Not mine, no money, no sue.

I hate Ruffnut.

I went to the mead-hall for dinner tonight, and there's Hiccup, surrounded. Most people eat here at nights what with the winter food stores getting low. He seems to be okay with the celebrity thing now, or at least better at handling it. And hanging off his arm, giggling at every word, is Ruff.

I never hated her before – she was just there. One of the twins, the other girl of our age. Now, though…

And Hiccup, smiling at her and at Snotlout across the table and at Fishlegs and Tuff arguing over the last of the mutton on the table, was letting her hang all over him like an expensive fur.

Speaking of which –

"You're wearing a new tunic?" I blurted, before I'd even sat down.

"Astrid!" Hiccup half-stood when he saw me, his eyes brightening. What brightened me, though, was the fact that Ruff got dislodged as he got up. He winced slightly, and I remembered I'd dug him in the small of the back with my knee that morning. Hard.

Good.

"Hi," I gave him a tight smile, and then included the others in my nod, with a small scowl directed at Ruffnut. She glared sulkily back at me, rubbing her elbow where she'd bashed the table.

"Here, sit by me, there's room," Hiccup shifted over. In truth there wasn't, but there was no way I was going to let Ruff have him all to herself. "Mutton?"

"It's mine!" Tuffnut growled, guarding his plate like a dog.

"You ate a substantially larger portion of mutton than anyone here at the table," Fishlegs interjected heatedly. "By at least fifteen percent!"

"Well, you don't need it! I do!"

"Ah, I'll have fish," I said dryly, and grabbed a plate, walking up to the roasting pit in which fish and sheep carcasses were still being picked at.

When I returned, Hiccup was explaining something, his long fingers moving through the air expressively. "…and I just seem to get it now, when I never did before. It's amazing. Really…" he noticed me and broke off, his grin lighting up the hall. "Enough fish left?"

"Just," I muttered, wondering what 'it' was. "So, new tunic then?"

See how subtle I can be? Arrgh. You need to roast me when you're awake. It'd be a kindness.

"Yeah," Hiccup picked gingerly at the russet tunic. "Um. Ruff gave it to me. Said she'd noticed that I was wearing the same one all the time."

"It must be hard, no woman in the house," she said in that sweet, little-girl tone. "No-one to mend or sew."

"Oh, I can sew," Hiccup said absently, looking at the yellow embroidery on his new sleeves. "Had to learn, to do leatherwork. I've run out of cloth though. And leather, down to scraps. And there's not much to be had at sea, though I tried to trade for it back in Brass Monkey."

His answer put a little pout on Ruffnut's face. I reminded myself that gloating is for cowards and mainlanders.

"What did you try to trade?" I asked instead.

"Oh, what I know. Metalwork, leatherwork, saddles and things for the two Nightmares," he shrugged. "No-one took me up on it. They've got a great smith – I learned a thing or two from him."

"What was his name?" Ruff asked, shooting a spiteful little look at me as she firmly entered the conversation for real.

"Ruckus. He helped make my foot," Hiccup glanced down at it, and then darted a small wry smile at me. "Twice."

"Can I see?" I asked eagerly. I'd wanted a closer look at the Night Fury carvings since first seeing them on the longship. Hiccup seemed a little on edge at the request and shifted his knee nervously.

"Well, maybe later, okay?" he mumbled. "Not now."

I have to keep reminding myself that Hiccup is still, after all, Hiccup. He still believes, deep down, that he's useless. His leg must be wrapped up in all that, I guess.

I want to see it. His leg, I mean. Not because it's wrong or because scars are cool or anything stupid like that, just… he hates it so much. I want to let him know it's just another part of him and nothing to be ashamed of. But with all those people around it simply wasn't the right time.

I just smiled at him. "No rush," I agreed. "Not now."

He looked slightly happier. "Tomorrow morning, maybe," he said, and that same small smile darted over to me. "But, Astrid…"

"Why not now?" Ruffnut challenged. I watched Hiccup's face close off.

"Ruff," I said softly but firmly. "Not now."

"Your name Hiccup, now?" she folded her arms.

"Stop it," I hissed. She tossed her blonde braids.

"Come on, Hic."

Hic? He hates that.

"You can show us, we're your friends," she cooed.

"Ruff, he doesn't want to!" I tried again. This was getting nasty, fast. I abruptly didn't care, didn't care in the slightest that she wanted him, that she wanted to take him from me before I'd even had him. All I cared about was that she was hurting him. "Leave him alone!"

"So, still talking to Hiccup here, Astrid."

