Hiya people,
I know I say this every week, but...boy do these two-week intervals fly by!
Now, it took me long enough to get my act together, but I managed to rewrite several sections of this chapter to incorporate some advice I was given a few weeks ago, and I hope the result is satisfactory.
These next few chapters may be fairly dull in comparison with the rest of the story (it was a reel drudge writing them, believe me), but they are necessary to put this tale across in the way I mean it.
In the last chapter, Hiccup, Astrid and the rest of the gang flew frantically from Berk to the Dragon's Nest riding on the backs of those dragons they had once imprisoned. Having arrived back at Berk, Hiccup and Astrid has discovered, to their horror, that Hiccup's father had taken the majority of the tribes soldiers to attack the Nest, having discovered its location by chance.
In the ensuing battle with the Red Death, Hiccup and Toothless managed to throw down the tyranical beast...
But at what cost?
Chapter Eight: After the Battle
A deathly silence hung over the ruins of the battlefield, as cold and unyielding as the dense, murky fog which covered the desolate shores of the Dragon's Island like a chilling, grey blanket of misery and despair.
A great cloud of ash was slowly settling upon the rocky beach, almost as though the volcanic island itself had erupted and was now spewing dust and earth into the heavens in an attempt to reach up and touch highest Valhalla.
The quiet was broken only by the occasional murmurings of distraught Vikings as they made their way slowly amongst the smouldering ruins of a great monster, slain in battle by a lost boy with no real home and a torn heart, a product of their own, cruel judgement.
But at least they could all make out the faintest sounds of the ocean brushing against the stony shores, or the crackling of the distant longboats which still burned at their moorings on the grey pebbles of that desolate beach.
All but one.
Astrid felt dead to the world.
She had watched, as though in a terrible dream, as Hiccup's form had plummeted down into the immense inferno created by the last breath of the dying monster which had attacked the Vikings as they attempted to seize the Dragon's Nest and kick the reptiles out, thereby driving them away from the lands around Berk forever.
The sleek, black form of Toothless had fallen after the boy, reaching out to him in the hopes of protecting him from the intense heat of the mountainous fireball which had ripped the Red Death apart...but Astrid felt a terrible fear clutching at her heart; the fear that Hiccup was– Words could no longer describe what the young woman now felt, and she stumbled and fell to the ground on her hands and knees, great tears of grief sliding like raindrops down her face.
"Astrid," she heard a voice speak from behind her, and looked around to see a solemn Fishlegs holding a chubby hand out to help her.
"It's alright–"
"No it damn well isn't!" she hissed, attracting the attention of more than just a few nearby Vikings; this was precisely the kind of comfort she didn't want. "I'm the one who forced him to do this! I...I goaded him into attacking that thing with no regard as to what might happen to him or Toothless –"
"Who?" Fishlegs was genuinely surprised at her harsh words, but could not suppress his natural curiosity, and the words had left his mouth almost as though he hadn't noticed.
"The Night Fury," Astrid sighed, sitting back to kneel on the stony beach and wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
"It's his name."
"Hiccup named his dragon? Gee..." But Astrid was no longer listening.
Something else had caught her attention; a faint moaning, deadened by the dense, grey fog and billowing ash now surrounding the island, but real and present nonetheless.
Getting back to her feet, Astrid held up a hand to silence Fishlegs' babbling, and peered into the gloom, training her eyes and ears to pick up any sign that all hope was not yet lost.
Almost wading through the ever thickening carpet of murky ash settling upon the rocky shores, the young woman pressed forward, passing the charred remnants of the Red Death's huge bones and scaly, grey skin, now torn and shredded by its own fiery death throes.
From side to side, Astrid could make out the forms of countless Vikings and dragons, all wandering together slowly across the misty battlefield, quiet and mournful.
From what she could discern from the detached stories and garbled yarns of how the battle had begun, it seemed that the Vikings had arrived on the island and broken the side of the nest open with catapults, only to have all of the dragons sheltering within flee in apparent fear.
Victory had supposedly been achieved, but the Vikings' moment of triumphant euphoria had been eclipsed very quickly by the dark and disastrous fact that one dragon had, in fact, still been inside.
Astrid had both witnessed and been a part of the ending of this tale...but what truly surprised her was that, after the catastrophic crash of the Red Death, all the other dragons had returned to the nest, and had silently mingled with the humans on the beach, consoling the worried and comforting the injured in any way they could, trying desperately to show that they meant to harm.
It seemed that the Vikings were either too tired to fight, or were perhaps finally beginning to understand exactly what Hiccup – Astrid couldn't bear to even think his name, for fear that it would destroy any last hope that the boy might still be alive.
