To Be God-Touched
By Celestra (El S)
August-September 2012

Author's Notes: Nothing much to say here, except thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I appreciate them more than I can say :)

I apologize for the wait for this chapter, I have been very busy recently. I should warn that now that it is September, my pace of updating will slow down due to school in addition to my job, but I hope you can be patient and bear with me and I'll do my best :)

Update: now includes slight rewrites to incorporate some information about Hiccup's mother from HTTYD2!


Chapter Four
Doubts and Discoveries

Stoick knew that as a Viking, he had a reputation to maintain of being tough and unyielding. Moreover, as chieftain of Berk, people expected him to be fierce, level-headed, and commanding by turns. Unfortunately, Stoick was finding it difficult to be any of these things when his only son had been missing for three days.

Granted, it was not unusual for Hiccup to take long flights with Toothless, but they usually never embarked on flights of that length without Hiccup mentioning it to Stoick first. This left Stoick with two options, neither of which particularly appealed to him. The first option was that Hiccup was being his usual forgetful self - a wholly undesirable trait for someone who was supposed to be being groomed for chiefship, for how could Hiccup take care of a village if he could barely keep track of himself? And the second alternative, which Stoick was trying not to dwell upon, was that some accident had befallen the duo.

"What if something happened to the Night Fury's flying device while they were over the sea? They could both be drowned and we wouldn't even know it!" the chief fretted at Gobber.

The two lifelong companions were seated in Stoick's house, polishing off a hearty dinner of mutton stew. At least, Gobber was eating while Stoick paced feverishly, stopping every few steps to stare at the flickering hearth while he left his rough wooden bowl untouched. Although Stoick did a good job of pretending to the other villagers that everything was fine and that he was expecting Hiccup back any time now, Gobber knew better and had insisted on a private supper so that Stoick could go to pieces in peace.

Gobber brought his own bowl close to his eye and squinted at it closely, inspecting to see whether he had missed a drop. Satisfied that no crumb had escaped, he placed the bowl back on the table and regarded Stoick complacently.

"His work is far too good," the blacksmith observed. "And I should know; how do yeh think it got like that? Yeh used to complain that he never listened, but he certainly listened to me. If I ever teach him everything I know, yeh'll have two competing blacksmiths."

"What if a rogue dragon got them, then?!" Stoick griped, hardly hearing Gobber.

Gobber observed his friend, frowning. The bearded chief had the look of a man who wanted to sit down and wring his hands and scream but did not know how after years of repressing such tendencies. Sure, Stoick was great about dealing with external threats. Winter is coming? Fine, let's start storing a portion of the harvest and curing the meat. A dragon burnt down your house? Let's chop down some timber and build you a new one. But an emotional crisis? Feelings? No, never heard of them, but you can fight them off with a broadsword, can't you?

Stoick stopped in mid-pace, chancing a glance at Gobber. He could not tell if the blacksmith's gaze was laced with pity or sympathy, but he wanted neither. He had been friends with Gobber his whole life, but irrationally he found himself growing incensed. 'You don't have the right to be so calm about this! Not when you don't have children of your own, not when you don't know what it's like to have a piece of you walking around where anything can happen to it! Not when it's your only son, and he's the most important gift your dead wife ever gave you...'

As quickly as it came, Stoick's fury towards Gobber passed, and he was immeasurably glad he had not said any of it out loud. 'Of course he's calmer. Because he doesn't know. But he's trying, he's trying harder than anyone else on this godforsaken rock.'

"I care about Hiccup too, yeh know," Gobber said gently, as though he had sensed Stoick's thoughts. That had always been the way between the two of them, even as boys. "If I did have a son, I'd want him to be just like Hiccup. Except blonde. And maybe less clumsy."

"Thanks for being here, and keeping me calm," Stoick acknowledged gruffly.

"I don't think I'm doing a great job, but I'm tryin' me best," Gobber said lightly.

Stoick drew a deep breath as his pacing carried him a step too far and he careened against the table, jolting his untouched bowl and spilling a glob of stew onto the tabletop. Suddenly feeling stifled and confined as though the walls of his house were shrinking down on him, Stoick stumbled outside without a word.

Gobber rolled his eyes before heaving himself out of the chair with a grunt, being careful about where he placed his peg-leg. In some areas, the wooden planks of the floor were not as tightly spaced as he would have liked, and more than once the narrow point of his leg had gotten caught or tripped him up. He followed Stoick outside, casually scooping up the spilled stew with his finger and popping it into his mouth.

Outside, Gobber found Stoick peering between other houses towards the setting sun. It was a magnificent sunset; the clouds looked like swabs of cotton in such glowing shades of amber and rosy pink that they ought to have been ornamenting a queen's garment instead of hanging lazily in the sky. The sun was as round and shiny as a newly minted coin as it sank unhurriedly towards the sea, the choppy waves shattering its reflection into a veritable vault. At first Gobber thought Stoick was admiring the view, before he noticed that the brawny chief was shielding his eyes and looking directly into the sun, hoping to see the silhouette of his son and the dragon thrown up against it in a returning flight.

"They'll be back, Stoick," Gobber said, placing his real hand on Stoick's shoulder. "As though the beastie would ever let anything happen to that boy."

"I know, I know. It's just...I came so close to losing him, all those months ago. My only boy! I admit, even now, I still don't always understand him. But...he's my boy. He still has so much growing up to do. I don't think Spitelout worries about Snot half as much."

"I won't say Snotlout's a lost cause," Gobber began, before pausing. The silence grew awkward as the unsaid insult to Stoick's nephew hung heavy in the air. "Well, anyways. Hiccup's a good lad. He and Toothless took down the Red Death together. After that, I'm pretty sure they can do anything. They've probably just slain a sea monster and they're bringing back its head for you to mount on the wall."

Stoick waved his hand as though to sweep Gobber's partial joke away. "I know that he's close with that Night Fury, that the beast saved his life, but Hiccup keeps acting like he's a person. And when he thinks like that, it makes it harder for him to see that in a lot of ways, not everyone agrees that dragons are completely suited to life in Berk..."

Gobber furrowed his brow, tugging absent-mindedly on his moustache. "Yeh can't be telling me after all yeh've seen that yeh think he's just a dumb animal."

