What was it about Berk that kept its inhabitants there? It snowed nine months of the year and hailed the other three, after all. That would be a sure reason to leave if anything. The reason couldn't be concluded that it was the only place that had the benefit of a dragon alliance—for that development was very recent compared to history that told of nothing but Vikings fighting the fire beasts.

History, establishment—that was what it must have been, and also the fact that the Viking people were known to be the most stubborn creatures on the Earth. They were already there so why should they have to leave to get away from the cold of winter? The cold should be the one to leave first.

Tuffnut had never considered that the island's history was a part of him. He was focused on the present, always wanting events to happen so the he could get to the next but the winter had seemed to freeze time. They were all moving little movement by movement under the blanket of frost and snow, all waiting for the warmth of the sun to remind them that life was not at a standstill.

He disliked the season as much as his sister but that didn't keep him from trying to challenge it.

He and Snotlout had woken that morning and had gone ice-fishing on the frozen bay. Snotlout had always been Tuffnut's best friend. They trained together and shared insults and curses with good humor. They even shared near identical tattoos of their clan symbol, marked on the inside of their wrists. When they were fifteen, Tuff had swiped a needle from his mother's stores and used it, dipped with ink to penetrate under the top-most layer of skin where the design would be permanent. Tuffnut drew Snotlout's and vise versa. It was painful but they knew that they were not to show it, and in the end it was worth it—cool tattoos and that symbol of brotherhood forever. They liked to live dangerously and take risks for it was all a part of being a Viking.

Speaking of occupational hazards, ice fishing was dangerous because not only was there chance of freezing to ill from the early morning temperature, but also drowning if the ice gave in. Snotlout had managed a hole in the ice without them falling into the sludgy semi-ice below, which was between the surface and the water that was so freezing cold that it burnt.

They didn't catch anything like usual, but jokingly insulted one another's dragons since it was the only time of the year they could get away with it. They continued to banter and then it started to snow again, but still they stayed, proving to winter that they could take it.

"Man, I hate winter," Snotlout finally made a sniffling sound with his reddened nose and buried his chin further below the woolen scarf around his neck.

"Who doesn't?" Tuffnut growled. He jiggled his fish pole to see if anything deep down there wanted a try at the piece of salted lamb he had baited the string with.

"If winter was a person, I'd hit him in the face," Snotlout continued his rant.

"If winter was a person, I'd kick his rear straight to the southern islands—then we wouldn't have winter anymore," he grinned as he imagined it.

They continued to smile and brag about which threats they would carry out if the season were tangible. It was about mid morning when winter had prevailed and they packed up their poles and headed back toward their lodges.

"See you at ale-games this week?" Snotlout asked as Tuffnut reached for the door that led to inviting warmth on the other side.

"Yeah, sure. See you later if we don't get snowed in," Tuff waved and entered his home.

"Tuffnut!" His mother shouted from where she sat in the smoking parlor. She was sewing like always. He groaned, knowing she wanted him to do a chore.

"We need water, melt some of the new snow before a wandering animal soils it."

He wanted to point out there were no wandering animals in the winter and if there were, they'd be dead frozen. Still, he stood outside of his house and shoveled fresh snow into a bucket so he could take it into the fireplace and melt it for clean water. He would rather drink ale all winter but his mother was fed up with him being useless half the day under the influence. The biggest fit she had ever thrown was at finding he had let Snotlout draw the tattoo into his wrist at such a young age. His mother seemed especially disgruntled on this day. She must have wondered where he had gone to so early and was annoyed he did not say where. He wished he could do what he pleased without her permission or approval; after all, he was man if not nearly one.

He looked out beyond the village homes to the sea where he had just been sitting hours before—it was a slough of ice hunks and he thought, when that bay thaws I will leave this place for somewhere much warmer, for good.

Was he giving up? He didn't think so.

Berk didn't seem to hold much excitement for the boisterous lad anymore. Tuffnut had a very high opinion of himself. He felt that he was much bigger than the small village, destined to do bigger things on a grander scale. He wanted to explore the western shore, fight unknown enemies, and above all be victorious and be remembered as the world's deadliest weapon.

