Time is a bizarre thing. It's always moving forward, but that's not what is so strange about it. You can have dawn turn into morning, morning into afternoon, afternoon into evening, and evening into night. It always moves that way. You'll never see night turn into afternoon, just like you'll never see the sun rise in the west.
But even thought time moves forward, it never seems to move forward at the same speed. I've had several days where I spent most of my waking hours flying on Toothless' back or running the Academy. And on those days, if someone asked me, I'd never be able to completely recall that day. Several of them were a complete blur, even a few hours later as I was winding down for the evening. There were occasions where I spent a few minutes asking myself what I did throughout the day.
Time moves faster when you're engaged in something.
On the other hand, I felt like the time I spent on Dragon Island after that stupid little adventure with Mildew and the thunderstorms was never going to end. The sun seemed to be stuck in the sky, at least when I could see through the clouds during that period of time. Even though I knew the water was draining into the rocky beach that day when it pooled around Toothless' body, it felt like it took an inordinately long time.
Based on that and a few other experiences, I knew that time moved slower when you're dreading something. And the worse the feeling got, the slower time moved.
That was how I felt in the boat with my dad. Heading to Berserker Island. I saw the wind billowing the sail out, but I would have been a fool to guess we were actually going anywhere. It felt like the waves were simply passing underneath us on their way to a shoreline. And the sun was definitely stuck in the sky, somewhat past overhead. I distinctly remembered checking my shadow at least an hour ago, and my shadow was still the same length. But then I remembered. It wasn't an hour ago. Maybe a few minutes at most.
Time is a bizarre thing.
I sat in the boat, shuffling around occasionally to keep from getting stiff legs or a sore back. I didn't eat, not because I wasn't hungry, but because I knew to ration the food we had available until we reached Berserker Island.
My dad suddenly asked me something, breaking the monotony of the water gently lapping at the boat.
A little surprised, I somehow decided answering my dad was gonna require that I check the length of my shadow. It was fairly long, mostly to my left. We were headed south, so that meant the sun was to the west. Early evening.
"Hiccup?" my dad said.
Finally, I realized he was asking me something and expecting an answer. "Wh-what?" I asked stupidly.
My dad rolled his eyes, but repeated himself. "Did Johann say anything to you about the Berserkers?"
"Oh. Uh, yeah. He did. I asked him to."
"What did he say?"
I glanced upward in thought. "Uh, he said something about how Dagur thinks there's a Night Fury on their island. He says it lives in a cave system underneath their village."
I thought my dad would be taken aback with what I told him. But he simply continued staring at me. It was my signal to continue explaining myself.
"I made sure Johann knew Toothless is a Night Fury," I continued.
"And?"
"He does. But, uh, I guess he thinks Dagur's found a different dragon underneath his village. He didn't seem very convinced about what he was told."
"Who, Johann?"
I almost brought out my sarcastic side and answered with Dagur's name. But I held my tongue. "Yeah. He knows Toothless likes to fly, so it doesn't make sense to find a Night Fury inside a cave."
"Did he tell you anything else?"
"Uh, yeah. Kinda. I didn't really believe him when he said that nobody has ever returned after venturing underground to find that dragon."
My dad smirked slightly.
"What was Johann telling you about whoever was ten feet tall?" I asked, quickly switching our roles for a few seconds.
"Johann says there's a guard on Berserker Island who makes sure nobody arrives without permission."
"Sounds great," I mused.
Impulsively, I checked my shadow again. Time was still moving forward because my shadow was still to my left, but it was a lot longer now. I looked west and noticed the sun had almost set.
Time moves faster when you're engaged in something. Like conversation, for example.
I yawned. The sheer boredom of this trip was taking most of my energy away. Without a word, I wedged myself near the stern of our boat and listened to the water lap against the boat. I much preferred falling asleep to the sound of Toothless breathing because I knew it meant I'd be safe throughout the night. He protected me from evil things like gnomes and trolls. But he wasn't here with me, so the water would have to make do for now.
A gentle back-and-forth rocking motion stirred me awake. I noticed the sun rising in the east as I sat up and tried to work the stiffness out of my neck and back. As I looked around, I saw open ocean, just like yesterday. I noticed my dad was slowly rowing, which accounted for the back-and-forth motion.
"G'morning, son," he said through a stroke.
"Mm. Hi, Dad," I mumbled back. It took me a few moments to remember why I was on a boat. Once I did remember, I wished I hadn't.
Bracing myself for each surge in our movement, I stepped toward the middle of the boat and began rummaging in the food stores we brought along. Pulled out a hardtack biscuit and a handful of berries. Breakfast.
Every time I took a bite of the hardtack, I heard and felt it snap. I figured I'd break a tooth soon, but maybe that would buy me a little mercy from the Berserkers. Then again, probably not. Best not to risk such an injury.
"I think we'll be there by noon today," my dad said, probably out of misplaced optimism. "The wind has been favorable for us."
"That's nice," I observed. And went straight back to eating.
After I had finished eating, I looked at my dad and asked, "Want to rest?"
He didn't say a word, only pulling the oars mostly back into the boat. I could either be lazy and wait for us to reach Berserker Island, or I could help us get there quicker. The way I was starting to think about it, the sooner we reached the island, the sooner we could leave it.
I sat down on the plank and extended the oars into the water. And began rowing. Slowly. I wasn't in so much of a hurry to risk injury. No need to sweat either. And moreover, as long as I kept focused on rowing, the faster the time would pass.
