Knapping the Bone: A Short Novel of a Short Movie

Disclaimer: Yes, it is a word that has ten letters. And I also don't own the characters in this story. Dreamworks (ten letters) and Cressida Cowell (fourteen letters) do.

And a grateful "Thank you" to Catnip-Packet for her movie rendition of the story that you can find here on this site. It helped to read her story for the dialogue and plot as a way to make sure I captured the essence of the story the right way. I had to watch the DVD story again for this, and being able to match what I heard against her accurate retelling was a nice way to make sure I heard things correctly. All mistakes in this story, though, are mine.

Yup. It's me. I am putting up a Hiccup and Toothless novella while I continue to work on "Blindspot." I had several people ask me when I would go back to Berk, and I myself miss that. I decided to put in a silly short story (novella) I created in response to the "Legend of the Boneknapper" short feature from the HTTYD expanded DVD. I was one of those who was not fond of that feature because it seemed to deviate so much from the drama and adventure and the intelligent humor of the movie. Instead, it seemed more like the recent Dreamworks movies that focused on toilet jokes and underwear jokes. And they seemed to have left behind completely the whole central theme of the bond between Toothless and Hiccup. There was no Hiccup/Toothless bond in this short feature, but there were some nice shots of Gobber taking a leak against a rock and waxing eloquent on underwear. Go figure.

Anyway, I was starting to write a Heinlein version of this just as a wonderful young lady name "AndyMeatball" started to write a more palatable (and very promising) version of the "Legend of the Boneknapper." on her DA Account. Sadly, she closed her DA account for personal reasons, so that project never got done.

So, I wanted to pick up the ball and run with it, though I could never get it the way she did. This one, instead, is a Heinleinized version. That means lots of behind the scenes and hidden motives that play along in their own side plot to what was in the DVD. After all, Toothless got left behind. He had to so something while Gobber was chasing Boneknappers.

This is just some filler and a novella. I do plan to jump into my other post HTTYD Berk fanfics when I finish "Blind Spot," which is coming to a conclusion of its own soon.

Thanks for believing in my crazy stories, and for reading this story. I hope you like it!

Chapter One (Nothing like being to the point) in which the following happens:

* Spring Fever

* Blacksmith tutoring

* Attack of the Enablers!

* Everyone needs a little Boondocks now and then

* How to Blow off Steam

* Fiddlehead fern recipes for fun and profit

* Dialogue between the Generations!

* Flying instructions vs. walking instructions

* The Faroe Islands rule! (At least according to the inhabitants of the Faroe Islands)

* Identity Theft Issues

"That's it, lad. You just lift it up... like so. Position it right. Then apply the right pressure... little more to the right. There you go. Good, good. It's coming along nicely."

I lay on my side and flicked an ear, my eyes closed. The sun was streaming with just the right amount of warmth, and I was content.

It had been a cold winter, and even though it was early spring, my body's ability to maximize or dissipate heat made this weak ray of sun feel like I was lounging on a hot summertime rock.

Gobber's voice was soothing, and it helped increase my enjoyment of this early spring day.

I heard my Rider shifting to follow his mentor's advice and the sound of metal ring out as it struck something. Or something struck it.

I did enjoy listening to the Firemaker-for-Fire-maker's voice as he tutored my young Firemaker.

"It's really up to how you put the pressure. Ya hafta have the right touch, Hiccup. Too little and ya get no results. Too much and everything just collapses."

There were so many things this large man could teach my Rider. He may have had a face that looked bored and dimwitted, but his eyes were sharp, as was his mind. Firemakers who misjudged him as slow-witted learned the hard way this man was someone you did not trifle with.

These blacksmiths are pretty amazing. They can take ordinary metals and apply the fire that jumps out of their hands. And then they bang it with the hammers- those extra feet they attach to their front paws- whoops- I mean hands. (I am still learning Firemaker anatomy, so bear with me, kiddies).

And then the iron becomes something different! Sometimes it is shaped into the weapons, the large fangs they call swords and spears, but then there are things that are for non fighting purposes, like the iron bowls they put over the fire to boil their meals. Those are simple and yet so nicely crafted. I've had plenty of time to enjoy usefulness of the food preparation bowls as I lick the leftovers out of them when Hiccup and his father, the red furred alpha male, are not looking.

"It's not easy," I heard Hiccup say, his voice tight with concentration, "Every time I think I have the right amount of force I turn out to be wrong."

Gobber's voice remained as warm as the sunshine felt on my dragon hide, "It takes time. Ya can't rush it. After all, yer teaching your body to apply motion in a different way, one it's not used to. But, over time, you'll realize it gets easier and easier. Just be patient."

Gobber was a genius in his field. His knowledge. His experience. There were things only he could teach Hiccup. And he was good at it.

