"So, what do you want to do today?"

Tuffnut was leaning back on the bench so the whole thing tipped in his balance.

"We could go fishing," Snotlout offered from across the table.

"Everyone will be fishing though."

"That's what happens when the weather is nice."

Tuff tipped the bench back to its original position and put his elbows on the tabletop, "We could go hunting?"

"Yeah, I'd be up for that," his best friend agreed, shrugging a shoulder. "I'm tired of the Mead Hall; it's too dank in here."

"I hear you bro," Tuff hopped up but made sure to puff his chest out as one of the village girls passed.

She didn't notice at all.

It must be dark in here or something he thought with concern.

His thoughts were broken by Snotlout's guffaws, "Oh dude you repel the girls as much as a green death."

Tuffnut stopped his path forward abruptly, only responding with a hard punch to 'Lout's upper arm.

"Man, okay something that's always confused me about that—why do some of the warriors refer to it as green death and others call it the red death? It was mostly green, where was the red in it?"

Tuff did prefer to call it green, just like he preferred to call the Southern Islands, Ireland.

"It had red barnacles or something on its hide, trust me I saw it up close and personal when you left me on top of it," Snotlout rubbed his arm.

"So, it's a matter of preference?"

"Yeah I guess so."

He wondered why the village girls didn't prefer him. He tried to catch their attentions but none seemed to like him very much. He would try to hit on them but for some reason he lacked the grace of smooth gentleman.

He heard a small clatter and looked over his shoulder, reminded of what he had tried to ignore the whole time he had been there. Ruffnut had just rolled a pair of dice. She was playing that dorky Dens & Dragons or Dungeons & Dwarves game that Fishlegs always tried getting everyone to play. It only seemed cool though when everyone was intoxicated.

Tuff still held a grumble under his breath at the thought of her and Fishlegs together. She was like, his sister—she was never supposed to be involved with men. He had been angry for hours at the new development, at her for keeping it from him and at Fishlegs for not even asking for permission. He even forbid his sister from going out.

She went out.

She went out with the berserker and Tuff would have scolded and beat some obedience into her if she hadn't shown up later that evening, soaking wet with nothing but an oversized Tunic and beat him to the punch—literally.

They fought furiously but in the end Ruff held him down, a vicious grip on his hair and proclaimed with the utmost fervor that she would be allowed to see Fishlegs or else she would rip all his hair out of his scalp. He agreed, though most of it came from the strain on his skull and his concern for his hair.

And maybe it wasn't just a protective thing that had him so riled about it—maybe it was because he didn't think it fair for her to have someone if he didn't. He was perhaps even jealous that the one known un-datable girl in Berk had someone to date while he, the village's most eligible bachelor was still alone.

The bar wench didn't count either. That was a night of mistakes and afterward Tuff decided to take it easy on how much ale he consumed.

He was suddenly very curious to something perhaps his sister could shed light on.

"Hey Ruff!" He called over to her obnoxiously, "Ruffy!"

"What?" there was en extra grumpy growl in her voice.

"You're a girl right?"

"Sure," she wasn't even looking at him, just studying the table top where there were ale mugs and candlesticks positioned about as a 'map' for the game.

"So what do girls look for in guys?"

That question got her to turn a suspicious eye on him, which also caused her to smile menacingly, "What? Like for example, you? You're a lost cause brother dear—no girl will go near you."

"Why not?" Tuff was taken aback, and also his instinct wanted to punch her good one for the insult but Fishlegs was right there and Fish was a lot bigger than Tuff. He probably wouldn't appreciate someone beating up his girlfriend no matter how wenchy she acted and deserved it. He crunched his fist into a ball instead, and let it dangle at his side.

"Uh, for starters, learn to bathe more often."

Well so much for the insight she provided into a girl's psyche. She was obviously biased.

"Whatever, come on 'Lout—lets go hunt."

They opened the doors to the bright light of summer. The mead hall was a nice, cool place to escape the hot sun as it was in carved from the inside of a rock, but two young men couldn't ignore the pull of the summer outside no matter how hot the temperature.

Tuff's weapon of choice was a mace but knew that would do nothing in helping him down a wild boar or cliff goat. He nodded to Snotlout, signaling for him to meet at their regular spot to begin the hunt—a grove of twisted trees that looked like a Timberjack if you squinted hard enough.

He thought maybe he could borrow his sister's spear since she was occupied at the moment. He hesitantly opened the door to Ruff's room and grabbed her double-edged spear that was held on the wall. It was a good spear and Ruff had replaced the arrowheads recently so it was prime for hunting.

He nonchalantly whistled as he walked past his mother who was of course, where she always was—sitting in the smoking parlor and stitching.

"Where are you off to my son?" she asked without glancing up.

"UH, out."

She then did look up with a single arched brow.

They had been playing this game for some time. He was trying to break out of the responsibility of letting her know where he was going or why. He shouldn't have had to anymore. He was a man.

He coughed, "Yeah out, you know like what you should do sometime instead of hiding in here all year and sewing."

She pointed her needle at him, it made him nervous despite the distance apart they were for Ruffnut had to inherit all her wrath from somewhere and he was sure he was looking at it—though it was ten times scarier when it was unleashed full force.

