Chapter Three: Hey, What's the Deal?

Berk's blacksmith shop had been a focal point for the village for as long as Vikings had existed on Berk. During the Dragon War years, it had been downright crucial for the village's survival, since it's hard to fend off and/or kill dragons without proper axes and swords. It was too bad that blacksmiths never got statues erected in their honor despite their contributions to the clan, unless they somehow killed a dragon with an anvil, but most village blacksmiths learned to do their under-appreciated job with quiet dignity. It helped that most smiths had been warriors in their youth and could happily do their job having already done their duty against those blasted flying devils.

That was a different time and a different Berk, and yet the blacksmith shop still remained the glue that held the village's fortunes together. Only now, most of those old axes and swords had been beaten into bindings for saddles and harnesses, with Gobber doing most of the beating. The shop had grown as well, with several expansions built to accommodate the increased business and duties that came with outfitting dragon riders. Gobber had adapted pretty well to the new Berk, eventually figuring out how craft a decent saddle while practicing part-time dragon-dentistry on the side (a profession that made even the most ardent dragon-lover nervous, but as Gobber liked to put it, "It's not like they can bite off much more of me.")

Ever the cheerful sport about life's little changes, and demonstrating his affection for his apprentice, Gobber had bequeathed a third of his shop to Hiccup as a wedding present. Overwhelmed by Gobber's gesture, Hiccup had opted to continue working with Gobber, though now as a partner instead of an apprentice. Even as chief, Hiccup put in long hours in the shop, mostly in designing riding gear for different dragon species, since a saddle for a Nightmare wasn't compatible with a Gronckle.

The sky had practically no light to it this morning, and Hiccup felt like he could easily have gotten in another hour or two of sleep, or have cuddled with Astrid a bit longer. Walking down to his part of the shop felt like part of a really boring dream, and it was only the continued presence of Toothless that convinced him he was actually awake, the dragon nudging him periodically, hoping to change Hiccup's mind concerning the order of the morning's activities.

"We can't today, bud," Hiccup told his stubborn dragon. "Remember how we were late yesterday? I have 'official' stuff to look at. We'll have to get our flying in later." He didn't have to see Toothless's face to feel the disappointment radiating off the dragon. Their morning rides were getting fewer and fewer with each passing week.

Much like the state of his mind, Hiccup's part of the shop had become a tad messy in recent weeks, and Hiccup had to step over a few of his projects-in-progress as he entered the shop to open it up for business. The biggest casualty was his drafting desk, which was buried under a pile of letters, notes, and correspondence. A result of his partially-successful attempt to keep people from pestering him day and night about every little problem in Berk – having them leave a note on his desk. It was a tactic he had picked up from the Lords in Riki Poka, who didn't do anything unless it came to them in written form first. There was a word for it – bureaucracy. Well, it did significantly reduce the number of drop-ins, and there was no longer a crowd lining up to talk to him every morning, but his beloved desk had morphed from a haven of creativity and personal space into a constant groan.

Toothless went to his corner of the shop to pout for a time while Hiccup headed to his desk and shifted through the latest pile of requests/demands/future headaches. Nothing earthshaking, thank Odin. Stormknuckle was having another tiff with his brother over who got to keep the family heirloom, an old broom adorned with dragon scales. Two naming ceremonies for two newborn additions to the tribe. A request to add yaks to the official dragon-racing rules. A grocery list that someone must have accidentally left behind…

"Hard at work already, I see," came a pleasant but unexpected voice from the exterior doorway. Hiccup looked up to see Astrid quietly walking inside, moving over to Hiccup's spot and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "You were out the door so early that I didn't have a chance to wish you a good day."

"I had to get started early," replied Hiccup. "It all builds up after my day off." He gave her a scrutinizing look. "Shouldn't you be at Snotlout's, waking him up with a water bucket through the window?"

"I'll get there, but there's actually something I want to fly by you first."

Hiccup smirked and pointed to a pile of blank parchment. "All requests go on paper." After he got the required dirty look, he added, "All right, I'll waive it this time, but if people start shouting nepotism, I'm blaming you."