"Yer gettin' better at it. Now, c'mon. Once more. It's just a matter of putting a bit more swing into it- that'll give ya the force you need. You'll see. Now give it a try, lad. On the count of three. Einn, tveir, þrír... núna!"

"Here goes... something!"

And something... went.

I heard the sound of metal hitting the ground awkwardly and then a body hitting the ground.

Awkwardly.

"Arrrgh! Helvítis, aftur og aftur!" Hiccup swore softly.

I raised my head up and pricked my ear sensors, a quiet growl slipping past my lips.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What am I doing? Lying in the sun when I should be paying more attention to my Rider!

Wind puffed around me as the pale golden-green of new leaves fluttered and birds sang in the branches above.

By the way, if you haven't guessed, we weren't in the black smith shop. We were actually on a hill outside the village, and my Rider now was sprawled out on the ground, face down. He raised his head, lips pulled back from teeth clenched in frustration. His long hair fell over his eyes, but I could still see his irritation through the screen of untrimmed hair.

Gobber stood above him,looking down with patient kindness, "Ye almost got it, Hiccup. Just needed a little more movement with the leg. Try again. You're getting it."

He held out the arm with the flesh and blood hand on it, not the one with the wooden hook, and he balanced himself, distributing his weight between his real foot and the wooden limb.

Hiccup looked up and nodded, then reached a hand to grab Gobber´s. The large-framed Firemaker-for-Firemakers, pulled his apprentice up, helping the youth to stand again on his feet.

One of Hiccup´s lower legs was flesh and blood. The other was a Firemaker-crafted half leg and foot made of wood and iron and springs.

As I mentioned before, there were things only Gobber could teach Hiccup. And he was good at it.

"Ya, okay, Hiccup?" Gobber asked, casually leaning so Hiccup could balance against him, yet making it look like Hiccup was not leaning against him.

Vikings and their pride. They are almost as bad as we Lightning People.

Hiccup nodded, glancing down at his leg. That fall had hurt him- I could pick up the pain from our bond link. It was sharp and dull and hot and cold and every negative sensation you could think of tossed into a bucket and mixed with lots of salt.

:::So annoying,::: I heard from him- and I think he was tossing that thought my way. He'd come worlds closer to communicating his thoughts to me, though were still working on him getting better about picking up the thoughts I communicated to him, ::I can still feel my leg and yet it's not there And it still hurts.::

Gobber squeezed his young protégé's hand in paternal affection, "C'mon. Let's do it again, then. You did almost get it there. It took you longer to fall."

"Oooh, y'mean I increased my delayed fall reaction by one fourth of a breath? Wow. I'm becoming a master of gravity. I should have this down pat in about...oh... 200 years or so."

Gobber grinned wider, revealing a rather primitive looking fake tooth made of stone, "Is that ant years or human years?"

That got both men laughing, and I was glad for that. The laughter interlude was too short, however, and then Gobber nodded, "You know what to do. Proceed."

Hiccup let go of Gobber's hand to try again.

I growled softly, and both Firemakers glanced at me, taking in my rather casually flattened ears and eye pupils, now shrinking to mean feline mode.

"Toothless... what are you doing?" Hiccup asked me, his voice rising in a mixture of concern and irritation.

::Letting your mentor know he needs to let you rest. You're hurting, and your skin is paler than usual. You can't push it, Hiccup.:: I lashed my long tail in irritation, ::You've not been that long out of the sick bed.::

Hiccup shook his head at me with a sigh, :::Now's the time to master it, Toothless. It'll get harder to walk on the new limb if I wait. Please- work with us on this, okay?:::

We'd had this debate many times, and he always had to go stubborn on me.

Good thing I could return the favor.

So, when Hiccup took a step and fell again, this time I turned on that good old Lightning Person speed, and he found himself falling smack against my velvety wings and shoulder. He then was leaning against my right shoulder, his own right leg sticking out awkwardly.

"TOOTHLESS!" both he and Gobber yelled at the same time.

I gave them both my gummy grin, and a nice little snarl to let them know Toothless Does Not Approve.

Gobber placed his good hand on his hip and blew out between his teeth, making that amazing knotted face hair of his dance around his mouth, "That dragon o' yers is somethin', Hiccup."

Indeed. I bask in your praise, Firemaker-for-Firemakers.

Hiccup's eyes were not in the least grateful to me. He glared at me and put his right leg down to rebalance himself. When he tried to lift his left hand from my shoulder to walk forward, I came right along with him. Step by step. And always just a little bit faster so would inevitably be forced to lean against me the pull of my gravity.

"This. Is. Really. Irritating," Hiccup sang to me softly.