But this hope had not yet been extinguished.
Astrid pressed on through the ever thickening haze of cold fog and black ash, following the ever growing sounds of stricken wailing which pierced both the air and everyone's hearts and touched the soul with a kind of mourning that could not be described with mere words alone.
And it could no longer be mistaken for anything other than the anguished cry of a wounded Night Fury.
Passing the burned remnants of what appeared to be the Red Death's ribs, which stuck out of the ground here and there like charred, lifeless trees, Astrid came upon what could be best described as a kind of "clearing" amongst the cold, withered forests of the dead giant's bones.
This small area of flat, open ground was devoid of the charred, fleshy remains of the Red Death, and appeared instead to be a clear surface of glassy rock, scorched smooth by the intense fire of the beast's dying body.
And in the middle of this stone clearing lay a single, black dragon, whose identity was utterly unmistakable.
Toothless' lithe form shifted only very slightly, barely discernible against the dark stone upon which the it rested.
But the dragon's bright, green eyes stood out like beacons of hope in the mists of despair, searching desperately for someone to help him, opening his mouth occasionally to let out a mournful, heart-wrenching wail.
"Toothless!" Astrid cried, and ran over to the injured Night Fury, who looked back at her with relieved, if still mistrustful eyes.
"Are you hurt? Where's Hiccup?" The first question had an obvious answer, and one that prompted immediate action, but the second made the dragon close his eyes momentarily, before opening them again to peer narrowly back at the Viking woman with what could best be described as disdain.
Astrid opened her mouth part of the way, reaching out a timid hand to touch the dragon's black hide, which was horribly charred in several places, with patches of bright red blood beginning to show.
Toothless let out a strong bark, snapping at her hand with sharp jaws, and the young woman drew back in shock; why was he still acting this way?
As several other Vikings appeared at Astrid's side, murmuring in both fear and awe at what they were witnessing, the Hofferson's daughter knelt down on upon the warm, dusty stone and looked straight into Toothless' vivid green eyes, seeking desperately to make the dragon understand what she was trying to do.
"I only want to help," she whispered with a sad smile, reaching out once again to touch the Night Fury, who now simply closed his eyes and looked away, a single, shining tear running down his scaly cheek and splashing onto the ground, evaporating instantly from the residual heat.
This show of emotion drew yet more amazed whispers from the ever growing crowd, none of whom had ever before believed dragons to be capable of such feelings.
But as Astrid placed a single, soft hand upon the dragon's face, the Night Fury rolled over slightly, groaning with agony, and spread his furled wings wide.
Astrid's heart almost stopped.
There, shielded by the larger form of his faithful companion from the deadly inferno created in the last moments of a monster's death, lay Hiccup.
The boy's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be unconscious, but appeared to have sustained no injuries at all...thanks to Toothless– "Get out of my way!" Astrid was startled by the sudden commotion, and looked over her shoulder to see Stoick the Vast shoving both people and dragons aside in his efforts to get through to where Toothless lay.
"Move! I need to see–" But the chief stopped right where he was, staring down at the three of them; Toothless lying there, covered in burns, Astrid with a soothing hand resting gently upon the dragon's head, and Hiccup's unconscious form, still entrapped by his companion's protective form.
Stoick's face changed rapidly from a look of enraged frustration to one of fearful shock; he had obviously not expected anything like this.
Walking slowly forwards, the huge man now also knelt down by Toothless' prone form, and reached out slowly to take the boy from the dragon's grasp, his wide eyes fixated upon the hero who had just saved his tribe.
But the Night Fury's own eyes widened with sudden fear, and he let out another sharp bark, rolling back over to cover Hiccup with his wing and baring a set of razer-sharp teeth at the Viking chieftain.
Now all of the humans in the crowd were staring in awe at the injured dragon, wondering how it was possible that such a heartless beast could care so much for a little Viking boy...Stoick backed away, not wanting to risk a fight with a Night Fury, even an injured one, yet desperate nonetheless to get his son back.
Realising that Astrid was still sitting by the dragon's head with her hand resting upon his scaly face, the chief now removed his helmet and turned to face her, a look of fearful admiration visible even underneath his great, bushy beard.
"Astrid, lass...can you – could you please make sure that Hiccup's alright?" The Vast man was almost whispering, and Astrid could tell that he was being torn apart from within by a maelstrom of mismatched emotions, a situation she was most familiar with.
She nodded, but gave him a sad smile.
"I'll try," she replied quietly, "but Toothless trusts me only a little more than the rest of you." A brief frown crossed the chief's face at the mention of the dragon's name, but his look was one of sad acceptance nonetheless.
