Hello, everyone!
Another early update! Woohoo!
As always, I want to thank xSkiesofblue11, TheFuriousNightFury, vampireharry the 2, T-thenightfury, Ashora, Cyeithen, OseanSoldier, MisstyX0007, Varghul, Elt-1080, Dragonboy111, NomexGlove, DevoutRelic, Lightwavers, Timmichangas, FMAlover32, RedLightningD608, Zeklyn, Brenne, CrisDLZ, and Crysist for all of your thoughtful reviews. I really appreciate your support and critiques! Lastly, I'd like to thank my betas, Crysist and GoldenGriffiness!
Comments and critiques are appreciated, as always! I hope you all enjoy, and have a nice day!
Chapter 4
Hiccup
"Hiccup, why?" Toothless moaned.
It was early—so early that my blind, lame eyes could barely make out the road just a few feet in front of me. The sky was just beginning to light up off to the east and a brisk wind rushed through the village.
I shuddered and clutched my arms in as cold waves of anxiety burst from my chest. On instinct, I rolled my shoulders. But I no longer had wings to draw in for warmth, and I was left exposed. "Because we have to."
"No us!" He snapped, frustrated. I jolted at the sudden, angry tone, and immediately Toothless lowered his head and tail, crooning, "Sorry, sorry, sorry…"
"It's alright," I said, turning to him and putting a paw on his neck. Toothless lifted his head, and I pulled him closer in a hug. My racing heart calmed some at his closeness, and I noticed him relaxing as well. "I know it's a stupid, crazy idea…but with you here, not too much can go wrong, right?"
"Yes!" Toothless protested. "Me nervous. Human no friend, no ally. Why help, why danger?"
Despite wanting to climb onto the safety of his back, I stepped away and turned back down the desolate road. We walked at such a slow pace that Toothless had to stop and wait every few seconds. "I know it's stupid," I said again, after pausing to try and collect my racing thoughts. "And I know it probably won't work. But we have to start somewhere, don't we?"
Toothless frowned, his eyes wide and concerned. I stared into them and tugged at the empty shell of my magic.
The burn of its emptiness was still fresh and raw.
"No want," Toothless said. He huffed, glaring down the pitch-black road like it was hiding something. "Hiccup certain?"
"No," I admitted, feeling the nervousness and nausea I had come to love creep back and leave me almost lightheaded. "I'm…a little scared, to be honest. But I'm tired of feeling like we're just at the mercy of everyone else. Like we just have to sit around and wait for things to happen to us."
Toothless turned to me with a surprised look. He spoke in dragon, forgetting for a moment that I couldn't understand. Then he shook his head, leaned in, and pressed briefly against my side with a comforting purr. "No us. Human. No us."
"What do you mean?" I said after spending a few seconds failing to figure it out.
"That no Hiccup," Toothless said. "Human fight, human danger."
"I don't…" I slumped, holding myself even tighter. We passed by some taller buildings, and the darkness closed in. "I still don't get it. I'm sorry, Toothless."
"It is fine," he hummed, nudging me with his nose. "Need word."
"You can say that again," I sighed. I straightened and looked around to get a sense of our location. All at once the dimness and the lack of clarity sprung up at me. My ears felt muffled and numb, and I swiveled my head around in a sore attempt at picking up sounds from our surroundings. It took me a moment, but even with my dulled, useless senses, I could still recognize where we were.
My heart pounded in my chest, loud enough for me to count each beat. I swallowed. "We're here."
"What?!" Toothless gasped. He squared his feet and his teeth glinted in the darkness as he unsheathed them. "Certain?"
I nodded. "Y-yeah."
Toothless wrapped a wing around me. "Hiccup ready?" He pressed in a gentle, sympathetic tone.
I leaned into him for a moment. "With you, I am."
We spared a moment—both of us tense and nervous and not really wanting to be here—and then pressed on.
This was the right place, I knew; we'd actually spent the last few days spying until we were sure. There was still that lingering doubt that I was making a mistake, that I was throwing us into danger, that I was wrong again…
I lifted a shaking paw, slowly clenched it into a fist, and knocked on the door.
A muffled voice deep inside the house shouted a complaint. We waited in silence, standing somewhat awkwardly and almost hoping that whoever had spoken would ignore us. Then Toothless perked up and let out a low growl. It was the only warning I had.
The door yanked open, and I fought the urge to turn and leap into the sky. My limbs locked up as I met his eyes.
"H-hi, Dogsbreath."
The light pooling from his house shrouded him, casting his face in almost complete darkness. I could just barely make out his features as he wrinkled his nose and hissed with venom, "You."
In the corner of my eye, Toothless lowered his head and bared his teeth. I didn't let myself look away, no matter how much I wanted to.
"We don't want to cause trouble," I began, struggling to keep my voice from shaking as my chest tightened and my mouth went dry. "We're here to—"
"To gloat?" Dogsbreath growled. "To rub salt in the wound, now that ya know ya have the Chief's protection?"
I shook my head. "No, we're here to…to talk." I said the last part lamely, realizing just as the words left my mouth how stupid they sounded.
Dogsbreath snorted. "I'm not apologizin'. Ya don't deserve one, and despite that, I was still the one punished for protectin' family." His voice became low and menacing. "If it weren't fer them, I'd kill ya where ya stand, banishment be damned."
His eyes held that promise in them that I had once seen in my own father's eyes: that certainty that all he needed was an opening, a moment of weakness, so that he could strike and put an end to it all. A cold, nauseating gale of dread rushed through me. I blinked rapidly, fighting to keep calm.
Toothless leaned into me. It was enough purchase to haul myself back into the present. Still, even though I'd rehearsed this conversation in my head so many times, all of the sudden my "preparations" were thrown completely off-kilter.
"We don't want to fight," I said after a short, tense silence.
"Oh, don't ya?" Dogsbreath laughed with a sneer. "That perfectly explains how you two called yer entire nest on the Chief a few days back, don't it? Is that why yer really here? To make an example outta that?"
I grimaced, sharing a guilty look with Toothless. "N-no, of course not. We—"
"Then I don't see why yer here, wastin' my time and keepin' me from fulfillin' my punishment." Dogsbreath stepped out of his house and shut his door, and I stumbled out of his way. He pointed in the general direction of the docks. "If ya don't remember, I've been put on hard labor duties from sunrise to sundown for quite some time because of you."
"No us," Toothless snarled, his voice dripping with hatred. "You!"
I couldn't help but feel frustrated as well, even as my head spun and my heart hammered. I squared my shoulders and looked directly into Dogsbreath's eyes. "You were the one to attack us, Dogsbreath."
For a horrible moment, Dogsbreath looked like he was ready to lunge at us right then and there. His hand rested at his hip, but he was unarmed—which really only made his clear desire to attack us all the more intimidating. He settled for saying nothing, glowering with a malice-filled intensity that I had not seen from a human in a long time.
"We want to keep that from happening again," I said again in a calming tone—more for myself and Toothless than him, honestly. Holding my hands out, I said, "Everyone's so wound up that everything's starting to boil over."
"Just like what happened to that girl Astrid, yes?" Dogsbreath said pointedly.
