Chapter 3:
After Gothi's visit, Astrid's many responsibilities were almost subsumed by the overwhelming desire to stay with Hiccup. Valka volunteered to mind Erling for the day and Gobber promised to take any chieftaincy- or village-related questions in his smithy. Astrid accepted their help numbly, grateful for the space their offers afforded her. Even temporarily deprived of their chief, the village could cope well enough, despite what most of them believed.
Truth be told, Astrid knew that most of the village was still unaware of what had happened. It had been mid-afternoon when the Dragon riders returned, and most of the villagers were in the fields or boats, busied with their daily tasks. When they did learn what had transpired, Astrid had no idea how they would react, and she didn't care to find out.
Foremost in her mind was a confrontation that would not be put off. Shortly after the sun hit its zenith, with Erling napping contentedly and Hiccup sitting quietly at home, she sought out Gunnar; she found him sitting disconsolately in the arena, leaning against Wildwing, a beautiful green Nadder. Gunnar was seventeen, a talented and competitive dragon rider, confident in his abilities and requiring a strict hand to keep him in line. Astrid sat down on the ground next to him, reaching up to scratch the dragon's scales, and the boy jumped, clearly startled by her presence.
"Astrid, ma'am," Gunnar stuttered, eyes on the ground. "I'm- I'm...so sorry about yesterday."
Astrid gripped his forearm as Wildwing turned his fierce head to stare at both of them. "What happened, Gunnar?" she asked, her voice low. "Did Wildwing spook because of the Changewings?"
Gunnar raised his head, quick to defend his dragon. "It wasn't Wildwing's fault, he had nothing to do with it." He stared at her for a moment, then the words tumbled out in a bitter torrent of confession. "It was my fault: I didn't listen to the order. I went charging in and the chief could be dead now because of me."
"He's not dead," Astrid replied evenly, "but Gunnar, I need to know exactly what happened. I need you to tell me."
Gunnar hung his head, a posture all too indicative of his shame. Then he spoke, relating all that Hiccup had told her and more, his culpability a scorching undertone to the narrative.
"There was one Changewing, bigger than the others, that got on my tail and started chasing us. Wildwing couldn't outfly it, and we couldn't get away. I thought we were done for. Then the chief and Toothless got in front of it and faced it down. They were amazing, and I thought they would tame it right then. But it didn't happen. The thing spooked and spat, right at the chief, too fast to avoid it. He took the acid in his face, then somehow Toothless took over and led us out," he concluded. "Toothless saved his life, and probably the rest of us as well."
Wildwing stood, moving to nuzzle his rider. Gunnar stroked the dragon's horn, unable to meet Astrid's gaze. "It took us a long time to get back, and Gustav had to ride Toothless and try to keep Hiccup conscious. I kept thinking all the time of how the acid was still burning; of how much it must've hurt." His breath hitched in his distress. "Will you tell him...I'm sorry?"
"I will," she responded, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You should go home," she prompted.
He nodded, grunting an incoherent response, and trudged out of the arena, Wildwing following forlornly in his wake. Astrid watched him go, her thoughts drifting over the sea to where the waves washed the shores of Changewing Island.
In the smithy, Gobber laid down the scythe he'd been sharpening and looked around at the cluttered space. He'd never taken another apprentice after Hiccup; when the war ended, there was less work to do and no real need for constant help. But some days he dearly wished for an extra pair of hands to augment his one and a half.
He sat down gingerly, groaning at the creak in his remaining joints, and watched a slowly growing figure that descended the highest hill in town and approached the cliffs. It was Valka, her grandson bouncing on her hip.
As she walked, she spoke to these she met, bestowing a kind word here, a gentle touch there. Gobber watched her, admiring her calmness, her graciousness, her self-assurance, the certainty of her carriage. Even in the midst of trouble, she carried herself with the dignity and authority of a chieftain's wife and experienced dragon rider.
So he wasn't at all surprised, when her path eventually led to his open door, that she knocked courteously before entering. Erling, wide eyes staring at nothing in particular, was sucking his fist, recently shed tears drying on his cheeks.
"Gettin' the little un' some air, are ya?" Gobber asked.
"His mother's out and he's been cooped up all day, poor lamb," she replied. "He's become quite fractious today."
"And 'ow's 'is father?"
She exhaled slowly. "Still in pain, I think, but restless and wanting ta get out."
"Well, he's a quick one, he is, and ye can tell 'im from me that he better recover quick, because smithing is enough job for one man without addin' chiefing on top." His tone was perhaps a little too loud and boisterous, for it set Erling crying again. The next few minutes were spent trying to calm and shush him, Gobber's efforts ineffectual, Valka's only slightly less so.
When Erling's screams had subsided and his fist was once again firmly ensconced in his mouth, Valka rose. "I'll take my leave then, Gobber," she said. "Goodnight to ya."
"Oh, before ye go, there's somethin' I nearly forgot ta tell ye," he interjected. She looked at him, expectant. "It's just that dragon-trappin' lad, Eret, he was 'ere today. He says 'e needs the chief's consent to claim a piece o' land."
"What for?"
"Wanted to build somethin', 'e said."