Astrid's smile returned, but it wasn't a wide one. Whatever she had to say was actually serious. "I'd like permission to take the squad over to Outcast Island."

That was not an expected request, and Hiccup's guts were unhappy about it. "Uh… Outcast Island, as in the home of Berk's longtime enemy, Alvin? That Outcast Island?"

"There's only one, and we haven't heard anything from the Outcasts since that dustup between Alvin and Nestor three years ago."

"I consider that a good thing," said Hiccup. "And usually I'm the one getting the lecture about not poking my nose into stuff."

"Remember that pirate ship you convinced to leave… and all the other ones before that? It got me thinking about why Alvin has been so quiet. Why aren't the Outcasts attacking trade ships? Why isn't Alvin launching some new scheme against us? He's not one to just give up."

Hiccup had to admit that Alvin's lack of aggression these last few years roused curiosity within him, but after dealing with such massive threats as Cervantes and the Alchemist, he really didn't want to stir up a Terror's nest by investigating Alvin. Maybe the bellicose ex-patriot of Berk was done with acts of aggression and had picked up needlework instead. Then again, maybe yaks could breathe fire.

Astrid saw the skepticism on Hiccup's face. "It'd be a high-altitude scouting mission, outside their weapons range. We'd fly by long enough to see how things looked, then head home. We won't go anywhere near the ground."

"That's what we say every time we go anywhere near Outcast Island," said Hiccup. "Something always happens."

"I've handled far worse in the past," reassured Astrid. "We won't even be gone a day."

"I trust you, Astrid, really, but I'm still not…"

"Hey, what's the deal?" came a new voice through the doorway. In popped Ruffnut and Tuffnut, Ruffnut looking quite impatient and Tuffnut looking quite bored.

"Astrid, you're supposed to meet me for sparring practice," said Ruffnut. "I got my spear all sharpened up and everything."

Hiccup gave his wife a funny look. "Sparring practice? With Ruffnut?"

"She's… not bad," said Astrid.

"She beats Sis up every time," said Tuffnut, a tad too gleefully. "I get to watch."

"No pain, no gain," said Ruffnut, unruffled. "I get good enough and someday I might even be able to say I'm a Champion without somebody laughing."

Hiccup now understood Ruffnut's motivation. Not much had really changed for the Twins since their adventures with Hiccup and Astrid, and while Tuffnut seemed okay with it, his sister was still determined to have the village's attitude toward them change to something above contempt. None of the notoriety that should've come with being on a team that had essentially saved the world had stuck to them, mostly because no one in Berk believed they could've pulled it off. You could only tip over so many yaks before it was all anyone thought of you. Ruffnut had also been a bit more moody since she received a letter from her now-ex-boyfriend, Clueless, that had started with the ignominious phrase You're a nice girl, but… She probably needed the distraction.

Hiccup still remained perplexed when it came to Astrid's side of it. "I get what Ruffnut sees in it, but…"

"I miss it, okay?" said Astrid. "I miss having someone to fight with. You're too busy and no one else wants to fight me."

Tuffnut then gave Hiccup and Astrid a funny look. "Wait, is Astrid breaking the write-down-your-request rule? Because if she is, I have a…"

"No, no, she's not," said Hiccup hurriedly. "She's here to… uh…"

"Hey, what's the deal?" came yet another new voice. This one belonged to Fishlegs, coming through the door with a large tome in his hands. "No one told me we were having a meeting this morning."

"It's not a meeting," said Hiccup. "I was just trying to get a jump on my work and…"

"Astrid's trying to break the write-down-your-request rule," said Ruffnut.

"What?" said Fishlegs, flabbergasted. "She can't do that. It would lead to anarchy. And Hiccup still hasn't gotten back to me on my revisions to the Dragon Manual."

