Warning: Blood, Violence, and Swearing
Chapter Two
"Fire Elves"
Crouching on the window seat, Jack presses his nose against the glass and gazes outside. Autumn has arrived, meaning most of the leaves have fallen from the trees, and the sky is gray, indicating oncoming rain. He briefly considers turning the tide of the weather, but he shoots down the idea, knowing he should wait until November to bring snow to Burgess. He doesn't want to spoil the fun of Halloween, after all.
"What's your costume gonna be this year, Jamie?" Jack asks, spinning around to face his friend. The younger boy looks up from his notebook, eyes brightening.
"Zindagi!" Jamie exclaims, pointing to his Rainbow Quest IX poster. Jack glances at the picture of superhero characters and scratches his head.
"Which one is that again?" He can never remember, no matter how many times the kid tells him. Jack just doesn't understand the whole video game thing.
"He's the main character, Jack!" Jamie huffs, clearly irritated about having to repeat himself.
"Right. I knew that," Jack replies, but his friend doesn't look convinced. Jamie shakes his head, and all traces of annoyances disappear from his face.
"I've already started on my costume! I got my cape, but I still have to make my helmet." Jamie's enthusiasm permeates the air, and Jack can't help but grin. He loves spending time with the younger boy. His excitement is contagious, and he's always ready for adventure.
"Do you wanna go do something fun?" Jack suggests out of the blue, overcome with the desire to bring a smile to his friend's face. Jamie's shoulders slump.
"I don't know… I have to finish my homework first," he answers, sounding defeated.
Jack's eyebrows furrow. "I thought only older kids had homework."
Jamie shakes his head. "I'm in middle school now, so I have to do math every day." He sighs dramatically, glaring at his notebook and calculator.
"Sounds boring." Jack wrinkles his nose in disapproval. School takes too much fun away from children. "Are you sure you have to do it?"
The younger boy nods, somber, and Jack pouts. Jamie's childhood isn't going to last forever, and the kid shouldn't waste his time on something as useless as schoolwork.
"We can play when I'm finished," his friend promises, and Jack perks up. He likes the sound of that plan. He nods eagerly, and Jamie returns to his task.
Jack rises from his squat and plops down on the bed, lying on his stomach. Resting his head in his palms, he watches the younger boy gnaw on a pencil. Jamie is such a smart kid—and a good one, too. He keeps his room tidy so his hardworking mother doesn't have to clean for him, he looks after his little sister, and he treats everyone with kindness. Even before Jamie believed in him, Jack was fond of the kid. He would often instigate snowball fights with the younger boy, and they were always tons of fun, despite his invisibility. He felt affection toward the Bennett children even then, and he's eternally grateful they can see him now.
Minutes pass, and Jack begins to grow impatient. He stretches out on the quilt, counting the glow star stickers on the ceiling. His eyes dart around the room, observing every change since his last visit. Another drawing of himself has been added to the corkboard, the stack of library books has grown taller, and the cardboard castle has finished being painted. Soon enough, Jack runs out of things to distract himself with. He huffs and glances at Jamie again, only to find the younger boy counting his fingers.
"What are you doing?" Jack asks, shifting and accidentally knocking a few stuffed animals off the bed.
"Multiplication," Jamie answers, not looking up. "Do you know what twelve times four is?"
"Uh… I have no idea what that means," Jack replies. What do twelve and four have to do with time? What are they teaching kids these days? "Are you almost finished?"
"Almost." Jamie scratches a number onto his paper and then presses buttons on his calculator. Jack frowns, fidgeting. He can only sit still for so long.
"How 'bout now?"
"Not yet."
Jack groans loudly, rolling over on the mattress and throwing his hands in the air. "This is so boring!"
"Jack?"
"What?" he whines, exasperated. He doesn't think he can wait another second before exploding.
"I'm done," Jamie snickers, and Jack immediately jumps off the bed.