I snorted nonchalantly. He had to deal with it. I was living up to a promise I had made to myself after Hiccup's burnt and broken body was hauled from my side as we both lay in the ashes of the Lady's attack. He had lost so much to save both the People and the Firemakers... and to give us the chance for a new start as allies instead of enemies.

In exchange, I would be his missing leg. I would balance him, protect him. Especially since this fake limb just was not easy for him to master. It hurt me to see how much he hurt when he fell (which happened on a regular basis). How many bruises wound around his legs and face from his falls. How many cuts on his legs he had gotten falling on the sharp stones stairs outside the chieftain's house.

One time he had even lost his balance and fallen backwards, cracking his head on the floor and knocking himself out. I had to go get Stoick to pick up Hiccup and and carry him off to bed. He regained consciousness not long after, but the concussion kept him in his bed for about a week.

So you can understand my concern that the fake limb was doing him more harm than good!

After that incident, I had berated myself for being lax on the job and, therefore, I doubled up the protection. My Rider had helped me master my amputated tail by making me a new tail fin and offering his services to help me fly. In a sense, because he turned the fin to help me fly, he was every bit a part of my prosthetic tail fin system as the tail fin and high tension shipping ropes and gears were. I could return the favor the only way I knew how- by offering my services to help him to walk again.

In a sense, I was part of his prosthetic system!

I just wish he would be a bit more grateful for my efforts and come around to my way of thinking.

Gobber gave one more hiss between his teeth and then said, quite calmly, "Well, looks like we canna' be arguin' with His Majesty o' the Night Furies. I guess we'll call it a day. I hafta admit yer face is looking pale, Hiccup. Come up to my house and have a pint with me and we can talk about that new harness yer designin' for Firewyrm. Hope ye don´t mind sharin´ space with a sheep, but Phil has some manners, at least where guests are concerned. I trust that yer dragon will help ye get home?"

Hiccup laughed and pat my shoulder sadly, his eyebrows lifted in the Expression of Irony, "What can I say, Gobber? You're a psychic."

"Yeh. That's why I am so stinkin' rich from all those amazin' gamblin´ predictions I make tha' come true." the smith saluted his charge and then limped his own way back along the short walk to the main part of the village.

I watched how he moved, a large man with a prosthetic leg much more primitive that what my Fireworker used. He moved with confidence, but he also moved with an irregular, heavy limp, his body tilted in a lean in favor of his good left leg.

Well, thanks to having me at his side, Hiccup would be able to move much more smoothly than that. I would honor my promise to him.

"I could use a good beer. I really could," Hiccup said quietly to me, still patting me affectionately, "But I need to do something else first, bud. Let's go for it."

I could hear "isolation" in his thoughts like there was no tomorrow, so I knelt down for him to climb up on my back. He bit back a sigh but used my leg to climb aboard. He had been hoping to be able to hop on board in spite of the prosthetic, but both he and I had lost a lot of weight and muscle tone in our recovery, so he still needed to use my leg to climb on board. We both knew, though, once he fully recovered and started training again, he'd have the upper arm strength and right leg strength to hop up on me. Plus, he still intended to trick out the left side harness with some improvements that would help him spring aboard me even easier.

But that was the future. At the moment, my Rider was still recovering from his near-death incident in the Lady's Battle. The convalescence had made him lose weight he could not afford to lose, and it had been coming back very, very slowly. Still reed thin, without his usual wiry muscle tone, Hiccup was eager for the spring so he could train hard to condition them again. During our convalescence, we had both been fed a lot of broths and medicinal teas as we recovered- but the healers could only get them down our throats when we were semi conscious. The result meant we both sucked in enough broths and herbal infusions to keep us healing and alive. They were high in protein, but low in fat. So, both of us had lost a lot of weight in our recovery because we could not ingest enough of the richer high-fat broths to be able to fully thrive.

Of course, we were both making up for lost time. There were lots of jokes in the Viking Mead Hall and the dragon meeting grounds about how voracious Hiccup and I were as we gradually recovered. But we needed that extra fat and protein.

Hiccup managed to get himself on board me, settling himself in the saddle of my harness. I had now come to accept I needed it- so I wore it almost all the time during the day. At night and on quieter days I went harness free. Sometimes, if it was a short haul trip, Hiccup rode me bareback, running like horse and rider across the land rather than flying. I had come, over time, to like that galloping very much, although it was still a poor substitute for flying.

But today, I wore the harness and saddle, and Hiccup could clip himself on to me. It was a short, fun gallop and a few wonderful soars, accented by the salty air blowing in from the sea, and then I was bringing us down to the canyon where we first met.

Hiccup clicked the gears with his foot, and I responded just about as he clicked, picking up his intentions from his mind.

