Thank you all for your support! The reviews that some of you guys have left have genuinely made my day, and just knowing that so many people have read this is a real motivator. Unfortunately exams are a thing so I can't promise a regular upload schedule but I will do my best. Enjoy the new chapter, don't forget to leave a review if you have any criticism or, even better, any praise. It would be much appreciated.

Chapter 4

Hiccup had never felt so much nervous excitement and such dread before in his life. Now that the pair had a plan, it had dawned on the boy that the final test was only a few days away. He needed to work fast, and stay off the radar. That, however, was becoming increasingly impossible as the village folk followed him wherever he went. Thankfully, his father had banned them from watching him train for fear that someone may put him off or even sabotage him, so he could make frequent visits to Toothless.

They had quickly established a routine; Hiccup would visit the black dragon with breakfast, where he would teach the Night Fury to understand Norse, and to speak it through their bond, and then he would rush to the forge to work for Gobber, staying there to work on his plans for the Kill Ring. Luckily there had been no raids in the past few days, so there wasn't a huge amount of work, meaning that Hiccup found himself with a lot of time to work with. In the late afternoon, he would return to Toothless for a brief flight and some more lessons. He hoped the effort would be worth it, or else he would have a lot of explaining, and a fair bit of running, to do.

-The Forge, around midday-

Hiccup wiped the sweat from his face as he bent over the fire, brow furrowed in concentration that few had ever seen on the boy's face. Despite his inaptitude at fighting and obvious lack of brawn, he continued lifting and dropping the cumbersome hammer to flatten the lump of metal that he was slowly coaxing into the form of a dagger. He had already produced an identical one, and it lay on the bench, having been cooled earlier. The pair were his finest creations, a much finer silver than the silver-grey that they usually produced, with beautiful craftsmanship, if he did say so himself. Later on, he would sit alone in the shop and embellish the blades and hilts, adding intricate detail that even Gobber would be begrudgingly impressed at.

So far, he had not been disturbed, with most understanding that he was forging his own weapons for his use after the fight, something that earned him more respect than he felt he was due, especially given that he had no intention of using them on the dragons. He figured that there would be much confusion among the tribe if he used only two daggers after he had completed the test, so plans for a beautiful axe had also been made, and Gobber had insisted on being around for him to create it. Daggers were much easier to make than axes, and so the blacksmith had thrown Hiccup from the forge until he had agreed to let the stubborn tradesman sit in while he made it.

The door to the forge creaked, and Hiccup stilled, waiting for someone to enter. After a brief moment, someone did. Astrid Hofferson entered the building with a scowl on her face and Hiccup quickly buried himself in his work. It was common knowledge by now that Astrid hated Hiccup with a burning passion, but was far too committed to the chief and tribe to let it show. Here, however, was a different story given that Gobber had trotted off to find some supplies and fetch the pair of them lunch, leaving Hiccup quite alone in the forge. He suddenly deeply regretted the fact that the villagers had left him in solitude. There was a brief pause while Astrid glanced around for Gobber, before whirling around to glare at Hiccup as he began hammering again. Hiding his face by looking down at the metal Hiccup winced, knowing that whatever came next wouldn't be pleasant.

"Haddock." Astrid greeted with forced politeness. "Where's Gobber?"

Hiccup pretended not to have heard her, and completed three more blows to the incomplete dagger before looking up with a smile that didn't represent his true feelings at all. His childish infatuation with the eldest Hofferson girl was beginning to subside these days, and he now felt a varying range of emotions when her looked at her that couldn't quite be contained in his extensive vocabulary.

"Hi Astrid, didn't expect to see you here. Aren't you usually training at this point in the day?" He greeted, far more jovial on the outside than he should have been. Astrid's eyes narrowed.

"And you would know this because…?" She questioned, her ever-present axe rising slowly as her body shifted to a much more hostile position. Hiccup, having studied predators previously while observing wild dragons with Toothless, immediately noticed the change but didn't show it.

"Common knowledge I'm afraid." He answered calmly, unable to believe how even his voice sounded. "Everyone in the village knows that you train all the time, and with Dragon Training cancelled, and no repairs to do from raids, it's very likely that you'd be in the woods throwing your axe at a bunch of trees."

The look on Astrid's face became one of cold calculation. It was clear to her that Hiccup was no longer a stuttering idiot in her presence, but neither did he display such bold bravado that was typically associated with Viking men. It was almost infuriating that he refused to even flinch when merely days ago he would have cowered before her and stuttered out some excuse for having to leave. But now, he stood before her with confidence that no one had seen from the boy in years. Perhaps winning Dragon Training had finally forced him to grow up. Still, she could spare no respect for him, as he had not yet earned such a thing from her.

