Disclaimer: Regrettably, the How to Train Your Dragon universe belongs to Dreamworks and Ms. Cressida Cowell, not myself.
Author's Note: Thank you to my fabulous beta, Asian_Inkwell, and to all those who followed, favourited, and reviewed! I hope you enjoy this latest installment!
Chapter Two
Edda awoke to the smell of bacon cooking over the fire. Her stomach rumbled. Poking her head over the bannister, she assessed the situation. Her parents were huddled round the fire, eating breakfast. Part of her wanted to wait till they were gone before going down to eat, herself, but she was too hungry.
"Morning, Ed!" her father said, cheerily, as she clambered, barefoot, down the stairs.
"Morning, Pa," she yawned, "Mother." Greta nodded.
"Where's Hiccup?" Edda asked, tucking into her bacon.
"Ah," said Einar, frowning. "There's been another Scauldron attack this morning. A fishing boat, this time. Hiccup and the others have gone out to get rid of it."
"Oh dear, I wonder what's got them so upset?" Edda chewed thoughtfully on her bacon. "What about Uncle Stoick?"
"He went out early, this morning. Said he had things to do." Edda held back a snort. Anything to get away from his sister. She couldn't say she blamed him.
"That reminds me," Einar added, standing up and stretching. "He asked if you could go down to the blacksmith's and collect his axe at some point today, seeing as you're staying behind. He's just had it sharpened."
"That's fine," said Edda.
"Good girl." Her father ruffled her hair. "We'd better be off, now. The owner is expecting us at the farm by mid-morning. Ready, my dear?"
Greta heaved herself to her feet, and put her coat on. Edda joined them at the door. A horse and cart stood outside, waiting for them. She kissed them both on the cheek, and watched as they got onto the cart.
"Travel safely! Have a lovely time!" she called, waving.
With a plaintive squeak, and a rumble, the cart carried her parents off up the hill. Edda breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could go back to bed.
The sun was high in the sky when Edda awoke once more, having finally got enough sleep. Reaching for her coat and fastening it tightly, stuffing some lunch into her pockets in the form of bread and cheese, Edda stepped outside.
The morning hustle and bustle had long since started in Berk, and she drank it all in. The sea air was crisp and salty, and seagulls wheeled and screeched overhead. She followed the roads and walkways down toward the blacksmith's, ducking underneath stray dragons and dodging carts of vegetables.
Edda followed the directions given her by a friendly neighbour, and soon found the place she was looking for. A great, tall man, with a peg leg and a hammer for an arm, stood beside the forge. He seemed to be engaged in a scintillating conversation with the unremarkable-looking, white sheep at his side, so much so that Edda was almost loathe to interrupt.
"Those dastardly trolls have been at it, again, Phil. Why do you suppose they only steal my left socks?" Phil chewed his mouthful of grass. "Ah Phil, you are a fine chap. Has anybody told you that?"
Edda decided on a discreet cough. The man looked up, and smiled broadly.
"Ah, you must be Edda, Stoick's niece! You look just like your mother did at your age. I'm Gobber, pleased to meet you." Gobber stuck out his prosthetic hand for her to shake.
Edda held the well-worn hammer awkwardly and shook it up and down. Beside her, Phil bleated.
"Ah, yes, of course. Edda, this is Phil the sheep."
Edda crouched down to the sheep's eye-level. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Phil," she said solemnly, handing him a small chunk of her breakfast bread. He gobbled it down greedily, consenting to a pat on the head.
"He likes you!" Gobber bellowed happily.
Edda smiled wryly. "Most of my friends were sheep, back home."
"A fine choice in companions, my wee lass," said Gobber, "They're wonderful listeners. Well, some of them. Ah, I remember the times, when I was barely more than a boy, I would vent my broken heart to Phil's grandfather, Steve. Even when all the other sheep got bored and moved on to the next lump of grass, Steve stayed by my side. Some sheep are just better at listening than others. It runs in the blood, you know."
Edda raised a mischievous eyebrow. "And what wondrous, buxom beauty was it who broke your heart, Gobber?"
Gobber leaned in close, and cupped his hand conspiratorially around his mouth. "It was your mother," he said, in a quieter bellow than usual.
Edda's eyebrows made a break for her hairline.
"Ah, it's alright, lass. I realised the error of my ways long ago," Gobber beckoned her into the smithy, inhaling the coal smoke like some kind of rich perfume. Edda's eyes stung.
