Little something I wrote when I was bored at work. I know it's common to phonetically write out Gobber's language, but I just finished reading Cold Comfort Farm and am presently terrified to write out accents and dialects from fear of being mocked in a classic.
"It's a curse," was Gobber's new statement. He muttered it, not particularly often nor to any questionable level of obsession. But it was there, and it was repeated more than once.
Hiccup generally tried to ignore it. As much as he liked Gobber, he had always been aware –nay, firmly told by his father—that Gobber could at times be a little… off. So unless a phrase was directed specifically at him or his own curiosity could not be shaken away, Hiccup's first tactic was to ignore Gobber.
Though the accurate counting was not so many weeks since what the tribe in true Viking fashion now referred to as "that awesome dragon incident" it seemed to Hiccup an entire lifetime or—even more strange—just an incident in a normal life. Despite more than a few training troubles the dragons had become an accepted part of Berk life. He had happily adjusted to the idea of a semblance of a girlfriend, whatever that was. He and his dad were talking less infrequently. Indeed, life was what it was, the pushing on of things, accepting events as they came.
His biggest reminder of that day was his foot, or lack thereof. It was a shock he had made himself take in stride with a few mental reminder that what was done was done, no sense in complaining or pitying himself. In a way, it was kind of cool, a permanent battle scar of a hero. Hiccup was not the type to brag, but even so it felt neat to know it was the price for heroism. He figured he was adjusting well; walking was still a bit awkward, but again, what could be done?
As the days quickly returned to normalcy and Hiccup returned to the welcome drudgery of the forge Gobber now and then boasted of his skill and had even complimented Hiccup on his tweaks. "Have to see what needs adjusting before it can be adjusted!" Gobber would say, not offended by Hiccup's adjustments.
But then came the occasional mutterings. The curse. And Hiccup did what he was trained to do and tried to ignore them. Yet things were added. Subtle glances at Hiccup, periods of solemn staring-into-space.
It was not the one-time mention of madness. And one day, Hiccup let go of his better judgment and asked "What curse?"
Gobber sighed deeply and shook his head, his eyes focused intently on his work. His attitude only made the dim light grimmer and with the faint light of the smoking coals Hiccup could very well believe there was a curse. "I can't tell you, lad. I just can't. You weren't meant to hear me, anyway. My own fault."
"But you keep talking about it," Hiccup ventured. "It's almost like you want me to hear it."
"And why in the name of Thor would I want you to hear such dark things?" Gobber asked. "You've work to do, you've missed so much work time as it is with your poor excuse of being unconscious and all."
Hiccup almost considered returning to his work. He was making something semi-cool. An axe. Axes were pretty neat.
But just as he was ready to turn away his attention Gobber sighed again and mumbled something about that curse.
"Gobber, just tell me. It's a curse. You can't keep stuff like that in secret."
"It's the purposes of curses, Hiccup. They should be secret."
Hiccup just smiled. "I think you want to tell me."
This sigh was more dramatic than the others, one intent on one final show before getting to business. "I know I'll regret this. I know shouldn't speak of it. You can't say I didn't warn you."
"Well, if you don't' want to tell me…"
"You'll find out sooner or later. Best it come from me. It's that leg of yours." He gestured solemnly at Hiccup with his hook. "I should have expected it. I should have seen it coming."
"You should have expected I would have fallen off a dragon?" Hiccup asked incredulously.
"Well, not the specifics, of course. That's just plain crazy!" Gobber settled back onto a stool and appeared quite comfortable. "But the fact that you would lose your foot. It just… happens to blacksmiths around here. No fighting it, I'm afraid. For two hundred years it's been the curse of all blacksmiths in Berk."
True interest replaced curiosity, and Hiccup turned his eyes from the axe blade. "Really? I didn't know of any."
"Before your time, of course. I'm an obvious case, but I'm far from the first. Before me, there was Ulga, the fourth female blacksmith in the village. She lost her pinkie. The pinkie of her left hand. Accidentally sliced it off when chopping vegetables for supper."
"That's not all that interesting…" Hiccup began.
"Aye, but there's more! There was Raunchbreath the Eigth! He lost both legs!"
That was pretty impressive. "How did that happen ?"
"Some disease or another. Infection spread. It happens. He was 98 and wasn't up to moving much anyway at the time. Died a month later when his roof collapsed. But Kavin the Whimsical, he was a blacksmith about a century back. His hand was bitten off by a dragon, just like mine. It happens. More than you'd think. And both of his ears were snapped off by Terrible Terrors. At the same time!"
"Um, these just sound like unfortunate tragedies," Hiccup said. "I don't see how there's a curse involved."
Gobber's face, which had been momentarily gleeful with storytelling, sobered once more. "It was centuries ago. An Outcast pirate washed up on the shores. He decided he would stay on Berk and plow a bit, don't ask me where, but the blind blacksmith at the time, Old No-Eyes, was obviously unable to make him one. Or anything for anyone, for that matter. So the Outcast mumbled something at him in Outcastese. What else could it have been but a curse?"
Somehow Hiccup didn't quite believe any of that. "It just sounds like coincidences. Has every blacksmith lost a limb?"
"Well… no. But lots have."
"Right. Yeah, I don't think there's a curse. I think I'll work on my axe head now."
But he had left it too long. The metal burst a bubble, and a bit of rock exploded, nearly hitting Hiccup's fingers.
Hiccup looked back at Gobber, mouth open.
"The curse," Gobber mumbled. "You just can't escape it."
The End