Disclaimer: I do not own How To Train Your Dragon. This really should have sunk in by now.

Summary: See Previous Chapters.


CHAPTER SEVEN

On the three-year-anniversary of Hiccup's departure from Berk, he and Camicazi were returning from a walk/fly, and found the entire village in an uproar. Firesong had returned from her and Thora's daily flight with a ragged harness, dangling a cut rope from her neck, and without Thora.

Big-Boobied Bertha had been all for sending out the ships and declaring war on everyone in the Barbaric Archipelago until someone coughed up her niece, but her sister, Thora's foster-mother Bjorna, managed to calm her down long enough to try and come up with a Plan B.

Firesong had been inconsolable at the loss of the human she considered a badly misshapen nestmate, and Toothless and Stormfly had been furious on Firesong's behalf, Stormfly turning a magnificent blue-black as to nearly match the two Nightfuries. Luckily, all three had calmed down when Hiccup pointed out that having them go insane was not helping and Camicazi suggesting that they use the dragons to help find Thora.


No-one was ever quite sure what ran through the mind of Alvin the Treacherous, though revenge usually played some part in it, and most of his plans had been foiled by pure luck, though very much helped by Hiccup, Camicazi and Thora. Vikings, as a rule, tended to punch first and think later, but Hiccup's sharp mind, coupled with Thora's occasional input of Common Sense and Camicazi's impressive skill in all things Viking, tended to throw very large wrenches in Alvin's plans.

Alvin the Treacherous plan had been a little more devious than usual this time. The Bog-Burglars might train dragons, but the Hooligan and Meathead tribes were both as set as ever when it came to killing dragons. Actually, the Hooligans were probably worse than ever, fixed on revenge for Hiccup's supposed death.

Armed with this information, Alvin the Treacherous poured on the deceptive charm and informed the Hooligans and Meatheads that the Bog-Burglars knew where the dragons lived, and were planning to use them to attack the other Viking Tribes. This was partly true, as the Bog-Burglars did know the location of the Wild Cliffs, where the baby dragons were hatched and raised, but mostly false, as they neither knew or cared about the location of the Dragon Island.

This minor detail didn't bother the other Vikings, however, who instantly declared a Blood Feud with the Bog-Burglars, forgetting that they already hated each other (Blood Feuds were declared on a fairly regular basis, over things as trivial as stealing books from another Tribe's public library) and ran to prepare the Viking longships for battle.

The younger generation of Vikings cheered as they ran from the Meeting Hall, narrowly missing Firesong, invisible in the dark of night, and Thora, dressed totally in black, who had been following Alvin the Treacherous to see what he was up to this time. The two of them were about to take off in the hopes of getting back and warning the Bog-Burglars, when Fishlegs returned, having forgotten his Saxe.

Thora swore loudly and urged Firesong to bolt, but Fishlegs tackled them before they could get more than a metre into the air, yelling an alarm. Seeing several other Vikings turn around and start running in their direction, Thora made a split second choice. Kicking the large youth between the legs, Thora leapt free of the saddle and drew her daggers, yelling for Firesong to return home. The nearest Vikings paused for a few moments, (dragonese was not a widely spoken language, after all) giving the Night Fury enough time to leap skywards and disappear.


Thora was terrified, but managed to maintain a bored expression as several burly Vikings argued about what to do with her. A burly youth around Hiccup's age advocated keeping her locked up until she started talking. Thora rolled her eyes, biting back a hysterical giggle, "You already tried that, Plankton-brain."

A blonde girl with a fierce expression snickered, as the youth looked indignant. "Who are you calling Plankton-brain? I'm the Hope and Heir of the Tribe of Hairy Hooligans!"

Thora leaned back, closing her eyes. A war of words was much more her area of expertise, even if it was unfair to go up against a clearly unarmed opponent. "Was I in someway unclear, you brainless, small-bearded, oaf? You already have me locked up, so you can't exactly lock me up any more."

Insulting a Viking's beard is one of the worst things you can do, and the youth was about to lunge at her when a giant red-head intervened. Thora tilted her head and looked at him. Take away the beard, make the face and body thinner, and shrink him to about half his current size, and the giant looked a very great deal like Hiccup.

Apparently, she stared for a bit too long, because the giant man glared at her. "What are you staring at, girl?"

Thora tried not to jump in surprise. "I was just thinking that you look like Hiccup. Much larger and broader, of course, but there is a definite likeness. Especially with the hair and the eyes."

That definitely caused a commotion, as it seemed that the Hooligan Tribe was under the impression that Hiccup was dead. Thora found herself grabbed and lifted high into the air, face to face with Stoik the Vast. "What do you know about my son?"