I grimaced, lowering my head. "Yes, just like with Astrid," I ground out as guilt, again, crashed through me. "But just telling everyone to be nice to each other doesn't work. Dad could hold all the meetings he wants, and we could talk to our nestmates all day long, but it will never do anything." I straightened up again and reached out to Toothless, leaning into him.
"That's why we're here. We have to work to make things better."
"And ya picked me first," Dogsbreath said. "I'm real touched."
Toothless wrinkled his nose and caught my eye, throwing his head. He was ready to give up on this, having never thought it was a good idea in the first place.
But I needed it to work. I needed to know that I could still do something, that I wasn't a total screw-up. I needed to know that I wasn't completely useless all over again.
Because if I couldn't even fix a relatively small problem like Dogsbreath, then how could I hope to make things better with my father or the rest of the village?
"What else can we do?" I asked in a last, desperate grab at making this work. Dogsbreath's eyebrows kicked up in surprise. "What can we do to make things better?"
"How about you get rid of the dragons."
"No," Toothless and I both said, shaking our heads.
Dogsbreath regarded us both with that wide-eyed looked that crossed the faces of humans when a dragon responded to their words. Then he shook it off, growing spiteful again. "Ya know, even though you stayed away from Berk, ya seem to expect us to forget what you were," he said, trapping me in place with his eyes.
My heart plummeted. No, not this, not this…
"We know what kind of terror you were, the unholy and bloodthirsty way ya two took down village after village. Even now we're struggling to find trade as they recover, and our fishin' nets are comin' up more and more empty with each trip."
It wasn't me! I didn't mean to!
"I was on the ships during the battle. I saw that monster with my own eyes. I saw the way you turned its own forces against it in a matter of seconds." He narrowed his eyes. "So how can I possibly know ya won't do the same to us, the next time something doesn't go yer way? If you could turn on yer so-called 'Queen' dragon so easily, then how quickly would you do the same to us?"
I stood statue-still, halfway there and halfway not, unfocused and overwhelmed and furiousat myself for freezing on the spot. "It wasn't…it wasn't me," I breathed as my emotions clashed against each other, leaving me dazed.
"Yes, it was. Or am I mad?" Dogsbreath pursed his lips, looking over me with scrutiny. Toothless growled low in his chest, leaning into me and reminding me that I was not alone.
After a moment to collect myself, I stammered out, "Y-you're right. It was me, in body, but in my mind…it was the Queen. She could control other dragons, and I didn't even know what she was doing. I didn't—I would never...I promise you, it wasn't really me. And…" I sighed, hanging my head. "I think about it every day and night. I haven't forgotten, and I haven't forgiven myself either."
Toothless whipped towards me with a small whine. I knew that look; it was the "we are definitely talking about this later" look. Oh, great.
Dogsbreath at first paused, only to give a wry chuckle. "At least ya got a healthy dose of shame in ya, I'll hand ya that. But my point still stands, no matter what you or yer father and Gobber say."
I looked up at him, meeting his scornful eyes for a long moment. I wanted nothing more than to leave, to go back to the safety and seclusion of the forest or to the warmth and comfort of our nestmates.
That meant giving up.
I was so tired of running away and leaving these festering wounds exposed to start fight after fight, filling every day with worried anticipation of the next blow. It was just too much. I couldn't take it anymore, feeling useless and vulnerable all the time, unable to look forward to or even imagine a future.
And so, in blind stubbornness, I actually pushed back when normally I would have rolled over and sullenly accepted yet another loss.
"I understand," I murmured. "I understand why it's hard for all of you, because it's just as bad for us." Raising my voice to appear more confident, "I don't know how to prove to you what the Queen did. I don't know how to show you that we won't turn on you. Not when dragons are being attacked by Vikings, too. But I'm trying, and that's all that I can do. We wouldn't be here if we didn't want to start making things better. For all we knew, you would try to kill us the moment you saw us, but we still came here to try to fix things."
Dogsbreath had alarmingly good poker face when he wanted one. I struggled to read his expression as the sun began to rise.
"I'm a simple warrior," he said. "Nothin' more, nothin' less. I know only what I see, because that's all that matters. What I see is my home filled with dragons that do what they want, when they want. What I see is a Night Fury and a dragon-boy who was once a Viking, who both have the power to turn them on us any moment, and who are afraid of us."
His expression softened into a heavy frown. "I am not the person to ask how to bring peace between Vikings and dragons. I don't know why ya came to me instead of yer father, who is the man ya should be talkin' to. But I also give credit when credit is due. You say you are tryin', and I can see that. But I cannot do what yer askin' of me. The dragons are breakin' and stealin' what they want, and if ya haven't noticed, they don't hesitate to attack Vikings, too. I will not stand by for the sake of keepin' peace."
"Human no listen," Toothless griped in frustration.
He meant it as a complaint—his version of giving up and saying, "This human is still not listening to us!"
I didn't catch that right away, though.
The word for "human" and "dragon", I had discovered over the past couple days, sounded almost exactly the same. When Toothless had taught me those words, I had found it ironic and almost fitting how close they were.
They were so similar that, in my tired and stressed-out state, I misheard Toothless. So while he had meant to say humans were not listening, I misinterpreted him as saying dragons were not listening.
"Nobody is listening to each other," I murmured to myself, looking down at my hands. Toothless tipped his head to the side, confused.
"Now, that's enough," Dogsbreath said, pulling me out of my thoughts. "You've done what ya came here fer. I can't spare any more time talkin' to you." He gave me one last stern, suspicious look. "You've given me somethin' to think about, so I'll return the favor. What yer doin' is not good enough, even though yer right that just talkin' don't fix anythin'. It's up to you to find out what does. Yer time with dragons has made ya forget that we Vikings have only ever known how to fight dragons."
Not knowing what more I could say, I hesitated and then nodded. This seemed to satisfy Dogsbreath, and he turned towards the sunrise and began to head down to the docks.
Toothless and I pressed close to each other, watching him go in silence. My heart still hammered in my chest and my thoughts lingered on the past, on my struggles and fears. The only thing distracting me from it was the pure surprise rushing through me.
Despite wanting anything else, I had truly expected to be attacked or yelled at or chased away. I would have never thought that Dogsbreath of all people to take a moment to consider what I was saying. To be honest, I had come into this braced for a loss and merely hoping for the opposite.
The shock of this tiny success was so unexpected that I wanted to turn to Toothless and ask him if I had actually been there for the conversation. We had changed his mind, even if only a little bit. He had even told us he would think over what I'd said.
Does this mean…I really can make things better? The thought was almost foreign after exhaustion and loss and frustration had become my new norm.
Mulling this over, I turned towards the shadow-shrouded west, staring out at the soft hills that lead towards my house—and my father.
"And, Hiccup!" Dogsbreath suddenly called from much further down the street, making both of us jump and whip back towards him. "If ya really want ta prove that yer not against us, ya need to stop spendin' all of yer time hidin' among the dragons."
He didn't wait for a response, spinning back around and heading away. In just a few seconds he turned a corner and disappeared. We were left alone in the cool, drowsy street as the sun peaked high enough to cast light over the buildings, finally allowing me to see.
o.O.o
Toothless
Well. I suppose…that could have gone…worse?
