A Weighted Surprise

Astrid had three problems. But she didn't have solutions to those three problems. So they were all making her cranky.

First, her sketches. She couldn't keep them in Stormfly's nest. They'd get lost or smudged or would blow away, get wet when it rained or get scorched by a stray blast of baby gronkel fire.

But she couldn't keep the drawings with her. They'd get just as smudged in the folds of her skirt, or, if she fell into the water, she'd lose them.

Or, even worse, she'd distract herself by taking them out and gazing at them again and someone would see them, or her, or both.

She couldn't keep them where anyone else would find them, either.

Unacceptable.

Three sheets of paper were making her indecisive and...that was weird. Indecision made her angry. Especially her own.

In the end, she hid them in her room, under the rock that had hidden them from view in Stormfly's nest. The rock was behind her sword and her favorite shield, and everyone in Berk knew never to touch Astrid's weapons.

She took them out at night before she went to bed, and thought about them during the day when she was out riding Stormfly or practicing attack sequences.

Every time she did, she smiled.

When no one was looking.

Which led her to problem the second: it was her turn. Hiccup would NOT get the last word in this unspoken conversation. Not a chance. She had the next move.

She had to think of something for him.

And she had to do it while trying not to make it look like she was watching Hiccup.

Or aware of Hiccup.

Or thinking about Hiccup.

Or had any interest whatsoever in the details of Hiccup's day… when, in reality, she did.

She had to think of something for him.

Which meant watching and observing Hiccup while trying to avoid his notice, which was really challenging because Hiccup noticed everything.

Which brought her to problem number three.

Hiccup was never around.

If they were training dragons, they were apart. But afterward, he would vanish. She'd be at the docks, and he'd be in the woods. She'd expect to see him at meals, only he'd never show up. He'd be at the flight school leading exercises, but when she looked for him after, or at night, he was nowhere to be found.

And that was making her really mad.

How in Thor's name was she supposed to watch someone while pretending not to, if they were never around for her watch?!

Astrid felt like her entire brain was mixed up, thoughts of Hiccup fighting with her intention to not think of Hiccup in the first place. She needed to think of something to give him, but didn't want to think about him because when she did, she had a hard time stopping. Her face would heat, and she hated that. Plus she did not like feeling as if she wasn't in control of her own mind.

She wanted to find him just so she could yell at him to get out of her head.

It was enough to make her want to throw herself into the water so she could wash the thoughts of him from her head while she scrubbed her hair.

Fortunately for her, it was washday.

Washday for Astrid started with axe throwing.

She was determined to remain one of the strongest in her age group, but she had to work at it. She was often frustrated at how easy it was for someone like Snotlout to gain muscle, or for even Fishlegs to increase his upper body strength, while she had to fight twice as hard. It wasn't difficult for her to improve her aim, her throwing distance, or her endurance. Astrid was very strong, and she made sure the others knew it. But it took a lot of work to keep her strength, and she didn't want to lose any of it, so she practiced constantly.

Washday began with a run through the woods with her axe, jumping boulders and dodging low branches, followed by an hour or so of throwing, climbing, and chopping, all with the intention of building her strength and dexterity. It was a sweaty, dirty workout, which is why she saved it for washday.

One of the reasons Berk was situated on the cliffside, apart from the view and the accompanying ability to see any incoming attack from the sea, was the hot springs. Within the thickest part of the forest, beyond Hiccup's cove, were a set of two hot springs, each big enough to hold four or five people.

And since washday for Vikings was once a week, the path to and from the hot springs had been worn by generations of vikings, all of whom had washed and soaked their tired bodies in the enormous coves of swirling hot water. Tradition was sometimes pretty good, Astrid thought, as she collected what she'd need for washing and put it into her pack.

She ran, jumped, rolled through some dirt, flipped backwards, tumbled through a field, circled back, and then did it again.

But when she got to her practice area with her axe and her bag, there was already an axe there.

"Great Odin's beard," Astrid ground out as she looked around.

Did someone know about her practice area? No one knew where it was! And she was not sharing. Astrid could feel her blood begin to simmer beneath her skin. If this was Snotlout being stupid, he'd get a chop to the head. Sideways.

She dropped her pack alongside a low rock and carried her axe as she crept along the perimeter of the clearing she'd long thought of as her own.

But no one was there.

So who left an axe against a tree, the tree she always practiced on? Who had been there?

Astrid waited in aching stillness to make sure she truly was alone, until the sounds of the forest began to fill the air around her with buzzing and chirping.

Then, she approached the axe.

It was old, a very abused weapon, with notches and gashes in the side, but the edge was so sharp, it gleamed.

The handle was new, though, and had some kind of odd metal peg through it, about two hands below the axe blade. And there was a...she lifted it to bring it closer.

Was that a ring of metal around the neck of the axe?

Yes. Yes, it was.

And there were three more on the ground of various sizes.

What the…?

Who chops metal rings?

Or adds rings to an axe? It's a weapon. It doesn't need earrings.

Astrid put her axe down gently, and grasped the older axe with her throwing arm.

It fit her hand perfectly, though it was definitely longer than her axe. And with the metal ring beneath the blade, it was much heavier.

Wait a minute….

She thought of her attempts to increase the size of the weapons she threw.

And how she'd visited the forge one night, looking for options to weigh down her axe.

Hiccup.

She was going to kill him. With both axes.

How did he...?

If this was from him…oh, that troll. He'd be one up on her. That was not acceptable.

She couldn't resist trying it out, though. She hefted the old but new axe in her hand, and swung it to practice a few times. It was perfectly balanced, even with the ring beneath the axe blade. And there was room on the neck for the larger rings as well.

It was just what she'd needed.

She was going to kill him.

After she thanked him, of course.

But then she'd kill him. Sneaky devil, that Hiccup.

To be sure her anger was entirely justified, Astrid tipped the blade toward the ground and looked at the base of the handle.

Burnt into the edge of the rounded base was an A. So it was hers now. Good.

But where was his signature? Where was that H with the 3 woven through it? She looked over the handle, the top, the area beneath the blade, the neck under the ring, on the ring itself. He hadn't signed it.

Maybe it wasn't from Hiccup. The idea was disappointing, almost.

But then who? It had to be Hiccup. His signature had to be here somewhere.

She gripped the base knob of the axe in her hand, ready to try throwing it, and felt an edge against her palm. Using downward momentum to force the blade into the ground - it cut through the grass and rocky ground beneath with no effort, she noted - Astrid looked closer at the end.

The knob was separate. Maybe it would come off if she twisted. No, ok, then, pulling at it? No, not that either.

But it was definitely separate.

Astrid tried twisting it again the other way, as hard as she could. Just as she was about to give up, it loosened, just a tiny bit. Enough to convince her to double her efforts.

The knob came off, unscrewing along a track carved into the handle. The track had been filled with metal, making it more difficult to unscrew - and less likely to wear down.

Brilliantly designed.

She was still going to kill him.

Because beneath the knob, which was also filled with metal to give counterbalance to the increased weight of the axe and the rings, Astrid found that elusive signature. An H and the 3 had been branded deep into the base of the handle.

Astrid screwed the weighted knob back into place, stood, and stepped backward into the clearing. She took aim, and threw. The axe landed deep in the tree with a very satisfying thunk.

Practice had begun.