A tankard of ale hit the wooden table, spilling some of its content onto the already grease-covered surface and startling Hiccup back to reality. The effect that was most important, though, was that it silenced everybody. Stoick the Vast, for he was the wielder of the cup, grumbled with satisfaction as all eyes focused on him.
"I see we are not going to reach a conclusion today," he said. "We shall leave this matter now and return to it in a month. Hopefully, some new aspects will have been revealed by then."
Hiccup strained his mind to recall what was the matter currently being disputed, but soon accepted unfeasibility of such a task. He was hardly conscious over the course of the last hour, thoroughly worn out by the day's events.
Everything started long before noon as first ships started to arrive into the port, each of them bearing several men and women aboard. The guests were greeted by a crowd of Berkians impatiently awaiting an occasion to meet a distant member of their family or a friend from another island. Ever since the war with the dragons had ceased, those welcome parties have changed their mood quite significantly – before, the first words one would hear upon arriving to the central island of Helheimsvegr were sure to form a question about somebody's wellbeing. Phrases expressing concern for those who might have died during the last month's raids would often even precede polite salutations. Now that the circumstances altered, the pure joy of seeing those who managed to come resurfaced as the main aspect of those reunites.
Travelling between the seven islands wasn't really a difficult thing, nor were those journeys particularly lengthy, but they still required several qualified crewmen to operate a vessel and thus a casual visit to a neighboring land wasn't a quotidian opportunity for most. Therefore, every time the Helsvinir's leaders gathered, the delegations would take several superfluous people aboard to grant them the possibility of coming onto Berk.
Despite it being the vital point of Helheimsvegr, the island wasn't rich. Yet on the day of Samnaðr festivities started with the first incomer and only ended after last of them boarded their homecoming ship. Mead Hall was always full to the point of disabling anyone inside from doing a step in any direction, even though many of the visitors opted to omit those common feasts and enjoy a quiet homestead sojourn by their relatives.
Every time he saw the massive crowd glutting his village, Hiccup thought that must have been how Berk looked like before the war, back when overpopulation of the islands made the Vikings spread onto every piece of colonizable land nearby. The number of people present exceeded this quota only during really special occasions – consisting mostly of, though not limited to, the shows held in honor of officially accepting new recruits into the warriors' community. There was certainly nothing like a dragon-slaying party to draw general attention. Until recently, that is – the peace made with dragons called for a major change in the system of training new recruits.
Some unintelligible words were flowing around the young boy as he reminisced the vast turnout on the day when he had been supposed to kill a Monstrous Nightmare in order to seal his position as the best dragon-fighter of the youngest warrior generation. He smiled at the thought that the very event had taken place merely hours after Astrid had taken to him-
"No!" It wasn't before Stoick's voice shook him out of it that he understood trailing off led him to closing his eyes and thus succumbing to the overwhelming exhaustion when he needed to stay alert and presentable. For once thankful for his inconspicuousness, he lightly slapped himself in the face. It did little to help him, so he reluctantly grabbed a cup standing in front of him. It was still almost full, this being a perfect illustration of his keenness on drinking. The content stopped being pleasantly cool hours ago, but he didn't care for the taste or, much less, "the buzz". Instead, he used the bittersweet tang of mead with its sharp aftertaste as a proven method of keeping himself awake. Almost doubling over in reaction to the stinging in his throat, he swallowed two gulps and immediately felt the world around get back into focus. A quiet chuckle escaped his throat at the realization of the irony behind this effect.
"It is much too early to consider such steps," a voice ringed from the opposite side of the giant hall. Having located the speaker, Hiccup racked his brain for a while to finally pinpoint him as the keeper of Flekkr, the smallest island in the whole archipelago. Try as he might, however, he couldn't match the face with any name. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long to find out.