To be quite honest, it was almost pitiful how both Hiccup and I considered our conversation with the human "Dog's-Breath" a victory rather than a failure. Really, he had been quite uncooperative and had only yielded ever-so-slightly. We could only take what we could get, though, and it seemed to fill Hiccup with some much-needed confidence. So I wasn't going to complain…as much.
"Stupid human," I groused to Hiccup as we wandered through the dark pathways of the human nest. "Why do they refuse to listen when we explain the Queen's magic? How many times do you have to repeat yourself for them to understand? Then they have the audacity to act surprised that we don't spend time with them! Where is the logic?"
"Come again?" Hiccup asked, although I could tell by his expression that he had a fairly good idea of what I was complaining about.
"Ugh!" I said.
With a small smile, Hiccup paused and butted heads with me. "Hey, at least we got something out of it."
"Yes, and that reminds me." I spun towards him and narrowed my eyes, already having decided on giving him one hell of a lecture even if he only understood a small percentage of it.
In return, Hiccup quickly adopted his "uh oh" expression. He tried to steer the conversation away, "So, Toothless, I was thinking—"
"No," I cut him off. "Hiccup speak—here. No Queen. Hiccup sad? Why? Why no speak?"
Hiccup's good mood vanished. He seemed to age in an instant, his face lined with weariness, and I nearly lost my resolve right then and there. Averting his eyes, he said, "It's not that big a deal, Toothless."
"This? No it is fine—bad. It is bad."
He took a moment to translate the new use of the terminology. Then, with a small sigh, he slowed to a stop and stared far, far past the nest.
"…I don't know," he said at last. "There's so many things going on, I'm just trying to focus on not drowning in all of it."
He stopped then. My mind flashed back to that horrible time when we'd escaped the cove and taken shelter within the forest, to when Hiccup had reached his ultimate low, even going so far as to allude to…
The memory was too dark for me to bear, filling my heart with ice. I poked him to get him to speak, and when he ducked his head and eyes submissively, I poked him harder.
"Later, Toothless." A hint of irritation crept into his voice. "Besides, it's not something I really want to talk about in the middle of the street. People are gonna be waking up soon."
As if to prove this, a wood-cave swung open right beside us, flinging against the exterior with a loud BANG. Both Hiccup and I nearly leapt out of our scales. The human, similarly, stopped right where they stood and gaped at us.
"…Good morning?" Hiccup said after several seconds' worth of staring.
The human threw a paw out, grabbed the part of the wood-cave that moved, and swung it shut.
"Oh, good!" I commented, layering as much sarcasm into the words as I could. "Honestly, where are their manners?"
This brought a smile back to Hiccup's face, which was good enough for me. "Maybe they aren't a morning person," he said. He bit his lip and then faced me. "I'm sorry for snapping at you just now, Toothless."
"No, no! It is—"
"No, it isn't. You're right." He deflated a bit. "All of you are. You, Dad, Astrid…and now even Dogsbreath. We're just…hiding from our problems, because they're hard to deal with. And I mean the real problems, not little things like whether or not someone likes us."
"Hatchling-steps, Hiccup," I reminded him, forcing my voice to be gentle and reassuring. "Need wait. Wait good."
He frowned, eyes filled with guilt. "But not all the time. I think we've done too much waiting."
"No," I disagreed as firmly as I could. I wanted to shake sense into him, to tell him that these things take time, that he shouldn't feel bad that he wasn't instantly better like his father so desperately wanted him to be. We had yet to build the vocabulary for a conversation of that depth, however, which resulted in my argument being composed of a not-so-convincing word rather than a speech.
Instead of responding, Hiccup paused in the middle of a crossing of pathways and headed down the one to our left. It led to the smoke-cave that Hiccup stillhad to "work" at. We were supposed to be there already, but honestly, who cared? Besides Hiccup's father, that is.
We walked a few meters, and then Hiccup drew to a sudden stop, back straight and face taut. He hummed in indecision, wringing his paws together.
"Hiccup?" I asked. "Okay?"
"Yeah," he said, lost in thought. "I just…"
He stared off into nothingness for a few more seconds, spun around, and trekked back up to the crossroads. I followed with no small amount of confusion, but certainly wasn't about to complain about us abandoning our "job" at the smoke-cave.
At the center of the paths, Hiccup stopped once more. He looked between where we'd just gone and the path to the west with clear reluctance. The westward path itself was empty and still covered in shadows, the low sunlight not having quite reached it.
Realization had just clicked in my head when Hiccup took a first wobbly step towards it, followed by another. He was tense, eyes slightly narrowed, head lowered, and teeth almost bared. He continued west anyways. I pressed up against his side and tried to appear calm, but couldn't keep my wings from opening and my tail from whipping about.
We walked together in the company of early-morning birdsong without need of words. It was almost like we were hatchlings playing a hiding game, like if we were quiet long enough, then we could scrape by our problems unnoticed. Admittedly, I would have liked to have more warning about this so that I could brace myself—but our lives were full of surprises, and unpleasant ones at that. Hiccup seemed to be on a much-welcomed "confidence streak" as well, and I wasn't about to go and send that up in flames.
Especially when, admittedly, the wrong path—the very thing Hiccup was wrongfully beating himself up over—was the more preferable choice in the short-term.
That being said, I certainly hadn't forgotten our conversation that had been cut off. The sheer amountof guilt weighing Hiccup down was becoming more and more noticeable by the day, and it terrified me. He was lucky to get a few hours of sleep each night, often awakening covered in sweat and fear-scent. He wasn't gaining any more weight and he always seemed to be cold. He had no appetite, often going an entire day before remembering that he hadn't eaten anything.
And then there was the obvious problem: the panic attacks. The sudden and unforgiving memories that descended on him, dragging him by his tail through his past.
He needed to talk. He needed to let it out, or he would never begin to recover. But he thought that doing so was burdensome to others, and still avoided the subject like his life depended on it. He was just like when we had escaped the cove in the peak of his depression, and the implications of that comparison sent a shudder down my spine.
"Dragoness of the Moon, Toothless, what's with the scary face?"
I jumped, snapping out of my thoughts. "What?"
Hiccup gave an unsteady smile and pressed closer with his odd little "human-version" purr. "You looked really freaked out. I'm the one who does that, remember? Heh…this is where you laugh, by the way."
I didn't. Shaking my head, I admitted, "Me worried. Very worried." Turning to him, I met his eyes. "Worried you."
Hiccup looked away. "…I'm sorry."
I had to keep myself from sighing, from showing the frustration on my face. "It is fine," I said, taking a new angle. "Hiccup speak? Please?"
He dipped his shoulders and held his arms like he always did when he was uncomfortable. Again, my resolve wavered, but I didn't want to give up this time. Sometimes, a little tough love was necessary. I wasn't above sitting on him with my so-called "fat behind" to get him to finally start talking—especially now. Not when we were so close. Dragon of the Sun, he was even admitting now that we had to address this, when a few days ago he would have denied it!
"I guess…" Hiccup started.
I leaned in and focused on him as much as I could, ears and side-frills fully extended and showing in every way that I was listening and wanted to listen.
"Hey, Hiccup! Wait up!"