Trying to remain calm while dangling two meters off the ground is not easy, but Thora tried to put on a good show. She shrugged as best she could. "Only that he appeared on a rocky outcrop not far off our beach about three years ago, alongside a Night Fury. Nice boy, in my opinion, very impressive. If I wasn't with Alaric and he and Camicazi didn't like each other so much…."

Stoik the Vast dropped Thora, joining the others in a state of very obvious shock. "Hiccup's alive? All this time? But why wouldn't he return? Do you mean that you're holding him prisoner?"

Thora rolled her eyes. "I don't think that there is a prison that could hold Hiccup, if he didn't want to be held. As for not returning, I think it was something about not being able to kill dragons and never fitting in or being accepted. But, hey, anyone who can ride a Night Fury is nothing short of brilliant, if you ask me."

The blonde girl snapped at her. "No one did! Back to the point of this interrogation; Alvin says that you Bog-Burglars know the location of the Dragon Island. Where is it? How do you get there?"

Thora shrugged again. If this was Astrid, then she didn't know what Hiccup had ever seen in the girl, apart from looks. "We don't know where the Dragon Island is. We know the location of the Dragon Cliffs, where they hatch and raise their young, but nothing about their Island. I asked Firesong once, but she only muttered something about a Queen Purple Death and shut up tighter than an oyster shell."

The burly youth spoke up again. "Is Firesong the name of that dragon you were riding?"

The girl who seemed like a harsher version of Camicazi snapped at him. "Don't be stupid, Snotlout! Dragons are ravening monsters; no-one could ride one. Especially not a filthy Bog-Burglar."

Thora snarled back, "Shows what you know! Yes, Firesong is my dragon, although she'll probably insist that I'm her human. You can't really call her a ravening monster, either. She's a bit of a show-off, but gentle as a cat, otherwise, and very loyal."

Astrid laughed. "If she's so loyal, then why did she fly off as soon as we noticed you?"

Thora didn't give the satisfaction of a glare. "Because I told her to, you insipid twit. I didn't want any of you trying to kill her, so I ordered Firesong to fly away. I'll see her again, soon enough."

As Hiccup had pointed out more than once, Vikings had Stubbornness Issues, and since at least half of what Thora had said sounded like pure fantasy, it had been largely disregarded, and everyone had focussed on the fact that even if the Bog-Burglars didn't know the location of the Dragon Island, they knew how to get hold of dragons that did.

Preparations for attacking the Bog-Burglars were put on hold until morning, or at least as long as it took to get the perceived 'spy' talking sense. This seemed like it might take a while, as the only things she had said so far was a stream of (probably rude) French, interspaced with several gypsy curses, and when she had smirked at Alvin 'The-Poor-But-Honest-Farmer' and asked him the condition of his helmet.

None of the other Vikings had any idea of why this caused Alvin to let out a shriek of rage, and a laughing Thora had been removed before she could elaborate that Alvin the Treacherous had once tried a similar trick on the Bog-Burglars, but dragons were very good at sniffing out deceit, and Stormfly had showed her displeasure by poo-ing in his helmet. Comments on or insinuations toward this memory never failed to get Alvin worked up.


Any plans to get Thora talking were promptly derailed only a few hours later. As comfortable as she could be on the hard ground of the prison, Thora was lightly dozing, as much to ignore the Hooligans as to get some rest. She was jerked awake by the very distinctive Bog-Burglar battle cry, which sounded very much like an extremely rude word being yelled at top volume.

Outside, there came the sounds of fighting, and the kind of outraged, spluttering half-retorts that only happened when Camicazi was running commentary on whoever she was fighting with. Then, there was the Freyja-Blessed familiar sound of Firesong, (The screams of 'Night Fury!' were a strong indication) moving swiftly in the direction of Thora's makeshift prison. Thora ran into the corner, instinctively covering her head as a concussive blast took out the door, the bars on her cell, and the back wall.

Through the demolished wall, Thora could see a large number of angry Hooligans running toward them. Moving quicker than she ever had in her life, Thora placed one foot in the stirrup, and swung herself into the saddle, urging Firesong into the air before she was even fully seated. Firesong let out a roar, answered by Toothless and Stormfly, and the dragons took off.

The two-person Bog-Burglar strike force also broke off their attack, with Thora and Firesong following Hiccup and Toothless, and Camicazi and Stormfly as they flew home.

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A/N: Yes, it's been forever, but real life has a habit of sneaking up and ambushing me from behind, as do the several other stories and original novel that I am working on. For those who are clamouring to see the reunion between Hiccup and the Hooligans, that will be coming in the next chapter, and I'll do my best not to have it take so long.

As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated, but anywhere with dragons has enough fires to put out as it is, thank you, so Flames are un-necessary.

Thanks, Nat.