Stoick frowned uncomfortably as a memory bubbled to the surface of his conscious thoughts. In the midst of his failed attack on Fire Nest Island, he had seen Hiccup make his way to the burning wreckage of the ships and dive into the flaming water in an attempt to free the shackled dragon from its confines. When after a growing number of seconds he did not see his son reappear, the burly chief had dived into the water after him. Hiccup's unconscious body was almost too light, even with the weight of the water sopping into his woollen clothes.

After a moment of indecision, Stoick had decided to go back down to unlock the Night Fury's chains. Hiccup's desperate attempt to save the dragon's life in the face of such danger was the first time Stoick had perceived some Viking steel in his son, and damned if he would not face the creature that had provoked it.

Stoick's powerful kicks had thrust him swiftly down to the ship, the blazing wreckage illuminating the shackled Night Fury easily and tinting the dragon with an eerie glow in the murky green of the sea. Stoick had hung suspended in the water, regarding the obsidian beast that had cost his son his place in the village. What power did it have to have the ability to entice his son away from generations of established traditions? How did it seduce his boy into risking his life for it?

But when Stoick looked into the dragon's luminous green gaze, he did not see the eyes of a murderous beast. Instead, he was confronted with the unsettling feeling that those eyes understood more than he thought. Though they were different in many ways, Stoick felt as though he were locked into the stare of an equal - and as it became revealed, he and the Night Fury were certainly equals as far as consideration for Hiccup's well-being went.

Even six months later, the intensity of the dragon's scrutiny left Stoick feeling somewhat discomfited. And it was undeniable that both Hiccup and Gobber were right about the Night Fury being more than a dumb animal. 'Is that all the more reason to worry about Hiccup spending so much time with him?'

"Well, he's no sheep, I'll give you that," Stoick conceded out loud. "But I worry. Sometimes I wish Hiccup would spend a little more time with his human friends, instead of all his time with the Night Fury. He gets along all right with that Hofferson girl. Pusguts and I have even been contemplating a betrothal down the road. "

Gobber shrugged. "If yeh think about it, Hiccup would never have gotten to talking with those kids if not for the confidence his beastie gave him. And don't forget the way he was before, Stoick. If yeh push these things, he'll only push back, harder. Besides, there's something to be said for a future chief called 'Hiccup the Dragon Tamer.'"

"It does have a nice ring to it. Better than 'Hiccup the Underdeveloped' or 'Hiccup the Comically Clumsy.'"

"Don't forget 'Hiccup the Awkwardly Scrawny' or 'Hiccup the Mostly Useless,'" Gobber added helpfully, determinedly ignoring Stoick's glare. "Hey, I didn't come up with those, I'm just sayin'..."

Stoick moved to the side of the house and allowed his body to sink wearily to the ground. Leaning his back against the wall, Stoick's eyes remained trained hopefully on the horizon. Gobber followed suit and sat, absently wishing he had brought more stew outside.

"Sometimes, in my dreams, we're still at war with them," Stoick said, and Gobber knew he was talking about dragons.

Stoick continued. "When Hiccup didn't come back that first day, I started having this dream every night where this whole time, the Night Fury was biding his time...gaining Hiccup's trust, and lulling him into this sense of false security so that when the time came, he could tear his throat out without a fight. The dream always ends with the Night Fury bringing my son's mangled body to me, like a cat with a dead bird..."

"That's pretty grim," Gobber said, dismayed.

"I know," Stoick said thickly. "And when I wake up, I'm always so confused. I leap out of bed reaching for my war hammer and I'm halfway out the door ready to wake everyone, like I've been doing for nigh on twenty-five years, before I remember that we aren't supposed to kill them anymore. Killing dragons is so ingrained into my body's training that I could do it half asleep, but it hasn't caught up with my mind yet."

"It's a credit to yer father's training, I guess," Gobber said.

"Maybe so, but I don't expect Hiccup would appreciate it if I accidentally killed his dragon the next time I go out for a nighttime piss and forget to tune that training out," Stoick said wryly. "And however else I feel about those feral dragons, I don't want to kill Toothless. My body can't forget its conditioning, but I can't forget seeing the way the Night Fury cradled Hiccup in his wings to keep his body safe when they crash-landed. I know that dragon would never harm Hiccup. You could see it in the way he unfurled his wings so tenderly, like he had the most precious gift hidden there and was afraid the world would snatch it away."

Stoick turned to face Gobber, and in the reddening light of the sunset, his thick auburn beard glinted almost as though it were aflame. "That dragon treated my son more reverently than I ever had," Stoick admitted, his voice catching in his throat as he choked his confession out.

Gobber looked back, trying to keep his face impassive. He did not want to break the spell of Stoick actually talking about his feelings by making a face that betrayed too much interest.

"It wasn't anything I tried to do on purpose," Stoick continued in a hushed voice. "But when Valka was taken, I wasn't thinking that he was a boy who needed a mother. I was thinking, 'my boy is going to be chief someday, and I need to make him strong enough to deal with the weight of that.' I didn't think it was a father's place to coddle him. When I wasn't pushing him to be a better Viking, I was ignoring the things that make him so...so Hiccup," he gestured vaguely.

Stoick turned back to Gobber suddenly. "You know those blacksmith puzzles you're always fiddling with?" he asked, referring to the mechanical puzzles blacksmiths sometimes made to amuse their friends and perplex their peers. The ones Gobber made usually consisted of at least fourteen interlocking metal pieces and could only be disassembled by moving the pieces around in the right order and with the right application of force.

"It's been harder to solve them since me hand went; thanks for reminding me. But yes," Gobber retorted.

"Well, it's like Hiccup and I were pieces in one of those puzzles. No matter how much I pressed or pushed, it was always more like I was jamming him into a place he couldn't fit than getting closer to solving anything. I used to get so frustrated that I couldn't bend him and make him more like me, I wasn't appreciating the fact that he could solve a puzzle like that in his own way."

"Just because I'm a blacksmith doesn't mean you have to tie all your metaphors to my trade," Gobber complained.

"Don't take it personally, I just thought it was a good comparison. Although I did hope you'd like it."

"Actually, it wasn't bad."

"Anyways, my point is that I was focusing on what Hiccup wasn't, and it took his almost dying for me to appreciate what he was. I could swear that Val was beside me, watching her boy fight the Red Death, and that she whispered to me: look at what your son can do. My son, not just some half-formed chief. And it shouldn't have taken me that long to see that. A dragon saw his worth before I did."

