Welcome again, all those who have returned for the second prologue. I would like to point out a few things,which will be in the end note. I would appreciate if you could read it for your own increased reading experience.
Berkian Eddur - 1
Becoming Lífþrasir
Past
Dad,
I want to start by saying; I am sorry. I know I've said it so many times now that it's almost lost its meaning, but this time, I really do mean it, especially because I hope it will be the last time I say it, and cause you disappointment.
Disappointment. I sure brought you lots of that; sorry, dad. I didn't even realise how much until now. When we spoke in my workshop at the forge, it's when I realised how hard it must have been, to be my dad. I'm sorry.
So I have decided that I can't stay. I may have been doing … better, recently, but it's probably only a phase, another short part, before I start disappointing you again, and I don't want that. I don't want to make you sad and angry, dad. You deserve better. I look down at myself, and I realise now that I never have really been the son you deserve. I'm sorry I couldn't be that, dad, I really am.
With me gone, I hope your problems will lessen. You can pick a proper heir – as little as my thoughts probably weigh, if you want them anyway, I would go with Astrid Hofferson. She's the most balanced from the younger generations, can think fast, is a good warrior and a good leader – and you won't have to worry about me getting outside during raids to cost the village, either.
I will think of you – I hope that you will find a few fond memories of me to dwell on, among the messes. I will not bring shame to the Haddock name; I know you wouldn't want me to use it outside of Berk, being me and all, so I'm leaving it here with you.
Goodbye, dad. I'm sorry I couldn't be anything you wanted me to be; your burden will be lighter now and I'm glad I can at least do this for you and for Berk.
Hiccup.
Stoick stared at the parchment without really seeing it, the words not really sinking into his brain. When he'd come home to find the fire out cold and the house quiet, he'd thought it odd but not overly so – his son had always been up at all hours. But when they'd spoken at the forge earlier, he'd seemed tired. So Stoick'd gone up to the tiny room his son used to see whether he'd fallen asleep at his desk – another frequent occurrence – and had found the room pristine: and empty. There was not a shred of Hiccup left in it; the bed was stripped, the cupboards bare, the usual clutter completely vanished. It was as if his son, his Hiccup, had never really been there at all.
Stoick blinked and realised he had squashed the parchment in his meaty clenched fist, and yelped in panic, straightening it and smudging some of the charcoal words written in his son's precise rune hand. Seeing the runes' charcoal spread seemed to wake his mind up; no, this couldn't happen. His son couldn't be gone, just like that. He couldn't.
The chief got off his son's bed where he'd found the note, rushed through the house calling his son's name, and then exited into the square, loping down the hillock leading to his house like a rampaging dragon. There were only a few people left outside; winter was coming, and once the sparse sun had collapsed into the sea, it was folly to remain outdoors for long. However, once they found out what had happened to their new hero, more and more people began donning coats and lighting the torches, ready to comb the island.
In the end, the sun peeked on an island that had had no sleep but still come up empty handed. One of the tiny boats was reported missing; it could be manned by a single person, and could go some ways away, but not far. Ships were called, men were poured into them. The seas around Berk were searched, but young Hiccup the Promising hadn't been found.
Gobber was not smiling any longer. Stoick was inconsolable. The village found out soon enough why his son had gone, the first time he'd been called a coward for running. Mildew had lost all his front teeth, but Stoick's bellowing voice had made sure almost everyone heard; his son hadn't left out of fear, but duty. Hiccup had misunderstood, Stoick had said something that made him think he was undesired, a burden to the tribe, and unloved by his father. So Hiccup was out there, proving himself. He would only come back once he was a hero. Stoick never said what the letter seemed to imply so definitely. No one but Gobber ever saw it.
Many of the villagers had muttered where they thought he couldn't hear, musing on the irony. The child had truly been a burden in the eyes of many; most saw the potential in his intelligence, and he was a young lad, after all, good in the forge despite his tiny arms. He'd grow into his strength, given time, and out of his hare-brained ways of youth. And yet, now that he had just begun to finally grow into it, Stoick had to go and chase him off. Typical. Still, most great Vikings took a voyage – Hiccup would be no different. After all, his great grandfather hadn't made his fortune and riches (which were still unfound, thanks to that blasted poetry map) by staying on Berk's shore.
