Chapter 7

To Tend to the Meatball


"When I was 5 years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy.' They told me I didn't understand the assignment. I told them they didn't understand life."

-John Lennon


"Nails."

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Nails?"

"Nails."

It should be noted that, though Gobber looked like a real Viking, his demeanor was goofy, almost childish, opposite of Viking-like, and near ridiculous. Though he was missing a hand, a foot, and a bunch of teeth, he was a good blacksmith. I've never had a manufacturing problem with anything requested from him.

There was a screech.

"I'm coming, I'm coming... yeesh, all that screamin', you'd think your teeth were being pulled out of your face... Nails, right?"

I said nothing. Gobber came back to me with a brown bag full of the metal objects he'd made himself.

"Finest iron, they are."

"No such thing."

"Well, I- alright, already! It's been sore for four days, what's another minute?"

With my payment in hand, he left. I scowled down at the nails. Again, it's not the manufacturing, it's the ore used. Iron sucks for nails...

...okay, I guess it is the manufacturing.

Iron sucks when it comes to most constructs. It's too hard as a metal, and as such it's liable to become brittle... but I shouldn't compain. Iron nails are cheaper, and they get the job done, except for when they don't.

"Hi."

I looked up and saw Fishlegs. He was holding a bucket of fish and I cringed a little, but said nothing.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I still didn't say a word. I was content with setting the nails down and getting to work on the roof repair I had to do today, so I rested the ladder on the building's side, picked up the nails, and climbed up again.

"You know, it's rude to ignore people like that."

"Yeah? It's rude to bother someone that's in the middle of something too, stupid."

Now, Fishlegs is a very soft spoken person, from what little I know about him. He does not raise his voice and does not voice his opinions. He is, in spite of all outward appearances, a coward in the complete sense of the word.

So, why did he have the audacity to shout "Hey!" after my remark, when he should've wandered off to tend to the meatball he called a pet?

I climbed down the ladder to listen to what he had to say, and also because I forgot my hammer.

"Listen, I take a lot of abuse in stride, but that's among friends."

"No, you take abuse in fear of what would happen if you react. You're a wimp."

"I... I... I'm not here to talk about me."
"Oh? Then please: what's on your mind?"

"Do you know what I see when I look at you, Rick?"

"No, but I totally care. Please, enlighten me."

He took a breath and I gave him space because those fish reeked.

"I see a broken down, sad husk of a young man, angry at the world over a robbery of what he felt he was entitled to. You may have won the favor of a few villagers here for your work on their houses, and I'm sure Hiccup sees something worth saving in you, but all I see is damage when I look at you."

I was silent, and I felt myself gripping the hammer tightly, so tightly that the skin on my knuckles stretched.

"You disgust me," he said. "So hung up are you on the past that you are blind to the future. You're totally unwilling to change. You're simply absorbed in thoughts of past glories as well as whatever price you believe you've paid. I gave you weeks to adjust, but my patience with you is out. You... you're a bully. You're cruel. You're cold."

My other hand balled into a fist. Fishlegs took an uneasy step forward.

"You're broken."

I made it a point to swing the fist, not the hammer, lest I damage it. One swing, and all the courage that big fat cunt worked up drained away.

I didn't knock out any teeth, but I bloodied his nose. He took a few steps back, eyes betraying nothing but horror. I pointed to him with the hammer.

"Talk to me like that again, and I'm going to be holding a bloody hammer and you'll be choking on a mouthful of teeth. Go cry to your walking boulder about that little bruise."

He did the one thing he was exceptional at: he ran. I did the thing that the village found useful: I repaired.


Revolution! Revolution!


The most important thing to remember about wood, I've found, is to sand along the grain. It keeps out unwanted scratches and is simply an easier method on you as a whole.

Not only does it make something more presentable, but it also makes it harder for the wood to splinter into the skin if dealt with incorrectly. The best woodworkers can even make intricate shapes out of a small block of wood.

Regarding this small statue, it's clunky. I'm not great at woodworking (it's smithing that I excel at), but I guess I'm not terrible at it.

"What do you think, Toothless?" I asked. I held out the small figure before him, which as of now looked alright, but it would look better once I got paint on it.

He snuffed at the little statue and smiled up at me.

Wonderful.

"I think it'll be better once I get some paints on it."

No paint. Try staining it. It'll be more consistent.

"And you know that how?"

He let out a throaty chuckle.

Never doubt a Night Fury.

"Yeah, yeah... Toothless knows best."

Excellent, so you are retaining what I teach you!

There was a knock on my door, and I left my spot to go answer it.

"I'll just need to remember to stain it outside. Gobber stained something indoors once and it seemed like he went mad."

Fumes have that effect on humans.

I opened the door to a shaking Fishlegs with a nosebleed.

"Hey, Fishlegs... what happened to your nose?"

He couldn't get a word out at first.

"What is it? Did Snotlout pull that bucket over the door thing on you again?"

He said nothing. I opened the door wider, and Toothless came to my side, too.

"Do you want to come in? I've got a cloth you can wipe your nose with."

"No!" he shouted.

"Woah, what's gotten into you?"

"I'm- I don't want to... Wait, does Rick still live here with you?"

"Yeah, until he gets enough money together for his own house. Why?"

"I don't want to be in or around the house he may return to... IS THAT HIM?!"

Fishlegs pointed behind me, still trembling. I glanced over my shoulder.

"Fishlegs, that's a furnace... why, did something happen?"

"He punched me."

"He punched you?" I asked, as if I didn't hear him right.

"Yeah. I mean, I was trying to have a conversation with him and he was all, 'I'm working,' so I was like 'Don't you think it's rude to ignore someone?' and he was all..."

Fishlegs took a deep breath.

"He... I said a few things I probably shouldn't have said to him, and he punched me, and then threatened me with a hammer if I talk to him like that again."

Though my father is a very large man, he has a strange ability to sneak up on people while in the open. The look on his face told me he'd heard the entire exchange.

"Oh, is that so?" he asked... and then he got the look; the "I'm not disappointed, just angry" look. The beard always makes it worse.

"Dad, wait, he just-"

"Fishlegs, if he does anything like that again, tell me. Hiccup, this is not the way things are supposed to go."

Fishlegs backed out of the doorway. "I'm going home now. The long way. As in, around that crazy."

Toothless and I moved aside to let my Dad in the house.

"I need to get something. If he comes back before I do, tell him that if I hear about him lashing out like that one more time, there's going to be trouble, okay?"

"Look, Dad, just let-"

"Okay?"

I sighed. Toothless nudged me with his nose.

"Okay."

"Good. I don't want it any more than you, son... but to strike out at someone like Fishlegs..."

He trailed off, and I heard him climb the stairs to get whatever he needed. Fishlegs is a terrible liar. If he said Rick punched him, then Rick punched him.

"C'mon, Rick... what are you doing?" I asked nobody in particular.

Want me to talk to him?

"No. I want him to talk to us."

End of Chapter


1,507 words.

Does it seem like a corny idea, yet? I kind of hope it does. It's supposed to feel that way.

Next chapter covers something, I'm sure. My outline is all the way on my computer's desktop and I'm already in this window. Something about Snotlout, I think. Maybe.

I don't know. I'll be crying in a corner if you need me.