"Don't be so hard on yerself, Stoick. It's not like the rest of the village wasn't thinking along the same lines. There's not much room for diversity in the traditional Viking lifestyle," Gobber said consolingly.

Stoick nodded thoughtfully. "We're still different people, I can't deny that. But now that we're finally getting along in the way a father and son should, I can't bear the idea of losing him again, so soon. Once was enough. I think he knows, on some level, and maybe he heard some of the things I said when I was sitting with him. When he was unconscious and recovering from the amputation, I mean. But whenever I imagine initiating him onto the War Council, I always picture taking him aside and apologizing...for the way I was before. Formally."

Gobber snorted. "Since when do Vikings apologize? I think we'd have a rather questionable reputation if every time we pillaged or killed, we apologized and sent them a fruit basket afterwards."

Stoick fixed Gobber with an unimpressed stare.

"Sorry, just tryin' to lighten the mood. Listen, Stoick, he'll be back and yeh'll be able to tell all these things to him instead of me. But if I know Hiccup at all, he went out expecting to be gone for an afternoon and got distracted by something. He's probably discovering a new species of dragon or observing their mating rituals or something. All yeh can do is trust that Toothless will bring him back."

"So you really aren't worried at all?" Stoick queried. His voice was lined with worry, but his light blue eyes betrayed a glimmer of hope.

Gobber threw up his hand and hand-equivalent, nearly pegging Stoick in the nose. "Of course I'm worried! Ach, me best friend's son missing for three days and he asks if I'm worried! But unlike you, I don't torment meself by imagining all these awful scenarios. I just wait."

"Gobber the Belch, you are wise indeed."

"Nah, just not very creative."

"You know, I can't help wondering what Valli would say about all this if she were here today," Stoick pondered out loud. Gobber raised an eyebrow; he had not heard Stoick use that pet name for his wife in years. Then again, in the time immediately following her abduction and probable death, Stoick could not bring himself to say her name at all; he was a slow healer.

Stoick continued his thought. "I mean, she was taken during a dragon raid, and here we are, pinning all our prayers onto a dragon to keep her boy safe. D'you think she would have welcomed dragons into Berk, or would she be stubbornly sleeping with her spear every night?"

Gobber frowned. "She was yer wife, yeh'd know better than I, I should hope."

Stoick fiddled with his hands. "It's hard to say, really. She never did like killing them, yeh know. She preferred peaceful releases. If she had lived, Hiccup would have grown up with a mother, and perhaps a brother or sister or two. If he had grown up with those influences, he might not have gotten to be so...so, well, Hiccup-like." Stoick made the vague hand gesture again. "And he never would have gotten it into his head to befriend a dragon, and so we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

"What a blessed alternate world that would be," Gobber sighed. Stoick smirked under his beard and jostled the blacksmith with his elbow. Being over seven feet tall and about three hundred pounds of pure muscle, this was no light matter, but luckily Gobber himself was of sufficient mass to absorb the blow with no more than a winded "oof!"

"Val was smart," Gobber finally said, massaging his abdomen with his good hand. "I think she'd see that dragons could be good for Berk. Her idea of 'peaceful releases' is pretty Hiccup-like, after all. Look at Osmund, I taught him how to pull a plow! With his help, we can plant three times as much as when we used an ox for the same job!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, referring to the Boneknapper with which he had bonded after years of playing cat-and-mouse.

"Yes, but only if we can train those Terrors and Gronckles to stop digging up the fields again afterwards," Stoick stated matter-of-factly.

"That doesn't prove that dragons are bad for Berk, just that it will take some adjusting," countered Gobber.

"Do you really think a family that's lost a father or a brother or a son in a dragon attack is going to want Osmund-" here Stoick snorted derisively at Gobber's choice of name for the colossal skeletal beast, before finishing his sentence "-want Osmund, of all creatures, pulling a plow for their fields?"

"They will if they want a decent harvest before the Freeze sets in," Gobber retorted sullenly. "And they're good at scaring fish so that we can nab them with our nets, as long as we give them some of the spoils."

"I'm just saying, not everyone thinks dragons are going to improve village life, and after our history with dragons, I can't blame them. Yes, they're just beasts, and maybe they didn't know what they were doing when they were under the thrall of that wretched excuse for a giant garden snake. But if it were an enemy human tribe, there's not a chance in Helheim that we'd want them plowing our fields and catching our fish."

"Holmgeirr's been grumbling to you again, hasn't he," Gobber said, shaking his head knowingly.

Stoick arched an eyebrow. "Yes, actually. But even so, he can be a brute about a lot of things, but I won't say he's totally off-base here. He's not the only one who has a problem with dragons in the village, he's just the only one with the balls to say it so crassly to my face. Except for you, of course."

"I earned that privilege. He just does it because he's your cousin and he's colossal. Holmgeirr the Broad, indeed."

"Yes, but so what? As chief, I need to be sensitive to what's going on and what's being said in my village. If I wasn't hearing these things, I'd get concerned that a mutiny was on my hands," Stoick explained, gesturing animatedly as though his words would penetrate Gobber's comprehension better if he wafted them in his direction.

"But doesn't it bother yeh at all that he's second-guessing your choices in public, especially knowing that a dragon saved yer son's life? In fact, he saved all our lives if yeh think about it - if Hiccup and Toothless had failed, there's not a doubt in me mind that we'd be having this conversation sitting in that monster's belly, assuming those teeth didn't grind us up too badly first."

Stoick looked pensive. With him sitting casually on the ground while the light deepened redly over him and caused his great beard to be cast into partial shadow, he looked almost like some ancient philosopher.

"I won't say I'm thrilled," the chief finally responded, tugging on his beard and twirling the bushy hairs around a thick finger. "But that's how village politics work. It's impossible to satisfy everyone, and sometimes people will question a decision. Loudly, as it happens." Stoick let out a crashing sigh. "In some ways, I almost miss dragon aggression...at least when they were attacking, the village was united against an external foe. With the dragons no longer our enemy, there's more time for internal tensions in Berk to fester, and it's starting to make me uneasy."

Gobber looked scandalized. "There's still plenty we need to be doing to keep this village alive without people looking for excuses to snarl at each other."