My dad dug into the food store and began eating without a word.
I continued rowing throughout the morning, occasionally checking my shadow for the time. Riding on Toothless' back over the last year and a half didn't just leave me with a sense of fun or accomplishment. I was able to build some muscle, especially in my thighs, abdomen, hips, and lower back. Something I was never able to accomplish in the forge with Gobber. I never got uncomfortable rowing for several hours at a slow pace, and by the time the sun was directly overhead, I was only slightly out of breath. Although I had put on muscle in my core, my mid-to-upper back was a little sore. I never used that area for flying.
I paused for a few seconds and turned around to check where we were. For whatever reason, I thought I needed to prove my dad wrong, that we weren't going to reach Berserker Island by midday.
An island was in the distance. And I was the one who was wrong. The wind really was favorable. And we'd reach the island within about twenty minutes, if I had to guess.
Mentally, I began preparing myself. Every interaction I had with Dagur began with him whirling a knife at my head. I had to cater to his every whim, regardless of what he demanded. Even if it was ludicrously impossible.
Just stop thinking for a few days, say 'yes', and you'll be all right, I thought.
I continued rowing, not realizing the implications until it was too late. I had already stopped thinking, like I told myself and inadvertently showed everyone on Berserker Island what my dad was really like. I had relegated myself to the role of servant, an observation the Berserkers would undoubtedly take advantage of.
As we reached the island, a mooring rope looped itself around my chest. It tightened and yanked me backwards, causing me to fall off the seat I was using to row. The only reason I barely stopped the back of my head from hitting the wooden hull was the oars in my hands. I yelped in panic, and instinctively tightened my grip on the oars. Those quick reflexes were another aspect of me that had been sharpened by flying on Toothless's back. The length of the oars coupled with the midsection I had built thanks to my dragon arrested my fall. I relaxed, noticing I only had a couple of inches between my head and the boat. We hadn't even arrived and I was already making good on my prediction.
"What are you doing, child!?" a voice shouted from the docks somewhere in the direction my head was pointing.
"The rope is for Stoick!" someone else with a hoarse voice shouted.
I wriggled my way out of the lasso and handed it to my dad. He stepped over me and cinched it around one of the stylistic dragon heads on the front of the boat.
"PULL!" two people shouted in unison. I heard the water protest and felt a strong push as the boat slowed to a halt against the docks. I let my vision clear before sitting upright to make sure nothing else came flying at me.
"Stoick, teach your…thing…to not get in the way so much," a Berserker said as he helped my dad out of the boat. The Viking was probably Gobber's size with dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders. He had a beard to match his hair. But he didn't have a peg leg or interchangeable prosthetic hands.
I rolled my eyes in irritation as I stood up. I was below "servant" status. I was now a "thing," whatever that meant.
"Yes, I'll have a word with him later," my dad said.
I stood, noting with dismay that the distance between the boat and the dock was growing. It was already too far for me to jump, but both Berserkers who reeled us in had already started walking away from me. With my dad in tow.
I grabbed a hold of the mooring rope and slowly brought the boat back into contact with the dock. Stepped out and took off, following my dad, who was listening to one of the Vikings tell him about recent events on Berserker Island.
As I closed the distance between myself and the Vikings in front of me, I heard two phrases in the same sentence. The first phrase was "Night Fury." And the second was "blood eagle."
Upon hearing that second phrase, the alternating pat-clunk of my footsteps stopped, as if I had inadvertently stepped in some kind of glue. Johann was right about the dragon, whether it was a Night Fury or not. And there wasn't any doubt Dagur was gonna be obsessed with killing it.
I almost hurled right there on the docks. A blood eagle wasn't something I was interested in seeing first-hand. Ever. In a thousand lifetimes.
A blood eagle was probably the most barbaric method of execution I could imagine. Luckily, my dad and the chief before him had outlawed any kind of ritualistic killing. Neither of them wanted any "traditional" sacrifices, because both thought it would have been better to have citizens actually able to defend Berk in the case of a dragon raid or Outcast attack, for example. Killing animals in this way was also outlawed because my dad wanted us to keep our sanity. Not turn into barbarians.
But because my dad wanted us to remember where we came from, and what we were not going to do, everyone on Berk had to learn at least a little about these rituals.
I remembered from some obscure text hidden in Berk somewhere about the blood eagle. It explained everything about this barbarism, and even included diagrams. You defeat someone important in battle and lay him prone. Use a sword or knife to cut through his back, severing the ribs. And you peel the ribs outward to fashion a set of "wings." Ideally, this would be done while your enemy was alive. And somehow, you could misconstrue this barbarism as an offering to appease Odin. I had stopped reading the text after that, too disturbed to continue. There was more information about it, more steps to be followed, and I read it once because I was supposed to. But thankfully, I quickly forgot what those instructions said.
Truth be told, I figured my dad probably wanted to turn Toothless into a blood eagle that day in the arena. When Toothless was protecting me from Hookfang during my rite of passage. At that time, the dragons were still the bane of our existence, and a Night Fury was way too legendary to ignore. It would have been fitting for him to make an exception at that moment in time, just for a Night Fury. It would have been the ultimate statement to the gods, saying we were the masters of Berk, not the dragons.
I took a quavering deep breath, silently thankful Toothless was still alive. With his ribs intact. As I looked up the docks, I noticed my dad was still walking with the Berserker Vikings. And they were at least a hundred feet in front of me. I ran to catch up with them.