"Where's Gobber?" She repeated, tone still far from civil but not promising a painful death either. Inwardly, Hiccup sighed his relief, but refused to let it show in the face of such danger.

Relaxing slightly and returning to his work, he replied. "He left to grab some lunch and a couple of things he needed for an axe. Why? What's up?"

Predictably, the girl's eyes had shown interest at the mention of an axe, and Hiccup smiled to himself at how easy it truly was to manipulate a Viking if you became indifferent to them. He was not yet indifferent to Astrid, but he was able to lead the conversation and force them down a path with only his words when the situation was right, a technique he realised that he should employ more often. After all, it was far easier to confound an enemy rather than to bash their brains in, especially for a boy of his stature.

"I just wanted to talk to him." The lame reply came from Berk's fiercest young warrior. It was a terrible lie, paper thin and transparent to anyone that knew Astrid Hofferson. Hiccup's sharp eyes noticed that she had shifted her weight to her other foot, and was now holding her axe at her side, out of Hiccup's view.

"Really." He said. A statement, not a question, indicative of his disbelief. He gestured briefly to the semi-hidden axe. "So, it has nothing to do with that?"

Astrid found herself once again in a state of incredulity at the boy's boldness. He dared to question her? She scowled irritably at his probing, but he held her gaze, seemingly aloof.

"It's none of your business, Haddock." She spat, and Hiccup sighed. Back to square one. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, which somewhat lost its affect as one hand held a large hammer that soon put him off-balance. He quickly returned to his work to hide how close he had been to falling over.

"Ok, none of my business." He agreed. "But my guess is that it needs sharpening, am I right?" He questioned, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. It does." Astrid forced out. "How did you know?"

Hiccup smiled slightly but didn't look up as he answered, knowing that Astrid's frustration would be showing in her eyes. "You wouldn't have come here if it didn't have something to do with weapons. You brought your current one but value it too much to replace it, which is totally fine by the way. Then there's the fact that you don't want me to touch it or see it, meaning that there's something wrong with it but not badly enough for it to be completely broken. You just don't want to risk my clumsiness. Hiding the blade suggests it's blunt, therefore it needs sharpening. Correct?" He stated, and felt smug when she didn't respond. He glanced up to see a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

"Yeah, that's exactly it… But, how did you do that? You're the village nuisance but you just read me like an open scroll!" She burst out.

Hiccup chuckled. "Well, most Vikings can't even read." He said drily, resorting to his old fall-back of sarcasm. He ignored the part about being the village nuisance and the disrespect, he had become almost impervious to that sort of talk by now. "Do you want it sharpening or not? Most days that Gobber goes for lunch end with him coming back at dusk, drunk and in no position to sharpen an axe, but by all means wait for him." He said, turning back to his dagger shaping.

He could sense her debating his offer. On the one hand, it would be far easier for her to let him do it now, at just past midday, rather than to wait for Gobber to return. On the other hand, he was Hiccup and she hated him. And up until recently he had a very bad habit of breaking important things. Finally, she handed him the axe wordlessly, and leaned against the workbench with her arms crossed. Hiccup raised an eyebrow but took the axe over to the grindstone, expertly setting it going. He carefully worked with the weapon, aware that he would not leave the forge alive if he messed up.

"At least you know how to take care of it." He muttered to himself. It was a habit that he and Gobber shared to judge people by the state of their weapons. He had seen many Vikings sent scurrying from the forge due to the state of their weaponry after a dressing down from his mentor.

"Of course I do!" An outraged voice came from behind. "Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't handle my equipment! I could beat you with my hands tied!" Astrid cried.

"I'm sure you could, but I'm not saying that because you're a girl, I'm saying it because I've seen grown Vikings come in here with blades too chipped to even melt down and use again." Hiccup said quickly, cursing himself for voicing his thoughts. It wasn't so dangerous when he was speaking to Gobber, but anyone else would take his comments the wrong way.

He heard Astrid settle back against the bench, and felt her watchful gaze as she observed his work. "At least you're not breaking it yet." She murmured.

He ignored the snide comment and resumed work. He angled the axe slightly different to how Gobber would have done, but only because he knew this axe well. Unknown to Astrid, whenever she sent her axe into the forge to be repaired, Gobber left Hiccup to do it. Usually the elder smith was too busy to worry about an axe that had yet to see battle with its owner, and so it was a job of lesser priority. Hiccup knew exactly how Astrid liked to use her axe due to an abnormal amount of time spent watching her train and fight. It shamed him now to think of his obsession, but at least the knowledge came in handy when the time arose.