We soared gracefully into the canyon, now landing by a rustic, yet well maintained Finnish laavu shelter. The sign swinging from the head beam of the shelter read in runes that this humble dwelling was "Boondocks Manor."

It was primitive, but beautifully constructed and well maintained, a perfect shelter for a dragon and rider to do some soul searching.

Hiccup had planned this lovely little shelter as a place where he could escape to hang out with me when things got too unbearable for him back in the village. After all, since he had been the designated all-purpose scapegoat and freak show attraction, he often ran away to pull his scattered thoughts back together after a bullying session.

Now he was a hero but, if anything, he needed the Boondocks Manor shelter more than ever to pull his thoughts back together. It's not easy going from the village freak show exhibit to the community's savior and hope of the future.

Boondocks Manor was not fancy, but it was comfortable, clean, well maintained and well designed.

Well- what would you expect from my Rider? (Except for the clean and tidy part, of course.)

Yes. Hiccup kept that lean-to quite cluttered, a vital requirement for a genius. Being Norse and having that Scandihoovian obsession with cleanliness, he kept the shelter scrubbed down and pleasant smelling of birch and lye soap. But his supplies and riding equipment had an annoying way of breeding while we were gone, since there always seemd to be more and more of it appearing over time. I do swear; inanimate objects these days just have NO morals!

The scent of birch and pine and the nearby ocean wafted into my nostrils as I landed. I immediately felt a satisfaction in my heart. Once this forested canyon and its little lake had been a prison for me, a place of failure. But it was that very canyon where I had found my true purpose in life, so coming back here was always special.

A gear clicked, and I made the last descent, swooping low over the floor, dank with the leaf mold from last summer, but also waiting for the new spring plants to burst forth. Dark, damp clumps of leaves scattered up as I landed. I snorted as a few shreds of old pine needles went up my nose, but their rich smell also sent a thrill to me, a promise of the coming spring.

Boondocks Manor waited: it was a simple, wooden shelter that sloped at a angle towards the ground. Constructed of close fitting logs and a flat, upward sloping log roof, it was open at the front. A dark fire circle positioned a distance away from the front indicated where the dinner campfire was built. It would be allowed to burn safely through the night, the unique shape of the laavu catching the heat and keeping the occupants comfortable and warm in their bed rolls. The concept of the laavu lean-to had been developed by the Finns, a blond-haired northern forest tribe that Viking Firemakers held in great awe for their often mystical way of understanding nature. Many Vikings believed the Finns had magical powers to forecast and control weather and to put curses on unwise Vikings who incurred their wrath. Some Vikings would even apprentice their children who had healer potential to learn herb lore and nature lore from friendly Finnish shamen.

Well, I don´t know about whether Finns can control the weather, but they sure had a great concept of camping shelters. I loved that laavu and the way it had sheltered my on rainy nights in the canyon. And, sometimes on a cold winter night, my Rider and I still would sneak out of the village after sunset to spend the night here. The fire kept the laavu toasty warm. There was something nice about sharing the evening, my Rider leaning against me, both of us watching the fire dance its sparks into the winter night sky, itself lit with its own star-sparks. I know I felt recharged when we flew back to Berk the next morning, and I am pretty sure my Rider did, as well.

I heard the clicks as my Rider freed himself from the saddle and pulled the prosthetic leg from the left pedal. It happened before I could kneel down, and suddenly I heard an annoyed yelp of pain as Hiccup came down to the ground on his left leg.

And then he was lying on his back, sprawled out in the leaf mold. I winced inside, berating myself for not kneeling fast enough. I could totally understand my Rider. He had not wanted to make me kneel, so he had leapt off me, but instincts had taken over. He´d come off on the left side, so his body automatically prepared him to land on his left leg first.

::Hiccup, why didn't you wait for me to kneel?:: I thought-sent to my Rider, purring in concern.

He did not hear me. Instead, he gritted his teeth and sat up, using my left leg to pull himself to a sitting position. His face was cold and his gestures stiff as he unbuckled the prosthetic. Then he threw it at a nearby tree. It smashed against the old larch, sending damp wood chips flying before it landed on the ground, undamaged.

"Djöfulsins andskott helvítis!" Hiccup screamed, his voice ragged with anger. It caused a covey of Arctic grouse- their feathers now white from the winter snow- to burst out of some nearby juniper bushes.

I had heard Viking FIremakers use those words before. They are the Viking equivalent of the popular "Scorch it and frozen hells!" we People say when we are frustrated.

My Rider is a calm soul, but he has his days, and this was one of them. Given what he had come through, I could understand he had the right to blow his top from time to time. He just tried to make sure to never let that frustration come out around other Vikings.