Life went on, and no news of the boy reached Berk. Stoick wore his armour strongly and trudged on. It wasn't a surprise to the blacksmith when Stoick spoke to Gobber about tacitly nominating Astrid as his new heir. It was a surprise when she refused. And then it wasn't; Stoick had desired to adopt her, in order for the Haddock line to continue, but the Hoffersons probably hadn't liked that too much. Astrid was their only girl-child, accomplished and brave, strong and capable. The village would probably like the prospect of her as heir, though not like that it implied Hiccup would not be back, Gobber said, but most would understand the Hofferson clan's reluctance to lose such a member, even if for a noble cause. In the end, Astrid only proved his son right once again when she came up with the best solution. She presented him with her shield, asking him to keep it safe.
On normal circumstances it would have meant she planned to remain unmarried, to be a shield maiden for Berk and allow Stoick to call upon her as a warrior at any time Berk needed. Now, instead, it meant an alliance, and joining their two clans. He'd thought it was her father's idea at first, until Stoick had seen his gobsmacked face; after all, the plan was cunning incarnate.
Astrid Hofferson was to all effects now engaged to his son, and her shield was in his custody as Hiccup's father, not as Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk. She could be his heir, if his worse fears proved real and the letter gave truth to what it hinted, but her family would not lose her worth in bride-price. She had been adamant, of course; when Hiccup returned, if he did with a wife, things could be re-evaluated. However, Stoick was an old hand at this game, and had seen the pride shining in Hacknee Hofferson's eyes. His daughter had truly come up with the best political solution. Even still, he often saw her, sitting by the cliffs near Raven Point, looking out at sea, and it made him wonder.
Stoick realised that Gobber resented him a great deal, though he kept it in check. The feelings degenerated until a full-on fist fight, the likes of which they hadn't had since he'd lost both his small toes in the blizzard looking for that damned treasure, left them both bruised. Their relationship had mellowed again after, but Gobber's sudden bouts of sullen melancholy were telling.
With a sigh, Stoick forced his heavy hand to push the door to the Haddock household open. Every single generation of Haddock chiefs had come and gone until the threshold had been worn a thousand times, and yet now, that seemed to have come to an end with him. The empty house greeted him with its darkness and cold, and he forced his body into it, stopping himself from wishing that his Hiccup would come down to greet him with a mug of ale and one or two blocks of ice, a hopeful smile and a smart mouth.
He didn't, of course. The house remained black and silent, even as Stoick sat in his chair and looked around it. Outside, the village slept, and his home had never seemed so dead. He'd been an only surviving child himself, but Stoick never remembered this ancestral lodge to be so empty; his parents and grandparents had always filled it when he had been growing up, and despite the fact that Stoick had lost all his siblings to dragons or disease or the sea, it had never occurred to him that he would be the last. His grandparents had gone the way of the old, his parents had followed, early in Hiccup's childhood. After Val had been taken by the blasted monsters, his brother-in-law Spitelout and Gobber had often been in to fill the gaps. And of course, there had always been his sweet, smart Hiccup.
And yet somehow, Stoick had managed to let it all slip through his fingers, like dry sand on the beach. He wondered whether Hamish Haddock II had felt this, as Stoick's own father, the heir's brother, had taken his place; but then he remembered that Hamish and Stoick's father had been close, that Stoick's father was of direct Haddock line also, and that of course, Hamish had only gone on the quest to secure their father's fortune; he hadn't meant not to come back.
Hiccup meant that. He really did. For the first time in the whirlwind months that had passed since he first read the neatly folded, neatly written note, Stoick the Vast allowed himself to see the truth, and cry bitterly. His son, his last, most beloved family, was gone. Hiccup had left thinking that he was worth nothing to his father but disappointment and sadness.
Tomorrow, Stoick the Vast would wake up, put his helmet on, and go out into the village to be its chief, its judge, its arms and its legs and its head. Tonight, he allowed himself to be a father and a man; a father, who had unwittingly driven away his son in scorn, and a man, who had found himself completely alone by his ignorant design.
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There are a few things I would like to say about this story, and about my writing style in general.
1- I write in a particular way where a select character is the narrator for the duration of an entire scene. Different scenes will have different narrators, but the same scene will not jump from one point of view to the next. This will become more evident in the chapters rather than the prologues.
2- This story is complete; I find it difficult for the creative process to write while I am also receiving input by more than a one person at a time. I will be posting at intervals of 1ce a week once the prologues are out, probably on Fridays.
3- This story is marked as Hiccup/Astrid, which it is as I find them adorable, with a side of other pairings which you will see. However, this pairing is not the main focus, and though it has its moments, there will be places at a time where nothing will happen between them. This is a story about Hiccup growing up to become a better man, and he needs to take his own focus first, before he moves to other things.
4- Technically, this is the first Edda; there should be another two in this continuity after Becoming Lífþrasir, but it will depend on inspiration, time and life.
I hope you enjoyed the second prologue. The third will be up on the coming Tuesday 28th January.