Within a few minutes he was done, and he handed the newly sharpened weapon back to Astrid, who took it cautiously, as though Hiccup's hand had tainted it somehow. As he moved back to the anvil to work on the second dagger, he saw her test the blade on the pad of her thumb, and heard the hitch in her breath when it pierced the skin with ease. Satisfied with his work, Hiccup grunted as he hefted the hammer and began to pound on the metal that was now much more dagger-shaped.

"Thanks, Haddock." Astrid said quietly, and Hiccup knew it had taken a lot for her to swallow her pride enough to express gratitude to him. He waved her off like he had seen Gobber do many times in the past.

"Don't mention it, see you around." He spoke each word with the accompaniment of a blow from the hammer to the anvil.

He didn't hear her leave, nor did he hear Gobber return un-inebriated until the blacksmith was right behind him. The hammer was plucked from his hands like a child's toy as Hiccup's mentor pushed him aside with a wink.

"Ah'll finish this up lad, get yer grub." The Belch said, gesturing to the plate of food resting on the bench. Hiccup was surprised to see that it still looked warm, and happily sat down to eat. After a brief pause, Gobber went on. "So, 'bout this axe o' yours. One or two 'anded?"

Hiccup thought for a moment before deciding. "One handed, if it's too big it'll slow me down." It was important to keep up the charade that he was attempting to kill dragons.

Gobber nodded. "Good poin', but it'll be harder to slice it with one 'and."

"Yeah but in case you haven't noticed, you need to be able to lift an axe properly to do any damage. Which for me would be impossible with anything bigger than a couple of feet." Hiccup countered.

"Aye, yer scrawny limbs won' get much use outta the heavy stuff." Gobber chuckled. "Righ' ah'll start on a basic design an' we can go from there." The smith said, moving around the forge to find the right parts and notes. "We'll go over the rest later this afternoon, but fer now yer free ta go."

"Thanks, Gobber. I'll see you soon." Hiccup said through a mouthful of bread, jumping off the stool that he had been perched on and heading for the door, leaving his bemused mentor to his own devices.

-The Cove, around 6pm-

"I gotta say, bud, you're really getting the hang of this thing." Hiccup complimented after a hectic lesson of Norse tutoring. They had only gone on for this long because of the lengthy flight in the afternoon, leaving Hiccup with time to fill and plenty of leverage against the black dragon. The Night Fury preened.

"Thank you, two-legs. I'm getting rather good I think." Toothless responded mentally. "Soon I will be able to teach you to speak Dragon."

The thought stopped Hiccup in his tracks. "Speak Dragon? What do you mean bud?" He asked, thoroughly confused.

"How else do you think Dragons talk to each other? We have to communicate in some way. We have our language, you have yours. You just can't understand mine yet."The dragon said, matter-of-factly.

"So, you mean, I can talk like you? I won't be speaking in my head or in Norse?" Hiccup asked.

Toothless shook his head. "It is very rare for a two-legs to bond with a dragon. I have never heard of it in my lifetime, but I am not very old. Even the oldest in my clan told that it had not happened in their lives either. But I was told that when it happens, it is only with a special human that already has the potential inside them." Hiccup could tell that Toothless' story was leading somewhere, and so stayed silent. "Only a handful of two-legs possess the skill that you have, the ability to bond with a dragon. But of that amount, even fewer can actually speak Dragonese. Even after they bond with a dragon, they can only communicate like we are doing now."

"Woah, that's a lot to take in Toothless." Hiccup stated, pausing to try and make sense of it all. "You're saying that I had the ability to talk to dragons anyway, but that because I'm bonded with you, I can do it easier? Do you know how crazy that is?"

"Says the two-legs talking to a dragon and listening to the reply in his head." Toothless replied.

"Sarcasm? I'm rubbing off on you far too much, bud." Hiccup groaned. "But ok, sure. I guess this makes things easier for the plan anyway. Maybe if I can talk to the Nightmare, it won't kill me, right?"

"I still hate your additions to this plan." Toothless grumbled. "You're too much at risk. We should just fly away now."

"I know you don't like it, bud, but I've got to try. If I can convince them all that dragons aren't the real enemy, that the Queen is the only one we need to worry about, then we could end this war! And if I can't, then we put Plan B into action." Hiccup argued.

"Plan B is just as bad as Plan A!" Toothless snarled, tail whipping around in agitation. "You stupid two-legs, you will get yourself killed! And then where will I be?!"