"We're Vikings," Stoick patiently explained. "The lust for battle sings in our veins. If we can't fight dragons, we fight each other. You never know - maybe the Hall of Valhalla has a small side room set aside for warriors who die during petty arguments instead of falling in glorious battle."

"Right, and yeh can be sure all the ugly Valkyries who were too homely to score work in Odin's Halls will be the ones tending that room," Gobber griped.

Stoick eyed Gobber impassively before letting out a bark of laughter.

Gobber grinned toothily. "By Freya's beautiful bouncing bosom, it's been a while since yeh've laughed like that!"

Stoick shrugged. "It's been a while since you've said anything funny."

The blacksmith looked put out. "I'm both charming and hilarious and I'll bludgeon anyone who says otherwise."

"See, Vikings need to fight something or we get testier than a bear in a trap," Stoick said smugly.

"And yeh think fighting for the sake of fighting is wise, do yeh?" Gobber sniped testily.

"Why should you complain when you're the one who gets commissioned to make the weapons? Half your livelihood comes out of conflict."

Gobber shrugged. "I can appreciate the artistry of a weapon without feelin' the need to use it all the time."

Stoick let out another booming sigh. "I don't know what I think anymore," he muttered. "We've gotten so complacent about fighting as a necessity for survival because we've been the ones under attack. This was no silly quarrel over who owns what chunk of land or who should be king; if we didn't fight back, we'd have been wiped out for sure - if not eaten ourselves, our food and livelihood would have been depleted and we'd have starved."

"So what are yeh saying?" Gobber queried distractedly, frowning as he noticed a loose fastening on his peg-leg. He cocked an ear to listen to Stoick as the chief carried on speaking while he desperately attempted to fiddle the fastening back into place.

"Just that after tasting peace, I'm not sure whether it would be right for us to start being aggressors simply because we're bored. What are we supposed to do, seek out another tribe to skirmish with just so our blades don't get rusty? And yet...we're Vikings. It's what we do. It never would have bothered me before, since we were the victims and we had to fight back. But we're so far from the rest of civilization and we've been at the brink of utter extinction so many times...And so I don't know if I can justify demolishing some other little village eking out its meagre existence just for the sake of pre-conceived notions of mandatory bloodlust."

Gobber finally nudged the fastening back into place, making a mental note to tinker with it properly when he returned to his own home. He looked up, eyeing Stoick with visible esteem.

"Aren't we philosophical with all those fancy words, hmm? First of all, yeh'd feel better about it if yeh ransacked a palace and not some little shithole of a village. Or if they attacked first, then yeh wouldn't feel bad. If yer goin' to pillage, do it right. But I digress." Gobber paused with his tongue poking out through his lips, a habit he often did unconsciously when he was searching for the best way to phrase his thoughts.

"Yeh know, a lesser man would just keep plundering and killin' for the sake of tradition; they'd find comfort in knowing that blood will always spurt the same way no matter what life throws at 'im. But I think it takes a great chief to observe when the world is changin' around him, and to question and react to it. There're lots of niches to fill when killin' dragons isn't daily fare, to be sure, but who says that void has to be filled with more killin'?"

Stoick chuckled. "For some reason, you just reminded me of Hiccup. Back when he was just starting Dragon Training, I remember him coming to me in a panic because he thought he couldn't kill dragons. I don't know if this was after he met the Night Fury and was trying to protect it or if he was just feeling nervous about heading into the Ring for the first time. But he was trying to convince me that there was a surplus of fighting Vikings, and that we needed more bread-making Vikings or small home repair Vikings..."

"I always knew that boy was ahead of his time," Gobber chortled appreciatively.

"Aye," Stoick agreed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "I don't know what I was expecting after the incident with the Red Death. He showed so much spunk, I guess I thought it was the motivation he needed to be more of a real Viking; I thought it would change him. But he's just as different as ever. Though if our world is changing, maybe I shouldn't worry about how different he is from the rest of us - maybe when he becomes chief, his peculiarities will be the thing that gives Berk the edge it needs to survive."

"I certainly hope so, or yer many Hiccup-Headaches will have been for nothing," Gobber smirked.

Stoick massaged his temples, his eyes still closed. "By Freyr's flying boar, I wish that he were here giving me a headache right now instead of missing. I can withstand a lot, but waiting indefinitely without knowing makes me feel so damnably helpless. I can't say I'm not used to the feeling. With Valli, I never got her body back, and that made it harder for me to deal with the fact that she was dead. That spark of hope that she might still be out there, somewhere, fending for herself...it died hard."

"Hold on now, yeh don't know if that's the case here-" Gobber started to say before he trailed off, seeing a figure rushing towards him and Stoick. "Who's that?" he squinted, trying to make out the figure's features in the failing light.

Beside him, Stoick opened his eyes and leaned forward before getting to his feet with a mighty grunt. "I'm gettin' old," he complained.

"Stoick, there yeh are!" the figure exclaimed upon arriving, wheezing from his run. Up close, Stoick recognized the squat body and bearded but earnest face of Hoark the Haggard.

"I guess yeh haven't heard, then?" Hoark queried before doubling over. At first Stoick thought the excitable Viking was about to be ill, but then he saw Hoark straighten up and cough up a massive wad of phlegm, which he managed to expel an impressive distance. "Ach, I could feel that one rattling around me lungs," Hoark grunted contentedly.

"What haven't I heard?" Stoick prompted Hoark gently. He knew that given half a chance, Hoark would spend the next half-hour happily discussing the way different activities affected the contents of his bodily cavities before remembering why he had been rushing to find Stoick in the first place.

"Or maybe yeh heard first and that's why yer waiting outside..."

"Spit it out, Hoark," Stoick commanded in his best Chief Voice.

Hoark looked confused. "I already did. But I'm sure I could manage another good one..." He drew his head back, preparing to dislodge further solidified sputum. Gobber rolled his eyes, smacking his forehead with the palm of his good hand.

"He means tell us yer news, yeh half-witted son of a brain-damaged newt! And don't be sharing any more of yer bodily fluids, now, either!" Gobber roared.

"Right, I knew that," Hoark quivered, taking a quick step back from the seething blacksmith. He turned to Stoick, putting the burly chief between him and Gobber.

"Just thought yeh'd like to know that Hiccup and Toothless have been spotted comin' in. Borghildr's lad was tying a boat at the docks and saw 'em."