"I don't want to show anyone," he muttered.

"You're showing Astrid tomorrow morning. At these so-called amazing lessons." Ruff's pretty, agile face sneered over at me. "Bet I can guess what you're really teaching…"

Hiccup stood up. The rasp of his metal foot was very loud against the stone floor.

Ruff took one look at his face and shut up. He looked like thunder. In all the years I've known him, for the first time Hiccup looked like a man, not a boy, and a very angry one at that. The silence at our table spread like a plague until everyone in the hall was looking at the fuming chief's son. He didn't seem to notice.

"Ruff," he grated. "Thanks for the tunic. But it doesn't mean you get to say things like that about my friend. Ever. Maybe one day I'll show you my foot. But I won't be wearing it, because I won't be showing you my… my stump. Besides which, you keep saying stuff like that, and my foot will be kicking your arse."

Ruffnut, wide-eyed, nodded. "Hic… I'm sorry," she said humbly.

Hiccup nodded curtly, then clambered over the bench and stalked away with a click-thump. I released my breath shakily.

"You should know," I said distantly to Ruffnut, "he's still Hiccup. He still thinks he's just Hiccup."

Her head whipped around and she fixed me with a look of pure hatred. I didn't care. Even if she won, she wasn't allowed to hurt him without thinking anymore. "Any more lessons, 'Teach'?" she drawled.

I pushed back my uneaten fish. "He hates being called 'Hic'. Use his name."

I left the hall. I came here.

Oh, Spike, wake up. I need you to roast me, roast Ruffnut and roast this stupid Oglaranna, too. Then it might all be okay.

Oh well. At least you're a good listener.

He's still thinking too much. The axe is ridiculous on him, and so is the mace. The spear is utterly ludicrous. We had better luck with the sword, but he can only really wield with his left, and he shouldn't lead with his left foot. Someone with half a brain would step on it and snap it right off.

Archery suits him, but he'd wait all day for a perfect shot if I let him.

So far we've had the best result from grappling – and oh gods in Asgard, grappling with Hiccup is hard on a girl's self control. Though he's not strong, he's wiry and his arms have a blacksmith's precision.

He's still thinking through every move, though. Not flowing through the moments and movements just yet. It's just as frustrating for me as for him, watching him thud heavily on his back when I defeat him. Again.

When we're not wrestling – and I did not just whimper – I'm working through some drills with him. He can barely see the point in push-ups, he's got so little extra body-weight to lift. He finds it tricky to run on the frozen grass as his foot slides about, but the pebbles in the creek-bed are fine. He's talking about creating an attachment for his foot with spikes fixed underneath it for wet and cold weather, and that should help. He absolutely loathes anything to do with kicking.

He won't stop pulling his punches either. I swear, he must think I'm some sort of girl.

So not an entirely rosy picture, but miles away from Hiccup the Hopeless. But it was when I remembered his work in the forge (sans tunic oooohhh shoulders shoulders shoulders) that I had a great idea.

"We're going to try something," I announced this morning.

Seated on a boulder and wearing a new fur vest (arrgh, Ruffnut again), Hiccup looked up from inspecting a bruise on his forearm and winced. "Those are not comforting words, Astrid…"

"You need to learn," I said heartlessly.

"You are a torturer of supreme skill and dedication," he said solemnly. "I am truly in awe of your talents."

I laughed. "Baby. So, I had this great idea."

"Does it involve pain?" he said dryly. "If it does, then I am utterly shocked. Utterly."

"It involves a weapon you can work with," I said sharply.

He sighed, and looked up at me, silently asking me to continue.

"You're used to certain things already," I explained, "through being a smith. You're okay with the idea that a… a tool can be an extension of your arm. What we've been trying is just too different from what you've already taught yourself over years and years."

"Soooo…" he rubbed his bruised forearm, "Astrid, I can't go fight with a pair of tongs and a hammer…"

"Why not?" I challenged. "A hammer is a great weapon! Mjollnir is a hammer! You've been training with hammers since you were eight!"

He looked sceptical. "They're not Mjollnir."

"So, the hammers in the forge are a bit smaller. You could make something, couldn't you? Something a bit bigger – but not Gobber-sized?"

He tilted his head, doubt all over his face. "I suppose… but there's no sharp edges on a hammer, Astrid. All the stuff we've worked on… it won't work with a hammer. I'm not likely to take anyone out that way."

I snorted. "Like anyone ever believed you were actually going to willingly put a hole in someone, Hiccup. That's just not you."

He looked stung. "I… I'm a Viking! I could do it!"