"She was never interested, anyway. I didn't really get the message at the time, though. I think it was when she pushed me off that cliff over there that it finally clicked." He waved his prosthetic arm around vaguely behind him, forcing Edda to duck out of the way.
She whistled. "That was some flaming arrowhead you missed, there."
"Ah, but she was a beauty, you see. That's all that matters when you're young." Gobber sounded wistful. "Anyway, enough about that. Here's Stoick's axe, nice and sharp again. Watch you don't slice yourself on it."
"Oof," said Edda, as Gobber dumped the great thing in her arms. It must have weighed about as much as she did.
"That's great," she strained out, "Thanks, Gobber!"
The huge man waved her off cheerfully, without noticing her struggle. Fortunately, she spied a wheelbarrow nearby, clearly used for transporting coals, and heaved Stoick's axe into that. Gobber's furnace was well stocked for the time being, and she would bring the wheelbarrow back right away.
Edda made it to the main marketplace before she had to stop and catch her breath. She wedged the wheelbarrow against a small rock for a minute and sat beside it, observing the comings and goings before her. A small commotion at a nearby wool stall caught her attention. Quite a crowd had gathered, by this point, and she could not see what was happening.
Edda made her way over, ducking under arms and legs, threading her way towards the centre. There were some compensations for being short. A tiny, elderly woman, even shorter than Edda, herself, was attempting to communicate with the seller, scratching furiously on the ground with her staff. Everyone was straining over each other, trying to decipher the marks she was making. Her staff distinguished her as the village elder, and she was, evidently, mute.
Once she got close enough to see, Edda recognised the markings instantly. It was the writings of the old language, which few people could read. Fortunately, her lack of friends, growing up, had encouraged her to read every book she could get her hands on, learning the writing of the old language so that she could read the old classics, as well.
Stepping up to the elderly woman, who was getting more and more frustrated by her failed attempts to communicate, Edda laid a gentle hand on her hunched back.
"Hi there. My name is Edda," she said, soothingly. "I can read the old language. What do you need me to say?"
The woman sighed audibly, and pointed her staff over to what must have been her first attempt. Edda valiantly ignored the imaginative swear words surrounding it, evidently from her later attempts, and concentrated on what she had written. She looked up at the harassed stall-holder, and relayed the old woman's instructions to her.
"She says she needs some pre-spun yarn to knit some new socks with. Her hands are too sore to spin the raw wool any more. Do you have any?"
The stall-holder, looking relieved, nodded her head. "How many does she want?"
The old woman held up four fingers. The stall-holder retrieved four balls of yarn from behind the stall.
"That'll be one copper piece, please, Gothi," she said.
Gothi handed over the coin, and Edda helped her put the balls of yarn in her basket. The crowds around them dispersed. Gothi smiled up at her, and scratched on the ground once more.
Edda smiled back. "You're welcome."
A flock of Terrible Terrors, presumably frightened off by the crowds, flew back down to Gothi. She greeted them happily, and tossed them some minnows, from her belt-pouch. Edda, satisfied, turned back to her wheelbarrow. It wasn't there.
A loud yell from further down the hill revealed its new location. It was hurtling down the walkway to the docks, contents and all, straight towards the sea. Men and women flung themselves to the sides of the road, away from its path. Edda broke into a run.
"No, no, no, no, nooo!" She yelled, chasing after it. She knew it was useless - she was never going to get there in time.
Just then, a loud fluttering of wings made her glance up. Gothi's Terrible Terrors were speeding ahead of her. Barely had the rogue wheelbarrow reached the curve of the walkway, when one managed to snatch up Stoick's axe. The wheelbarrow fell into the ocean with a loud splash.
Edda screeched to a stop, before gravity condemned her to the same fate. The little dragon who had grabbed the axe was wilting under its weight. The others grabbed the handle and righted him before he dropped to the floor. The flock delivered it straight into Edda's grateful arms.
"Thank you . . . so much." she said, between gasps for breath.
The dragons chirped at her before flying back to Gothi, who was standing a little way off, looking amused. Edda dragged herself and the axe back up the hill, again. She gave the old woman a rueful smile.
"Someone must have knocked it. Looks like I'll have to buy Gobber a new wheelbarrow." Gothi laughed silently. "I'd better get back to Uncle Stoick and deliver this to him. Will you be okay, now?"
The village elder nodded. Edda looked up at the Terrible Terrors gathered around her, and addressed them: "You look after Gothi, now, won't you?"