Fishlegs had been doing plenty to revise Berk's ever-expanding library of dragon lore, along with developing his own brand of Dragon Cards, portable pieces of parchment that could help people identify different dragons on the spot instead of having to memorize the entire manual. His idea to turn Dragon Cards into some kind of game was still in development. Hiccup had play-tested Fishlegs's game and found the rules unnecessary complicated, as well as giving some dragons too many advantages. Honestly, a game where a Night Fury could be taken down by a single Terrible Terror with one lucky card play just didn't seem right.

"Still working on that, Legs," said Hiccup. "And no one's breaking the rule. Astrid is…"

"Hey, what's the deal?" came an unpleasant (but at this point rather expected) voice. In came Snotlout, smelling a bit more odiferous than usual.

"What happened to my wake-up call?" he complained. "I had to get myself out of bed, and I'm completely dry."

"There's a joke here," said Tuffnut. "I just know it."

"Astrid's trying to break the write-down-your-request rule," said Fishlegs.

Snotlout crossed his arms and scowled. "Well, that figures. Sure, make the rest of us follow the rules, but as soon as the wife comes in and shows you her…"

"Finish that sentence and you'll be on stable duty for a month," said Astrid, her own scowl easily outclassing Snotlout's. The loutish Viking thought better of it and clammed up.

Toothless watched all this from his corner spot with what passed for dragon amusement. He even flashed a look at Hiccup that pretty much read See, you wouldn't have to be putting up with this if you had taken to the air with me.

"Guys, no one is breaking the write-down-your-request rule," insisted Hiccup. "All that happened was…"

"Hey, what's the deal?" And now it was Gobber's turn, coming from the opposite side of the workshop, carrying a small leather bag on his hook-arm and a disapproving expression on his face. "I come to open the shop and I find a bunch of twenty-year-olds hanging around like they have nothing better to do." He glanced around the shop. "I don't see any kegs…"

"This wasn't planned, Gobber," said Hiccup. "One thing just led to another and…"

"This is why you can't break the write-down-your-request rule," said Fishlegs. "It only leads to tears."

Gobber looked downright shocked. "Was somebody breaking the write-down-your-request rule?" He faced Hiccup directly. "Lad, you can't bend the rules for anybody."

"Unless you're his wife," snarked Snotlout.

"Okay, that's it," said Astrid. "I'm not breaking any rules. All I came here to do was this." Before Hiccup could react, she reached over and grabbed Hiccup's shirt, dragging him in close and planting a big fat kiss on his lips. This elicited a groan from Snotlout and a few snickers from the rest, with Gobber shaking his head and muttering something about married people. Thankful to get in one good kiss and stave off a minor revolt, Hiccup decided right then to grant Astrid his permission. If she was this quick a thinker for situations like these, Outcast Island would be a breeze.

The moment that Hiccup and Astrid were done, Hiccup soon found Gobber's leather bag in his hands. "If you two are done, you can do me a favor and go through today's overseas mail, see if any of it belongs to you. It came in with today's trade ship."

Thankful for another distraction, Hiccup reached into the bag and pulled out its contents. It wasn't much – a few scrolls from chieftain leaders announcing this or requesting an audience for that. But when he read the address on the second-to-last scroll, he felt a sudden jolt of excitement, a pang of nostalgia.

Seeing the look on his face, Astrid said, "Who's that last one from?"

Feeling mischievous, Hiccup put on his bluffing face and shrugged. "Oh, nobody you'd actually know…"

"Hiccuuup?" she insisting, sensing the tease for what it was.

"You may have heard of it – Riki Poka."

Astrid yelped in delight and grabbed for the scroll. Knowing better than to get in her way, Hiccup gave it up without a fight, Astrid eagerly tearing off the binding and unrolling the scroll.

After a few seconds of Astrid reading the scroll silently to herself and ignoring the expectant eyes around her, Ruffnut piped up on the audience's behalf. "You know, some of us would like to know what's going on, too."

"She's right, you know," said Hiccup. Astrid eyeballed Hiccup as if debating whether or not to keep hogging the letter, but then she straightened up and started reading aloud from the beginning:

Dear Sister,

Greetings and fond wishes from Riki Poka. The city still stands as always, and while its troubles are varied and numerous, we work to resolve them as we always have. Nothing on the level of the Alchemist, thank the Gods, but sometimes even small issues can carry much grave concern.