Astrid turned back to face the injured Night Fury, still stroking his head gently with her smooth hand, and looked straight into his vivid, green eyes, smiling sadly.
It was difficult to hold the deep gaze of such an intelligent being, one who, it seemed, could see almost straight into your soul, but she did nonetheless.
"Toothless," she spoke gently, putting as much care and love into her words as possible, "I need to see Hiccup. I have to make sure he's alright –" The dragon interrupted her with a deep growling, but did not bare his teeth at her, as he had done with the chief.
Astrid continued to hold the Night Fury's gaze, refusing to look away, determined to make him understand that she had now come to care for Hiccup in a way that only he could possibly begin to understand...and after a few seconds, Toothless closed his eyes, moaned quietly, and laid his head back on the ground, relaxing his wings and indicating to Astrid that she could see the boy.
Silently thanking the black dragon with all her heart, the young woman got up and moved slowly down to the Night Fury's side, keeping a hand upon Toothless' warm body at all times.
Kneeling down by Hiccup's seemingly lifeless body, Astrid was brought to a complete halt for a moment at how terribly pained and tense the boy's face now looked...but with the eyes of the entire village upon her, she could not linger for long without being suspected of having some ulterior motive behind her unusually kind and caring actions.
Reaching down to wrap her arms around Hiccup's chest, Astrid gently lifted the boy up and out from underneath Toothless' protective wing.
But her moment of joy at the feeling of life's drum still beating soundly within the boy's body was almost instantly eclipsed by one of dread, and from the assembled crowd their came a huge, collective gasp, and some terrified murmurings.
Astrid heard Snotlout's audible voice above all the others; "Oh Gods! Look at his leg!" Astrid clapped a hand to her mouth, and looked away in horror, but not before she had seen the full extent of Hiccup's injury.
The young man's left leg had been horribly burned below the knee, and all that remained was a charred stump of mangled flesh and bone extending just down to his ankle.
In spite of Toothless' efforts to protect his rider, Hiccup had been exposed to the destructive inferno of the Red Death's demise, and had paid a heavy price for his actions in bringing the beast low...perhaps even the ultimate price; Astrid only knew of one other Viking who had suffered such a mutilation at so young an age, and the childhood memory had only remained with her because the young woman so injured had died shortly afterwards.
But Hiccup couldn't die...he couldn't...not now...
Stunned with shock, Astrid simply knelt there with Hiccup's limp, unconscious form held tightly in her arms, staring down into his pale, freckled face, her mouth slightly open, trying desperately to hold back the tears...until Gobber the Belch came to the rescue.
"Come on Astrid," he coaxed gently, the man's own voice laden with sorrow and barely audible above the fearful murmurings of the assembled Vikings and dragons. "We need to get him home and to the healer right now; it's the only way we can still save him.
Nodding in silent agreement, Astrid made to stand up and place Hiccup into Gobber's care...but if she had been shocked by the revelation of the boy's potentially fatal and permanently crippling injury, it was hardly comparable with the fright she now received from Toothless.
The Night Fury gave a terrific roar, and in spite of his own pain, heaved himself suddenly up onto all fours, leaning to one side from the numerous injuries he had received, including harsh burns all down the length of his body, and lurched forwards, knocking Astrid to the ground and reaching out to Gobber with talons extended, a look of protective rage in his narrow, green eyes.
But what happened next was even more shocking, for even as Gobber stumbled backwards onto his prosthetic leg in surprise, Hiccup's body resting in his arms, and countless Vikings started forwards, drawing their weapons to protect one of their own from their arch-enemy and nemesis, Astrid witnessed something truly astounding.
Almost half a dozen dragons, including, it seemed, the ones which Astrid and the others had ridden into battle against the Red Death, leapt forward over the roaring crowd of angry Vikings and landed directly upon Toothless, pinning him to the ground through sheer weight of numbers.
The Night Fury cried out in agony as he collapsed upon the hard stone, and the noise went right to Astrid's heart, causing her eyes to well with tears once again at the pained wail.
But the screech contained something else, a kind of distressed caring, a fear for something...someone other than himself; Toothless was utterly terrified by the idea of handing an injured and helpless Hiccup over into the care of the Vikings who had persecuted him for so long, yet the other dragons could see that it was utterly necessary in order to preserve the boy's life, and were acting in the best interests of everyone present.
All of these events were having an even greater effect on the surrounding Vikings, many of whom were now clearly wondering if they weren't, in fact, just dreaming.
Toothless struggled against the dragons holding him down against the ground, crying out again and staring up at Astrid with a pleading look now present in his fearful green eyes.