"Finally!" he exclaims, grabbing his staff and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Let's go! I know it's sort of early for snow, but maybe I could still freeze the park…" He ponders the idea, looking to his friend for advice. "Do you think anyone would mind?"
"I think they might," Jamie chuckles, shaking his head as if the plan is ridiculous. "We can do fun things that don't involve snow."
Jack's interest is piqued by the suggestion. "Like what?"
Jamie shrugs. "Well, we could make a leaf pile, or play tag or something."
Jack beams. He likes tag. "We can do both!" he decides, and a gust of air throws the window open. Jamie tugs on his jacket, gloves, and cap before hopping onto his back and wrapping his arms around his neck. Hooking his elbows under the younger boy's knees, Jack looks to him for confirmation. "Ready?"
"Onward!" Jamie hollers, pointing to the sky. Jack laughs, leaping out the window. The wind catches them and carries them down the street. The flight to the park is brief, lasting about only five minutes, but Jamie cheers the entire time.
As soon as Jack's toes brush the grass, Jamie jumps off his back and starts sprinting down the hill. "You're it!"
A mischievous smirk curls his lips, and Jack shakes his head, racing after his friend. He doesn't cheat—for once—and runs instead of flying; nonetheless, he catches up to Jamie in seconds. He yanks on the collar of the kid's jacket, yelling in triumph, "Got'cha!"
Before Jamie can tag him back, Jack takes off through the park. He leaps over a bench and weaves through dog-walking pedestrians, all the while managing not to pass through anyone. He keeps his pace reasonable, though, so the game is fair for his friend. After a quick glance over his shoulder, he can tell that Jamie has no problem keeping up. Before the younger boy can exhaust himself, Jack slows down just enough for the kid to reach him. Jamie takes advantage of the opportunity and lunges for his legs; Jack trips and falls flat on his face, eating a mouthful of dry grass.
"You're it!" Jamie giggles and crawls over him, but Jack won't let him get away. He snatches his friend's ankle and returns the favor, smirking when Jamie lands with a thud. The younger boy rolls over, groaning.
"You okay, kiddo?" Jack chuckles, and his friend's whines grow louder. "You giving up already?"
"Never!" Jamie declares, raising a limp fist in the air.
"Oh really?" Jack grins devilishly as an idea pops into his brain. "You sure about that?"
Before Jamie has a chance to respond, Jack pounces on him. He assaults his sides with feather light touches, and Jamie giggles. Squirming, he tries to ward off the tickle attack, but Jack shows no mercy.
"I surrender! I surrender! You win!" Jamie squeals, and Jack finally releases him. He sits up, a bright smile on his face. Elation flows through his veins. His lives for moments like these.
"Are you okay, sweetie?"
Jack turns in the direction of the voice, and his smile fades. A middle-aged woman lingers on the edge of the green, eyeing Jamie with concern. The kid sits up, still struggling to catch his breath, and nods.
"What are you doing?" she inquires, and Jack frowns, wanting her to hurry up and go away. She should just mind her own business.
Jamie's eyes flicker in his direction, wary. "Playing."
"But where are your friends, dear?"
Jack grabs his staff and rises to his feet. He isn't willing to put up with this nosy woman any longer. He glances down at his friend, forcing a smile. "Hey, Jamie, you said you wanted to make a leaf pile, right?"
The younger boy blinks at him. The fact that he can't respond to him when adults are around makes Jack's heart ache.
"I don't think we should leave your friends out of the fun. Let's head back to your house and play there, okay?" Jack's grin grows more convincing the longer he speaks, and thankfully, the kid doesn't seem to have caught onto his change in mood.
"They went that way." Jamie points toward the woods and stands up. "I'm gonna go catch up to them. Nice meeting you!"
Jamie spins around, and they start toward the trees. Once they're out of earshot, Jamie starts explaining his plan for the awesome leaf pile they're going to build. Jack does an excellent job of sounding as chipper as ever, but the skip in his step is gone. He hates being reminded of how Jamie is one of the only people who can see him. When they're alone together, he can forget about his invisibility, but when other people inevitably show up and spoil the fun, he has to face the fact that Jamie is all he has.