He buried his face in his hands, his long red-brown hair spilling around his palms. His breathing was ragged, laced with anger, and echo of a growl rose in the back in his throat. I felt the tension rippling along his shoulders and down his back, and my own shoulders and back stiffened in sympathy.

::It´s okay to be angry,:: I sent to my Rider, leaning my head down to rest my muzzle against his burn-scarred face, ::Breathe hard, let it pass. I just wish you could let out a blast of fire and all the anger would go out with it- that's how we People- dragons- let our anger out.::

"Well... Toothless... if you want to lend me some of your fire, I'd be happy to do just that. If it did not involve the slight annihilation of my hands" Hiccup lowered his hands and then encircled his scrawny arms around my neck. I leaned down more for him, and he hugged me, his face resting against my short, striped neck. My Rider did not cry. It takes a lot to make him cry, but he still desperately needed a way to release his frustration.

::Don´t think about it. Just rest. Just... be. I'll be here if you need me.:: I thought-sent.

For a moment there was silence, only the sound of our breaths and our heart beats and the far off ocean pounding against the rocks. I took hope when our breathing began to fall into tandem until we were matching each other.

Eventually his breathing slowed and calmed, as did his heart. I just let him rest against me, offering my support. It was part of the friendship we had developed; so much of it went beyond words, and we had many moments where just sitting together and appreciating each others' company was all that was needed. A great many things can be said without uttering a single word or mind-send transmission.

That´s one of the best benefits of having a friend, a bond brother. We support each other as the best of friends without any questions asked... and, often, without words.

The call of some impatient ravens in the birches above us made Hiccup look up. His wavy auburn hair now came down to his collarbone.

He sighed at the blue-black birds and stroked me gently on the space between the horn-shaped sensors on the top of my head. It's a hard spot to reach, and it made me purr.

"Oh, Toothless," he said hoarsely, "I don't know what to do, other than to be honest. I´m worried, okay?"

He shook hair out of his eyes and continued looking at the sunny sky, "It was a pretty snowy winter, so I could not get outside and train on this lovely fake limb as much as I wanted. And that infection on the leg after Yule did not help matters. So now I have to make up for lost time. The longer I wait, the harder it will be for me to use the prosthetic. I need your help for this, Toothless."

I remained quiet, letting him speak.

"I really do appreciate you're there to catch me when I fall, to be the shoulder to support me when I am tired," his voice floated softly over the early spring canyon, "It means a lot to me, Toothless. You were there to believe in me when others did not. It's why... why you´re my best friend."

I nudged Hiccup again, and he hugged me again, this time laying his head on my forehead.

::Ditto, Firemaker. You believed in me - stood by me- when my own People abandoned me. How can I abandon you, now?::

"Oh, Toothless. You're not abandoning me, buddy. Trust me on this. I know how you feel. I'd be acting the same way if I were in your shoes... oops- I mean paws- oops I mean, feet- claws- well, whatever- basic foot anatomy... thingie... whatsit. You get the idea, dragon!"

I licked him on the forehead to show my support- fish scented as my support was.

"But, Toothless, this time I need for you to be my friend by NOT supporting me. I have to learn the right way to move my leg- and that means, sometimes- well, okay a LOT of the time, I am going to fall. But falling is part of the learning." Hiccup pulled back his hand and then gave me a playful, affectionate snap of the fingers under my chin. I nipped playfully at his forelock, catching it in my mouth and licking it until it was soaking wet.

"Ugh- watch it! I just washed my hair last night, buddy."

I snorted, ::And you get it dragon washed today... buddy. Consider yourself blessed. Some Firemaker lady in the Byzantine Empire probably forks over a lot of your stupid gold flat gold and copper and silver pebbles for a bottle of dragon-spit hair soap. Probably thinks it is an aphrodesiac You get it... on the house... or should I say, the laavu?::

"Last time I checked, I am not some lady in the Byzantine Empire. Unless, of course, I really am a fine lady in the Byzantine Empire having some elaborate and really long dream about being a skinny one-legged Viking male dragon rider in some remote North Atlantic island village. And- how in any way is that a dream of paradise? " He laughed softly, appreciating the stupid - and yet so invigorating- nerd banter he and I often had, "Anyone who dreams about Berk as being an escapist fantasy has some serious personality issues."

I flexed my wings and got ready to go get Hiccup´s prosthetic leg.

"Nah-uh-uh-uh! Allow me, okay?" There was more laughter in Hiccup's voice, which comforted me, "I threw it there, so I should bring it back. Fair is fair. Take a load off, Toothless. Enjoy the nice spring day. Listen to the beautiful vomit-like croaking of the ravens and be glad you are a Night Fury. I'll be right back.´

And he was. He crawled across the ground to the tree on two hands and two knees, but he crawled fast, and he was soon back at my side again, shaking wood chips off of the prosthetic limb. His mood had lightened in that crawl, and he was whistling a jaunty tune as he sat upright. He pulled up his leggings from where they had been rolled up at the base of his amputated leg. The stump ended just below the knee, the skin rippled where it had been folded onto itself over the leg bone and cauterized after the leg had been amputated. Luckily, the stump was red with soreness, but it was not bleeding, so he had not overexerted himself. Still, it was good he and Gobber had ended the exercise when they had.