Gods damn it! I growled to myself, looking around my shoulder as Hiccup straightened and swung around.
Astrid was running towards us from Berk, the Two-Walker Stormfly keeping easy pace behind her. They both came to a stop in front of us, and Stormfly immediately dropped into a deep bow.
"Good morning, my Kings!" She chirped. "We've been looking for you for ages! I think."
And your timing is terrible, I wanted to snap at her. "We're very busy," I said, flicking my head. "So if you don't mind…"
Stormfly tipped her head. "Don't mind what?"
Her human interrupted her. "Gobber's been looking around for you—apparently being a little late is the end of the world." She rolled her eyes. "Stormfly and I were out and he pulled me over and yelled at me to go find you again."
"Alright," Hiccup said distractedly, eyes locked on her arm. It was quite an impressive wound, scaling up and down her entire limb. "How is that?" He pointed with his nose.
It took Astrid a moment to figure out where he was gesturing. She not-so-discreetly hid her arm by holding her paws behind her back, exposing her stomach. "It's no big deal, Hiccup. Don't worry about it. I'm serious—don't give me that look."
He certainly did look worried about it. "I'm sorry, Astrid," Hiccup said, eyelids and shoulders drooping. "You shouldn't have to stand in for us, and you shouldn't have to hunt me down to get an apology out of me."
Astrid's eyes flickered over to mine, bright with confusion and concern. "But you did apologize, Hiccup—right away. Don't you remember?"
Judging by his expression, he didn't.
"And besides," she started to move closer, but stopped herself and kept her distance. "Like I said before, I want to help. Both of us do."
Hiccup and I shared a look. I personally wanted to distance myself from this human as much as possible—I could only take so much over-compensation before I got annoyed with her continuous attempts to make things "right" with us. Yet she was likely our only human ally that truly sided with us when it mattered, and for that, I was grudgingly grateful.
Which meant that we probably shouldn't just brush her off, no matter how much I wanted to for the sake of some much-needed privacy.
"Human help?" I whispered.
Hiccup frowned and nodded. To Astrid, he said uncertainly, "I was actually thinking…do you mind helping us with something?"
Her face lit up. She nodded enthusiastically with a huge smile. "Of course!" In an instant, she composed herself, all business. "It has to do with the other day, right? I heard what happened on the docks, but there's a lot of different stories going around. What was that all about?"
Well, she certainly didn't beat around the bush. Her straightforwardness was almost foreign after weeks of humans tip-toeing around us. Hiccup seemed just as taken aback by it at me, blinking at her in surprise.
"It was…another incident," he said after a moment's hesitation, holding his arms. Slumping over, he went on, "It was my fault. I just…" He gestured vaguely and shrugged. I leaned into him and purred.
Astrid let him trail off without further explanation. "I'm sorry that happened," she said, eyebrows drawn together in concern. "For what it's worth, I don't blame you. For everything, I mean. But I really do think it's good that you're spending more time in Berk, even at the forge."
This actually drew a small smile from Hiccup. "…Thanks. Uh, anyways, the thing I was going to ask you about actually has to do with…that," he nodded at her arm, which was still hidden out of sight. "I think the root of it is that nobody is listening. Humans aren't listening to me and Toothless, and our nestmates aren't listening to you guys."
Astrid nodded, eyes focused. "I think you're right—about one thing. I've been thinking a lot about it, especially after that incident with the Nightmare. What's really going on is that everyone is acting like there are two tribes living on the same island: the Viking tribe and the dragon tribe. And what you just said kinda proves how people are thinking like that."
Well, she wasn't wrong. There were two nests on the island.
"That's…a different way of looking at it," Hiccup said, a little surprised. He cast a guilty look my way. "And I guess we aren't making it much better."
Astrid nodded. "It's a big shift, and most people are too stubborn to change. Do you have any ideas of what to do?"
Hiccup looked at me. I blinked and shrugged.
"Maybe…" Hiccup shifted on his feet. "All I know is what we need to do is show that it's possible, if everyone just tried."
"Not gonna happen," Astrid said. "I've been telling people to try to make friends with dragons for a while now. Usually they think I'm joking."
"Of course they do," I said. "Humans don't particularly like to listen to reason."
"What? What's going on?" Stormfly cried with fluttering wings. "I wanna be in the loop!"
Hiccup glanced at me and then back at Astrid. "Yeah, just talking doesn't work. At least, not most of the time."
"When does it work?" Astrid asked, throwing an annoyed look to the heavens.
With a nervous chuckle, Hiccup said, "Well, actually, Toothless and I just spoke to Dogsbreath a little while ago…"
It took her a moment to process that. "You talked to Dogsbreath?" She hissed like it had to be a secret. "Why? Does the Chief know? Do you have a death wish or something?"
"Well, it worked," Hiccup said, although he looked like he didn't really believe it. "Sort of. He told us we 'gave him something to think about'."
"And he didn't try to kill us," I added. Stormfly, again, looked between all of us with immense confusion.
"I'm just glad you got out of there in one piece." Astrid looked genuinely impressed, and I allowed a proud smirk to slide on my face. She thought for a second, then added, "You know, Hiccup, that might be what's missing: you."
It was Hiccup's turn to be taken off-guard. "Uh, you're kidding, right?"
"Not at all. People keep looking to me for advice—but look what good I do." She pulled her arm from around her back and displayed it, showing us the mottled bruises running up and down it like dragon scales. "You're the only one who really knows what's going on. Maybe…" She bit her lip. "I know it's a lot to ask, and I know you have every reason not to…but it might actually work if you just spend more time in the village. And not on the roofs with the dragons or in the forge, but, you know…around us. They're your people, too."
Hiccup seemed to expect this, only giving a small, worried frown. "I don't know, Astrid." He shrugged and shook his head, eyes flicking away. "Every time we set foot in Berk, something bad happens."
Astrid met his gaze evenly, but with an almost pitied expression that immediately aggravated me. "So we have to do something about it, then. It's all because of what you said: humans and dragons aren't listening to each other, and we're all acting like we're on opposite sides. You're the bridge between them, Hiccup."
Hiccup reared his head back a little. He shot an uncertain glance towards the human nest.
Astrid's eyes softened, and in a much less pressing tone, she added, "Stormfly and I will stick around you guys if you don't feel safe." She reached out to touch his arm, only to stop and pull her arm back. "Sorry, I forgot."
"N-no, it's fine," Hiccup said, pawing at the air. He hesitated, his eyes lingering on Astrid's arm—and then he reached out even as he began leaning his body away, almost like he was afraid she would claw him but still wanted to poke the bear anyways.
Astrid froze at first, eyebrows shooting up. Recollecting herself, she extended her paw, letting it hang invitingly in the air.
Hiccup was struggling with it as much as I would, inching his paw closer only to recoil in short little jerks. His eyes were wide, but his jaw set with determination. For a few moments, everything was quiet save for the bright birdsong and hum of summer insects.
Then, as gently as if he were shifting eggs, he put his paw in Astrid's.
She wrapping her claws around his paw with a small smile. Hiccup nervously returned it and focused, eventually getting his own to do the same, if somewhat awkwardly.
"See?" Astrid murmured, like if she spoke too loud then Hiccup would frighten away. "Not so bad, right?"