"Whoa!" I held up my hands to stop that line of thought. "Not what I meant!"

His shoulders abruptly slumped. "Who am I kidding. You're right, call myself a Viking, ha. Can't kill a dragon, can't kill a human, can't run, can't do anything right…"

"Can't do anyth- Hiccup." I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. Hard. Honestly, he is such an idiot. "Who in this village makes every bit of tack for the dragons? Who invented those tacks? Who created the new watch-towers, bolas and catapults, and had the plan for diverting the stream through pipes into the dried well? And who in this village is the most thorough smith Berk has ever known?"

His lovely face was sulky. "Gobber."

"Wrong," I grated. "Gobber's been on and on about your scarily meticulous work for the last four years."

"Four…?" his eyes jerked up to me.

"Four," I emphasised. "Long before you ever… and on that subject, who is the one who first trained a dragon? Who is the one who first flew on one? Who is the one who killed the biggest damn dragon anyone has ever seen? Never killed a… Hiccup, you are really thick at times."

Hiccup looked down, and then back to me, giving me an embarrassed little smile. "Er, I had help with that, you know. Well, of course you know."

I'm glad you can't talk, girl, because you can't tell anyone that my insides melted at that.

I sat down next to him on the boulder. "I know you did," I said, giving him a little smile back. "I remember."

"You helped," he ducked his head, his cheeks pinking.

"My job," I replied, feeling a little giddy.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and long, clever fingers touched the back of my hand once.

This is the lucky hand. This one, see, Spike? Nope, course you don't.

We sat there for a couple of seconds, and then he said, "I could make a hammer. For me, I mean. It'd have to be a bit less dense than a normal war hammer though, or I'd never be able to lift it."

"Sounds good," my smile got a bit broader. I had the awful feeling that it was getting a little goofy.

"And you're right," he sighed. "I don't want to cut people up. I… hate the whole idea, actually."

"I figured you'd have a problem with that," I said pointedly. "I doesn't mean you're not a Viking, Hiccup, how many times do I need to get this through to you? It just makes you you."

He fidgeted. He'll probably never believe it, not wholly, but his self-esteem is climbing bit by bit. It's good to see.

Still, the fidgeting was probably a sign that he wanted to get off the subject of himself for a while. I decided to take pity on the guy, and nudged him.

"A hammer works for you perfectly, then," I said briskly. "You can work on incapacitating people without permanently damaging them. And all that precision work should come in handy there."

He brightened. "Good point. Hey, great idea, Astrid!"

"Told you," I said smugly.

I was walking back here tonight when Hiccup came stumbling down the path from the forge.

I wish he'd wear his tunic in front of me. I can't be held responsible for what I say. In this case it wasn't a squeak… more of a squawk, actually. How humiliating.

"Astrid!" he puffed, and grabbed my arm, "Argh, freezing, freezing, freezing cold, Astrid, come look! I've finished the first stage of my hammer, gods it's way too cold out here, it's going to work, I think, although it's hard to COLD COLD COLD, to know what the balance should be, fah-REEZ-ing out here, and I want to do more detail on th-"

"You need to take a breath," I said faintly. Chest. Oooooh, chest.

"Oh. Yeah," he blushed. Adorable. "But come and see!"

He dragged me back to the forge past Phil the sheep, and I was greeted by the usual blast of stiflingly hot air and the smell of leather and metal and woodsmoke. I nodded to Gobber as he plunged a glowing sword into a bucket of water and a plume of steam roared around his face. He looked like the reincarnation of Volundr, the smith-god.

Though I'm fairly sure Gobber's mum was never a mermaid.

"Evenin', Astrid!" he yelled at me through the clouds. His moustaches were tied in a bow under his chin, and that made my lips quirk. "Pretty girls in the forge, Hiccup, this is our lucky day, eh?"

"Nope, nothing to see here, nothing at all, no parents to warn or anything," Hiccup shouted at him, "so if you're seeing pretty girls in the forge, you must be drunk again!"

"What d'you mean, again? The word is still!" Gobber roared back. I laughed at their comfortable banter.

"Hi, Gobber," I yelled to him, grinning. "Is it always summer in here?

"Always!" he grinned back. "The sun never stops smiling in a smithy!"

Hiccup pulled me back to his side of the smithy, where an unwelcome sight greeted me.

Ruffnut was sitting, somewhat awkwardly, on Hiccup's now-adjusted chair. There was a pot in her hands, covered with a cloth, and I could smell something savoury rising from it.

Hiccup obviously hadn't known she was here. He drew up short. "Ruff! Ah, hi! What… what are you doing here?"