"When won't it be, Gunnarr?" The angered question came from a huge man occupying a place just a few seats away from the Berkian leaders. At first glance, most would bet he was the Chief's brother – neither of their bulks could possibly be matched by any other Viking's, present or not. Though it was indiscernible while the two were sitting, Stoick was marginally shorter, but he fully compensated it with musculature. The main difference in their appearances was also the most superficial one – Hallbjörn, for that is how the man was named, had a pale blonde hair – as opposed to his counterpart's auburn ones. His beard was also trimmed in a strikingly different way, leaving whole cheeks bare.
Oh yes, and he ruled Eydra – second biggest island and, even more importantly, the one where first settlements were constructed. As listening to (or, actually, eavesdropping on) meddlers was an old habit of Hiccup's, he had a pretty good idea of how living there affected Vikings' egos. Allegedly verbatim relays of Hallbjörn and his companions' claims about "him being the one that should lead Helsvinir" and "Eydrans retaining most of the common ancestors' characteristics" were an ever-returning topic in Mead Hall gossip. Hallbjörn had always been loyal to Stoick and not once stepped forth with an official demand at replacing him, but it didn't stop many from believing it was only because he knew he wouldn't find many supporters.
"After we have regained some of our strength," Gunnarr replied calmly, ignoring his interlocutor's scornful tone. "It's not even been half a year since a centuries' long war ended and already you want to engage our people in a new one?"
"What else do you want to do? Learn to sew?"
"He is right," said Stoick, directing his words at the arouser. "The continuous struggle we've gone through has left our numbers dwindling. As it is now, we could easily fit on two islands, not seven!" he added with emphasis, drawing several anxious glances from different places around the huge table. Reduction of the living space would mean some serious changes in hierarchy and those for whom it meant weakening their position obviously weren't too thrilled about such an idea.
This, of course, wasn't enough to quiet the zealot. "Our ancestors only had Eydra for themselves and yet somehow they managed to send parties out several times a year." His derogatory voice filled with venom when he continued, "Obviously you have forgotten what it means to have a proud Viking ancestry, but back on my island-"
"Shut your mouth!" barked Spitelout. As unexpected as his standing up to a superior in command was, he had a good reason to do so, as accusing anyone of losing the Viking spirit was one of the harshest known curses and often led to duels which ended no sooner than one of the participants died. Preventing Hellsvinir elites from shedding their own blood and spreading dissent amongst themselves would justify even worse actions - and besides, the titles of Eydran leader and Berkian second-in-command meant almost identical privileges, so his behavior didn't call for a reprimand.
In spite of glaring daggers at his silencer ostentatiously, Hallbjörn adhered to the order. A woman on a far side of the table used this as an opportunity to speak up, probably seeking to relieve the tension a bit. "I support Stoick. We have everything we need to ensure our peaceful existence until we're ready to strike again." Hiccup paid no mind to her words, caught in between the three arguing men, but those causing his uneasiness didn't share this inattentiveness.
"What is it with you people?" exclaimed Hallbjörn, slamming his fist onto the table. He then swiftly rose from his seat and leaned forward, looking several people around in the eye sternly. One or two dropped their heads, but most just stared back. "Vikings are not meant to live peacefully! Has the rest of Miðgarðr forgotten about us, it's high time to let them know children of Hel are still a power to be reckoned with! Now, who's with me?"
His answer came from the same woman, probably feeling compelled to continue the discourse once she got involved. "We haven't had any contact with outer world for decades."
"Centuries, actually," said Stoick. "Sit down, Hallbjörn."
"Alhildr made a fine point," another man joined the discussion. "How do we know all those years of constant fighting and manslaughter haven't left us far behind in fighting techniques and tactics? What if, after reaching distant shores, we will be welcomed by an enemy superior in every possible aspect?"
After the Chief's command, the Eydran leader toned his voice down, but responded unwaveringly. "We will crush them as we have done with every other opponent. Didn't you hear war is what induces progress? We should be the best there is!"
"This rule only applies when both sides endeavor themselves to invent a way of outsmarting their adversaries," countered Gunnarr. "Besides, have you observed any progress around during your life?"