Hiccup stopped, realising what Toothless had just said. He was the only thing between the Night Fury and a slow, painful death. If his plan failed, Toothless would die.

"I won't die." There was a calm, yet authoritative tone in Hiccup's voice. "I know what my plan runs the risk of, Toothless, but I promise you that I won't fail. In five days' time, we'll either be the heroes of the village, or outcasts. But whatever happens, we'll be together."

The dragon had no response, but instead trudged over to the boy and nuzzled him. Hiccup's arms found their way around his companion's neck, and the two merely stood for several moments.

Eventually, it was time for Hiccup to go. He could not be absent from the evening meal anymore, as people would actually notice if he wasn't there. As he walked through the woods back to the village, he could not help but feel a little buoyed. He would make this right, one way or another, in only a few days.

-The Great Hall-

Hiccup should have known that something was going to come of his victory in dragon training, namely between himself and his cousin. So, he shouldn't really have been surprised that Snotlout managed to engineer a situation between the two of them that Hiccup couldn't really have walked away from. Although Snotlout wasn't really the manipulative criminal mastermind type, he was the kind of Viking that liked to boast loudly in a public place to make himself seem heroic and manly. That is to say, he was a traditional one.

"Of course, everyone knows that I'm the true Viking of the two of us." The young Jorgenson boasted as Hiccup walked into the hall. "Dragon training is only the tip of the ice berg. Sure, the twig can work some kind of voodoo magic around em, but I've never seen him lift an axe! And don't even get me started on his drinking!" The boy went on.

Unlike most of the world's civilisation, Vikings didn't have a huge problem with their youth drinking. It was customary for those younger than twelve winters to partake in the occasional drink-fest, but mostly they drank small quantities, or weaker drinks than everyone else. Hiccup's classmates however, at fifteen winters, had been drinking for three years now. Hiccup himself had never liked mead or ale, but had discovered he had some form of aptitude for drinking, which was useful for inter-tribe events where he was required to drink by some higher power.

As he strode past the others noticed him, and Tuffnut nudged Snotlout, giving the ringleader a not so subtle nod in Hiccup's direction. If Hiccup had been looking, he would have seen the grin forming on his rival's face.

"Hiccup dear cousin?" Snotlout called, his voice too sweet to be normal. Hiccup groaned internally and slowed his pace, turning to face his cousin.

"What, Lout?" He asked, barely withholding the sigh that threatened to escape him. He was dimly aware of his father making his way towards him, but remained focused on Snotlout.

"I was thinking, cuz." Snotlout began, and Hiccup really couldn't help himself.

"Well, that's a first." He drawled, and felt satisfaction in the chuckles that his remark brought from the onlookers nearby. Snotlout's face formed into a scowl briefly, before smoothing out into a passable smile.

Hiccup had to say, he was enjoying being able to annoy people without being attacked. He had always had a way with words, but now he found new delight in a combat that was previously inaccessible to him, and he found that he excelled in it.

"As I was saying," The Jorgenson growled. "I think it's time that me and you had our first drink off." Hiccup's stomach flipped slightly, knowing full well that he couldn't walk away from such a challenge. His mouth went dry, but seeing his cousin's smile steeled his resolve.

"Snotlout!" Boomed the voice of Stoick the Vast. Hiccup didn't know whether to feel buoyed or terrified. His father could force him into this, or he could forbid it, but risk looking too protective and making Hiccup a fool. He awaited the verdict. "What a fine idea!" Yelled the chief to the hall, and instantly cheers arose. Hiccup's heart sank.

A table was set up for the two adolescents, and Hiccup knew that this was perhaps a grander stage than the arena would be in only a few short days, as it marked the beginning of his transition to adulthood. He could already see the shine that signified money being passed in as the older Vikings placed bets in the least discrete manner possible, which entailed shouting and waving their fistful of coins around. There were many sceptical glances in his direction, which for once in his life Hiccup was glad for. It resembled normality, as no one dared to speak outright against Hiccup in Stoick's presence, but they weren't exactly subtle about their doubts.

The first flagons arrived at the table, with four being deposited at each end. The boys strode around to face each other from across their platform, Snotlout swaggering about, and Hiccup standing quietly, judging the spectacle that he was about to take part in.