"Came to see you, crazy boy," she smiled. At least, she showed teeth.

Hiccup seemed a little lost at that. "Oh! Um. Okay. Why?"

"Why?" Ruffnut laughed dismissively. "Oh, you. I brought you some of my mum's famous stew, thought you might be hungry." She shot me a poisonous look. "I didn't see you eat much the other night."

It had been a mistake to mention the fight at dinner. Hiccup's face closed down. "Thanks," he said flatly.

I winced. He'd been so excited and happy about his hammer.

Curling my fingers over his bare arm (arm arm arm arm FOR THE LOVE OF URD STOP IT) I said calmly, "Hiccup, don't you have something to show me?"

Hiccup went bright red. Ruffnut's eyes widened… and belatedly I realised what I'd just said.

"Don't look at me like that!" I snapped. "It's a hammer! Hiccup's going to fight with it."

"Riiiight," Ruff looked unconvinced. Her face had fallen into the unimpressed lines it usually took on when she spoke to poor Fishlegs.

Hiccup was still fire-red. "Ahhh-HEM, ahem, hmm. Um. No, actually, really, no, it is a hammer, see…"

He picked up a war-hammer from where it was cooling on top of his anvil. I noticed only then that the smooth planes of his chest and forearms were slightly reddened, as though by exposure to intense heat.

"Hiccup!" I immediately scolded him. I can't seem to stop. Must be a character flaw. "You shouldn't be going around without an apron or tunic on when you're shaping metal! Look at you!"

He glanced down. "It'll fade," he said with indifference. "Look, Astrid! I got the weight perfect!"

I shared an agonised look with Ruff, possibly the only concord we'd had all fortnight. He simply couldn't go around marring all that unggggh chest and unf skin… the boy desperately needed a keeper. There, at least, we agreed.

"You're getting an apron," Ruff drawled in her normal way. Gods it was a relief to hear her speak normally, well, normally for her anyway. "At least wear the tunic I gave you."

Hiccup was getting annoyed that neither of us were looking at his hammer. "I've only got the two, I can't get them burnt, and this'll fade in a couple of days! Would you just look at the hammer? Please?"

Ruff and I gave each other one more commiserating glance, before we bent over to look at the unadorned hammer. Ruffnut's helmet cracked me in the head just as I accidentally stepped forward onto to her toe. It really was an accident, Spike! I don't think she meant it either. Just bad timing.

Either way, that was when reality smacked us both in the head. I glared at her furiously, even as she sneered.

"It's steel, pretty heavy," Hiccup rattled off, sounding immensely proud of himself. "Not as big or heavy as the normal ones though, you were right about that, Astrid… and I've thickened and slightly shortened the handle to get more control over the heft. Balance isn't perfect, but look!"

He grabbed a tiny nail from the bench and pushed it into a thin wooden rod until the tip was barely buried. My eyebrows raised. No-one could have that much control over a war-hammer… could they?

"Hold that still," he said in a commanding tone that made my stomach tighten. Ruff and I both held the rod tightly, the end braced on the floor.

Hiccup swung the hammer in a practised arc around and over and down with a soft but solid THUD.

When he lifted it, the nail had been pounded flat into the rod. The rod itself hadn't even moved.

I whistled. "Hiccup. Wow."

He gave me a giant grin. "Hammer it is," he said simply.

"Fight Oglaranna with a hammer?" Ruff's voice was supremely cynical as she examined the wooden rod and nail still in her hands. "So, you looking to be honourably killed in battle already? Eager for Valhalla?"

"Didn't you just see that?" I asked her. "You have to admit, that was pretty cool!"

"She's an axe-woman," Ruff snorted. "Hammer or no, she'll slice him to pieces, Astrid."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," Hiccup muttered.

"Sorry," Ruff slid down from Hiccup's chair. "It's sorta the truth and all. Still! Eat up, she's not here yet!" She patted the cloth-covered pot, and then walked towards the smithy door.

"You never know," Hiccup said desperately, "I could win…?"

I shook my head at Ruff as she left, waving her fingers behind her at Hiccup, who gave an awkward sort of half-wave back. I could tell he felt dreadful about the Oglaranna thing.

"Hey," I said softly, "I'm an axe-woman."

He looked at me with defeat in his face. "I know."

"So, you practice with your hammer against my axe. She won't know how to fight you – but you'll know how to fight her. Sound good?" I nudged his side. And my brain for once didn't flip at touching him.

He gave a humourless smile. "Okay, sounds… okay."

"Good."