Chapter seven

AN: Howdeedoodeethere, mi frieundlees. I'd like to thank my Chinese teacher for the saying this chapter is named after; when I later read it in the Heroes of Olympus books I went and showed her and she started chattering something about something or other. Meh. But yeah, xie xie, lao shi. This chapter was highly amusing to write; I just got this image of David Tennant in a Viking helmet hanging Hiccup upside-down, and I had to write it. Mi ha ha ha (my evil laugh).

Chapter seven

Eat it Bitter, Taste it Sweet

When Hiccup woke up for the third time, the first thing he got was a fist to the arm.

"Ow…" he groaned, lifting his head.

"That's for being stupid!" Astrid said angrily. The she gave him a peck on the cheek. "That's for stopping Alvin from skewering me."

She offered him a hand and he took it, pulling himself into an upright position. He clambered to his feet, froze and looked down.

Astrid grinned. While he had been out, Valka having surreptitiously fed him sleeping herbs to keep him down for a few days, Astrid had gone to Gobber and told him about Hiccup's troubles with his prosthetic. The smith had whipped up a new prosthetic and a new stirrup for Toothless, rigging it up to the old system strapped to the dragon's side. Astrid had looked the other way when Gobber had fastened the prosthetic on. It was ridiculous, she knew, but it made her feel squeamish when she saw the place where Hiccup's foot was meant to be.

"Ha," Hiccup said. He sat back down and took a closer look. "Spring operated, that's one of my designs. Who made this?"

"Gobber made it. Why's it shaped like that?" Astrid asked.

"It locks into the stirrup," Hiccup answered, placing it back solidly on the ground. "So I can stop taking nose-dives off of my dragon when the prosthetic slips out of the stirrup."

Astrid nodded. That was one less danger.

"Right. Off to the arena with you," Astrid said sternly.

"Wait, what?" Hiccup asked.

"Nice try, Hiccup. I've gotten your dad's approval. I'm teaching you how to fight."

Hiccup groaned.

"Fine…"

There was no point arguing if Stoick had said yes. Hiccup stood up.

"Ow, my head," he murmured.

"Stop naming your injured body parts and follow me," Astrid said.

"Does pride count as a body part?"

"No. Hurry up."

o~0~O~0~o

Step, click, step, click.

Hiccup followed Astrid into the arena. In the centre, there was a wooden model of a Viking. Whoever had made it had painted a red circle on the chest, stomach, the back of the neck and the head, and yellow ones on the wrists and shins. The nose, for some reason, was orange.

"Okay. This is your opponent." Astrid said.

"He doesn't seem to be too mobile," Hiccup answered.

"Ha ha. I don't care. Now, you see the red?"

"No, I see the black spots in my vision though."

"Stop being sarcastic. The red spots are the places you aim for. If you shoot or stab someone there, then they die. The yellow spots are where you hit to disarm or incapacitate them."

"That's a big word,"

"And I know you know what it means. The orange spot is special. You hit that with the heel of your hand if you're disarmed. Don't try it on me. Doing that is generally lethal. Now, come at me,"

She threw him a wooden sword.

"Um," Hiccup said, and gingerly took a step forward. Astrid swept his feet out from underneath him and he landed on his back.

"This isn't working, I can't just attack you!" Hiccup protested.

"No, you can't. Trolls. You need to-"

A huge shape exploded into the arena and Hiccup dropped the wooden sword, drawing Inferno. Astrid was knocked onto her face. Hiccup looked wildly at the model and charged at the huge Viking, swinging Inferno's pommel at the man's wrist.

He found himself hanging upside down as the man removed his fake beard.

"You're right," Spitelout said. "He is going to fail at this. One hit to his knuckles and he was helpless."

"Uncle Spitelout?" Hiccup asked, and got dropped on his head. "Ow… why would you do that?"

Astrid stood up and cracked a grin.

"To see how you would react. I told him to come in and pretend to attack you when I said 'trolls'. You were aiming for the right spot-if you were hoping to lose the fight and your head into the bargain."

She dropped the smile. "Hiccup, just disarming your enemies won't do anything. You saw in that last dragon raid when you were fourteen. Stoick beat a Nightmare with his bare hands. You'd be fish bait."

"I thought you had a 'Honey and a Hatchet' policy," Hiccup muttered. "Where's my honey?"

"Astrid," Spitelout said. "I'll be going now. But here's a thought- no-one is worried about a seventeen-year-old fishbone. They are, however, terrified of the Dragon Conqueror. If he can't fight like a Viking, then make him fight like a dragon"

Spitelout strode out.

"That's a really good idea. Hiccup, put on your mask and tell me, what is Toothless' first plan of approach when he's fighting?" Astrid asked.

"He growls," Hiccup responded, pulling on the mask and tightening the leather straps, "or he roars, and he flares his wings out to scare the enemies off."