The little dragons chirped with one accord. Gothi waved goodbye, and Edda continued the long slog back up to Stoick's house. Why, oh why, did he have to build his house right at the top of the hill? Men. . .
When she finally got there, Stoick had not yet arrived back, so she left his axe on the dining table for him to find later. She fetched some lamb and vegetables from the larder, and prepared them to cook, later. She had just finished, when she heard a rush of powerful wings outside. She scrambled to the door once more. Toothless crooned a greeting.
"Edda!" Hiccup exclaimed, dismounting. "I'm so sorry we weren't here this morning. There was another Scauldron attack, did Dad tell you?"
Edda nodded. "Don't worry about it, Hiccup, it was hardly your fault. Are you all okay?"
"A little tired, that's all. This dragon was a lot more aggressive than the one that attacked your ship, yesterday. It took a lot of convincing to get him to leave." Hiccup put his hands on his back and stretched his aching muscles.
By this point, the others had joined them. Snotlout chimed in.
"Yeah, we showed that Scauldron who's boss, didn't we, Hookfang?" Hookfang huffed, a ring of smoke ascending from one nostril.
"More like, you hid behind the other side of the ship until the last possible moment," Astrid scoffed.
"The sun was in my eyes, Astrid!" Snotlout began. Astrid held up a hand.
"Let me guess. You would've blocked out the sun, but you were too busy fighting off the Scauldron on the other side of the ship."
". . . Yeah." Snotlout folded his arms. Hiccup pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed.
"It's strange," Fishlegs mused to himself. "Scauldrons are pretty aggressive, but I've never seen one so determined before."
Hiccup stroked his chin. "It was almost like he didn't care if he got hurt."
"That was one badass dragon." Tuffnut grinned.
"Yeah," said Ruffnut. "We even doused him with Zippleback gas, and he didn't flinch."
Edda wished she had some theory to put forward, but she knew far too little about Scauldrons to be of any use. Or dragons in general, for that matter. She voiced this to the gang.
"Well," said Astrid, brightly. "Why don't we help you with that?"
"Good idea, Astrid," Hiccup smiled. "We can take Edda down to the stables, introduce her to the other dragons."
Snotlout sidled up to her, and put his arm round her shoulders. "Yeah, Edda. Let me show you around."
Edda looked up into his leering face. He was pretty short from this vantage point, only an inch or so taller than her. The perfect height for her to be able to knee in the groin, in fact. She was saved from having to expend her valuable energy in this way by Hiccup, who extricated her from Snotlout's sweaty armpit and helped her climb aboard Toothless.
Flying on Toothless was another experience, altogether. Riding Stormfly was what she imagined it would be like to fly on the back of a giant bird. Toothless was as sleek and silent as a bat. Even the brief flight she experienced, before Hiccup set them down on the landing perch to the stables, was enough to give her an idea of the incredible speed and power this dragon was capable of.
On foot, Toothless transformed back into his tamer self, butting Hiccup's hand with his head and crooning. The gang led her into the stables, accompanied by their dragons.
The building led into an underground cavern system, beneath Berk. High, vaulted ceilings provided space for the kind of high-altitude nests most of the dragons were used to, in the wild. The enormous space was filled with growls and chirps, squeaks and roars - every dragon noise under the sun. It was alive.
Edda stood there with her mouth agape. Hiccup turned to his cousin and laughed.
"It's amazing, isn't it?"
Edda blinked. "'Amazing' doesn't even describe it."
The others were leading their dragons away to their respective stables. She climbed up the ladders and followed Astrid, watching as she removed Stormfly's saddle and gave her a good scratch where it had been. Stormfly buried her nose in her trough of fish and ate her fill. Satisfied, she began to preen herself.
"She spends pretty much all her time preening, don't you, girl?" Astrid smiled, leaning against the stable door. "Deadly Nadders are incredibly vain."
"Well, she is beautiful." Edda gazed at Stormfly's gleaming scales. The dragon, aware she was being admired, puffed out her chest and shook her wings.
Astrid laughed. "And she knows it!" She handed Edda a piece of chicken. "Throw her this, she loves it."
Edda tossed Stormfly the drumstick, which she caught in mid-air and wolfed down her throat. "Good girl," Edda smiled, scratching Stormfly's nose.
Fishlegs and Meatlug were in the next stall. Edda poked her head over the dividing wall. Fishlegs was throwing his Gronckle an assortment of different rocks, which she was crunching down happily.
"Your dragon eats rocks?" Edda exclaimed. Fishlegs looked up with a start, his cheeks colouring.