Neither of them moved. Then, scales alarmingly pink, Hiccup let go and held his paws close to his heart while taking not-so-subtle steps closer to me. He ducked his head and gave Astrid a shy look from underneath his fur, trying and failing to hide a grin. "F-for you," he mumbled.
It occurred to me that this was the first time that Hiccup had ever initiated contact with a Viking by his own choice. I suppose that meant I wouldn't tease him. For now.
Oh, why not?
"Oooh, Hiccup like?" I crooned, poking him several times.
Hiccup turned an even brighter shade of pink. "U-uh, anyways, we, uh, we gotta go, Astrid, so, um…"
"Are you looking for the Chief?" She asked. When Hiccup cringed and nodded, she turned and pointed back the way we'd come. "He was down in the village last time I checked. He was actually talking to Gobber before I was sent out to look for you."
I wanted to groan; both because she had waited to tell us that, and because that meant that we still had to seek the King out and have a wonderful conversation with him.
"Oh, great," Hiccup mumbled. "Well, I guess that saves us a trip."
Astrid took in our less-than-enthused reactions with obvious sympathy—none of which was wanted or needed. "Well, want to head back down?"
"No," I sighed.
"We should," Hiccup said in the same tone.
Stormfly looked between all of us, tail flicking in annoyance and head tipped to the side. "Wait, what?"
o.O.o
Upon returning to the smoke-cave, it immediately became apparent that the King wasn't there. Or "Gobber". Or anyone.
"Weird," Astrid said, poking her head in. "They were just here. Although I did see a lot of people going down this road on my way up to your house."
Hiccup gave me a nervous look, which I returned. Normally we'd both be more than happy at this news, but now that we actually needed to speak with the King, it just prolonged the anxiety of having to speak with someone we didn't necessarily want to. Not to mention it was extremely odd that Hiccup's "mentor" wasn't here—I'd even begun to wonder if he lived in the smoke-cave, he was there so often.
Glancing up at the top of the wood-caves, I noticed a posse of Little-Biters lounging on the top of the smoke-cave to absorb the warmth coming from it. "Hello," I called, and all of them bolted upright. "Do you know where the King of humans is?"
All of them scrambled to their feet and glided down—save for one. He was the one-winged Little-Biter, and so was forced to carefully step down from outcropping to outcropping. By the time all of his friends had bowed before Hiccup and me, he had just plopped to the ground and scampered over.
"But you're the King, aren't you?" He asked Hiccup, who had sat down to get closer to them. Behind him, Astrid was peeking around his shoulder while also trying to pretend she wasn't paying attention. Stormfly took the opportunity to slip into the smoke-cave to explore and hopefully set things on fire.
"Hiccup human King?" I translated. The Little-Biters all blinked up at me with huge eyes, heads tilting this way and that.
"What, me?" Hiccup gave a small chuckle, shaking his head.
"Why are you two talking in different languages?" The one-winged Little-Biter blurted. He stood up and toddled over to Hiccup, leaping brazenly onto his legs and peering up at him with huge eyes. "It's not even the same one, and I can't understand either of them!"
"It's for easy translating," I explained. "Hic—the King can't understand us in his human form, remember?"
With drooping wings, the Little-Biters nodded—a few more sheepishly than others.
"I've found a way to speak in a humanlike way for him," I continued. To a perplexed Hiccup, I said, "Us speak, dragon confused."
He nodded and hunched down to bump heads with the Little-Biter. "I can imagine. I do think I caught a few words, though."
"Yes?" I yelped. Hiccup shrugged with a small smile, and I pressed my forehead to his, purring, "Good good good!"
I pulled away, and the one-winged Little-Biter glanced between us. "It's so strange…I feel like I can almost understand you," he twisted to face Hiccup, "but not you. And wait, why aren't you the human King? Why wouldn't you be? You're always so good at things!"
"Yeah, even if you can't talk!" A small, orange Little-Biter piped up.
"With all respect, my King, I think that you should see an elder medicine-dragon for that," mused a blue-green one, about the age of a young adult. "I can't imagine it's easy, but you seem to be very cool about it. You're very inspirational, especially because you're in that form!"
The eldest of them, a yellow Little-Biter a little gray around his muzzle, gave a small gasp and bowed deeply to both Hiccup and myself. "My Kings, I deeply apologize for my kin!" He shot them a narrow-eyed look, and all of them pressed their bellies to the ground submissively and clamped their beaks shut. "They are too young to understand the complexity of this situation."
"I understand," I said with a sad smile, wishing that Hiccup could understand how much faith they had in him—the gods knew he needed that hammered into his head. To him, I said, "Dragon like Hiccup. Them speak Hiccup good human King. Confused, why no human King?"
Hiccup grinned, but it was stiff. "I don't see why it's such a shocker—it's not like I'm the first pick for the job."
He turned to the Little-Biters and bobbed his head. Then he paused, looking uncertain for a moment. He purred in a controlled, steady fashion, rising up and down in pitch and altering the frequency of vibration. It was so unexpected that I tipped my head all the way aside without the slightest clue of what he was attempting.
It was only when Hiccup took in all of our confused reactions and looked away in embarrassment that I realized what he was trying, and how close to success he had been.
"Hiccup speak!" I exclaimed, jumping in place in a little dance before composing myself. "Ahem. Thank you, yes?"
Hiccup brightened up right away, sitting up straighter. "Y-yeah! Did you understand me?"
I was the one to look a little embarrassed this time. "Ah, no. Need…" I trailed off, not having the word, and instead made my "go on" head gesture at him.
"Need practice?" He asked.
"Yes," I said. Drawing the word out and keeping my tone neutral, I said, "Practice."
All of the Little-Biters were looking between us like they were following fish darting through a lake. Eventually, the yellow one mustered up the courage to interrupt, "Is there something you would like us to do, my Kings?"
I shook my head. "No, but thank you. We should probably move on, anyways." I sniffed the ground and wrinkled my nose at the King's familiar scent: metal and ash and too close to Hiccup's scent for comfort. He really had been here awhile ago, but the scent was a little stale—it had been at least half an hour.
To Hiccup, I pointed my nose at the ground and said, "Smell King. Us go?"
He clearly would rather spend the rest of the day here with the Little-Biters, but nodded anyways with downcast eyes. "Yeah. Better to do it before I lose my nerve." He shifted around to sit up, and the Little-Biter stepped off of him. After he'd stood up, he bobbed his head at them.
I did the same and dismissed them, "Thank you for all of your help."
The Little-Biters each called out a goodbye and bowed one more time. Then they all took off, scampering across the ground to accommodate for the one-winged Little-Biter's disability.
An odd nostalgia crept up on me as HIccup and I stood there alone. We had lost this, these little moments with our nestmates. Our nestmates had had much less apprehension adapting to life around humans than we had, and as such, we had inadvertently avoided them along with the humans. In a sudden pang, I realized that I had missed them, the closeness and familiarity and family that they provided.
And they had missed us, too.
With a sigh, I flicked my tail and turned to Hiccup. This was just another problem that we needed to fix—but for now, we had to focus on the matter at wing.