"Good. Now, since Fiske can, I trust you can do a dragon call?"

"Easy," Hiccup answered, and let out a shrieking cry that sounded exactly like Toothless roaring.

"Good," Astrid said. "Then what does he do?"

"Well, he pounces, or he waits until they charge him and beats them away with his wings and tail,"

Astrid lifted a shield from the weapons rack and handed it to Hiccup.
"Use that like your wings. Giving someone a good hit with a shield gives them some time to think. Let's try that so far."

She picked up her sword and imitated a Viking.

"Grr. I'm going to kidnap you," she said in a guttural voice.

Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Just do it!" snapped Astrid. Hiccup dropped into a low posture and roared at her. She felt goose bumps pop up down her neck. It really was intimidating. She rushed at Hiccup, and he thrust the shield at her. It caught her in the stomach, stopping her in her tracks. He went to swing the wooden sword around, it hit the horns on his mask, was knocked out of his hands and clattered to the ground. He groaned.

"Swords. I hate swords. Why did I make myself a sword? I wish I had claws or some-" He stopped. "I've had an idea," he stepped back and pulled his journal and a charcoal out of nowhere. He sketched a quick idea and held it out for Astrid to see.

A pair of leather gloves with metal spikes over the tops of the fingers, like claws.

"That way, I also have protection on my knuckles, so that I don't get what Uncle Spitelout just did done in a real fight."

"That is really clever," Astrid marvelled. "This is what I'm talking about. But instead of metal, why don't you raid that dragon skull in the Mead Hall and use the dragon fangs?"

"Yeah…" Hiccup muttered, "they're fireproof, so they won't melt if they come near Inferno, and they're generally sharper than metal. And pointier. Yes, that'd be perfect!"

He sketched in some extra details.

"How soon can you make them?" Astrid asked.

"Something as small as this? I could have them done in a day at the most."

"Well, go, make them. By the looks of it, we won't be able to do anything until you've made them."

"You're letting me off that easily?"

"Go, before I change my mind," Astrid grinned as Hiccup did his lopsided run out to a napping Toothless, woke him, and they flew out of sight.

Stormfly lifted her head in confusion. Astrid laughed and slid onto her new leather saddle, which Gobber had copied from Toothless' version while Hiccup had been out, and the Nadder lifted into flight. Astrid flew a few loops around the island, watching from above as Hiccup left the Mead Hall with an armful of dragon fangs and strode into the forge. Stormfly ducked and weaved, soaring over the village, blissfully ignoring Mildew's withering glare. Astrid scowled. There was no word but her own as to what Mildew had tried to do, so Stoick couldn't banish the old munge bucket from Berk. And Mildew knew it. For spite, Astrid directed Stormfly towards Mildew's cabbage field, laughing as the Nadder dragged her huge claws through the plants. They soared away to the wonderful sound of Mildew yelling at them.

She landed outside the forge some hours later and walked in. One glove, presumably completed, lay off to the side, while Hiccup had his forging mask on and was amidst a spiral of sparks. Astrid frowned. There shouldn't have been metal involved in the gloves, should there? She stepped closer to see that Hiccup was constructing some small gears, and as she watched he plunged the last one into a tub of water, then withdrew it and carefully dropped it into place in the leather glove, shifted the gears around slightly then turned to his pile of dragon fangs.

"Gods above! Astrid, you're going to kill me doing that!"

Astrid smirked.

"Poor baby. How are you going?"

"Almost done," Hiccup groused. "I've just got to put in the fangs on the left glove. You're blocking the way."

She stepped aside and Hiccup plucked up the dragon fangs, sliding them into spiked metal sheaths on the back of the gloves. He put the gloves on, and flicked his hands. The fangs slid out and stopped, extended.

"How did you do that?" Astrid asked, astonished. Hiccup popped out one of the fangs.

"There's a metal catch in there, it stops them falling out. He popped the fang back in, and mimed swiping with it. Astrid grabbed the glove and pulled it off.

"It comes off too easily," she told him.

"Yeah, yeah, give it here,"

He pulled out a needle from his leather apron, and found a few old straps and buckles from some old project. Astrid watched as he sewed them on. Sewing. Hiccup could sew. Wow.

"Astrid? How about this?"

She shook herself out of her thoughts. Hiccup tightened the buckles and mimed another swipe. Astrid caught the glove, like she had before, but when she went to pull it off, all she got was a cut hand for her trouble.

"Ow. Yeah, that's good. Now, you keep those with you at all times."

"What's all this bounty stuff anyway?" Hiccup asked as he dampened the forge.

"You haven't seen it?" Astrid asked. Hiccup shook his head. Astrid dragged Hiccup to the Mead Hall and dug around in a box.

"Here," she said, holding out Hiccup's bounty poster. There was a bad likeness of his dragon mask on it, and the figure on it was built nothing like Hiccup. He groaned, eyes flickering over the page.