I was also personally glad his leather leggings covered the upper leg, which still bore the scars of my teeth from where I had grabbed him to save him after the Red Death had knocked him from my back.

Hiccup finished tying adjusting the woolen stump guard and tying the cords. He hummed a bit as he tested them, "Y'okay. Got that taken care of. And I saw some fern fiddleheads... so we don't go back to Berk empty handed!"

This time, he did lean against me to stand up, but I felt this was only a compromise at the moment. I know I was not yet ready to stand back the next time he tried to throw himself at the ground getting used to that fake leg.

"Nice job on the fiddleheads, son," Hiccup's father, the red-headed alpha male of the village, told his son.

"Thanks, dad. And you did a fantastic job on the boiled water for the soup."

"What can I say, Hiccup? It's a gift. I may not be able to cook as well you or your mom... but I can boil water with the best of them."

"I can't dispute that, dad. You've really got the boiled water down beautifully. I'd have flooded the kitchen by now- created Berk's only hot springs."

I heard the Firemakers talk as I lounged in the upper beam of the main floor ceiling. This was where the Haddock clan stored their sausages and smoked meats, tying them around the beams where they stayed safe until it was time to eat them… and where they continued to get seasoned by the cooking smoke.

I had no interest in this salty, seasoned food. I had already eaten a lot of fresh fish I had caught earlier at Boondocks Manor, and I was content.

"Nah, Hiccup- yer too hard on yourself. I boil water well. Hooray. But, then, there's you, son. Quietly cooking for us after your mom passed on. Cooking her recipes. Just you cooking for us and keeping us fed. And well fed at that- the meals tasted great And I never said thank you for that."

For a moment Hiccup was quiet, just staring at his plate, no doubt letting those words sink in. Then he raised his head and smiled at his father.

"No need to, Dad. I like good tasting food, too. And I didn't mind cooking it. FIddleheads are nothing. You just heat up some chopped salt meat and then fry it with garlic and onions. Then toss in the ferns, salt, pepper and there you go!"

"Pity the fiddleheads only come at such a short time of the year," Hiccup's massive father nodded at his son, "They are such a treat- the first fresh greens of the season!"

"I know- I only took a few," HIccup said, popping one of the nutrient-rich, crunchy savory greens into his mouth, "I don't want to kill of the ferns. But a few are nice. So, enjoy!"

I had tried one and found it was pleasant, but it did not put a claw notch on the lovely Sky Grass we dragons crave so much it makes us lose our dignity just to roll in the herbs.

The Firemakers talked softly, the cooking fire crackling in the center of the house. It had been a bit quiet at first, these meal times- after all, there was no much to talk about and yet no easy way to start a conversation! Guilt and anger had helped to break the barriers between them, but now they had to deal with that very guilt and anger. How do you deal with the fact that your own father banished you, and by your tribe's standards, you deserved it? Or that you banished your only child, had not listened to him, and he had been trying to protect you and the tribe because his information was true?

It took many stiffly polite mealtimes and the house had almost been icy with too much forced courtesy. But gradually the two had started to lose their stiffness, to use daily events and their interpretations on them as a way to "dance" closer and closer to each other's view. The going was slow, but it was still moving forward.

Fishlegs' Lava Person, the oldest and wisest of us village dragons, had put it well to me one night when he had lounged by the Yule bonfire.

::It's like when we People lick a wound clean, Toothless:: Oakheart had purred softly, ::Sometimes the wound hurts so much that we can't clean it right away. So we needs must lick around the edges, cleaning it slowly, letting the skin around the wound ease and stop hurting. And then, only then, can we get to the heart of the wound itself so healing can take place.::

I rested a while longer, breathing in the scents of fire and meat soup and fiddlehead ferns, and the older scents of the smoked lamb and fish hanging below me.

And then my sensors tingled a little, letting me know the time for the Sunset Calling was close. It would be a foggy night, so the Signalers would need to be on duty. And that meant I was on duty, too.

I thumped down to the ground, snapping my wings to shake the sleep tingles from them. I trotted to the door, Hiccup and his father watching me in mild curiosity. This was old habit for them, now, and they knew I was an independent creature. I came and went as I pleased. They were Vikings and they respected freedom, but they were also happy that I returned each morning even though I could have gone back into the wild- lack of tail fin or not.