Soon they reach the edge of the forest, and Jack snaps out of his melancholy thoughts. Jamie climbs onto his back, and they fly home.
After spending the remainder of the afternoon with his believers, Jack leaves to spread snow to the cold places of the world. Even though autumn is still in full swing, certain parts of the Northern Hemisphere already demand winter. He brings heavy clouds with him as he flies over Northern Canada, Alaska, Russia, and Scandinavia, covering the land with white.
Jack finishes his work in a certain archipelago in Northern Norway and makes time to decorate a special little girl's window with beautiful frost patterns. He doesn't attempt to reach out to Kari; seeing her sleeping soundly in her bed is enough to give him peace of mind. Even though she's going to stop believing in him soon, she's still one of the only children who've ever been able to see him. He wants to make sure she's doing okay.
Afterward, Jack considers flying all the way back to Burgess, but he can't stop yawning. He hasn't slept in almost two weeks, and after spreading snowfall and cheer, he's spent. Jack wanders through the small cluster of islands, searching for a somewhat safe, secluded place to nap. He votes against dozing off on the wilderness—there could be more dangerous things than trolls prowling those woods—so he sticks close to the small towns populating the archipelago.
Jack wanders into a primary school playground and gives up. His eyelids are starting to droop, and he can't hold off sleep much longer. He crawls inside of a plastic tube slide, pulls his hoodie over his eyes, and then cradles his staff to his chest, thinking of Jamie. His first believer is in middle school now. He's growing up, and he's gotten past the age where playing with imaginary friends is considered normal. Jack doesn't want people to make fun of Jamie or call him crazy because of his belief. Maybe he should keep his distance like the Guardians suggested. Jack squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn't like thinking those thoughts, but they rear their heads every once in a while. He sighs, shifting until he feels more comfortable, and then nods off.
"Can you read this?" Samuel asks, pointing to the bolded block of text. Jack squints and leans forward so he can see better.
He reads slowly with long pauses, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever believes in him shall not…" Jack's eyebrows furrow, and his lips move experimentally as he tries to figure out how to say a word he's only ever heard in church.
"Perish," Samuel provides, and Jack nods.
"Perish but have…" Jack huffs, frustrated with himself. He should know this one.
"Eternal life." Samuel is calm and unhurried. He never grows impatient with Jack, somehow, which makes him the most qualified tutor in the entire village.
"Eternal life!" Jack finishes triumphantly, beaming at his friend. Samuel offers a small smile in return.
"You're getting better."
"I know," Jack smirks, reclining against the side of the schoolhouse. "Soon enough I'll be a master of this reading thing." He snakes a hand behind Samuel's shoulder and tugs on his black ribbon, undoing his bow. Long red hair curtains around his freckled cheeks, and a disapproving expression clouds his face. "I'll be so smart, I won't even have to go to school!"
Samuel arches an eyebrow and flips through their learner, searching for another passage. "I doubt that. You still have to go to school no matter how well you can read."
Jack frowns. "That's not fair."
He only pays attention to Samuel when they study during recess because he wants to hurry up and finish his education. He hates school. There's no place on Earth more boring than their classroom and no woman alive more dull than their teacher, Miss Whitney. She's very pretty, but her monotonous voice coupled with her banal personality result in some insufferable teaching. Samuel always chastises Jack whenever he complains about her, but, really, how could anyone blame him when she makes school so unbearable?
"Life isn't fair," Samuel states, and Jack glares at him. He opens his mouth to dish out a witty comeback, but loud wailing fills the air and makes him pause.
"Who do you think…?" Samuel begins to ponder, but Jack is already on his feet. He runs around the corner of the building, and his gaze lands on his crying little sister; she's sitting on the patch of dirt the kids use for hopscotch, clutching her knee. Jack rushes toward her, and the girls standing in his way move aside.