Valka frowned. "What did ya tell 'im?"
"I told 'im I didn't know about that and 'e will 'ave to ask Hiccup. 'E seemed impatient ta start."
Knowing Eret, Valka could readily imagine his impatience. Once again bidding Gobber a quiet "Goodnight," she climbed back up the hill, cradling the baby in her strong arms.
Astrid rubbed her temples tiredly. She'd sought out Gustav, Brenna, and Ingmar that afternoon and asked them the same question she'd asked Gunnar. They all told the same story with varying amounts of detail: maddened Changewings, unidentified men on the ground, Gunnar's reckless dive into the fray, and Toothless' prompt action to get them out. Something still bothered her: the thought of strangers so near, strangers who were willing to even approach Changewing Island, was unwelcome news and boded ill for the future.
Overcome with weariness, she turned her steps toward home, hoping against hope that Gothi wouldn't be there.
Gothi wasn't in the Haddock house, but Valka was, her presence a welcome sight to her weary daughter-in-law. The day was drawing down toward dusk and Valka stoked the fire, softly humming a sweet, wordless lullaby to the baby in his basket. Astrid entered the house and climbed the stairs, rubbing her son's head as she walked past.
Hiccup sat in their bed, his eyes still covered, but he turned his head at the sound of her step.
"Astrid?"
"I'm here."
A sigh, possibly of relief. He reached out with his right hand and she took it in hers, squeezing his fingers reassuringly. In his corner, Toothless lifted his head to watch them.
"Toothless and I have been talking," Hiccup began, then paused. "Well, actually, I've been talking and Toothless has been listening. I have a theory about those men we saw."
"Yes?" she prompted, grateful for the distraction from the terrible reality that lay just beneath his bandages.
"Changewing eggs glow, like gems," he continued. "What if those men were stealing them?"
That thought had not occurred to her. "For what purpose?" she asked. "Surely they would have known what the eggs were. Why would anyone steal them?"
"Trade with unsuspecting customers?" Hiccup ventured, then corrected himself immediately, his voice sobering. "No; that would be an act of war."
"Do you really think..." She couldn't finish the question. Hiccup brought his left hand up, feeling for her. She took the hand and held it to her cheek, stiff cloth against smooth skin.
"I think we need to be prepared," Hiccup said quietly.
They both started when the stairs creaked. Valka stood in the doorway, bearing a tray that held two steaming bowls. She placed it carefully on the floor, then approached the bed to grip her son's shoulder.
"Gustav brought some fish for Toothless," she said, "and Gobber wishes for you to recover quickly: he's already weary of answering questions." At the sound of his name, Toothless stood and stretched, leaving the room in search of the mentioned fish. Valka continued to stand there, her face unreadable, as if she was trying to make a decision. Finally she stood straight and turned toward the door.
"Good- Goodnight to you both."
"Will you come back tomorrow, Mom?" Hiccup asked.
"I will, son," she promised, then she was gone, the front door creaking behind her.
When she had left, Hiccup wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"
"I think she made some...broth?" Astrid guessed. "That was kind of her. You should eat something."
"Um, how?" he inquired. "I can't even see what it is, how am I supposed to eat it?"
"I'll help you, silly," she responded, reaching down and carefully lifting one of the bowls.
It was awkward: he couldn't see the spoon, and she occasionally forgot to warn him. After she had wiped up spilled broth for the third time, Hiccup huffed in frustration and, raising his hand, made to lift the bandage over his eyes.
"No." She stopped him with her hand on his wrist. "You're not ready for that yet."
He exhaled through his nose, impatience evident, but obeyed. She resumed the spoon-feeding, and the silence once again lengthened between them.
"Astrid," he asked at last, between spoonfuls, "how long will this last? The bandages, I mean."
"I don't know," she said guardedly. "Gothi probably knows, but she hasn't told us anything about it."
"Well, pray Odin this heals quickly," he said, "because until it does, I can't see to put my foot back on, I can't see to fly Toothless, I can't see you or Erling -"
"Speaking of," she interjected, hearing a cry from the ground floor. She descended the stairs quickly and carried Erling up, shushing and soothing him as she walked.
"Here," she said, nestling him in the crook of Hiccup's elbow. Erling continued to cry, tiny fists flailing. "I don't know why he won't stop," she said, struggling to make her voice heard.
Hiccup rocked Erling with his arm and the sobs slowly subsided, diminishing in volume and intensity until they ended in disconsolate sniffles. Astrid took him back and laid him in his crib, humming quietly to forestall any more screaming.
"Maybe he understands," said Hiccup, "maybe he knows that we might be in trouble."
That night, Astrid dreamt of flying again, but it wasn't as she remembered.
The water stretched uninterrupted as far as she could see, and the wind buffeted her from every direction, threatening to blow her off her dragon if she once loosened her hold. When she reached down to touch Stormfly for reassurance, it wasn't the Nadder she was riding. It was a massive Changewing, its eyes glowing like their gem-stone eggs, its maw opening wide to scream, acid welling in its throat to consume her. She cried out in terror and let go, falling, spinning out of control, no one to see, no one to rescue her.
Just before she hit the waves, she opened her eyes with a jolt...