"Tell me about it," said Hiccup, eliciting a shush from Astrid before she continued.

To begin, please give our deepest sympathies to your husband over the loss of his father. We are sorry that we could not come to you, but the raids by the Canticore Collective have been frequent enough that we cannot afford to take off the two-months time we would need for the trip. This disappoints me to no end, but hopefully when Admiral Canticore finally sees the folly of his pursuits we will have the time to visit Berk.

We are also pleased to hear of Hiccup's ascension to the role of chief. None of us were surprised. It was not a fate you needed a vision to foretell.

We are all in good health. Archibald has been delving into public relations and politics, much to his dismay. He is well suited for the task, but I suspect he would rather be destroying Guardians than greeting heads-of-state.

Nestor remains true to his duty as a Champion, and to the two of us, though I suspect he is frustrated that he has not the time to properly learn the written Norse language so that he can write his own letters to Hiccup. Time also keeps us from furthering our own relationship, but we are both content with what we have, at least for now.

Qiao… I have not killed her.

Heather has yet to see her family since the War of the Alchemist, but she steadfastly refuses to leave until things have calmed down once more. I suspect that her growing affection for Captain Linebreaker might have a role as well. The two of them are otherwise in good spirits, both at the Dancing Clam and with their ocean voyages. And no, they have not named Ship as yet.

Proto remains at Nestor's side, always helping, always learning.

On a personal note… I must confess to a growing uneasiness about… something. But no head-splitting visions have materialized to grant me clarity. Perhaps I have spent too much time away from my role as the Seer and my edginess is a byproduct of living in the present, as opposed to constantly worrying about the future. If any visions pertinent to you and yours come my way, you will hear from me.

I miss you, Sister, and it saddens me that three years have passed without seeing you once more. Nestor assures me that we are owed time for our endeavors, but conflicts do not abide by the rules of fairness. Only time will tell when we can free ourselves long enough to see you.

May the Fates always favor you, and the Gods grant you happiness.

Saga, Nestor, and the rest of us.

"The date is around two months ago," said Astrid as she wrapped up the reading, wearing a wistful look like the ones that she typically had after one of Saga's letters. Hiccup always felt profoundly relieved afterwards, glad that Nestor and everyone else was alive and okay despite the line of work they were in. But Astrid was always hoping that they'd finally make it back up to Berk for a visit. She constantly sent them invitations in her return letters, only to have Saga state one reason or another why they couldn't. Astrid had really bonded with Saga during those several crazy months together, and three years was a long time to keep good friends apart.

"She sounds happy," said Hiccup, the only comforting thing he could think of saying that didn't sound too hollow.

"Why wouldn't she?" commented Tuffnut. "They're having more excitement than we are these days."

"Too bad they can't come up and visit," said Fishlegs.

"Why?" said Snotlout, the only one of the group who was never pleased to hear about Hiccup's friends from the south. "You barely did anything with them."

"I never got to interview Arc or get his measurements," explained Fishlegs. "There's a big hole in the Dragon Manuel where it says Green Lightning."

"Personally, Hiccup," said Gobber, "understand that I don't mean any offense by this, but I hope your friends keep their visits few and far between. Where they go, things tend to explode."

"But we like that part," said Ruffnut.

"I get what you mean, Gobber," said Hiccup. "But they are the best folks to have around when things explode." And he did miss having Nestor around, almost as much as Astrid missed Saga, but he remained happy knowing that Nestor had found his place in the world.

Ignoring Ruffnut's comment, Gobber started unscrewing his hook-arm and began replacing it with a set of steel pliers. "Now, if it's all the same to you folks, I have a dozen DR-45s to finish, Hiccup has chiefly things to do, and I can't have you all yakking away in my shop all morning."

"Will you put more padding on this batch of saddles?" asked Fishlegs. "Chomps has a sensitive back and…"

"I'll give you a sensitive back if you don't leave," threatened Gobber, though there was little harshness in his tone.