"What's wrong, Flee?" Jack asks, crouching down beside her. She sniffles and looks up at him with teary eyes.
"They pushed me."
"We did not!" one girl defends. Jack shoots her a threatening glare, and she promptly shuts her mouth. Returning his attention to his sister, he pries her hand away from her kneecap. The skin is scraped up, but she isn't seriously injured.
"It's not too bad." Jack kisses the scratches, and she smiles faintly. "Let's go wash this, okay?"
She nods, wiping her nose with her sleeve, and takes his hand. He helps her up and leads her to the well, ignoring the little girls whispering viciously behind their backs. They walk behind the schoolhouse, and Jack fills up a bucket of cold water, cupping his hands and pouring some onto her knee.
"That's better," he soothes, and she smiles at him.
"Thanks, Jack."
The satisfaction of successfully alleviating his sister's pain swells within him. He always tries his best to be a good big brother, and moments like these make him feel as if he's doing an alright job.
"Anything for you."
"There he is!"
Jack stirs at the angry shout, blinking slowly and rubbing his heavy eyelids. Before he has time to fully wake up, someone yanks on his ankle, dragging him out of the slide with one harsh tug. Jack plops onto the ground, landing on his back, and he quickly props himself up on his elbows, squinting against the daylight. A shape steps forward, blocking out the rising sun, and his eyes adjust until he can make out a trio of livid summer spirits looming above him.
"It was you, wasn't it?"
Jack tightens his grip on his staff and glares at the spirits. He doesn't recognize them, but he has clearly pissed them off somehow. He doesn't have a clue as to why: he hasn't pulled any attention-seeking stunts in a few months.
"What?" Jack snaps, and the one standing in the center—the one who's been doing all the talking—bristles.
"You made it snow, didn't you?" he accuses, jabbing a finger in his face. Jack's eyes narrow.
"Yeah, so what?" He doesn't get what their problem is. It's not like he created a blizzard in the tropics.
"It's October!" Outrage is evident in his booming voice. "You shouldn't be here!"
Jack raises his eyebrows. "We're above the Arctic Circle. It's cold here almost all year round." Snow in autumn isn't anything out of the ordinary, so these guys have no valid reason to hunt him down and chase him off. "If anyone has a right to be here, it's me."
The spirit glowers at him, stalking forward; he looks personally offended.
"You mouthy little shit," he growls, grabbing the front of his hoodie. Alarmed, Jack whacks him over the head with his staff, and the spirit drops him. He scrambles to his feet, blasting the other two with a wave of ice before they can pounce. The wind scoops him up, but he doesn't make it very far before a wave of fire blows just above his head. Jack yelps as the flame singes his hair, and he ducks in order to avoid being scorched. One of them seizes his ankle and slams him down into the slush. A boot stomps on his wrist, crunching his hand until his fingers uncurl and release his staff. One of the spirits pulls him up by his hood, and he meets the fuming gaze of their bellwether before a fist collides with his face. His head snaps back, and stars dance before his eyes.
"You're not coming back here, got it? No one wants you around—you or your godawful season." He draws his arm back, preparing for another hit, but Jack catches his fist. Ice crackles as it spreads across his tanned skin, and he howls in pain.
"Whoa," Jack murmurs, eyes widening. He didn't know he could do that. Granted, no one has ever punched him in the face before. Before he can snap out of his surprised stupor, the other two spirits wrench his arms behind his back, restraining him.
"Reykr, you okay?" one of them asks, and the spirit hisses in pain, clutching his frosted hand.
"What the fuck does it look like, Bruni?!" he bellows. He lifts his head, steam practically blowing from his ears, and shoots daggers at Jack.
"You're gonna pay for that!" Amber eyes blazing, he grabs Jack by the collar of his hoodie with his stiff, blackened hand, yanking him out of the others' hold. The rising temperature of Reykr's skin blisters Jack's fingers as he claws at his wrists, struggling to break free.