But why wouldn't I return? These were my people and my home. I loved them all the more because they let me wander as I willed. As Oakheart once quoted me from a manuscript he had eaten from a Welsh monastery, "Trust is a rare currency, but it is a valued one, too, because it is so rare".

I grabbed the rope lever Hiccup had rigged to the door in my teeth and pulled it downwards, unlatching the door and heading into the night.

But I turned back to nod my farewells to my Firemaker friends. Hiccup had already removed my saddle and harness for the night, so I did not need him to assist me with that.

"Have fun, devil!" Stoick called to me, "You know the way back in."

"Take care, Toothless!" Hiccup saluted me jokingly, "And, if you have the inclination to be a hero, can you bring back some firewood from the pile outside the house when you've finished conquering the world?"

I actually did not intend to stay inside tonight, if I could help it. I sensed tonight would be cool but very pleasant for a Lightning Person like me, hatched in cooler climates.

But I still chirruped a farewell and trotted down the stone stairs, descending down the hill to Berk proper. And all that implies.

"Hullo, Toothless!" the burly brown haired sentry at the town entrance called to me, nodding his helmeted head. The saddled and harnessed Magnesium Person behind him purred a greeting to me as well, thumping her quilled tail on the ground in a sign of respect.

::I greet you, Firedrake.:: She sent to me, head lowered.

I gave them both a grin and then cantered up the hill, away from the village- and towards a tall boulder that was already becoming scraped up with my claw marks. I bunched my haunches and leapt up onto the rock, the red artificial tail fin sailing behind me as I did so. My claws dug into the rock as I settled down, sinking into a crouch.

Tendrils of fog danced in from the sea, shrouding the dim pricks of stars in the deep blue sky. I sucked in the air, tasting the salt, the seaweed, the clean scents of living fish and crustaceans, the rich, earthy spring aromas of the leaf mold. It was a sweet perfume, even if there were no Sky Grass mixed in. I may have been born in the glacial and hot spring threaded mountains of Central Asia, but the North Atlantic ocean life agreed well with me.

::He's right, ye know, boyo:: a silvery voice, richly lined with good cheer echoed in my mind.

::Evenin', Gracie. And do you mind telling me who 'he' is? We have quite a few males running around this excuse for an island, if you have not noticed.::

::Oh, aren't we a clever lad?::

Wings thrummed and then a graceful, cat sized emerald green dragon landed next to me. Unlike most dragons, she did not have spots or stripes, but there were nice shadings of red and gold and cream that wound across her abdomen and splashed up her sides. Tiny horns twisted, antelope-like, from her head. Her orange and red- speckled wings were quite large for her small size, and when she unfurled them, they would stretch out wider than most Firemaker men' stood tall. We People need vastly wide wing spans to help us fly. My own are considered the widest wing spans of the Eurasian dragon species.

I have noticed most Firemaker manuscript illuminators and tapestry artists tend to grossly underestimate how long our wingspans are until they see us in the scaly flesh.

The little Person's spiky tail was half again as long as she was, and it ended in a perky little barbed fork. However, her claws and paws were her greatest weapons, next to her sticky firepower. Those dextrous paws were dangerously close to resembling a Firemaker's own front paws- oops- hands. And, with her long claws, she could manipulate Firemaker objects almost as well as the Firemakers themselves.

It made her the ideal Person to bond with the village's black smith. She had bonded with Gobber, and though she jokingly called him her Rider, she was the one who rode on his shoulder. But, if you define a Rider as a good friend, than she and Gobber were very well matched. She served him as all around help in the black smith shop, her quick claws and love of innovations making her a useful set of extra paws- and both Gobber and Hiccup appreciated that. Now that they were commissioned more and more to make harnesses for dragons and weapons that could be used by Firemakers riding on dragons, Hiccup and Gobber needed a dragon partner who could assist. And Gracie had come through beautifully. And they all benefitted from the extra payment and barter trades their commissions brought the forge.

Gracie was an excellent example of a Sticky Fire Person, what the Firemakers call Table Terrors. Yes, it is a strange name, but the Vikings give all of us dragons strange names. The exception is my tribe's name. Nightfurygetdown, is full of majesty and shows how much they respect our kind. Well, being a Nightfurygetdown, I have excellent hearing. I am pretty sure I heard Sticky Fire People being called "Table Terrors" by the Birch Island Viking Firemakers.

I am rarely wrong on these things.

Gracie cut her amber and gold eyes at me, blinking in the affectionate way that we People do when we are casual friends. I returned it with my gummy grin.