"It's snowing again," he heard a voice he hadn't heard for long time from behind him.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Tuff grumbled but grinned at seeing he wasn't the only one being put to work outside on the cold day. Svenan Hofferson, Astrid's older brother was hauling chopped wood in his arms to his parents' lodge, just a few homes past the Thorstons'. Tuff had grown up around the lad most of his life before Sven had graduated from training, and Sven was pretty awesome in Tuffnut's eyes. The man was only a few years older than Tuff but had seen so many things. Sven had explored the new lands, had been gone from Berk again since last spring only to return right before the bay froze. He was usually gone on scouting or exploration voyages; also he always seemed to be smooth with women too. Tuffnut tried to hit on the barmaids in Berk but lacked a certain finesse that Svenan seemed to have in barrels.

"Don't you wish that Hiccup still had that sled from last year?" Sven inhaled crisply and let out his words in breath as a white wisp on the chilled air.

"Yes, that thing was amazingly fast. I'd ride that over laboring in the snow any day during the season."

"So, where is your sister?"

"What? Why?" Tuff's face twisted to bothersome puzzlement.

Sven only smiled a smile that girls would take for charming, "Just wondering."

Tuffnut rubbed the point of his short beard, trying to understand Svenan's intentions but a different thought pushed it away.

"Hey, when do you go onto your next expedition?"

Svenan shrugged, "It depends."

"On what?" Tuff's brows knotted on concern.

"If multiple lasses become angry at me—though I don't plan on doing that soon."

Tuff nodded and smiled knowingly, he remembered the previous winter when three older blonde women got into a brawl right in the middle of the great hall all on account of Sven biting more than he could chew in juggling their attentions.

"Well if it does happen, which it probably will—I'd want to go with you if you needed an assistant, navigator, bodyguard or something of the sort—because I am the worlds most deadliest weapon."

Svenan guffawed, doubtful, but still in good humor and slapped the younger man's shoulder while holding up all the wood in his other arm, "I'll be sure to consider it. Right now I've got to get some loads of wood back home just in case there should be a snow-in. Say hi to your sister for me. "

Tuff felt a little at ease, knowing he had put in a good word for himself so he could finally leave the Odin-forsaken isle of ice. He still didn't know what Svenan wanted with Ruff though—she wasn't a babe or anything so he didn't think Sven was going to try and make a move on her.

He finished up with the snow and went inside, thankful for the warm air that soothed his iced skin. Even through his many layers of garments his skin held the chill that of permafrost. He stomped out the snow that had gathered on the soles of his furry boots at the entrance and then removed a few of his winter layers before taking the bucket of snow to hang over the hearth.

He watched the snow on top start to buckle as the bottom layer turned to water above the licks of flame. He imagined that he and Snotlout were tiny people and sitting in the top, sinking, and sinking as the melt engulfed them. Tuff blinked and swiped his hand over his face with tediousness.

Winter. Was. So. Slow.

He wondered then really where his twin sister was, for he hadn't seen her in awhile and he felt like annoying her to pass time. He saw the door to her room was shut—probably locked too. Ruff hated winter just as much as he but he didn't know how she could cope by shutting herself away. He knew almost everything about his sister—after all, he had been with her since birth.

He knew her favorite jokes, most-used fight moves, how to con her into doing his chores, her weaknesses, and her reactions down to the seconds. He knew that she secretly would dance around her room before she went to bed at nights, for he could hear her humming through the walls and then often crash into something or fall with a clatter. He even knew of her dorky crush on Hiccup.

He knew just what to say to provoke her to fight him, and sometimes he didn't care because he was always up for extra-curricular training. He flexed his muscles out of habit, and then wished he could have been putting them to better use, like fighting something.

If only there was a way to lure her out of the room, he thought with a dangerous mischievousness.

"Tuffnut!" He heard his mother call. He slumped his shoulders and trudged back to the smoking parlor. He grabbed the bucket of now what was water and then poured it into a barrel near the kitchen. He was about to repeat the process, starting to don his layers but his mother suddenly stopped him.