"Yeah, I know." Astrid responded. "You would think that you're some sort of god walking Midgard."

"That's not why he's groaning,"

Astrid turned. Snorri was striding through the hall towards them. Hiccup was still staring at the poster.

"This is all a mess," he said. His fingers were gripping the side of the chest so tightly that the dragon fangs slid out of their sheaths. "I've probably killed you all by coming here."

"No, Hiccup," Snorri said. "Remember when we met you? You found us on a slaver's ship. Fiske and I were thinking pretty darkly by that point. But there's always hope. My mother used to tell my something. She said Eat it bitter, taste it sweet. It means that the path is hard, but the reward is great. Hiccup, you could have chosen the easy path, and left everyone here alone. But they would have ended up dead or in slavery. You chose the hard path, and when you complete that path, you will see that it was worth it."

"But what if I'm not the one who would suffer?" Hiccup whispered. He looked… lost. A mental sob echoed in Astrid's head. Never, ever, had Hiccup looked like that. That was his flaw. Not his clumsiness, or his pacifist tendencies, but the fact that he would throw away his own life to save someone else. Astrid reached out and placed a hand on Hiccup's arm as Snorri replied.

"You told me an old Viking saying once; 'When your friends are roasting on the spit, you're the one who feels the fire.' Well, Hiccup, here's your fire, but you can let it burn or you can throw water on it and dance on the ashes. Your choice. But whatever you do, just remember you're not alone. Think on it, Hiccup."

He turned and left.

"What in Thor's name was that?" Astrid asked.

"Fiske and Snorri come from some strange island, I don't know where, they've never said. It must be far away though; they don't believe in Thor and Odin and that, they have their own strange names for them. But that saying… that has merit. He has something there."

"Good," Astrid said. Hiccup blinked a few times and some of the old spunk returned to his green eyes.

"Okay, I'm done with the annoying self-pity now," he said, letting go of the wooden chest. He retracted the dragon fangs and held a hand out for the scroll. Astrid watched as his eyes flicked over it. He whistled.

"Wow. Apparently I'm a 'deranged, feral monster with a thirst for blood'," he smirked. "And I'm worth thirty sheep. You'd think that I'd killed a chief or something,"

"Read further down," Astrid suggested.

"It is widely believed that the Dragon Conqueror killed a dragon the size of an island in a fight for power. He is extremely dangerous and… and should be captured or killed on sight?" Hiccup read. "What is this garbage? It is preferred that he be handed over to Dagur the Deranged alive. It sounds like the Dragon Manual. Extremely dangerous, kill on sight. Phew, if this is the response I'm getting I really want to know what people want for Drago. And Dagur? Honestly? The second the guy sees me he'll probably recognise his old knife-throwing target."

Astrid winced. "That was nasty,"

"Yeah, and he won't stop calling me 'Brother'. If I had a brother, I'm really hoping he'd be slightly less insane."

"What, like you're not insane?"

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying Dagur is MORE insane!" Hiccup grinned. He stuck out his lower jaw and started imitating Dagur.

"Hiccup, my brother! How have you been? Just in case you have been well, how about I stick you with a knife?"

Astrid laughed and followed Hiccup as he tossed the scroll into the chest in disgust and strode out of the Mead Hall. He climbed into Toothless' saddle, sliding his prosthetic into the stirrup and strapping on his flying mask, and waited for Astrid.

"Race you to the top of the island," he called, and shot skywards. Astrid laughed and Stormfly raced after Toothless' tail. For a moment it seemed that Stormfly might overtake the Night Fury, but Toothless still landed gracefully on the path before the Nadder.

"Ugh. You win. Ow," Astrid rubbed her wind-burnt lips and grimaced. Hiccup looked at her seriously, dismounting.

"You know insects are a nutritious part of every Viking's diet," he said solemnly. Astrid glared at him. "Wait, hold on,"

He dug in Toothless' saddlebags and pulled out another mask. It was a light green, a similar colour to Astrid's shirt, and striped with brown and orange.

"This might help," he said, tossing it to her. He came over and showed her how to tighten the straps. "There. It suits you,"

It was actually kind of comfortable; there were slits over the mouth for breathing, and the eye slits seemed much wider from inside. She suddenly realised who this mask must have belonged to…

Sonja, the girl who had died. Suddenly she felt a lot less comfortable wearing the mask. As if he could tell, Hiccup answered her unasked question.

"Sonja wouldn't mind. She always said that she wished she could meet you. She'd be glad that her mask is going to you. Wear it proudly,"

Astrid sat down, dangling her les off of the cliff-side path and smiling. Hiccup dropped down beside her, clicking his metal leg against Astrid was willing to bet her axe that even now there were ships sailing towards Berk, loaded with men after Hiccup, but for now she couldn't see them. And that was all that mattered.