I jumped at the sight of Astrid standing right next to him, eyes alight with that same determined look she used to give us back in the cove. She'd always narrowed her eyes like that when she'd made a decision and was certain that she would stick to it.
It was a look that only meant one thing: questions. And quite a bit of them.
Oh, no.
o.O.o
Astrid babbled the whole time how amazing it was that Hiccup could understand me, not quite grasping just how much work there still needed to be done. Hiccup spent much time stammering short answers for her, still uncomfortable despite his previous efforts to get accustomed to her presence. At least Astrid was smart enough not to press him for answers, and did not attempt to touch him—which was much more than what the King could do.
I followed the King's scent as we walked, tracing a path through Berk that slowly grew more and more familiar. Yet the deeper we went into the nest, the more noticeable it was that there were hardly any humans around. What would have brought me comfort only brought more anxiety; where were the damn humans hiding?
It wasn't until the King's scent took us to the edge of the nest that we saw the reason why.
I growled down at the docks, opening my wings and flicking my tail. Without taking my eyes off of them, I nudged Hiccup's shoulder. He climbed onto my back without any further prompting, which helped ease my worries a little bit.
It seemed like every human on the island was down there, all of them swarming a single floating-tree. It was indistinguishable from the other floating-trees, but if there were that many humans on it, it couldn't be good. I also took quick notice that very few of our nestmates were on the docks; many were sitting on the cliffsides or on top of wood-caves, peering down uneasily and sending quick glances at Hiccup and me.
I forced myself to look calm in hopes that it would have the same effect on our watching nestmates. All it would take was one more incident, and Hiccup and I would quickly find ourselves wing-deep in trouble.
"Oh, wow!" Astrid said, delighted. "It's Trader Johann! I'll bet he's got a lot of news on what's going on with the other tribes."
"Maybe we should try later," Hiccup said, apprehensive. "I can't even see Dad down there."
I could. He was speaking with a human on the floating-tree, "Gobber" at his right. "Toothless see King," I said. "No like this."
"Me neither," Hiccup mumbled.
"What?" Both Astrid and Stormfly asked. The irony of it was almost humorous; both of them asking the same question, confused by the same thing, without even realizing it.
Hiccup shifted a bit. "I think we should wait until there's less of a crowd."
"So you want to wait until there's nearly nobody there?" Astrid asked. When Hiccup didn't reply, she said, "I think it might be good to go down there now. Most people haven't seen you since a few days ago, with everything that happened down there. It might be good to show them that you guys aren't a threat."
I sent her a glare, to which she looked guilty away.
A flicker of movement caught my eye. I snapped my head towards it and squinted, craning my neck. Something very small and colorful was moving around the floating-trees, so close to the humans that I had not seen it right away. Humming, I leaned forward and opened my wings a bit.
"Toothless?" Hiccup asked.
"See…" I trailed off.
Adrenaline burst through my chest.
"Fledgling!"
A ridiculously-long session of charades had resulted in Hiccup learning this word—and also that the fledglings, apparently, spent their time at the docks. We had been meaning to give them a firm talking-to, but had been caught up with other problems, like devising a plan to soothe the tensions between us and the humans.
Suddenly I regretted our inaction. We were Kings, too. Yet we had neglected the safety of our own nestmates by getting too caught up in other circumstances.
In response to my warning, Hiccup stiffened with a low growl. I opened my wings as my brother braced himself, tightening his claws around my shoulder blades and making himself small against my back.
Astrid had only just cried out in alarm when I launched myself off the cliff, tucked my wings in, and let us fall.
The insides-out feeling of freefall was glorious and sweet, like taking a drink of fresh water after hours of flying over an endless sea. The wind, sharp and crisp, raced past us and roared in our ears. It brought with it a kind of bright excitement that I had come to mourn, and all too quickly the docks sprung up to meet us.
I snapped my wings and base-fins out and pulled my body up, and immediately the air transformed into a tangible thing, no longer soft and inviting but rushing against me with such a strong force that my wingtips and shoulders began to burn. I made sure to keep my tail in-line with my body and my remaining tailtip-fin closed, all in an effort to keep the air speeding under me even. That meant sacrificing a significant amount of maneuverability; my body rocked back and forth with the different air currents coming off the ocean and bouncing off of the cliffside, and it was all I could do not to teeter over and send us both plummeting into the crashing ocean below.
With quite a bit of force and praying, we made it to the docks—barely. It was more like an accelerated, controlled crash rather than a landing, and we missed falling straight into the ocean by a single winglength. My feet landed unevenly, forcing me to dig my claws in and skid several meters before we came to a gut-lurching stop.
The humans ceased their activities. The wind blew, the gulls called, and the ocean sprayed against the cliffsides.
In the empty silence, Hiccup let out an overjoyed, breathless laugh. Gasping for air, I looked over my shoulder at him with wide eyes.
It had been a long time since I'd heard that.
"We should do that more often," Hiccup panted with a playful tug at my ear.
"Yes?" I said with a grin.
Still chuckling a bit, I turned around to face the area I had last seen the fledglings—and was met with the dumbfounded stares of at least three dozen humans. The fledglings were perched on the floating-trees and hovering just at the humans' heads, and quickly darted out of view once they'd seen that I'd found them.
"Fledglings!" I said sharply, lifting my head and putting on my "Kingly voice". I didn't call again, and instead looked expectantly into the crowd as the silence stretched on and on.
One by one, the fledglings crept out from beneath the feet of the humans, heads and bellies low but a mischievous light in their eyes. Eventually, a group of about ten or so had made their way out of the crowd and stood before Hiccup and me. Quite a few were clutching something in their teeth or claws. I narrowed my eyes.
"Where did you find those?" I asked, eyeing the objects. Some were completely random and seemed to have no functional purpose, and some were things I recognized, like paper.
They all looked at each other, seeing who would fib first.
For a moment, I was tempted to let them get away with it, just out of spite. The memory of Astrid's wound sprang to my mind, along with the very real and dangerous anger the humans had expressed that day. Humans were extraordinarily possessive of their things, and I had a feeling that the fledglings had just given us a good opportunity.
"Leave those here, and return to the rest of our nestmates," I said.
"B-but Kings!" A young Two-Head whined. "It took so long to get these!" She held up something made of dead furs that was very aesthetically unpleasing to the eye.
A Flame-Skin the size of a Little-Biter piped up, "And some humans gave them to us! This isn't fair!" He snorted and his scales smoldered with embers.
"You're not my mother!" A Two-Walker noticed.
I grinned. "You'll understand when you're older."
Every single one of them let out the same over-exaggerated moan and fell dramatically onto the deck. They had likely heard that very sentence every day, just as I had when I was their age. Hiccup jumped in surprise, snickered, and then tried to hide it behind a cough.
Without any proper counter-argument, each fledgling set their object down and sulked away, occasionally peeking at me to see if I noticed them trying to give me the cold shoulder. They waited until the last one had reluctantly set down her paper, and then all of them fluttered into the air towards Berk.
"Crisis averted!" I said, puffing my chest up. "Now, let's just leave…"
"Hiccup! There you are!"
"…or have some more family bonding." I dropped my head and wings and then slowly turned back towards the humans.