The others filed out of the shop, with only Astrid lingering to hand over the letter to Hiccup. She still had a slight forlorn look to her, like a dragon hatchling that just had its favorite chew toy yanked out from between its jaws. "You know, Astrid, maybe when I have this chief thing squared away and I can trust the village not to burn up in my absence, the two of us can take our dragons on an extended vacation to Riki Poka."

"I don't know if we'll ever have the time again, Hiccup," she replied, shaking her head at the idea. "It's sweet of you to offer, though."

"Well, then… yes," he said, keeping his voice low and not elaborating any further. Astrid didn't understand at first, but once Hiccup nodded his head toward the door and her Dragon Squad, she got the message. It perked her right up. She gave him a final peck on the cheek and headed off to catch up with the rest of the gang.

Unable to come up with any more excuses not to, Hiccup faced his desk once more, instinctively groaning. The papers hadn't magically disappeared or sorted themselves while his back was turned. Astrid and his friends had proven a wonderful diversion, but only a temporary one.

"Hard, isn't it?" said Gobber, coming up to Hiccup's side and looking at Hiccup's desk, a smidgen of sympathy in his tone. "It's tricky figuring out how to switch from one role in life to another, knowing what to put in the past and what to keep. Sometimes I think your dad looked forward to dragon attacks just so he could relive his youth… that, and maybe a few other reasons."

"So you're saying that my best days are behind me?" said Hiccup.

"Well, maybe the days when you could fly off into the sunset without any cares," said Gobber. He gestured to his pliers-arm, then to his shop. "My younger years involved me losing a couple of important body parts… which you can relate to. After that, I couldn't exactly keep up with everyone else. But then I got this great shop, learned to be the best smith in all the North Sea, and I've had plenty of 'best days' since then."

Gobber was not one to frequently give successfully uplifting words of wisdom, but occasionally he got it right. He wasn't an advisor or a commander, and he didn't want to be. He was merely Stoick's best friend; someone who understood Stoick and who understood Hiccup, and his counsel was always welcome.

A blast of flame from the other side of the store broke apart the quiet moment. Gobber let out a groan of his own. "Thor's Hammer! Grump, I'll be right there. Most impatient dragon ever. He and my grandma have that much in common."

Hiccup snickered quietly as Gobber went off to argue with his dragon, an old Hotburple that was content to sit around the shop and supply fuel for the furnaces. Gobber had been slow to acquire his own dragon, but after watching Toothless aid Hiccup in his smithing projects he finally admitted that there were perks to sharing a home with a fire-breathing reptile.

Alone at last… with his pile of correspondence. Hiccup let out yet another groan. This whole write-down-your-request rule was starting to feel like a massive error…

"Hiccup? You still in?" Snotlout, of all people, had returned to the shop doorway, and Hiccup didn't know whether to be relieved for getting a new diversion or irritated because… well, Snotlout. He went with irritable relief.

"I found a letter outside the shop," explained Snotlout, holding said letter in his grimy hands. "I think it fell out of the mail bag. It's addressed to the Chief of Berk."

"So's everything these days," said Hiccup, taking the scroll and unrolling it. He expected another invitation to another clan's wedding. What he got was… intriguing.

"This is… interesting," he said absently. "This isn't from another tribe. I…" He looked up and realized that Snotlout was lingering. In fact, he seemed almost curious, either about the contents of the letter or about Hiccup's reaction.

"Something else I can do for you, Snotlout?" he asked.

"Oh, me? Nah, just hanging. Can't really do anything until Astrid finishes beating up Ruffnut… oh, sorry, sparring."

"And you want to hang here? With me?"

Even Snotlout realized this was out of character for him. "Well, it's possible I might, somehow, in some crazy way, become chief someday. I wanted to see how you did things."

Hiccup considered this exceedingly unlikely. "Okay, what did you do?"

Snotlout was shocked at the question. "What? Why do you assume that…?" He trailed off when Hiccup gave him a dirty look. He had to sell this, or else he could kiss his path to future fame and fortune goodbye. "Okay, really, I just think we should try to be on friendlier terms."