"It is not your business what I do with myself young man, one day I won't be here and you'll regret the day you stopped telling me where you went because you will never get to tell me anything ever again."

He rolled his eyes, mostly to mask the horrible guilt rising in him. The widow Thorston was very good at making her son feel guilty.

"I'm sorry. I'm going hunting if you must know."

"Where is your sister? Are you taking her with you?"
"No, she's out with Fishlegs. 'Lout is going with me."

His mother didn't comment on his tone of hostility and only grinned at the mention of Fishlegs and Ruffnut. However, at the mention of Snotlout it was her turn to roll her eyes. She had seen those boys get into plenty of mischief together over the years and sometimes claimed the younger Jorgenson was a bad influence on her son.

Though her disapproval was unspoken, he knew she couldn't stop him from leaving. So with that, he mumbled a 'goodbye' and finally left without any more banter.

He looked up across the lodges and saw all the dragons sunbathing, even spotted him and his sister's zippleback in the distance, hissing and growling and fighting over the better position in the sun. The dragons loved warmth and he wasn't going to bother with the zippleback while it was fighting with itself. He kept on his path to the meeting place.

Tuff waited for nearly a half hour for his best friend to show at the grove of dragon-esque shaped trees but Snotlout did not turn up. Tuff stalked his way back to the village to track the guy down, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

Snotlout was a dirty traitor.

He saw from a distance that Snotlout had been on his way to meet Tuff, but had been terribly distracted by the auburn-haired Celtic lass known to the entire village as the future Mrs. Hiccup.

"Uh, dude?" Tuff hastily approached from the side and nudged 'Lout in the side with an elbow.

"Ow! Dude," Snotlout glared and made a subtle nod toward the girl next to him. Tuff inwardly gagged, not that Hiccup's catch wasn't pretty—she was beautiful but she was just fundamentally and all around untouchable. She was a Celt, and no less Hiccup's own bride-to-be he had finagled from a negotiation.

Though there had yet to be an actual wedding.

Still, Snotlout shouldn't have been in any way or form flirting or attempting to come on to her no matter how pretty she was.

He knew Snotlout loved one-upping his cousin, especially since the battle of the Green Death, but this was a little too far in his opinion.

"Hunting, remember?" Tuff threw in an obnoxious whine on the last word.

The Celt looked just about as annoyed as the glare Snotlout was shooting him with.

It was ridiculous to think it but maybe those two would make a better couple. Though he scowled thinking if that could even possibly happen—he would lose both his sister and his best friend to other people. He didn't want to be the one who ended up alone.

"Yeah, uh—we can do it later. Besides, dusk is when the deers are more prominent—"

So that was how it was? His own best friend blowing him off for a girl that he couldn't even have in the first place? 'Lout and the Celtic lass left Tuffnut standing in the village pathway.

Alone.

He angrily threw Ruffnut's spear into the ground, wanting to stab something. Maybe he could just go hunting by himself—blow off some steam of a bad day. So with that thought, he stalked off back to the woods.

The brush was actually thick that time of year so he had to cautiously move branches and leaves out of his path or else risk scaring away any game he might want to down.

He was pretty far into the wilderness by the afternoon, managing to strike two rabbits, a fox, and mink at least. He tied them to a line, lopped it and carried it on his shoulder. It was less fun hunting alone; he couldn't brag or impress anyone with his hunting skills.

He was taking a few drinks at a nearby creek when he heard an odd noise. It sounded as a loud 'clack, clack'. He lifted himself up and curiously made his way toward the noise. His sister's spear readied, just in case an animal could be its cause.

When he swiped back the branches there was not a game animal, nor a dragon but a skinny youth from his village—striking two rocks together and searching around. They looked crazy.

"What in great Asgard are you doing?" He blurted in question.

They gave a surprised yelp and dropped one of their rocks, hastily picked it up and faced him with a frown.

"Tuffnut! Be quiet, I'm snipe hunting!"

He outwardly guffawed, first because he had mistaken Hoark's skinny, thirteen-year-old daughter, Harkin—as a lad and secondly because she was on a fool's errand. Snipe hunting was something he and Snotlout often told Hiccup to go do when they were that age, of course Hiccup would come back empty handed and then plot for hours on how to actually catch one. It was a story they told to gullible ones that had them looking for hours to try and catch one.

"Why you laughing? You don't think I can do it, can you?" She wiped her hair out of her eye. The rest of her hair was stuffed up into her father's helmet. Her face and clothes were damp with efforts and determination to catch what didn't exist.

"I know you can't do it. Who put you up to this?"

"Munchglob and Rootstain," she murmured.

Ah, Phlegma's sons. They wouldn't have put Harkin up to it if they're mother had known. What were they, a season away from entering Viking training? He didn't know much about the Viking youths five years his junior.

"This was a trick, wasn't it?" Harkin scowled, working out his reaction to her endeavor.

"Fast on the uptake there, kid," he grinned.

"I'm going to pummel them so hard!" she declared after throwing down her rocks. She may not have had the build, but she sure did have the attitude of a Viking. She really was Hoark's daughter in that sense.