The crowd had parted for the King, who took in the stolen objects with confusion. He met my eyes and then looked slightly above me at Hiccup. "Did you come here to help with this?" He asked, gesturing at the objects.
"Sure, why not?" I said, nodding once.
Hiccup wasn't as skilled of a liar, shrinking closer to me. "Um…sort of…?"
The King gave a strained smile. "Well, thank you. Those dragons were starting to go for things of actual value." He stooped down to pick up the objects, then took a few steps closer—but he noticeably kept his distance. "I've been looking for you since early this morning—I received a messenger pigeon from Trader Johann about his arrival. He's just anchored and started to get his supplies out, and then those little dragons swooped in."
Hiccup was very still. "Yeah…we're, uh, sorry about that. They're just fledglings." He paused, and in a tense voice, he asked, "Dad, could we…could we talk to you?"
The King's eyes widened, and for a moment his mouth moved up and down. "Of course." Lowering his voice a little, he said, "I've been wanting to speak with you as well, Hiccup. I figured a few days to cool down would do some good. Let me just finish some arrangements with Trader Johann, and we can leave."
Hiccup must have nodded, because he turned back towards the crowd. At precisely the same moment, an odd-looking human with a unique scent stumbled forward, nearly tripped, and then straightened up while brushing himself off. He whipped his head around until his eyes settled on the King.
"There they are!" He laughed, grabbing the objects from the King. "Here I was, thinking the dragons took 'em away forever! And I have you two to thank, yes?" He directed the question at me and Hiccup. Without waiting for a response, he went on merrily, "Well, I must say, that was quite the entrance! I'm very pleased to formally meet you two—well I've met you, Hiccup, but not this majestic beauty of the skies here!" He walked right up to me and crouched down to my eye level. "It's true that this dragon can understand our language, is it not?"
"Majestic beauty of the skies"? Well, that was...new. Maybe this human was actually worth talking to.
After making sure to send a smirk at Hiccup—to which he rolled his eyes at—I turned to the human and gave him a nod. Now my curiosity was piqued; who was this stranger, and why was he so...nice to us?
"Wonderful!" The human cried. "Then you'll surely be of help with the problem I've been seeing in the north! Well there's been lots of problems in the north—I've lost quite a bit of trade up there recently, actually. I say, those islands up there certainly are stingy when it comes to my wares...there's quite a large amassment of people, and yet they turn their noses up to my fine boutique!"
"Trader Johann, perhaps we should speak in private," the King warned him, sending an obvious look to the crowd around us.
I frowned as I took in the King's tense posture and hard eyes. What was the problem? This human was running his mouth, yes, but other than that...
"No, no!" The human said, flapping a paw and dropping some of his "precious" objects in the process. He focused back on me. "I need to speak with the dragon!"
Hiccup gave a soft sigh. I twisted my neck to look at him. His eyes were half-lidded and his shoulders drooped, eyes fixed on his paws—his human paws. He noticed me looking and shook it off, pretending to look "normal" and doing a poor job of it.
"Trader Johann," the King tried once more.
The human scooted even closer to me, eager and brazen and arrogant, his eyes alight and his body nearly bouncing with excitement.
He was far too close for comfort, so close I could smell his breath. My stomach turned, and Hiccup shrunk away.
"Tell me, dragon," the human said. "What is to be done about the raids in the north?"
There was a fragile moment where nobody said anything.
Raids.
I had no words. Was she…was the Queen still alive?
"…raids?" Hiccup whispered, horrified.
The human snapped his head up to look at Hiccup. "And look at you! Once a dragon, now riding one, and without a saddle at that! Although I see you didn't come out of it unscathed," he mused, looking at my left side where Hiccup's fake leg was. With quite a bit of peppiness, he exclaimed, "Well look at the bright side—at least you're back to normal!"
I was so caught up in my own stunned confusion that it took me several moments to process what the human had said.
All of it came together—and just like that, he was no longer worth talking to.
I bristled, baring my teeth. How dare this human say such brash and cruel things, and to Kings? Stretched tensions or not, I would not stand by and allow this complete stranger to blow fire at the suffering Hiccup and I had endured, as if it were something trivial enough to be gossiped about.
Hiccup's claws tightened around my neck, and I turned around and did a double-take at the glare he was searing into the human. His teeth were bared, his nose and forehead wrinkled and casting shadows across his face, his eyes narrowed to slits.
Despite his human body, he certainly looked like one pissed-off Shadow-Blender.
With visible effort, Hiccup forced himself to calm down, now with a noticeable amount of guilt. I didn't bother holding back, turning back to the startled human with as nasty a look as I could manage.
The King interrupted before any more words could be said. He grabbed the human by his arm and growled, "We will speak in private. Understood?"
The stranger flicked his eyes between us and the King and then nodded several times. "O-of course, I'll just place these back on my ship—"
"Now." Without waiting for a reply, he spun around and marched back towards Berk. The human followed him, cringing. Another human broke off from the crowd to come along—Hiccup's mentor, "Gobber".
Hiccup and I shadowed the three of them without saying a word, and the human crowd began talking among themselves. It was not the usual kind of muttering we had grown accustomed to, but something worse, something that made me want to take off and flee into the safety of the forest. It was dark and somber, filled with the underlying panic of waiting for an expected attack. In just one instant, the news of raids had changed their entire outlook on the dragons that lived here on Berk.
They were, truly and deeply, afraid.
Afraid of us.
o.O.o
Hiccup
Keep it together. Keep it together.
Shadows buzzed through my head. My phantom tail thrashed as invisible wings lifted in preparation of flight. Taking a deep breath, I pressed my forehead against the back of Toothless' head and focused on him to re-center myself.
The trek up to Berk was horribly silent, just like the Queen's flares used to be. Even Gobber was uncharacteristically quiet. Halfway up, we passed Astrid and Stormfly, whom had been making their way down after we'd ditched them on the clifftop.
Astrid met my gaze, eyes huge and concerned. I shook my head at her. She did not follow.
I almost wanted her to ignore me and come with us anyways, especially after all she had done to help. Yet there was still that lurking uncertainty, there was still that axe that she kept at her hip, there was still that wound that made my head cloud with unwelcome memories... and there was still that open and inviting hand that grasped onto mine and remarkably did not bring pain.
It was better that she stayed behind. Dealing with Dad was confusing enough on a good day.
Dad stomped into the first open building he saw—Town Hall. Trader Johann chatted away, apologizing and changing the subject and trying to assuage us all at once. Toothless hesitated at the open door and dark room, but then padded in with a small shudder. I purred to him, and he relaxed a little.
Once we were all inside and the door was shut, Dad stopped and faced Trader Johann. "Raids? In the north?"
Trader Johann gave a nervous laugh. "Well, yes, sort of."
"Sorta'?" Gobber repeated. "The dragons attacked or they didn't. Which is it?"
"Well, it's quite extraordinary!" Johann said. "I haven't been lucky enough to document one myself, but across the northern islands there have been reports of raids. Huge groups of dragons flying overhead for up to an hour on end!"
"Confused," Toothless murmured. "Nest no fight? No enemy?"
"So…they weren't raids?" I asked for him, brows scrunching together. "They weren't attacking?"