Stoick was glad that his tunic covered his legs, as he felt his knees go slightly weak for a moment. He exchanged a glance with Gobber, who wore a visibly brighter expression.

"Thank the gods," Stoick breathed.

"Shall we go meet him at the harbour, then?" Gobber inquired.

Stoick laughed gruffly. "Give me a moment to feel relieved. Then we'll go meet him, and damned if that boy won't be deaf after I tear into him for leaving that long without saying a word."


"I'm glad that you thought to snag Ruffnut's lunch, though I kind of wish she had packed more apples," Hiccup said appreciatively as he rifled through the purloined leather sack. Then he remembered that Toothless would understand more easily if he projected the thought mentally, and he carefully did so, attempting to form mental pictures for the Night Fury's benefit. Although he kept picturing a mostly nude Ruffnut decorated with the tattoo she had described, he thought Toothless got the idea.

'I really need to get that image out of my head,' Hiccup grimaced to himself.

Hiccup was not completely sure how long they had spent underwater in the Yggdrasil grotto; the inky blackness of the impenetrable sea did not allow for the passage of light or the measurement of time. But he did know that enough time had passed for him to be utterly ravenous, and so he was glad for Toothless' little bout of thievery before their trip.

After the Norns had deemed the deed to be done and allowed Hiccup to re-clothe himself - with much sniggering from Urd, much to Hiccup's chagrin - Toothless had summoned the giant Scauldron to bring them back to the surface. Hiccup had learned that it was called the Gateswimmer and that it was a distant relation to Jormungandr the Midgard Serpent. But despite both this prestigious pedigree and the real life confirmation of mythological figures, he much preferred flying on Toothless' back to being carried in the mouth of a legendary sea serpent. At least the journey had been somewhat less harrowing now that he knew what to expect.

The Gateswimmer had deposited them at the same grouping of rocky pedestals from which they had departed. It was not a very large or comfortable place to stay for any length of time, but Hiccup did not think he could last the whole journey back to Berk without stopping to eat. In compromise, he and Toothless had flown part of the way back before finding a small craggy islet that was spacious enough for them to picnic comfortably. Hiccup was convinced they must have been underwater for at least a day, as the quality of light suggested that it was early morning now, and it had been mid-afternoon by the time they had arrived at the Gateswimmer's rendez-vous point.

Toothless skimmed the surface of the sea in several deadly strikes, each time collecting some fish for his own repast while Hiccup gorged himself on Ruffnut's lunch. 'Does she eat this much everyday?' Hiccup thought to himself, feeling lethargic and indolent after consuming the heavy food so quickly. The female twin could definitely use some more fruit and vegetables in her diet, he thought, and he felt somewhat queasy that she had been planning to eat a whole cooked chicken by herself in addition to several loaves of thick bread coupled with two wheels of hard cheese. Even though Hiccup felt stuffed, the bulk of Ruffnut's food was still untouched. He drank sparingly from her water-skin, not knowing how long he would need it to last.

He idly wondered how the Zippleback tattoo would look on her body if Ruffnut were to become really fat - would the dragon's image stretch out as well? Hiccup made a horrified face, both at the vision itself and the fact that he was even thinking about it at all. 'I really, REALLY need to get that image out of my head.' Judging by the look Toothless was giving him, the dragon had glimpsed the mental image and wholeheartedly agreed.

/strange/ The Night Fury shot at him.

\I know, sorry.\ Hiccup thought back. He assumed Toothless was talking about the obese Ruffnut vision, though it was just as possible that the concept of tattoos was what was puzzling the dragon. In the short time that he and Toothless had been communicating mind to mind, it was becoming increasingly evident that despite the substantiation of draconic sentience, there was a relatively large division between cultures that hampered the comprehension of certain concepts on both their sides.

For instance, Hiccup had not anticipated that Toothless had his own name. The first time he had addressed the Night Fury as "Toothless," the dragon had bristled, taking the moniker as an insult. As it turned out, male dragons were extremely touchy about the size of their teeth and claws as symbols of their strength, prowess, and general attractiveness for females looking to mate. Hiccup learned that other dragons called the Night Fury 'Nightshade,' and looking at the sleek deadly lines of the midnight creature, Hiccup could see why. Even so, Hiccup found he was having a hard time breaking himself of the habit of thinking of the dragon as "Toothless." The name had long ago ceased to be an ironic observation of the Night Fury's retractable fangs and simply constituted two warm syllables that bloomed comfortingly in his mind whenever he thought about his closest friend.

Hiccup supposed he should have realized that if dragons were intelligent, there was no reason why they would not have their own names for each other. But he was rather amused when he found out what Toothless - no, Nightshade - had been privately calling him. Deftclaw. He regarded his fingers and flexed them, marvelling at the dexterity that he had taken for granted but which Toothless - no, Nightshade - had decreed was one of his most notable attributes.

In fact, Hiccup had almost felt a little weepy when he saw how much the gift of his fabricated tail fin had touched the dragon. Even after all this time and all the evidence to the contrary, Hiccup realized he had been harbouring a secret, unconscious fear that his love and affection for the Night Fury may have been one-sided. The confirmation from Toothless - no, Nightshade - that this was not so was enough to keep him smiling nonstop. There is always a difference between knowing someone loves you and hearing it from their own mouth; Hiccup knew this was true from his experiences with his father, but was ecstatic to see it come from this unexpected quarter as well.

For his own part, Toothless-Nightshade, as Hiccup had started thinking of the dragon, seemed to have just as many difficulties adjusting to Hiccup's given name. He kept inquiring why his clan would want to name him after awkward noisy lung discharges and did not buy into the logic of hideous names scaring away gnomes and trolls.

/if troll has time to find out name, already dead/ Toothless-Nightshade observed.

\I've never actually met a troll, come to think of it.\ Hiccup mused.

/maybe troll does not like name after all/ Toothless-Nightshade replied. Did dragons have sarcasm? Hiccup certainly thought he detected a smidgeon of it.

Despite the difficulties presented by their mutual instances of culture shock, Hiccup was revelling in their newly found mental communication. Although it was different than using the pictographic lexicon, it was not necessarily easier. Thought was quicker than writing or rifling through sheets of parchment, but it took a decent amount of concentration and focus to convey anything he wanted to say - it was not mind-reading so much as mind-shouting.