Hallbjörn silenced for a while, then his expression fell. Flekkr's commander nodded lightly without showing any satisfaction.
Seeing this as the perfect time to do so, Stoick declared, "That's settled then. Until we get in touch with outer world, no further decisions can be made."
After a silent moment, the defeated man cleared his throat. "I admit to having been wrong in my view of foreign politics," he announced. "Nonetheless, I insist on sending a scouting party as soon as possible. If we're delayed at the moment, there's no time to waste in catching up with the world."
Stoick nodded. "Agreed. But we must give some thought to how we are going to prepare the participants. And, more importantly, pick those who will be trusted with this mission."
"We obviously cannot send them without any cover," concurred Gunnarr. "A group of exiles from Norvegr seeking asylum in other country?"
"That will be easy to see through," yet another Viking argued. Hiccup identified him as the leader of Smáþrir, but the name escaped him again, just like it had with Al… Aldríf? Alfrún? He shook his head disappointedly. He was certain he knew the names of every island's commander, but found it impossible to recall some in his current state of exhaustion both mental and physical. "We don't even know who their current ruler is."
"And this explanation would be a powerful clue as to where they actually came from, should anyone remember our history," echoed the currently nameless woman.
"May I suggest assembling an anonymous merchant crew?" said Spitelout. "No one should prevent them from entering their lands and if we choose people capable of holding their tongues, the investigation into oversea culture might go unnoticed."
Gunnarr bowed his head lightly in recognition. "Sounds foolproof to me." A choir of confirmatory voices backed him up.
"It's decided", concluded Stoick. "But we will have to equip them with respectable trading goods. How does the situation look?" He didn't need to add that the question was aimed at every leader.
Hiccup sighed, temporarily losing interest in the adults' words. As far as the tradition of Samnaðrs went, the incoming vessels carried not only people, but also various supplies meant for "trade". Those were the things that could be spared on one island, but stood a chance of helping other's dwellers much. Berk, for instance, was constantly supplying its satellites with wood because of the other lands' shortage on this particular resource. Justly distributing whatever has been made available was part of the chiefs' task and this part of the dispute never ended before a unanimous agreement has been reached.
The procedure playing out before the boy's eyes was therefore part of the meeting's typical schedule. Taking turns dictated by seating position, every leader would list items brought to Berk and announce further surplus or scarcity of any other material on their island. Subsequently, everything would be divided between those in need and taken back home by returning commanders. The only difference introduced now was that one more cache began to be created, this meant to set the new plan in motion.
The quiet observer forced into himself another mouthful of mead to forfend the sleepiness lurking in the back of his head. Why the leaders decided lucubration was an adequate form for their monthly congregation was beyond him, but since it has been labeled as "tradition", there was no easy way of altering the situation. Sunset had been the sign to leave Mead Hall for every man not invited to the conference. Roughly an hour later, the conversations had begun – mixed with each of the participants inebriating themselves heavily. That was another thing Hiccup couldn't quite understand: why would the ones responsible for the welfare of the whole nation dampen their mental powers while disputing matters of uttermost importance? Still, he had to recognize the fact that despite ingesting large quantities of strong beverages none of the drinkers showed any sign of intoxication. Perhaps courtesy of the mood – serious political debate had nothing to do with the merry quaffing occurring round this table throughout the preceding day.
His attention was brought back to the matters at hand as his father rose up from his place in another customary gesture. Every time he ascended it meant a new speaker would be allowed to present their case to the Samnaðr. Countless times during the last few hours, Hiccup would tense and begin repeating his speech silently in anticipation of being appointed by his father, but the Chief always named someone else. Therefore, this time the boy willed into his thoughts the perspective of not being called forth… And still heard a tiny voice in the back of his head, expressing the hope of it finally happening.
"With this taken care of, let us return to less cosmopolitan business." This could have meant anybody… his son as well. With the tension nearing its unwanted climax, seconds of silence were turning into hours. "Kolbrandr, the floor is yours."