"That's the odd part!" Trader Johann said. "I've heard of cases where sometimes they do descend on villages, but they don't steal anything. They just knock things over and set fire to the buildings—causing quite a bit of damage, I might add—and then either leave or get chased off." He looked to Toothless and asked, "Can you explain this, dragon?"
The words were like a knife to my heart. I took a deep breath, scolding myself for getting so defensive.
Toothless made a big show of not acknowledging him, somehow even more upset about what Trader Johann had said than I was. Trader Johann waited patiently, as eager as a little kid on the eve of Snoggletog.
"What else can you tell us about these raids?" Dad asked. "Where exactly are they? For how long have they been happening? Have there been any injuries, or stealing?"
The traveling merchant reached to his belt and produced some paper, unraveling it to reveal a well-drawn map of the archipelago. Berk was in the southeast, and I could pinpoint exactly where the Queen's nest had been north of it—although it was still not marked on the map, still hidden away and shrouded in shadows.
"I first heard reports here," he pointed to an island far northwest of Berk. "And by traveling south and compiling witness reports, I've discovered something quite strange. Each island south of here has reported their raids at different times. The more south, the later each raid. The range is also much broader as the raids travel south, affecting more and more islands. So while this one was relatively unscathed when I stopped by," he pointed at an island directly west of the first one, "all of these islands had reported dragon raids within roughly the same time period about a week later." He traced a long line of islands about a day's worth of sailing south from the first affected island.
"And the injuries?" Dad asked. "Were they as bad as they used to be?"
He didn't look at me, but I still shrunk against Toothless anyways.
"Well, from what I've heard, it's been pretty typical," Trader Johann said. "If you attack a dragon, it'll attack you right back. But I'm sure you already know that! However, I've yet to hear of any catastrophic damage like in the past year, and there's been almost no reports of stealing."
Dad and Gobber shared a look. I tightened my grip on Toothless.
They were organized, moving from a set point and fanning out as they went. They weren't going out of their way to steal or attack people, apparently.
"Why?" Toothless said, fluttering his wings—he was unnerved.
For the first time, Dad turned to me. He hesitated, and then asked, "Hiccup? Do you…know anything?"
I met his uncertain, nervous gaze, and forced myself from looking away out of guilt. "No," I said. "I've never heard of something like it. Even the Queen didn't do that. She just…sent us to random islands."
Dad didn't look too happy with that answer, but nodded anyways. "Then…we shouldn't jump to conclusions. Right?"
To his left, Gobber's eyebrows shot up.
I tilted my head a little to the side. Then, awkwardly, "R-right."
"Well, actually…" Trader Johann grimaced when everyone turned back to him. He'd brought out another piece of paper and was wringing it in his hands nervously. "There's a…sliiight problem. You see, well, this is only what I've heard, especially from all of those northerners gathered up there, and it's by no means my opinion, but—"
"Get on with it!" Gobber snapped.
Trader Johann faced me. "Many tribes think that the dragon raids have something to do with you."
I felt the color drain from my face. Toothless' breath hitched.
"But I'm not—we're not even there," I said. "We can't fly anymore!"
"Well, it does make sense considering nobody knows you've been cured," Trader Johann said with a casual shrug.
Ice plunged into my heart. I barely contained a small growl from rising in my throat and struggled to push my anger aside, only becoming all the more upset at myself for getting so irrationally upset again. Toothless, on the other hand, hissed a long curse at him.
Trader Johann grimaced. "Ah, m-my apologies! In my own defense, I myself didn't even know you were on Berk until you two made your grand entrance! But yes, the people who did believe the rumors of your transformation still think you're flying around with 'em."
I didn't trust myself to speak, so all I did was shake my head. I sent my father a wide-eyed look. Both Dad and Gobber were strikingly pale, but still kept their composure far better than I was.
"And that?" Dad asked, pointing. "A message from a tribe?"
"Yes—the Bog Burglars, I do believe. They didn't trade much with me, either." Trader Johann handed it to Dad, and then peeked at the paper as my father unraveled it. "I actually am fairly uncertain of what its contents are—I'm snoopy, but not that snoopy!" He laughed and then fell silent when nobody else joined in with him.
I almost didn't want to say anything, but still managed to ask, "What—what's it say?"
Dad handed the note to Gobber. After a few seconds, Gobber scoffed and crumpled the paper in his hands. "Empty threats based on empty lies," Dad said. "Don't worry, Hiccup."
"What?" Toothless hissed, whipping his tail and fluttering his wings. "Human nest danger? Need speak!"
"Are they planning on attacking us?" I translated.
Dad shared a look with Gobber, who gave a helpless shrug. He sighed. "You have enough weighing down on your mind already, Hiccup. As it is now, there's nothing to worry about based on one note."
I slumped backwards. If they weren't a problem, he would have just told me. "So they threatened us."
Toothless grumbled something that I didn't understand, throwing his head.
Dad studied me, conflicted. Gobber let out a huge sigh.
"I mean, he's goin' to find out eventually," he said. "Everyone is, no thanks to you." He squared a look at Trader Johann.
"Ehehehe," Trader Johann laughed unsteadily. "Ah, don't hurt the messenger?"
Dad spared a moment to shoot him a look and then faced us. "The Bog Burglars are another tribe a day or so's travels northwest of here," he first said to Toothless. To me, "They came to us for aid when you were…being controlled." He paused a second, looking uncertain of if he should elaborate.
Still, he went on, "…At the time, they blamed you and threatened us, but nothing came of it. They are doing the same now: they are experiencing unusual dragon raids and blaming you and Berk for them. They have written that we should 'clean up the mess we started'."
My heart dropped into my stomach. That was a blatant threat.
"Bah!" Gobber spat on the ground. "A load of Gronckle dung, that is. What do they expect, that we march up to the dragons and tell 'em to stop doin' that?"
"I don't know," Dad said. "But we must discuss this at the council. Most of Berk has probably heard by now, and I'm certain that this news will only cause more fights."
"Aye," Gobber said. Without any further prompting, he turned and hobbled off towards the upper room of Town Hall where the bell was.
With nothing more to say, a heavy silence loomed over us. My mind whirled like I was caught in a storm, my wings filling with unpredictable and sharp winds sending me sailing to and fro.
Organized dragon raids, moving from north to south, sometimes flying overhead and sometimes descending onto islands. They were traveling through the archipelago relatively fast—too fast—and Berk was directly in their path. It wasn't a matter of "if", but "when".
At this rate, we would never fix things on Berk in time. People would still be afraid of dragons, and dragons would still be afraid of people. There was a chance that many of our nestmates would die, struck down by villagers assuming that they were participating in the raids. And once that happened—once that first dragon fell…
What were we going to do when they reached us?
RING! RING! RING! RING!
I twisted around to face the opening doors of Town Hall, which was already filling with confused and frightened villagers. As I did so, my eyes caught sight of Toothless' tail—and the empty space where his tailfin used to be. My stomach clenched.
If the dragons only flew overhead, they would never see us or hear us shouting at them from below and we would never find out what they were doing. In battle, we would be sitting ducks, grounded and slow and wide open to rains of fire.
Somehow, I felt even less safe than I normally did.
What could we do, when we couldn't fly?