On the other hand, when Hiccup had been relying on the lexicon, his level of communication with Toothless-Nightshade depended both on how accurate his drawings were and on how well he was able to combine them into coherent concepts. Holding a mental picture of an elk roasting over a spit compared with a Viking throwing up after eating raw meat to demonstrate the concept of cooked food was much easier than trying to illustrate the same ideas by hand.

Moreover, Hiccup was finding himself increasingly excited as he gained insight into Toothless-Nightshade's mind. It was not just that he was the first human to be getting this kind of intimate data about another sentient species, although this did thrill his inquisitive side. But for so long, whenever he rambled out loud to Toothless-Nightshade, he had never expected a reply. Despite this, he had a habit of talking out loud to the dragon quite a bit, because if he did not talk to someone, he would have gone mad from the perpetual semi-silence that accompanied his feeling like an outcast amongst his tribe. But for once, when he had something to say to his best friend - whether in idleness or sincerity - he would not be presented with more silence but with a legitimate response.

The sound of the dragon's voice rolling around his mind was utterly fascinating to Hiccup. In some ways it felt right, like his relationship with the Night Fury had transcended some impossible level and penetrated physical barriers into conscious thought. Hiccup could not think of any human being with whom such a relationship was possible. He certainly liked Astrid, but he was not sure how he would feel about mentally communicating with her; he had a jittery feeling of unease that she would be able to probe his inner recesses beyond his comfort zone. When her brazenness or aloofness had hurt him before, he had always been able to retreat into his own mind, but he did not think such a retreat would be possible with Astrid sifting through his more private thoughts.

With Toothless-Nightshade, Hiccup did not get this sense. He felt safe, like the Night Fury's presence at the back of his mind offered a sense of security and warmth. Hiccup was not aware of a desire to probe so much as a curiosity to learn at a comfortable pace all about this scrawny human who had become his unlikely companion. But while the dragon's voice rumbling through his skull had positive associations, there was also something inescapably alien about it. Perhaps it was because dragons relied on scent just as much as language to communicate, but there was something stilted in the way the dragon formed phrases to send to Hiccup, as though he was unused to presenting his thoughts formally and was missing several key components of speech to do so. There was something reptilian and halting about the voice reverberating through his head, and if Toothless-Nightshade were not already a familiar presence in his life, Hiccup thought that the dragon's mental voice would have made him apprehensive.

/done eating?/ Toothless-Nightshade inquired, rustling his wings.

\I think so. Sorry to keep you waiting, Toothshade. I mean, Nightless. Er...\

If the Night Fury had eyebrows, Hiccup was sure they would be arched.

\Sorry, I'm not trying to insult you, I swear! I've just been thinking of you as "Toothless" for so long, it's hard for me to break the habit. Your teeth look perfectly present and pointy and mate-able.\

The hissing sound of reptilian chuckles filled Hiccup's thoughts.

/know you mean no insult. starting to like this name, "Toothless." all dragon names sound same, formulaic, majestic - sometimes falsely so. other dragons, they may call me dragon name. you, my heart friend, you may call me private name, sign of friendship/

Hiccup felt strangely emotional at the Night Fury's genial permissiveness. If he had known this moment was coming back when he had first encountered Toothless-Nightshade, he would have put more thought into the dragon's name.

\Thank you, Nightshade. I mean, Toothless. Maybe I should call you Toothshade, that way it combines your true name with my name for you.\

Toothless-Nightshade bowed his head and nudged Hiccup's hand.

/should call you Hicclaw? not normal dragon names, not human either. way we talk, dragon and twolegs together, something new. so maybe new names. special names, just us two/

\Maybe just on special occasions, that way they don't lose their uniqueness.\ Hiccup joked.

/not understand/ the Night Fury blinked.

\Never mind, don't worry,\ Hiccup assured hastily, feeling elated both that the dragon had given him the equivalent of a nickname and that he could continue thinking of the Night Fury as "Toothless" without feeling like he was betraying the dragon's true self. In fact, he felt rather relieved since the syllables of the new name mixing with the old persisted on twisting up his mental tongue.

Stifling a yawn, Hiccup packed up the remnants of his pilfered lunch. The early morning light had given way to a scorching afternoon sun that made the freshness of the day before seem like ages ago. The sky was so dazzlingly blue that it almost seemed like the white-yellow orb was burning all the clouds out of the heavens. With the clear sea water brightly reflecting the sun tenfold at the pair on their isolated islet, Hiccup was feeling hot and sleepy. The food had settled heavily in his stomach, and he felt disinclined to move except in order to shrug off his fur vest and roll up the sleeves of his tunic to keep from sweltering in the unexpected heat.

Beside him, Toothless shifted minutely with his jade eyes lightly closed, sunning himself on the rocks. Hiccup tentatively placed a hand against the dragon's onyx flank. It had the same texture of supple, new leather to which Hiccup was accustomed, though it was radiating the absorbed warmth of the sun. It felt pleasant against Hiccup's touch, and he sighed, his own eyelids fluttering. If it had been at least a day since he had eaten, it had been more than that long since he had slept. He knew he ought to get back to Berk soon, but he was just so warm and comfortable and sleepy...

His spring green eyes closing, Hiccup nestled back against Toothless' side, his head lolling onto the dragon's shoulder blade. The Night Fury's back leg twitched, already in the throes of some draconic dream.

Hiccup awoke with a shiver several hours later. The warmth of the afternoon had dissolved into a frosty evening, his breath misting out in front of him like a poor excuse for a ghost. Although the sun had dipped beyond the horizon, there was a still faint rosy glow shot with gold kissing the intangible area where the skies met the sea. Teeth clacking, Hiccup fumbled around for his fur vest.

Toothless stirred beside him, the claws on his forelegs retracting in and out as he stretched like a cat roused from a sixteen hour nap. He whisked his tail back and forth as he eyed Hiccup scrambling to put on his vest.

/why always add and remove soft coloured scales?/

"What?" Hiccup asked distractedly, saying it aloud out of habit. "I mean..." \What?\

The dragon caught the sleeve of Hiccup's green tunic gently in his teeth and tugged. /colourful soft scales. or shell? feels funny/

"Ahh," Hiccup intoned in sudden understanding. \This is clothing. Humans wear it so we don't get cold.\

/why?/ Toothless queried.

