There could be no graves, not here. What little ground didn't freeze was needed for farming or grazing. For the famous and the powerful a crypt would be built, either hewn from the ground, or converted natural caves. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third had not been a famous hero. He had no crypt, and he had not had a pyre – what would have been the point? His disappearance had been noticed by few, and he had been mourned by fewer.
And yet, someone had. Here, on a rocky bluff overlooking the ocean, there was a small, simple monument. No more than an elaborate cairn, with a plaque of polished granite inscribed with his name. It wasn't much, but it was all they had.
Spiderwebs of light flashed across the darkened sky, too quickly to illuminate anything. The rain was torrential, as though the divide between sea and sky had ceased to exist. Njörðr was raging, the wind an almost solid force. Whole tribes trembled at their hearths as the Gods danced and clashed, shaking the earth with their power. Not even madmen would be outside in this.
These thoughts flashing through his head, he adjusted his grip and crouched lower in the saddle. 'You ready bud?' he asked and got a slap from an ear. 'Of course you are' he said with a laugh, 'Nothing scares you does it? Well, here goes!' Clicking his foot into place, they reached the end of the island, and flew out into the teeth of the gale.
Lightning crashed around them, the sea was reaching for them and the wind would have ripped the wings of a lesser dragon. Exultation began to rise in his breast, and ripped a scream of primal joy from his lips. Lesser men and dragons might struggle, but he was on a Night Fury! The greatest of dragons! When they flew like this, they could dance with the gods themselves. A click of the gears, and they rolled underneath and through a curling wave and shot into the sky. With the wind behind them and the legendary speed of the Night Fury, nothing could touch them, nothing could even come close! Another gear change, and suddenly they were flying through a maze of sea stacks, almost too fast for the eye to follow. They were perfectly synchronised now, working together on pure instinct and adrenaline. Pulling up, they shot over an island, passing it by so fast they barely noticed the flickering lights of a town. Crouching lower, and changing gears again, he looked at his companion. 'Wanna go for it?' A warble of agreement later, and they were shooting for the anvil shaped thundercloud above.
The thunder claps were shaking their very bones, sparks were crawling along every bit of metal, and they were flying like they had never had to fly before. 'Click'. They rolled left, a bolt of lightning inches away from his face. 'Click'. A back-loop, missing another two bolts. 'Click'. Another roll. 'Click'. The bolts were getting closer, the moves more desperate, and the intervals shorter and shorter and then…
Gobber the Belch was a smith, and a good one. There wasn't much that he didn't know, or so the village seemed to think. He sighed, looked at the weapon in his hand and turned to the young warrior in his doorway.
'Ah'm sorry Astrid, there's not much ah can do.'
'But you made it! Why can't you fix it?' she cried. There was something… odd about the tone of her voice, something that just didn't seem like Astrid. He'd figure it out sooner or later, but for now…
'You think ah made this? This is beyond me, haven't got the hands f'r it.' he said, raising a bushy eyebrow at her. '
This is one o' Hiccups. See the fine detail on the edging, and the balance? That's why he always did the special order stuff.' Gobber turned back to the anvil.
'Ah can probably do summat t'mak it useable again, but it'll never be the same'
'Oh' she said, in a small and completely un-Astrid way. Taking pity on her, he took it out of her hands.
'Look lass, I know it's important to ye, so ah'll do my best with it, make it look good as new, and ye can hang it on yer wall. Ah'll make ye another axe, this was getting a bit small for ye anyway. Now go on, off with ye. Can't stand around yammerin all day wit ye, you've got recruits tah train.'
'Thanks Gobber, I mean it', she called over her shoulder, already making her way over to the arena. He sighed again, and looked at the axe. 'Ah Hiccup, why'd you have to go and leave this old man in the forge by himself?'
