though all the luggage lies next to me, the lack of balance is evident. He takes the cue and repositions himself so that his bulky torso put most pressure on the middle part of the boat. Thus prepared, we set sail – more like "set row" to me, but who am I to question the idiom?
They say sea is a Viking's most powerful elemental ally. Let's see how this works out for the two of us.
Well, there it goes. I'll try and limit the author's notes to the minimum, seeing as I could easily type in a thousand or more words here.
I'm positively stunned by how fast I've written it - on the course of less than two days. Continuation will most definitely follow, although I'm not setting any deadlines.
Sadly, I limit the sources of influence to the movie, having little access to the books. Therefore, the whole plot might vary significantly from original continuation of HTTYD - if it doesn't, it's by a simple coincidence. I will introduce the story with certain aspects of the written version, but I'll be choosy as to which additional information should I use and which to omit. Seeing as the movie differs from it's basis, I think it will come out acceptably.
What do you think?