"Wait!" he protests, but Reykr strikes him with his uninjured fist. He keeps on hitting him, and he doesn't stop. Jack raises his arms to shield himself, but Reykr swats them away. He grimaces upon hearing a sickening crack, and blood spurts from his nose. His eyes seal shut, pained cries escaping his lips, and his legs give out. His head starts throbbing, and Reykr's stream of curses grows fainter as pain pushes to the forefront of his consciousness.
"Reykr!" a voice hollers, "Leave him alone!"
The onslaught pauses, and Jack cracks open his swollen eyes. His head lolls to the side, and his gaze lands on the newcomer: a blurry figure with black wings.
"How 'bout you mind your own business, Haddock?" Reykr snaps, panting heavily.
"He's had enough. I'm sure you've gotten your point across. Just let him go." Jack's eyebrows furrow in concentration as he tries to identify the speaker. He recognizes the voice, but his hazy mind can't supply a name.
"No! Look at what the little shit did to my hand!" Reykr shakes him, and his aching head rattles on his shoulders.
"You probably deserved it," the winged arrival counters, and realization dawns on Jack. It's the dragon boy, Hiccup.
"What did you just say to me?!" Reykr growls, tightening his grip on Jack's hoodie.
"If you don't leave right this second, I will go straight to Eldar," Hiccup threatens.
One of the other spirits—Bruni—snorts. "You're bluffing."
"I'm not." Hiccup warns. "Can't have you guys beating up innocent winter spirits, can he? Especially in late autumn, of all things."
"He ain't innocent!" Reykr shouts.
"You're twice his size, and—" Hiccup counts the spirits who are now gaping at him. "Three against one? Doesn't seem very fair to me. I'm sure Eldar will come to the same conclusion."
"You wouldn't dare." Reykr's voice quivers.
"Pretty sure I would."
Reykr drops him, and Jack collapses in a heap. Wood chips dig into his cheek, but he doesn't move.
"Fuck you, Haddock," Reykr spits, and then he storms off with his entourage in tow. Jack watches through fluttering eyelashes as they stomp away, sighing in relief when they disappear into the forest. He takes a deep breath, and then, despite his throbbing temple, presses his palms against the ground, pushing himself up.
A hand rests on his shoulder, and he flinches. "Don't touch me."
"Let me help you," Hiccup offers. Jack shrugs him off.
"Go away!" he snaps, rising to his feet. "I don't need help."
His wobbling legs give out before he can fully stand, but Hiccup catches him before he can fall. "Whoa there. C'mon, sit down for a second, buddy."
Grumbling incoherent protests, he allows Hiccup to guide him down into a sitting position. Sniffling, he wipes blood from his chin. Hiccup rests his hand on the back of his neck, tilting his head forward. Guiding his fingers to his nose, he instructs, "Pinch here. It'll stop the bleeding."
Jack actually listens—for once. He blames his uncharacteristic compliance on his dazed state. After a few minutes, his nose stops dripping. He lifts his head and searches the playground for his staff.
"Where's my—?"
"Here, I got it," Hiccup interjects, pressing the familiar wood into his hand. Jack rips his shepherd's crook out of the spirit's loose grip, clutching his weapon to his chest.
Hiccup averts his eyes, embarrassed, and runs a hand through his hair, mumbling, "Sorry, I just thought I'd go ahead and get it for you since you're a little punch drunk right now."
"I'm fine." Jack notices how his words are slurring together, and he makes a face. Okay, so maybe he isn't in perfect condition. Hiccup chuckles, an awkward smile gracing his lips. Jack narrows his eyes, unamused, and the spirit's laughter trails off. Hiccup shifts from crouching to sitting in the slush, smearing his green cargo pants with mud, and scoots closer, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
"You've got a black eye, and your nose is crooked." Hiccup pokes the violet bruise, and Jack yelps in pain. "Definitely broken."
"Don't touch it!" Jack hisses, swatting his hand away.
"I'm gonna have to set it so it doesn't heal wrong," he concludes, reaching for his face.