Hiccup's dirty look went skeptical. "Three years of barely saying a civil word to me, and now you want us to be friends again?"

"Well, friendlier. Let's not push it."

"What brought this on?"

Snotlout shrugged. "I woke up and realized that things are as they are. You're Chief, Astrid is unavailable, and I'm still living in my parent's cellar. I mean, the Twins have more respect than I do around here. So I can either keep flying against the wind or I can glide along with it."

"You sound almost… rational," said Hiccup, not exactly buying what Snotlout was selling, but willing to see where this went. "If you really want to help, you can find out who Marcus Kepler is." Hiccup held up the letter. "He wants to meet with me tomorrow about a business proposition. There's a map to a small local island, Cheek Bite. Nothing there but crabs and crabgrass."

"Marcus Kepler?" Snotlout paused for effect while trying to look pensive. "I think I might know of him."

"What?" Hiccup's disbelief was unmistakable.

"Seriously, I think I know the name."

"How? You've never been more than a day away from Berk."

"Hey, I hear things. Traders like to talk. Someone named Marcus set up shop… eighteen months ago, on an island somewhere to the… southeast. He's supposed to be a tinkerer, like you, only he trades his stuff."

Hiccup noticed Snotlout's eyes glancing towards his crossed arms during the obvious pauses in his speech. He was focusing on his left hand for some reason.

"Something wrong with your hand?" Hiccup asked.

A brief look of guilt, or perhaps fear, crossed Snotlout's face, but it was gone in a flash. Snotlout proceeded to casually wipe his left hand on his shirt and then showed his open palm to Hiccup. A nasty ash-based black smudge was apparent. Such stains were common amongst Vikings who choose self-igniters like Nightmares as their dragons.

"I didn't wash today, remember?" Snotlout said.

Hiccup shook his head. He really shouldn't have been surprised. Still, something about Snotlout's behavior wasn't settling with him. Might be the fact that Snotlout was never helpful unless he was getting something out of it.

"Any idea what Marcus sells?" he asked.

"I don't know… Stuff."

"So why would I do business with him? We don't even have any business."

"Maybe it's time we did. We could be like that big city you saved, Richie Poopoo."

"Riki Poka, and we're too far north to become a trade city… and way too small."

"I'm just saying that there can't be any harm in meeting with this guy, could there?"

"There could be," said Hiccup. He glanced at the letter, his curiosity itching at him. He had told himself to keep clear of outside matters for now, but this was an invitation delivered right to his doorstep. He honestly didn't know what Berk had to offer other than dragons, and their dragons would never be for sale. It'd be like selling family. Still, maybe it bore checking out, if only to make sure that this Kepler character wasn't up to any shenanigans that might endanger Berk.

"The letter says I can bring as many warriors and dragons as I want," mused Hiccup, "and if we want to meet, we just show up by noon tomorrow." He mused silently for a few more seconds. "You know, I think we'll take a look at this. I'll talk to Astrid about it after you guys get back."

"I'm sure she'll be fine with it," said Snotlout, feeling rather pleased with himself and doing his best not to show it. Then he caught onto something Hiccup had said. "Wait, where am I going?"

Hiccup gave him a knowing half-smile. "You'll find out soon enough."

Okay, that was an ominous thing to say, but Snotlout honestly didn't care. After excusing himself from Hiccup's shop, Snotlout had to walk a good distance away before allowing himself a victory dance and a whoop or two. He really was business partner material. True, he had to remind himself of a few details by writing notes on his left hand, but at least he'd been smart enough to do it with easily smudged ashes. Fame and fortune couldn't be far away for a guy as savvy as him.

Hiccup, on the other hand, could only look at his desk and groan for a fourth time. He was all out of distractions, and still full of chiefly things to do. He glanced Toothless's way and gave his resting companion a sheepish grin. "Gee, it'd be a shame if you accidentally fired off a plasma bolt and roasted my desk and all the work on it."

Toothless snorted once and went back to napping.

Hiccup sighed in defeat. "Didn't think you'd go for that."