\Because we don't have a tough hide to protect us from the weather.\ Hiccup explained patiently. \So we make coverings out of other materials, like wool, fur, or skins. When it's cold out, we need more to cover us or we freeze. When it's warm, we don't need as much to cover us.\

/yes, understand. humans shedding/ Toothless projected in a knowledgeable tone.

Hiccup chortled. \Not exactly. We can put them on or take them off whenever we want.\ Toothless seemed puzzled at this.

/warm before, humans still have clothing scales. why?/

Hiccup felt uncomfortable, realizing too late that despite their sentience, dragons had no sense of bodily modesty. And why should they? They went around in nothing but their skins and were none the worse for wear. A brief image of Toothless wearing a red felt vest flitted across Hiccup's mental eye, and he chuckled at the silliness of it.

\Well, it's easier for humans to get cold because our hides aren't very thick, so we often keep at least one layer on. Also, you've probably noticed that human skin is more delicate than dragon skin?\

/bleed easy/ Toothless acceded.

\Exactly. Well, clothing helps protect our skin from being injured.\ Hiccup paused, pondering how best to explain the concept of nudity to a creature that consistently existed in a natural, uncovered state. \Also, humans can be kind of shy. We don't like to be completely uncovered most of the time, because we get embarrassed.\

Toothless seemed thoughtful. /stay covered for mating? holes in clothing scales for this?/

\Err...humans usually take off their clothes for mating.\

/not embarrassed then?/

\Sometimes.\ Hiccup projected miserably, thinking of Astrid.

/why embarrassed?/

\It's hard to explain.\ Hiccup said, amused at the dragon's inquisitiveness. He had a sudden flash of insight of what it had been like for his parents when he bombarded them with questions in his younger days; curiosity was clearly a trait he had in common with the Night Fury.

\What about you? Did you have a mate before you came to Berk?\ Hiccup asked in turn.

More reptilian hissing signifying laughter resounded in Hiccup's mind. /too young now. maybe in couple hundred years. besides, not knowing many female dragons like me/

\Do you want a mate?\ Hiccup queried.

/later/ The Night Fury responded, still exuding an amused tone.

\If you don't have a mate, what about a family?\ Hiccup inquired, guiltily aware that if Toothless did have a family, he had been separated from them for a little less than a year. Had Toothless resented his time on Berk when he could have been trying to get home?

Toothless waited a while before answering. /no family/

Hiccup raised his hand as though to comfort the dragon, but let it fall to his side instead. \I'm sorry, I didn't know. What happened?\

/sire eaten by Plague Breath. tried to gather kin against her in early days, Plague Breath not happy about this/

\Plague Breath?\ Hiccup asked in bewilderment.

Toothless made a thoughtful grunt out loud and swished his tail. /dead now. fought her, us two. lost leg, remember? humans have another name perhaps/

\Right, of course. We call her the Red Death.\ Hiccup recalled.

/Red Death.../ Toothless said, as though tasting the effect of the words. /sound almost like real dragon name. not as accurate, though not bad/

\What about your mother?\ Hiccup asked gently.

Toothless was quiet again. /not know what happen to dam. heard rumours that kin with Plague Breath voice inside them hunted her out of skies. not know for certain. only fledgling at time/

\But why would the Red Death - I mean, Plague Breath - be interested in hunting your parents?\

/Plague Breath not like opposition. certain kin, like my kind, though others too, resist Plague Breath. would not hunt for her, or angry when her breath poisoned their food. Plague Breath punished them/

\That's horrible!\ Hiccup exclaimed.

/you have no dam either/ Toothless reminded the auburn-haired Viking.

\Well, no, but at least I think she is gone for certain. I don't wonder about it. Not anymore.\

/no dam is no dam. not worse for me/

Hiccup thought about arguing, but he could see the wisdom of the dragon's words. Growing up without a mother was difficult no matter the surrounding circumstances.

/wish Plague Breath did not hunt them, though. dragons should die naturally, unbalanced otherwise/

\What do you mean?\ Hiccup asked uneasily, thinking of all the times he and his ancestors had slaughtered the winged beasts; he hardly thought that counted as a natural death.

/dying dragons need time to summon Gateswimmer. otherwise cannot go deep under earth to feed Yggdrasil's roots/

\And that's more balanced? Acting as compost for the Tree of Life? I have to say, I think I prefer Valhalla to the dragon version of the afterlife.\

/first dragon, Nidhoggr, always chewing on roots, wanting to topple Yggdrasil. wants chaos. Odin say: dragons that come after pay his penance. when dragons die, go back into earth and feed Tree, restitution/

Hiccup was silent for a moment. \I guess that is balance. But it seems unfair that you give up your afterlife because of something another dragon did.\

Toothless gave the dragon equivalent of a shrug as though to say "that's life." /some would be jealous, to be part of World Tree this way/

\I guess.\ Hiccup agreed half-heartedly, though he was not fully convinced by Toothless' fatalistic view.

\Well, that's a long way from now, anyways.\ Hiccup exclaimed with false cheerfulness.

The boy and the dragon sat side by side on their islet, silently watching the colours seep out of the sky. The sea breeze cut sharply in the falling twilight as the purplish sky deepened to the colour of a fresh bruise. Although Hiccup trusted Toothless' homing instincts, he did not think it would be wise to try and make it the rest of the way to Berk that night. Although he had enjoyed the occasional night flight around the island, Berk was illuminated with torches that at least revealed the silhouettes of various objects, if not their details. Here, the moon had not yet risen, and Hiccup did not relish the sensation of zipping through frigid air in an expansive void of pitch black skies and seas.

/yes, go back at morning light/ Toothless said.

Hiccup flushed, embarrassed that he had been broadcasting his thoughts loud enough for the dragon to hear. 'I'd better be more careful with this whole 'mind-shouting' thing.' If he admitted it to himself, he was also relieved that the Night Fury agreed with this line of action.

Shivering, Hiccup snatched a half-eaten loaf of bread from Ruffnut's sack and huddled deeper into the warmth of his fur vest as he gnawed on it. His back felt suddenly cold as Toothless slithered away and dived into the sea, searching for dinner of his own. In the darkness, Hiccup could not see how successful the Night Fury was, though he could hear wild splashing. Several minutes later, the dragon clambered back onto the rocky isle with a mouthful of fish, dripping wet. Hiccup instinctively shied away from the rain of icy drops as the Night Fury shook himself dry.