"What?" Jack's eyes widen in alarm, and he shrinks away from the touch. Hiccup pauses, the pads of his fingers ghosting against his cheeks.
"Trust me," he reassures gently, but Jack is still tense. "I scared them off, didn't I?"
"You did," he concedes, unsure. Hiccup smiles softly.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," he guarantees, and when he moves to align his hands, Jack doesn't stop him. Calloused skin molds around the curves of his nose, and Jack barely has enough time to get a grip on Hiccup's forearms before he sets the broken bone. It's only takes a second, but it hurts. Jack gasps, digging his fingernails into the spirit's sleeves as he squeezes tightly.
"You okay?" Hiccup asks, and Jack nods wordlessly. "The kids will be outside for recess soon. We should move."
Jack frowns. He doesn't want to be walked through; he doesn't think he can handle any more pain. He loosens his grip on the spirit's arms, collecting his staff and gritting his teeth as he tries to climb to his feet. Hiccup doesn't give him the chance to stand on his own, helping him up before he can object. His arms encircle Jack's waist, steadying him as the world spins. His ears are ringing, and he's never felt this dizzy—or this shitty—in his entire life.
"Jack?" Hiccup asks, and when he doesn't respond, he repeats his name in a worried tone. Jack leans against him for support, vision blackening around the edges. He just needs a minute for the dizziness to fade. Yeah, just a minute.
Jack's eyes close, and he slips into unconsciousness.
Falling to his knees, he glares back at a face full of hatred. Pain throbs through his entire being, and his light flickers.
Despite the screaming and the menacing sword, the children standing behind him don't cower. He isn't afraid, and his lack of fear strengthens them.
His eyes harden as the the tip of the spear pointed in his face drips midnight onto his nose. Refusing to shrink away, he opens his mouth and uses his voice for the first time since before he fell, yelling, "We fear you none!"
As soon as he speaks, pure rage twists the face of his enemy. He's never seen such intense loathing contort someone's features in such a way. He still isn't scared, though. He refuses to feel even a shred of terror.
He lunges at his adversary, and his own spear is thrown back at him. The blow comes, and his world explodes in a blinding white flash.
Jack jerks awake, gasping, and his eyes dart around in panic. He doesn't recognize his surroundings: jagged cave walls bathed in soft firelight, a plethora of painting canvases, and handcrafted wooden furniture. His head is resting on a fluffy pillow, and a thick quilt is draped across his body. His fingers tighten around his staff, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
"Are you feeling any better?"
Startled, Jack sits up. Hiccup is sitting on a stool, gazing at him with concern. Jack blinks, remembering being attacked and then saved by the winged spirit. He reaches a hand up to his face and hardly feels any pain when he touches his nose.
"Wow," he marvels, stroking the taped gauze. He's never really appreciated his extraordinary healing ability until now.
"The swelling has gone down a lot," Hiccup observes, scooting closer to the bed, awe shimmering in his irises. "You should be completely fine in a few days."
Jack doesn't respond even though the news is good to hear. He can't even begin to describe how weird he feels about sleeping for who knows how long in someone else's home—in someone else's bed. If he wasn't so dazed when Hiccup offered to help him, he would've refused.
Hiccup reaches to grab a ceramic mug off the bedside table. "You were sweating a lot, so I figured you could use some water." He offers the drink to him, and Jack eyes the cup warily. Hiccup's hopeful expression falters, but then he picks up a paper bag. "I brought you some food, too. I don't know what you like, but I have some fyrstekake and solskinnskringle."
"Where did you get that?" Jack asks, narrowing his eyes. Spirits don't need to eat, but they can feel hungry if they spend too much energy. Jack never steals anything from anyone, opting to rummage through trash cans whenever his stomach complains. He isn't going to accept any of Hiccup's offers if they were stolen.
"I traded it," Hiccup answers casually, sticking his hand into the bag and pulling out a pastry. Jack regards the food with suspicion, and Hiccup sighs, clearly upset about being rejected. "I didn't steal it, okay? I don't steal things."