"Yeah. . . Um, do you want to try?"
"Sure!" Edda made her way into Meatlug's stable.
"Here," said Fishlegs, handing her a piece of sandstone. Edda tentatively offered it to Meatlug, who took it gently with her tongue. "Now, watch this!"
Fishlegs produced a feather from his belt-pouch, and proceeded to tickle Meatlug's belly with it. Grumbling in pleasure, the dragon spewed the contents of her stomach back out again. Once the molten liquid had cooled, Fishlegs picked up a pair of tongs lying nearby, and lifted it up to the light. Edda could now see that it had formed some kind of blue glass.
"I fed her cobalt before you added the sandstone," Fishlegs explained. "That's why it's blue."
"Wow!" Edda looked at the Gronckle in wonder, and laid her palm on her lumpy head. Meatlug's nostrils flared happily. "Your dragon is amazing."
Fishlegs flushed in pleasure. "She sure is. Here, give her some dragon nip, she loves it."
Edda took the proffered dragon nip from him, and held it up to Meatlug's face. The Gronckle's eyes grew wide, and she started to rub her face against it, entranced by the smell.
"I've never met a dragon who doesn't enjoy dragon nip," Fishlegs said. "Why don't you take this handful and give it to the other dragons?"
"That's awesome! Thank you, Fishlegs." Edda took the dragon nip and made her way towards the twin's stall.
"Yeeaaahhh! Bat the Nut!"
Ruffnut and Tuffnut were hanging upside down from the rafters, as Barf and Belch headbutted them from both sides. Snotlout came and stood next to her as she watched.
"That looks. . . painful," she commented, as the twins repeatedly collided in the middle.
"Eh, it's Ruff and Tuff. Pain is their thing." Snotlout crossed his arms. "Not that, you know, I don't like pain, myself," he added, hurriedly.
"Well," said Edda, ignoring his attempt to sound tough, "The twins are obviously busy. Why don't you introduce me to Hookfang?"
"Awesome! I mean, sure, follow me."
The Monstrous Nightmare was busy tucking in to his fish. Edda put a hand out to stroke his head.
"Careful!" Snotlout exclaimed. Edda retracted her hand quickly. He gave a nervous laugh. "He's, uh, a bit protective of his food."
Hookfang looked up from his fish, regarding them both with hooded eyes. Edda reached for her dragon nip, and held a stalk out to him, with some trepidation. Bending his head, the great dragon buried his nose in the plant. Encouraged, she gently rubbed his face with it. Hookfang flopped to the floor with a blissful huff of smoke.
"He likes you!" Snotlout beamed. She grinned back at him. Unfortunately, he took this as encouragement to put his arm around her once again. Edda glared at him until he removed it.
"So," she said, carrying on as normal. "What can Hookfang do?"
"Hookfang is the coolest dragon out there," Snotlout smirked. "He can set his whole body on fire! Hookfang, fire up!"
Hookfang ignored him, continuing to tuck into his fish. Snotlout gave another nervous laugh. "He doesn't normally do this. Hookfang!"
Hookfang glanced up, and huffed a lazy ring of smoke at his rider. Edda laughed. "Maybe next time, hey, boy?"
"Stupid dragon," she heard Snotlout mutter under his breath.
The others joined them, having seen to their dragons. Hiccup laughed. "Not in the mood, huh, Hookfang?"
"Nope," said Edda, deciding to change the subject. "Hey, it's nearly dinner-time! You guys must be starving!"
"We are!" Astrid declared. Fishlegs' stomach rumbled in agreement. Embarrassed, he wrapped his arms around his belly and looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
"Thanks for showing me around, everyone." Edda beamed round at the gang. "I suppose we'd all better head back for dinner, now."
"Yeah," said Tuffnut. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a dragon!" One of their dragon heads extended its long neck over its stable door to look at him. "Not you, Belch. Probably Meatlug or something."
"You leave my baby girl alone!" Fishlegs put his hands on his hips, menacingly. Astrid placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Fishlegs, he was just joking. Right, Tuff?"
"Hmm," Tuffnut considered. "No, not really."
Astrid covered her eyes with the palm of her hand. Fishlegs edged toward Meatlug, protectively.
"You're coming home with me, tonight, girl," he said, glaring pointedly at Tuffnut.
Hiccup sighed. "Come on then, bud," he called to Toothless. "Let's go home."