But although the Night Fury was the king of the skies, a match for several other dragons no matter the time or place, he could not escape their pressing trap in his current state, and lay helpless as Gobber steadied himself and gave the black dragon a look of awed fear.
Picking herself slowly up off the ground, Astrid impatiently pushed aside the helping hands and concerned questions from her fellow Vikings, and returned the Night Fury's pitiable look with her own sad gaze.
"I'm sorry Toothless, but it's for the best; we've got to help Hiccup." With at least six dragons holding the frightened Night Fury to the ground Astrid turned her attentions back to the blacksmith, who was still holding the unconscious Hiccup in his arms and now looked to Stoick for instructions.
The chief, who had observed the whole scene through a pair beady eyes now turned to stare out to the longboats up on the shore of the Dragon's Island, most of which had either been splintered into countless lumps of fragmented timber by an enraged giant, or set alight by its fiery breath, and were just as useless.
"Right..." he muttered running a hand back over his head, before turning back to address the rest of his tribe...dragons and all.
"It looks like we've only got two or three boats which are still sea-worthy and can get us safely back to Berk," he boomed, and all murmuring amongst the assembled throng ceased, every pair of ears turning to listen.
"So we'll be sending the young..." he paused briefly to look at Astrid, who was now surrounded by the rest of the gang, "and the injured back first." Pausing to take a deep breath, Stoick now continued.
"One other thing," he spoke commandingly, the man's voice carrying far over the mixed crowd of Vikings and dragons and echoing off the highest cliffs of the Dragon's Nest.
"As is evident from the events which have just taken place, we, and I mean we have some...issues to sort out. I'm sure that a lot of you are feeling very confused and agitated right now, and certainly uneasy about what had happened here today, and in particular the implications it will have, but until we get our immediate problems sorted out, my order is for no Viking to harm a dragon in any way from now on!" Stoick's voice now held a kind of powerful authority, one which no one had ever heard before, and everyone present took him seriously.
"You know what to do, so get to it!" As the combined crowd of dragons and Vikings began to disperse, all of them heading back towards the shores, a rather bedraggled looking Stoick singled Astrid out from the throng and called out to her.
"Over here lass," he sighed, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly.
Astrid wasn't at all afraid; the chief was far too tired to be angry with her for anything, but this didn't stop her feeling slightly apprehensive about the approaching conversation.
The last time that the two of them had discussed anything to do with Stoick's son was seven years ago, and things had been very different back then.
Her eyes suddenly drawn to one side by a limping figure, Astrid stared longingly at Hiccup's limp, form still visible in the Gobber's huge arms, even as the blacksmith made his way back towards the remaining salvageable ships.
Praise be to Thor, for the fire which had completely burned the boy's foot away had been hot enough to cauterise the wound entirely, and there had been little or no bleeding to speak of.
But although Hiccup was now in a somewhat stable condition, Astrid's overwhelming desire was, nonetheless, to be with him at all times, to care for him and make sure that no more harm would come to him, ever again
"Astrid!" The sound of her own name snapped like the crack of a whip in her mind, and the young woman turned back to the source of the voice with surprise.
"What?" she asked innocently, staring at the burly chief with wide eyes.
Stoick gave her a look which said clearly that he was not impressed by her apparent lack of attention.
"Oh, right!" And she hurried straight over to the Vast man, an apologetic grimace lacing her lips. "What is it, chief –?"
"Astrid, don' make me tell yeh again, it'll be Stoick, o' nought! Got it?"
"Yeah, I...sure, Stoick it is." The chief shook his head with slight frustration, before continuing.
"Actually..." He stopped, giving her a strangely quizzical look.
"Never mind; We'll talk later." It was a brief, bizarre conversation, and one which left Astrid quite taken aback.
"Yeah...later," he spoke quietly, and turned away to follow the throng back to the wrecked boats on the distant shore.
Astrid simply stood there, watching him go with feelings of deepest regret and sadness churning within her tires mind.
She could easily excuse the chief's odd behaviour...he had, after all just lost his son...all over again.
A quivering moan brought her attention back to the world of reality once more, and Astrid turned to see a dismal sight; she had completely forgotten about Toothless and the other dragons.
The Night Fury was still straining slightly against the pressure of what now counted as a dozen dragons weighing him down, although his strength was now very much depleted, and his numerous injuries were not helping at all.
"Oh Toothless," she sighed, walking over to kneel down beside the dragon's head, and the black dragon gazed up at her with mournful eyes. "Hiccup's going to be fine," she spoke softly reaching down to place a gentle hand upon the Night Fury's head.