"I wouldn't advise that," Tuff warned. Phlegma's sons were built; Harkin had yet to grow into herself.

"Well, my dad would show them, he'd—" she stopped speaking abruptly and blinked a couple times, "Never mind."

Tuffnut knew how that felt. It took awhile to get used to not having a father anymore. He was the one who had brought Hoark's helmet back from Ireland to give to his family since the bodies of the fallen had to be left there—the same helmet Harkin wore now.

He remembered her face when he told them what had happened—it was purely masked with indifference but that was only to keep the ongoing crumbling of the girl inside from spilling outward.

"You want me to beat them up for you?" He offered instead, feeling he owed it to the girl. If only he had gotten up that hill sooner during the battle, maybe then she would still have a father.

She shook her head, "Nah, I'll get them back though. I'm gonna tell their mom."

Tuffnut winced, there was a reason their mother was bestowed the title of Phlegma the Fierce, and she did not stand for nonsense.

An idea struck him suddenly and he untied his animals from his line, holding them out to her. "Or here, take these back and tell them that instead of snipes you managed to kill all these with your rocks. That way, you can turn them into fools."

She grinned and received them, "Wow, thanks Tuffnut. Do you want them back after I use them to trick the guys?"

He shrugged one shoulder, "Nah, give 'em to your mom—compliments of the Thorston household."

"Cool! You're the best!"

"I know right?" he agreed as she scampered off back toward Berk. Now if only the women would agree too.

Now he had to start over on his hunt, and any animal in the vicinity would be long gone due to Harkin's rock-racket. Maybe he really should have gone fishing instead.

He turned around and caught up to the jovial youth. He walked after her, enjoying the shade of the forest from the sun.

"What?"

"What?" He shot back, naturally defensive.

"You stalking me?"

"Stalk you? That's a laugh," he grunted teasingly, "No, you scared all the rest of the animals away. Nothing left to do but go home."

"Oh," her voice dropped a notch as he fell into step beside her.

He raised a brow at the disappointment in her tone, "You're a little too young for boys, aren't you?"

"Am not! Even if I was boys are gross and mean—there aren't any nice ones to pick from. I think I'm going to be like Astrid Hofferson when I grow up—stay single and fierce." She then proceeded to pantomime throwing an axe, a skill Astrid had come to be known for.

He felt a twinge of melancholy at the girl's words—for the Astrid Hofferson she talked of had checked out of Berk months ago. Astrid was scarce around the village, and seemed engulfed in a crushing heartbreak. Astrid was not single by choice, everyone knew she would much rather be with Hiccup than alone no matter what she said or did. He even offered to dance with her at the Seasonal Celebration a couple of weeks ago to cheer her up—it helped somewhat, at least she had smiled. He would offer to marry the girl if she weren't so torturously in love with Hiccup—it was too obvious and tragic for him to want be involved in it. Plus, she had told him he was 'unsavory' one time during dragon training and he still held a grudge about that.

"Why the face?"

"What face?"

"The sad face?"

Harkin was looking up to him curiously, and he realized the tragic thoughts about his friends had visibly shown.

Instead he drew back his lips in a snarl, "If all boys are gross and mean, then all women are crazy and flaky."

"We're not crazy!"

"Are so, none of them will even let me get near them," he crossed his arms, also internally wondering why he was complaining to a thirteen-year-old girl about his girl problems.

That's what happens when you get blown off by your friends, he answered, thinking of Snotlout, or the lack thereof.

"Well, um, maybe you should like—bathe?" Harkin grumbled but he caught a flush raise in her cheeks as she looked away.

"Do I really smell that bad?"

"You smell like a regurgitated fish," she answered bluntly.

So Ruffnut wasn't biased! He lifted his arm and took a whiff, not really smelling anything too horrible but if two people claimed it was bad, maybe it was. Or perhaps girls just had more sensitive olfactory senses. Perhaps that was what the whole 'unsavory' bit was about too.

"Look there's Rootstain and Munchglob!" She chirped excitedly, pointing through the trees where they saw the two boys throwing mud at each other behind the tavern. They had made it back to the village. Tuff had to bend down to get a better look since he was taller and the tree branches blocked his view.

"Thanks again!" she whirled around and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before running down to them, shouting excitedly about her 'kills'.

He was startled she had done such a thing at first but it soon melted to endearment. He promised himself then he would look out for Harkin since her father was gone and she had no older brothers. He didn't want her to end up like Ruff—crazy and flaky, with no male role model.

He then considered the advice both females had given him that day, and convinced himself to go to the bathing spring. He wasn't a frequent visitor, obviously, but was glad he was the only one there. Everyone else must have been fishing or something. He ripped out the tie on his hair and threw off his vest jacket, boots, and breeches.

It's like swimming, I just have to scrub every so often, he told himself and entered the pool. Hopefully his lack of personal hygienic sacrifice would be worth it.

xXx

A/N:

The summer is so much more lighthearted! Easier to write too, since we're in the season in real time here ;)

Art news: If you've read 'Sting of Spring', I've been drawing scenes form that story and posting them for those interested :)