::Well, you're just stating the obvious, Gracie. Of course I am a clever lad. I am a Lightning Person.::

::Humble, too, you are. Good thing your stocky shoulders and legs can support that swollen head of yers, boyo.:: She flipped her wings shut to her back, and they folded down neat and small- no Firemaker could ever guess now just how vast her wings were for her size ::But I like your arrogance, Toothless. It's quite cute. Ye have the guts to state yer own mind, and you live by yer words. And that's a great and powerful thing to admire, 'tis.

:: Oh, and by "he" I meant your Rider.::

I waited while she preened her neck with a back paw, eyes closed in pleasure. A few old scales flaked off and bounced on the stone surface. Emerald hide sparkled beneath the shed scales.

Then she smiled at me, dragon style, ::He does need ye to step back a bit. You've been a great and powerful protector for him, but this time he has to make his own steps, he does. Can ye remember what ye had to do to learn how to fly, Toothless?::

::Of course:: I snorted in affection, opening my curled up position and raising a wing so little Gracie could curl up against me and share her warmth with me on this beautiful, mist strewn evening.

::And...?:: Gracie purred softly, her golden eyes meeting my gray-green eyes.

::Every kitten knows this, Gracie. We take off. Then we fall to the ground. When we hit the ground...then... we... know... how... to.. ::

The thought settled in my mind with a thud, but not an unwelcome one. I took a breath in and blew it out softly, a plume of moist mist curling from my mouth, ::... to... fly? Oh. We People have to fall first to know how to fly.:: I ducked my head in quiet respect, ::I get the message, little lady::

::None of us could fly if our parents did not let us fall:: Gracie trilled and rubbed her head against my striped shoulder, ::Yer grand stuff, Toothless-Fire Drake. And yer Hiccup loves ye like life itself. All of us can see it. It will work out, I think. But, I just wanted to toss in me point of view. It's a fair view of the world I have, methinks, even if I live with a Viking blacksmith and the world's most stoic sheep. It makes me look like the sane one of the house, it does. And that's sayin' yards and yards.::

::Point taken, Gracie.:: Then I thumped my tail politely as we heard the thrilling trill of my People, the LIghtning People Signalers, calling in their Signalers for the night.

At one time I would have been perched on a stone on an island quite far from here, but I had learned new ways. This humble stone outside of the Birch Island village of Berk worked just fine for me. Amazingly enough, I could juggle my duties as a Bond partner and as a Signaler quite well through the winter. I did wonder, as the weather got warmer, and Viking wanderlust set in- would I be able to continue being both the First Rider's partner/diplomat to dragons/Firemakers... AND a signaler?

::Call out your positions, brothers and sisters!:: The rich, soothing voice of the Elder floated to us from her position in the Seal Islands, :: I am the Elder of the Seal Islands! All is well, here!::

::I am Firepine of Northern Iceland. All is well here:: another voice echoed

::Sandwhisper of the Hilt Islands. A night of fog,but of calm and cool. All is well:: the quiet, accented voice of the one Fury who was not from Eurasia, but rather from East Africa, called to us.

::Deepwinterwind of the Westman Islands and the Southern Iceland. I am here. Greetings to you all!::

::Hello, all! I am Cloudburst of Eysturoy, Suðuroy, Streymoy, Koltur, Hestur, Borðoy, Svínoy, Mýkines, Vágar, Skúvoy, Sandoy, Kálsoy, Fugloy, Víðoy, Stóra Dímon, Nólsoy, Tvígeyjar...::

::We get the point!:: FIrepine laughed, ::You love where you work, Cloudburst.::

::SHEEP ISLANDS ALL THE WAY!:: Cloudburst roared in joy, ::If it's not Faroese, it's crap!::

I pulled in my breath to call out my name and my island chain, the largest one of all the Signalers: Toothless of the Isles on the Edge of the Sea.

But before I could Signal my location, someone else cut over my transmission, perfectly naming my Signalling region and perfectly laying down the geography coorindates.

I let my sensors drop in confusion. I snarled, a sound echoed by all my colleagues.

Odds against odds, somehow a dragon had intercepted my original Signal stone on my far off island and was now pretending to be me.

And, whoever it was, this Person was NOT a Signaler.

How had a non Lightning Person managed to break into our network?

Hope you liked it. Let me know what you think, as always! I write weird stuff, so I am always grateful for people to give my silly ideas a try.

And I do believe weird = good, but you have to earn your readers' respect that your version of weird = good.

Anyway, the chapter subjects were inspired by Terry Pratchett's novels "Going Postal" and "Making Money." He never uses chapters in his Discworld stories, but he tried it in these two novels and decided to add funny little blurbs about what was in each chapter, imitating what some Victorian writers used to do in their novels they published chapter by chapter in magazines. (Charles Dickens anyone?) He has a funny way of doing this. I am a poor imitation, but I had fun trying the idea in this story.