Once more let down, Hiccup entertained an estimation of the amount of plans, ideas and problems demanding Helsvinir leaders' attention every month. He knew exactly how they were relayed to his father: approximately three hours before sundown, as whole Berk filled with celebrations, he sat alone at an isolated table in the back of this place – it was enough for Hiccup to twist his head around to see that certain niche behind him. Such a position guaranteed almost perfect privacy, especially with the powerful background noise created involuntarily by the lot of Vikings enjoying their company. During this period, Stoick's six subordinates approached him one after another and presented causes they personally supported. He listened to each of them, but never expressed his opinion on anything, nor did he create a written list of any sort. Whether the proposition presented to him would be brought forth stayed an unknown until the very end of the meeting.
From what Hiccup gathered (his knowledge based mostly on Snotlout's boasting about his father describing every Samnaðr to him, in detail) it wasn't a rare occurrence for some of the important things to be left without proper discussion when dawn broke, thus creating a need for prolongment – and since the meetings were only held during nighttime, the whole day's routine repeated. On one hand, he hoped that would be the case this time as well, because it would save him from addressing this formidable assembly in his present state of drowsiness. On the other, he could already feel his interior being eaten out by the accumulated nervousness and those twelve hours which would have to pass until a new sunset drew the leaders together once more would surely be filled with mental torment.
"Thank you, Stoick." Kolbrandr turned out to be the hitherto anonymous Smáþrir's leader. "Today I have but one proposition to make; it is, however, of sheer significance. As some of you may be aware, it was a custom of our forefathers dating back to Helsvinir's earliest days to allow those most experienced and wise to influence decisions determining Helheimvegr's future with their lore. Let us once more introduce our Elders to Samnaðrs!"
Despite trying his best to keep up with the conversation, Hiccup soon lost the thread. The adults were arguing over the matter in their usual way, making far-drawn assumptions, forming sophisticated opinions and expressing all sorts of emotions through impeccably polite sentences. Little as the boy knew about politics, he found this to be one of the most cultivated skills amongst those involved in it – the ability to tell someone you disregard or even hate that they can kiss your seating place, replacing those words with phrases like "please" or "thank you". And if this tradition was so rife in their hermetic little world, it had to be worse than a nightmare outside it.
He winced at a sudden outburst he heard to his right, recognizing the voice as his father's but missing the meaning of his utterance completely. Something about "unsittable conditions"? Unsuitable. That had to be it. But what…?
His head gained so much weight he could hardly believe it hadn't yet broken loose from his neck. And, for some reason, none of the people gathered around were visible anymore, though their muffled voices could still be heard somewhere in the distance. Only after that sunk did he realize he'd inadvertently closed his eyes and almost lain on the table, supporting his temple with a loosely clenched fist. Opening his eyes was a herculean effort, but he managed to do it – and found that, to his utter bewilderment, the whole table started spinning round while he hadn't been watching. That was it, he needed another gulp of alcohol if he wanted to at least understand anything going on.
The stein in front of him was empty.
There was more than a pint of strong mead there, for Odin's sake! He couldn't have… there had only been those two mouthfuls before Hallbjörn started his angry quarrel, another one a little later… Maybe one or two before those three. And no more than two afterwards. Or…?
He groaned peevishly, understanding he'd added intoxication to his somnolence.
"…changed since the times of their youth, what use would we have of them?" someone's emotionless question pieced together in his brain.
Hiccup knew he used to have been taken over to other islands occasionally by his father, which probably meant he'd met several Elders, but he could hardly recall anything from that period, especially people. His customary "overattentiveness" in listening to conversations taking place around him did little to extend his knowledge on this subject. There seemed to be a veil of mystery surrounding those aged personae, making them something of a taboo to speak about.
His own experiences were of no help either. He's met Berk's Elder time and again, but there wasn't anything to be learnt from those encounters – all he's gathered was that her seldom used name was Gothi and she barely ever spoke up. Even in appointing him as the victor of dragon training's finishing fight, she had not uttered a single word. Were the others like her in this aspect, he couldn't agree more with whoever said they would be of little use during these fraught discussions.