Hesitantly, Jack takes the mug and dessert from him, reluctantly lifting the drink to his lips. Even though he's uneasy about waking up in a stranger's house and eating his potentially stolen food, he has to admit that his stomach feels empty. Getting beat up really drained him.
Hiccup's expression brightens when Jack takes a bite, and he curiously inquires, "So, how did you get in trouble with the fire elves?"
Jack raises a skeptical eyebrow. "... Fire elves?"
"Didn't you see their pointy ears?" Hiccup lifts his hand and tugs lightly on one of Jack's ears, smiling awkwardly. "Maybe you didn't notice because you look just like them."
Jack, who is still growing accustomed to physical contact, wrinkles his nose at the touch. Hiccup's attempt to ease the tension with humor falls short, but Jack recognizes that he's just trying to be nice, so he chuckles a little. "Oh yeah, for sure."
Thankfully, Hiccup drops his hand and sits back, awkwardness rolling off of him in waves. Jack eyes the pastry in his hand, wondering when he can leave. The air is stuffy in here, and he can't feel the wind. He takes a bite and tries to fill the awkward hole in the conversation, "Who's Eldar?"
"He's one of the oldest fire spirits. Way older than me. He's in charge of making sure we don't act up," Hiccup explains, nibbling on the other pastry.
"How old are you?" Jack asks. Frost spreads across his shoulders and sleeves after he downs the rest of his water, and his mouth suddenly doesn't feel so dry anymore.
"I've been around for a thousand years or so." Hiccup seems unfazed by his age. "What about you?"
Jack tugs on the strings of his hoodie, answering somewhat shyly, "A little over three hundred."
Hiccup's eyes widen, and Jack guesses that three centuries pale in comparison to a millennium. "Have you ever even been in a fight before?"
Jack thinks back to when he became a Guardian, remembers how he felt like he was being gutted when his staff was snapped in half, and shrugs nonchalantly. "Not really."
"Oh." Hiccup scoots closer, dragging the legs of his stool against the cave floor. "Okay, well, since you probably don't know, you need to take it easy for a while. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion. Does your head hurt?" He inspects him like an overly concerned parent, fingers twitching as if they're tempted to brush against his bruises.
Jack rolls his eyes. "I'm fine."
"You were out for three days," Hiccup points out, and Jack nearly drops the mug he's holding.
"Three days?!" he exclaims, and Hiccup nods. Jack buries his face in his hands. He missed Halloween and an entire weekend with Jamie. The kid probably thinks he was ditched. The thought sends a burst of panic through him, and Jack swings his legs over the side of the bed. "I have to go."
Hiccup looks dejected, and Jack can't help but feel sorry for him. The poor guy clearly just wants someone to talk to.
"I mean, I really should go. I'm supposed to be somewhere else right now," Jack explains, jumping off the bed and backing away from the crestfallen spirit. Jamie is his priority, and he can't abandon him for someone he doesn't even know. "Thanks for the help."
Hiccup shakes his head, sporting a smile, disappointment etched into his freckled features. "You're welcome. It was, uh, no trouble, really."
A part of Jack tells him to stay, reassuring him that Jamie won't give up on him because of a single missed holiday. A part of him recognizes that he's exactly the same as Hiccup: alone, desperate, and willing to go to great lengths to gain attention.
Jack doesn't listen. He waves quickly and scampers away, speeding down the tunnel. He knows that if he doesn't put Jamie first, he'll end up just like Hiccup someday.
Jack reaches the open air and takes off, trying and failing to forget his guilt.
Rainbow Quest IX is a parody of Final Fantasy. Posters for the video game can be found on the walls of Jamie's bedroom in the movie.
Reykr means smoke in Norse.
Bruni means fire in Norse.
Fyrstekake is a Norwegian cardamom tart, and solskinnskringle is essentially a Norwegian danish.