With a friendly growl and a wave, Hiccup and Edda took off. Nearing the house, Edda's heart sunk as she saw the horse and cart outside. Her parents were home.
She edged the door open, experimentally. Greta, Einar, and Stoick were sat around the dinner table, tucking into their meat. Toothless slunk by Greta, to his corner under the stairs. Her mother eyed him with suspicion, but didn't say anything. In fact, she seemed to be in a fairly good mood. Stoick certainly looked a little more relaxed than he had been before. Hiccup, sensing it was safe, followed her inside.
"Hello, you two!" said Einar, cheerily. "Where have you been?"
Edda chose her words carefully, aware that her mother was listening. "Hiccup's been showing me around. So, how was the farm?"
Her father grinned. "It was great!" he bellowed, in the too-loud voice he used after a flagon of mead, or two. "It's all ready, just like the owner promised. We'll be moving in tomorrow, as arranged."
Edda pulled out a chair for herself, trying desperately to ignore the sickening lurch her heart gave at his words. She stared at the plate in front of her. Suddenly, she didn't feel hungry.
"Th-that's fantastic!" she managed to force out. Hiccup sensed her distress.
"I'm so glad for you, Uncle. Lurch has always made good profits from that farm. He's retiring comfortably in his own house in Berk, now."
Einar murmured in agreement, busy stuffing lamb into his face. Her mother was silent. It was a good sign. She only opened her mouth when she wanted to complain.
"How's your day been, Uncle?" Edda asked, having finally managed to masticate her food enough to swallow it.
Stoick heaved a sigh. "Difficult, thanks to those blasted Scauldrons. If they carry on like this, we'll be facing a fish shortage."
Edda murmured in sympathy. She wasn't particularly keen on fish, herself, but it was a staple for Vikings and dragons alike. Berk depended on them.
"Not to mention, with Hiccup and the riders kept busy, there's no one to see to the stables." Stoick laid his great head in his hand.
"I'm sorry, Dad," said Hiccup. "Toothless and I would help with the stables, but we're already spending most of the day dealing with the rogue dragons."
Stoick laid a hand on his son's arm. "It's okay, Hiccup. We know you're doing everything you can."
Wheels turned in Edda's head. Stoick needed someone to look after the stables? What if she volunteered? He seemed desperate enough to be willing to defy his sister. Maybe she could stay in Berk, after all?
These thoughts consumed her throughout the rest of the meal, and long after everyone else had gone to bed. Edda sighed in exasperation. There was nothing she could do till morning. She might as well get up and do something productive instead of lying there, worrying. Something Hiccup had said to her in one of his letters came to mind. Didn't he say they kept a dragon manual in the Great Hall?
Edda rose and put on her father's coat. It was too big for her, but this only meant that it covered her down to the knees and was even warmer than her own. Slipping on her boots, she ventured out into the cold night air, closing the door quietly behind her. Braziers were still lit outside the Great Hall, guiding her way. Creaking open the huge doors, she was relieved to discover that the embers were still burning in both the enormous firepits inside.
She took some firewood from the pile that lined the inner walls, and carefully stoked the embers back into healthy flames. Taking a burning stick, she lit herself a candle and went looking for the dragon manual.
She did not have to look for long. It lay, in pride of place, at the head of the long table, where Stoick usually sat. Edda read the runes on the cover, and stroked it reverently.
"The Book of Dragons," she whispered.
She took it gingerly back to her spot, and opened the cover. It was as if a whole new world had been opened up before her. She lost all track of time as she pored over its pages, discovering dragon after dragon, island after island. It was only after she could no longer keep her eyes focused on what she was reading that she finally gave in, and made her way back to the house.
Dragging her feet past the brazier, she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. About to dismiss it as the imaginings of her over-tired brain, she spotted it again. A pair of hypnotising, yellow eyes gazed back at her, illuminated by the flames. Squinting past them, she made out a red, stalk-like tendril unfurling on the ground beside the brazier. A Changewing. She had just been reading about them.
Cautiously, all too aware of the potent acid-spitting she had just read about, Edda reached a hand into her belt-pouch. She knew she had some dragon nip left from earlier. Figuring the skittish dragon wouldn't come any closer, she laid it on the ground next to her, and walked away.
Resisting the urge to turn back and look, she reached the doorway of Stoick's house before she allowed herself a peek. The Changewing was rolling around in the light of the brazier, enjoying her gift. She watched as it scampered off into the night.
Edda sneaked back in to the house and settled into bed. She was fast asleep before her head even hit the pillow.