A vivid image of the old lady formed in his mind. She was incredibly short and even though there was her age to blame for that, it couldn't have been the only culprit. Even in her younger years, Gothi must have been a midget. What diminished her posture further was that she always walked bent almost in half, using for support a stick so long it completely threw the proportions off. One of her eyes seemed not to be able to open fully, giving her a weird facial expression. And she said "Hiccup!" in a surprisingly manly voice. Then, as he stared at her in disbelief, she punched him in the arm lightly – at least it would have counted as "lightly" for anyone besides Hiccup.
He regained consciousness with a start, but his eyelids still felt as though they were made of lead. Before he had time to identify Spitelout as the waker, another part of his mind managed to provide a distraction by resuming its activity right in time for him to hear his name being announced by Stoick.
Mighty Odin, was he really just appointed to speak right now? All the words learnt by heart have long vaporized from the boy's memory, driven away by sleep and alcohol. He stood up slowly, searching hectically for any acceptable way to open his speech with. How did the others begin theirs? It didn't help either that all the eyes were trained on him, regardless of whether they expressed interest, lack thereof or simply mocked him for looking pathetically weak and small amongst the elites of Helsvinir.
"Uh…" he stuttered out, then understood that once he managed to start talking, he shouldn't stop. "Excuse me if I'm not really-" the right words were dancing just out of his tired mind's reach, "-proficient in my, uh, speech…" Disgruntled mumbling resounded around, hinting to him that he was making a fool of himself in front of the whole Samnaðr. He risked a quick glance at his father and immediately regretted it, as the Chief's features clearly showed his discontent at the faulty oratory.
Nearing the brink of defeat, he pushed his endurance to its limits, forcing onto himself a quick composure and deciding to stick to the basis in hope that it would somehow flow from there onwards.
"About half a year ago, you have all witnessed the fight with that enormous dragon we lured out of the nest," it could have been better, but the fluency kicking in helped greatly in drawing attention from the listeners and diminished his drowsiness a bit. "It served as a proof of what I wanted to make clear before that event – that the dragons only posed a serious threat to us because of their… them being somehow subjected to that, that giant thing. In fact, they turned out to be quite friendly towards us."
"We know that, lad," interrupted Hallbjörn. "That's why we agreed upon the pact of nonviolence."
Hiccup didn't let that comment hamper him. "Of course. But I believe it's time to go a step further. The dragons can be coaxed into carrying riders, especially young ones. It is not a difficult process, but requires confidence gained through experience. And it's not the only-"
He was suddenly interrupted by Gunnarr. "Elaborate, please. Despite it having been a topic of interest among us several months ago, the level of detail provided wasn't quite satisfactory as it came secondhand. This being a first occasion for the matter to be presented by someone with hands-on experience, I believe we would all deeply appreciate a deeper insight into how well the taming works for Berk."
The young speaker shrank almost visibly upon hearing the incommensurably eloquent utterance, but kept a straight face. "Once more, it's pretty much what I wanted to get to," he pointed out, letting a hint of ire to be audible behind his words. No previous opening speech had been cut in on and the different approach towards his one began to make him feel disrespected. "Furthermore, the term 'taming' shouldn't really be used when talking about the bond between us and the dragons. They have proven to be indubitably intelligent and proud, so referring to them in terms of animals – or, even more so, beasts – is no longer justified."
Someone burst out with laughter. "Come on! You're starting to sound as though you meant to say they are equal to us!"
Clearly, being allowed to speak without disturbances was a privilege yet to be earned for him. Not sparing a thought to who said that, Hiccup answered levelly. "Equal? Maybe. And maybe they are even superior." This evoked a general fit of hilarity. For a moment, the hearty bellows of a score of Vikings filled the great hall, echoing in its large, empty spaces. "Seriously!" he yelled when, after a moment has passed, the merriment started to die down. "What do we know about them to judge them as inferior?"