"Son, since you are doing that—can you ask your sister if she could take—his shield," his mother stopped as her words caught in her throat. He turned and glanced over above the fireplace at the rounded shield that had not seen battle action in nearly a decade, and he remembered why his mother was the way she was.

"I'd like it to be polished," she took in a breath and returned to her hardened voice and even harder stitching toward the tunic across her lap.

"Yeah, I guess I can ask her," Tuff turned and headed back toward her room. He stood before Ruff's door and then slammed his fist against it, demanding she do what their mother wanted instead of asking like he was initially supposed to. Ruff creaked open the door with scowl of acid, and her hair was puffy and tangled because she wore it down in the winter.

Then it started: he insulted her, she was provoked and felt the need to physically respond, then he was mildly wounded, and in turn caused her pain. In that instance, it was by grabbing a handful of her hair and demanding her to admit defeat but Ruff kicked him the ribs and made the escape. He was feeling his adrenaline rushing after the thirty second tussle, and wanted nothing more than to finish it but by the time he made it to the parlor she had whisked away their deceased father's shield and had taken it to be polished.

He had respected his father, Ivan the Invincible—and of course was devastated when the man had died from a battle infection but that death affected the women of his family far greater than the son. Though, at seven years old, and then the only man of the house—he had to suck it up and take care of them, be brave, and not let his feelings overtake him. He didn't even know what he felt anymore besides all things physical—like pain and cold. Oh wait, he did—he felt bored out of his skull.

His mother's sudden tears made him break out of his thoughts, and that did cause him to feel something. A pierce of guilt and an overwhelming worry for her.

"Mom?"

"Apologies just have a stitch in my eye," she wiped at her eye vigorously, batting him away as if nothing was cause for concern.

He knew she was just saying that to ease his mind. He set down his bucket and bent over to face her at eye level, "Mom, you're upset. What is it now?"

Her lips trembled as she scowled through new tears, "OH! Curse ye and your blood for battle! It's my Ivan's day of death and all I can think of is how you will soon be going out to share his fate. I couldn't stand to lose both of my boys!"

She was referring to the planned raid in the spring, the raid of the Southern Islands, the place his father had gotten an axe in the chest by way of the enemy clans. Tuffnut and Ruffnut were planning to go, as it was the first real thing they could put their training to use in—however Tuffnut's plans had changed somewhat.

He realized that she said 'lose both her boys', which was a clear sign that she felt her daughter was perfectly capable of handling battle in the Southern Islands and surviving. This caused Tuffnut to inwardly pout, Ruff certainly is not the world's most deadly weapon.

"Mom, I'm not going to Valhalla that quickly—besides I might—" He was going to say what he had planned but didn't think she would like that idea much better. Instead he moved forward and gave her an unexpected embrace, "I'm just not, okay?"

He felt her return the embrace and pulled away with a grin. She pinched his cheek with endearment to which he jumped back in mortification. He was Viking. He was a man! What mother would do that?

"Oh, don't be so crestfallen, it's a relief to know at least one woman loves you right?" She snickered with a sly teasing, wiping her eyes of the last of her woe.

"No, other women—many others would love me but cease once they saw you do stuff like that to me in front of them!"

"You know it is so," she nodded.

He shuddered at the thought of introducing a prospective wife to his mother.

He finally continued getting more snow for water. The snow had gathered more significantly than when he was last outside. The afternoon had continued while he had comforted and then bantered with the lady who birthed him.

He heard a clanking of shield and his lips immediately twisted into a taunting smile at seeing Ruffnut return with their father's shield in front of her.

"What took so long?"

"Shut up," she answered, shoving herself inside. Tuff followed with his full bucket of snow.

"Oh I almost forgot, Sven Hofferson told me to tell you 'hello'."

She whirled around, with near nervousness in her expression.

"Whoa, what's that look about? You like him or something?"

"NO! What else did he tell you?" she reached forward and grabbed the collar of his tunic with unwarranted threat.