Toothless paid him no mind. Moving several feet away, he circled a patch of ground, deluging it with a series of firebolts. Apparently satisfied, the Night Fury rolled around on his patch of warm rock, letting out a blissful snort.

/clothing scales warm enough?/

\Er, they could be better.\

/come/ the dragon invited.

Dragging the lunch sack behind him, Hiccup crawled over to Toothless on his hands and knees. His fingertips could easily make out where the Night Fury had blasted the rock; it was hot to the touch, and he could feel a fine layer of powder that had been scorched right off the surface of the islet. Nestling under Toothless' wing joint, Hiccup felt a warm sensation in his belly as the dragon draped his membranous wing over him like an obsidian blanket. A year ago, if Hiccup had known he would be spending a night trapped on an isolated rock in the middle of the sea accompanied only by a Night Fury, he would have been paralysed in a rictus of sheer terror. Now, he felt impossibly safe and strangely content. For all the dreariness of the spot, there was no one with whom he'd rather be, especially now that previously forbidden channels of communication were open to them.

His stomach full of bread and his senses lulled by the combined heat of Toothless' body and the scorched patch of ground, Hiccup was feeling rather drowsy. With a faint smile, he reflected on his conversations with Toothless. All of a sudden, a question presented itself in his head and he became aware of tightening sensation in his chest. He was afraid to ask the question because he was terrified of the answer, but nonetheless, Hiccup felt that despite himself he needed to hear the answer very badly.

\Hey, Toothless...?\ Hiccup began reluctantly.

/yes Hicclaw?/ the dragon replied.

At hearing the affectionate tone and the nickname, Hiccup felt his resolve weakening and a stronger urge to break down surfacing. He struggled for a moment, and then continued.

\I was just wondering...since the Red Death - I mean, Plague Breath - is gone now, and your kind are no longer hunted for opposing her, does that mean that you're going to seek out a proper dragon colony now? I mean, nothing is stopping you now. You could re-populate your species safely.\

Toothless sounded hurt. /want me to leave?/

\No, no, of course not!\ exclaimed Hiccup. \I just thought...that with Plague Breath gone, and things going back to normal for the dragons under her control, that maybe that was something that you wanted.\

/cannot fly without you/

Hiccup had heard the expression of having one's heart "sink" before, but never until this moment had he experienced the sensation of a hotly bitter knot of pain sliding down into his stomach with such intensity.

"Oh," he said softly. Of course. Necessity kept him close, not affection.

Toothless made a clicking noise with his tongue against his teeth. /typical twolegs, not waiting until finished speaking. do not want to fly without you. not needing another colony. another dragon would not have helped me fly again. home is here. home with Hicclaw/

As suddenly and as intensely as Hiccup's heart had sunk, an equally powerful burst of warmth bloomed in his core and spread throughout his body. 'Vikings don't cry. Vikings are not sensitive. Vikings don't cry, Vikings don't cry,' Hiccup repeated as a mantra.

What the other Vikings did not know would not hurt them.

After recovering, Hiccup could feel deep in his body how drained he was. He nestled deeper under Toothless' wing and sighed. What a day. Or had it been two? 'We really should get back to Berk soon, or Dad is going to get really worried.' Hiccup estimated that depending on what time they awoke and departed from the islet and whether they stopped to eat, they would arrive back at Berk anywhere between mid-afternoon and late evening.

Hearing Toothless' snuffling snores beside him, Hiccup began to drowse. A smile still faintly outlined his lips, although for a brief instant Hiccup's teeth clenched just before he dropped off. This had been one of the most amazing days of his life, and yet - and yet, things seemed almost too good to be true. Why was he not feeling any ill effects yet? Was he not he supposed to be paying a price for this gift?

Moments later, those niggling doubts were buried by other half-formed thoughts as Hiccup drifted at last into unconsciousness.


After hatching, there are certain things a hatchling will already know innately. The most basic of this intrinsic wisdom is a rudimentary knowledge of the dam and her abilities. Some hatchlings go above and beyond this and are cognizant about more complex dynamics, depending on the location of the egg and the permeability of the shell.

For instance, the strong male hatchling knew he was the spawn of an ancient force called Plague Breath, and that in addition to the usual fangs, claws, and firepower, his mother had the unique power to bend others to her will. The male hatchling also knew that his mother had been murdered. He had felt the keening of her death cry reverberate in his egg and down to his very bones.

In her honour, he had even started to think of himself as the Plagueling. This was unusual, as dragons must not name themselves. It is a sin, for to name oneself is to falsely bestow undeserved abilities or traits on oneself. Dragons are communal beings, and protocol must be observed. In the Plagueling's defence, without a mother or a colony to observe, there was no way he could know these things.

It is probable that the Plagueling would not have cared about naming rituals even if he had known about them. The universal rule of having a mother had already been violated; all other rules were fair game.

Another thing the Plagueling knew was that he was strong. This was not innate knowledge so much as insight gained from experience. He must be strong, or how else could he have managed to defeat his siblings? They had been such pitiful things. If they were just going to tremble in the debris of their broken eggs, well, they had deserved to be eaten.

He had even eaten the mortified eggs. They tasted stale, and with another flash of insight he knew that any flesh that has tasted of life would automatically be sweeter than these stillborn siblings. Well, what was done was done.

The last thing that the Plagueling knew was that he was still achingly, ravenously, hungry.


Author's notes: I had actually planned to include an additional section in this chapter, but it was getting to be rather long, and so I stopped at what seemed like a logical break.

I also want to comment on the way Toothless talks in this chapter, as compared to the way his thoughts were composed in the previous chapter. In chapter three, I wanted to give direct accessibility to Toothless' thoughts; the second half of this chapter is from Hiccup's perspective, and so I wanted to demonstrate how he perceived Toothless' speech rather than the direct intentions of Toothless himself. So basically, we see Toothless expressing himself, but only through the filter of Hiccup's understanding. In my mind, Toothless' voice would not sound exactly human, and so as a dragon he is not constrained by the same rules of grammar and punctuation by which a human like Hiccup would compose their thoughts. I hope this is clear and that it comes across at least a little bit.

Anyways, please take the time to review and let me know your thoughts on this chapter :)