"We know how to effectively fight and kill them," Hallbjörn pointed out.
Gunnarr was next with his linguistic perfection. "There isn't a tiniest shred of evidence that they can form complicated battle tactics," he backed up the Eydran leader. "Nor is there a reason for us to believe they possess any ability to communicate between themselves with anything more than inarticulate roaring or growling."
"They're incapable of forging, building or otherwise creating anything," Alhildr joined in.
Another arguments followed from various people, getting more mocking and derogatory each time – to the point at which Hiccup was unable to contain his irritation anymore. "A year ago you thought them to be mindless, bloodthirsty beasts!" he yelled. "Look how far that's gotten us," he added scornfully.
"That's different, Hiccup," Stoick spoke up for the first time since introducing his son to the gathering. "Acknowledging that the violence directed at us wasn't a result of the dragons' conscious decision was easy after seeing them ally with us against the giant, but it's not enough to accept them as a species to be compared with humanity. There need to be solid, concrete facts to base such a theory upon."
"Fine, I give in," the boy answered with his hands held up in a defensive gesture. "It is not what I've come here to speak about anyway. I admit openly that whatever knowledge we have about dragons is scarce at most – well, save for the fighting part," he added with hope of getting a chuckle from the others, but as an almost immediate repetition of Hallbjörn's words, the effect was poor. "Nevertheless, even this handful, pieced together over few short months, might turn out to be quite useful for the whole Helheimsvegr, not only Berk. I'm not going to present it here, as despite its incompleteness it would take too long. Besides, much of this can only be passed on in a form of supervised exercises. And that is the core of what I wanted to speak with you about," he paused for a moment, both for the dramatic effect and to arrange the next sentence neatly. "I would like to pay a series of visits to all the islands in order to teach their dwellers. I request nothing more than approbation for the cause and a place to stay during every sojourn. Over the course of a week or two I will do my best to educate a selected group of people as best I can. Hopefully, once those few master the new skills and knowledge, they will be able to continue spreading them in their home while I proceed to another land."
A widespread chorus of susurrations followed as every leader communicated with their most trusted advisors, usually sitting right next to them. Those grey eminencesrarely spoke during the gatherings, rather than that passing their thoughts on to the leaders, conferring them about their doubts or sharing a critical standpoint on the matter being discussed. They weren't of course prohibited from joining in loudly, but usually chose to show their respect for the leaders' higher position on the social ladder by staying silent.
As the quiet exchange of thoughts went on, Hiccup felt his exhaustion returning with doubled force. It stayed in line for a long time, unable to overcome the utter nervousness brought forth by his performance, but now sought to take what belonged to it. Fortunately, before a need to search for a way to avoid falling asleep became inevitable, Hallbjörn broke the silence. "I agree fully with the proposal presented, finding no flaw in the speaker's reasoning," he declared, surprising Hiccup with a vote of complete support.
"I concede," added Gunnarr. "We could use whatever knowledge Stoick's son possesses to help ensure safety of our homeland once the scouts return with reports of Miðgarðr's current potential and we start drawing long-term plans."
With the two first voices in favor of the proposition – especially coming from personalities so potent and experienced – a unanimous decision has been reached without a need to revote.
Stoick stood up once more and everybody fell silent without him needing to ask for it. "Very well," he said, looking at his son warmly for a moment. "Two days after you go back home, Hiccup shall set out – by this time I expect a proper accommodation to be prepared for him on Eydra. For the duration of his stay on any island, he is to be seen as a rightful member of the Samnaðr and treated accordingly, having my complete approval for the actions he is going to undertake."
The boy had to give it to his father: he was a master in his profession. In two sentences he managed to voice his support and establish Hiccup's strong position for the extent of time his tutoring journey would last, but to top this, he also sneaked in a compliment to the previously hostile interlocutor by indicating his reign as the first target for Hiccup.