"You're acting like you have a thing for him..."

He was punched lightly in the arm before she let go, confidant about something. "You can tell Svenan that I'd soon fight a Green Death than go on a date with the likes of him."

"Playing hard to get Ruffy?" Tuff teased, not believing her—he believed Svenan had way too many other girls to chase than to take interest in his lanky sister.

She only narrowed her eyes before placing the shield back on its place over the fire. She didn't say anything and that's when he knew she was serious.

"That son of a troll..." he growled. The urge to protect swinging into him though he very well knew his sister could fend for herself—but that was against creatures and enemies but men interested in her? He had his doubts. After all, she was his only sister and he knew what Svenan's reputation was regarding the other girls of Berk. He was not okay with Astrid's brother planning on treating his sister in the same manner.

Ruff saw the spark in his eyes and shrugged, "Don't bother with him, he's learned his lesson."

"What? How?"

She gave a small, mysterious smile—and it surprised him that there some things he still didn't even know about his twin sister, "I'll just say he won't be sticking his nose into my business anymore."

"What? His nose was in your business? What does that mean? Are you using code words? I'm gonna kill him..." Tuff cracked his knuckles and started ranting in a majority of inquiries—none of which his sister answered. Instead, she went to the kitchen and began to prepare some dinner as the sky was already darkened. Tuff finished melting enough fresh snow to fill an entire barrel. It was a slow process but by the time he was done, his sister had roasted a pile of preserved fish from the autumn stock and placed the platter that held them on the table.

She had learned how to fry, roast, and season fish in the great hall, where they ate meals when their parents were gone from the village on trading or raiding voyages. Tuff wanted to learn too, but was afraid Snotlout would mock him for wanting to learn such a domestic skill. The men knew how to catch fish, skewer them, and simply burn them over an open fire. They didn't want to end up like Fishlegs's father, a warrior who baked pastries during the off-season.

The Thorston family ate dinner together. Often he would crudely mock his sister but quickly thank her for the fish so her sparked anger would settle before she could grab at him. They had always done this, the family meals, the chores, his mother teasing them both and warning them not to fight, then still fighting often but making up for it later. He punched his sister in the shoulder in farewell before retreating to his room for the night—"'Night, try not to trip over your boots when you dance."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she snarled and quickly slammed the door to her room.

He outwardly laughed at her attempt to cover the truth. He could never prove anything about her dancing but enjoyed lording it over her in private. She was not known to be a feminine Viking, and preferred to stay that way.

About five minutes afterward he heard her humming and supposed she was dancing as well—something good had happened for her that day, though he didn't know what and she would never say. How would she cope if he left next season instead of going to battle at her side?

He listened to about thirty more seconds of her muffled hums through the wall, thinking he would miss that when he did leave.

That's when it dawned on him that if he left Berk, he would be missing a lot of things—especially his own history, a good part of what made Tuffnut himself. There would be no more moments of shivering winters with his family, cliff climbing and other risky endeavors with 'Lout, ale-games, dragon-riding—he would have to leave the Zippleback for a part of it was also Ruff''s; he'd leave his past to start a new future. He could no more tear himself from Berk and his sister than tear away his own leg, or arm, or heart.

Sure, it was never perfect, but there were times spent on that island he wouldn't replace for the wealthiest raid imaginable. He would miss the familiarity, the comfort of safety, the times he was used to. His family needed him above all and he needed to be there for him— he needed them, no matter what lies he told himself to think it less true. He was just as a part of Berk as it was a part of him. He had for once, stopped focusing on the now, and recalled the times before—which cleared his mind into knowing what he must do.

He threw off his boots, tied up his long blonde hair and settled into bed with a new plan—to travel when he could but always return to this home. He didn't have to be the world's deadliest weapon because he finally realized that he was content enough with being Berk's. There was a reason people stayed in Berk—a reason they braved the cold months and the hard times, and that reason was because Berk was home.

A/N: This is supposed to warm your heart and show Tuffnut grow up a little, through self-discovery. Be sure to drop a line if you liked it :) Thanks.