"All right!" Roared Gobber, who had decided to umpire a sport that really required no rules, but apparently Hiccup's mentor had a flair for dramatics as he quickly took to directing the crowd to the benches that were now gathered around. "I wan' a nice, clean game. Remember, the dirtier yer insults, the better for us, but don' go spewing all yer drink all over the place. Odin knows that Greta won' appreciate tha'." Everyone's heads swivelled to the Chief Cook of the village, who shook her head and smiled, although her eyes held a shred of menace.

Snotlout was the first to reach for a flagon, and theatrically brought the rim to his lips, gulping the somewhat sweet liquid down. There was a smattering of chuckles from the older Vikings, but when Snotlout placed his half-empty flagon down and glanced at Hiccup, all eyes trained to him.

The young Haddock sighed, rolling his eyes as he reached for his first flagon. Deciding to forego the theatrics, he threw his head back as he drank, emptying the cup in a few gulps to a couple of murmurs. Snotlout's eyes widened slightly, before he set his face and finished his own cup impressively quickly.

Hiccup was aware of the other Vikings in the hall reaching for their own drinks, believing that this was not a game that would end quickly, and the atmosphere in the hall lightened considerably.

The pair remained at their table, Snotlout in smug contempt and Hiccup in faint amusement. They reached for their second drink almost simultaneously, and then it became a race to finish first. Hiccup tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but a part of him was truly invested in winning this competition, however friendly and informal it may be. To his dismay, his cousin's flagon hit the table seconds before his own, and the smug look on Snotlout's visage increased.

It was then that Hiccup noticed that his classmates were all stood around Snotlout, showing unanimous support for the tormentor over the tormented. Hiccup's brow raised.

'If that's how it's going to be.' He thought to himself.

"So, Lout," He began, no tremor detected in his voice as the drink gave him courage. "How's it feel with Tuff's nose lodged in your breeches?"

There was a slight pause before a large guffaw sounded from the crowd, particularly Gobber. For his part, Tuffnut remained unsure of whether or not he had been indirectly insulted before Fishlegs explained it to him quietly. Snotlout looked at Hiccup with shock, not having expected such a bold beginning from his opponent, but then a lazy grin settled on his face that promised humiliation to come.

Both participants reached for their third, neither looking any worse for wear, although Viking ale wasn't the most potent of alcohols.

"Is that all you have for me, Hiccup?" Taunted the Jorgenson. "I'll be honest, I expected better from you. All that time spent indoors and you can only come up with that?"

The crowd sensed the beginning of the true fun, watching the verbal spar like a riveting game of Bashyball, waiting to see who would move next. Hiccup winced internally, but let nothing show on his face but amusement.

"Aye, I spend a lot of time indoors. I work Snotlout, remember that thing that you don't do? It's what everyone else does while you sit on your rear." Hiccup knew it wasn't the strongest of comebacks, but it served the purpose of deflection.

Snotlout was unfazed as he began to drain his third flagon, gulping down mouthfuls at a time.

"Who needs to work when you've got this much raw Vikingness?" He boasted, and instead of disappointed groans, he received chuckles and a small bout of applause as he struck a heroic pose. "You work in a forge but you still don't have muscle." The Jorgenson teased.

Hiccup felt his face flush at that one. While he did have muscle on him, it was lean and hidden by his baggy clothes, a by-product of Stoick's hopes for a brawny heir. There wasn't really a suitable comeback, and so Hiccup remained silent, finishing his third drink and reaching for his fourth.

"Oh! Does anyone else hear that? That blissful silence?" Snotlout asked, looking to the crowd. "I finally shut the useless up."

Stoick frowned in the crowd. While it was customary for the participants to insult each other, the use of that word annoyed him. It was unbecoming for a future chief to be known as Hiccup the Useless, and had the competition not been on, he might have had a word. As it was, he could only stand and observe as the crowd around him laughed.

Any laughter was cut short as an empty flagon flew through the air, making a satisfying thunk as it hit Snotlout in the side of the head. Every head in the room turned, to see Hiccup, red in the face, swaying slightly, and shaking. The drink was clearly affecting both boys more than they had expected, which might have had something to do with the fact that they had drank quickly to impress the village. And maybe a bit more to do with the fact the Gobber had added something a slight more potent to each of their drinks.

Snotlout remained dumbstruck, swaying, and glancing between the empty flagon and Hiccup. Or rather, where Hiccup had been. The boy in question was now staggering for the door, muttering to himself. He reached the threshold before anyone even considered moving, and tottered outside into the night. Stoick the Vast sighed before lifting his head and laughing loudly to the village.

"Kids!" He roared, while his eyes sought out Gobber. The blacksmith nodded, and the chief mouthed his thanks, something rarely done, as Gobber set out to look for his apprentice.