"It is also the last thing planned for today's meeting," continued Stoick. "There are sure to be many things to discuss in a month's time, but for now we're done. Tomorrow I expect all of you to be present while the chosen scouts will be presented with their quest and supplied with materials we've agreed upon. Thank you for your patience and wisdom. Hail!" the exclamation was accompanied by a slam of the Chief's fist to his chest, producing a loud thud.
At this signal, everyone present in the room rose up and copied Stoick's gesture. The result was a sound invoking thoughts of a catapulted stone smashing into a giant's body.
"Hail Stoick!" they yelled in a powerful unison. "Hail Helsvinir!"
And then, as though by a touch of a magic wand, the magnificent assemblage transformed into a small group of casual Vikings, some strolling around the hall, others chatting in twos or threes over unfinished mugs of alcoholic beverages. Stoick, along with Spitelout, positioned himself near one of the four statues aligned in the proximity of the exit. They represented the greatest heroes born in Helheimsvegr and were meant to remind Vikings entering the hall of their proud ancestry, looking at them with faces stagnated in various expressions of mockery or derogation.
Soon, everybody started to head in the same direction. Tired but satisfied, the elites of Helsvinir paid their last respects to the Chief, sometimes engaging him in a short discussion too. Hallbjörn was among the last to quit, bowing his head as he passed his superior. Stoick didn't like the way the man smirked while doing that, but decided to contribute it to the less-than-friendly relation they had shared for a long time. "That makes all of them," he said after the blonde giant disappeared behind Mead Hall's huge gate. "Let's get some rest while we can, tomorrow's a big day," he added with a sigh, making a step towards the door until the second-in-command cleared his throat.
He stopped to look at his sidekick and, after following a gesture he's made with his head, kicked himself mentally.
Sprawled on the enormous table forming the central point of Berk's meeting place was his son, looking miserably in his extremely uncomfortable position. He hadn't yet been prepared for enduring the hardships of night-long disputes and, looking at it from perspective, Stoick had to admit Hiccup's presentation was even more impressing after taking the obvious exertion he must have felt into consideration.
With all the delicacy he could muster, the Chief lifted his sleeping son's fragile body. He'd decided against waking him up for several reasons, the fact that their house almost touched the base of the steps leading to the Hall situated quite low on the list. Turning to see if Spitelout had anything to say about this outburst of fatherly instincts, he was pleasantly surprised to find him gone.
Pointlessly long A/N ahead. (Warning: Pointless)
Boy, has it been a long break. More than six weeks - and all caused by two simple factors: my school-leaving exams are getting closer (meaning one hell of things to be occupied with) and this whole chapter is one awfully long scene. I don't think i have ever written a single scene this long, much less given it so much thought. Sometimes I struggled for days to write a hundred words, then erased it and started over because I didn't like it.
I've taken quite a few words from Old Norse and sneaked them into this chapter. For instance, Miðgarðr is the original spelling of a word anglicized as Midgard, the final "r" being a typical ending of a male noun without any declination used. Thus, Samnaðr (literally: meeting, gathering) and Kolbrandr probably should lose the "r" - instead of damaging those wonderful-sounding names I left them all in original. I've also translated Helheimsvegr and Helsvinir before - Norvegr is the ON name of Norway. And all the new characters carry historically proven Viking names. (As for the names of the islands, I'm leaving this as a thing to check on for the most hardcore language enthusiasts. I would have checked them if they appeared in another story.)
I must say, I'm pretty happy with the way this chapter came out, both with some neat phrases fit here and there and with the overall semi-first person narrative. The one thing that sticks out for the bad are synonyms - I never seem to have a suitable amount of those. So if you think some words were repeated too often, you're not alone in your judgement.
On a side note, the action is very unlikely to speed up any time soon. Some will like it, the rest has a wide choice of other wonderful stories. Hey, if action-free movies are able to make it, so can be my fiction.
I hope you enjoyed - but whatever the answer, I'll be glad to hear it.
Take care and until next time!