Toothless flinched at her touch, but the cold look of anger in his eyes began to fade...and he began to weep.
Astrid watched as huge, swollen, steaming tears rolled silently down the dragon's cheek, and splashed like raindrops onto the dusty, black stone upon which he lay.
Suppressing all but the most intense of her own emotions, the young woman let several of her own tears escape, and gave the Night Fury a slight smile.
"Toothless, I want to make sure that you're taken care of as well, but I won't let these dragons release you until I can be sure that you won't try and stop us from helping Hiccup; do you understand?" The black dragon stared at her with piercing eyes for a few moments, but Astrid held his gaze with her own stern look, determined to make him see her point.
And after a moment, Toothless closed his eyes once again, and gave what was unmistakably a slow nod.
Sighing with relief, Astrid nodded to the dragons still pinning the Night Fury to the ground, all of whom promptly stepped away, revealing a somewhat flattened Toothless lying on his side on the warm ground.
Moving in to inspect the full extent of his injuries, Astrid raised a hand to her mouth in fright at what she was seeing.
Many of the burns which the black dragon had suffered from the Red Death's fiery demise were purely superficial; the Night Fury's thick hide had been proof against burns even as harsh as these.
It was also unlikely that he had sustained any broken limbs from the drop into the inferno, as the cyclonic gale of flames rushing upwards would have softened his fall to the point where any harm stemming from the inevitable collision with the ground would have been limited to mere bruises and bumps.
But Toothless' real injuries were caused, horribly enough, by that which had once allowed him to fly.
The harness which had been strapped around the Night Fury's torso and had extended back down his tail to help him fly was now barely recognisable as the intricate and unique contraption that it once had been.
And although the leather sections of the rider's saddle had been almost completely burned away, the metal parts had been melted to a degree and become, for a short time, quite malleable.
The molten wiring had then burned deep grooves into the dragon's black scales, and had gone so deep that they might have even cut through to his flesh.
In yet, in spite of these utterly horrific and excruciatingly painful lacerations, Toothless' immediate and sole concern upon being found by the Vikings had been the safety of his rider...
Her heart weeping with grief that Hiccup's beloved friend and companion was so badly hurt, Astrid immediately knelt down at the Night Fury's side and put a hand to one of the distorted wire lines in order to try and wrench it away from the dragon's body, but immediately recoiled in pain; the metal was still too hot for human hands, and it was likely that the deformed rigging would need to be removed in a safer environment, one where Toothless could receive immediate care if the wounds began to bleed...or worse.
"Alright, gather round you lot," the young woman commanded immediately, and all of the other dragons present immediately pressed in around her, apparently eager for instructions.
Astrid, commanding the attention and respect of almost a dozen fire-breathing reptiles?
These were strange times indeed.
Glancing back over at the great throng of Vikings and dragons, now assembled around the few remaining vessels capable of being salvaged, Astrid noticed that the rest of the gang had managed to sneak away from the crowd, and Snotlout, Fishlegs and the Nuts were now all hurrying towards her with anxious looks on their tired faces.
And right then and there, it came to her.
Signalling to the other young adults to hurry on over, Astrid held up a hand for the encircling dragons' patience; she would need everyone's help if her new plan to help Toothless and possible even the rest of the village was going to work.
"Alright you guys, come on over," she called out to the other four Vikings, "I need ALL of you to listen; this is important." Glancing back at Night Fury's prone form, Astrid felt that, for once, she was really going to do something to help set things right.
All those years of blindly following archaic Viking traditions would mean nothing if she could just get this one act right.
And if it meant nothing to anyone else, at least the young woman would finally be at peace with herself.
"So," she spoke strongly to everyone present, dragons and Vikings, "I've got an idea to help everyone; here's what we're going to do..."
Merely three longboats of the thirty-strong fleet which had left Berk earlier that day had been salvaged and were floating...only two of which could actually sail.
These ships were now being loaded up with all the wounded Vikings, including Hiccup, as well as bodies of the dozen or so Vikings who had been killed by the cascade of boulders which had been cast as though by the hand of some capricious god across the beach as the side of the Nest had split open to reveal the monstrous Red Death.
The few Vikings who were significantly older or younger than what was considered the to be the "prime warrior age" were also being coaxed into taking their places on board the pair of boats.
However, even with both ships filled with as many people as was safe, there were still perhaps two hundred Vikings on the beach, all of whom would have to wait quite some time to be ferried back to Berk.
Reaching the edge of the assembled crowd, Astrid pushed her way past many taller Vikings to reach the two boats on the shore, noticing uneasily that the throng had now separated itself out into humans on one side and dragons on the other.
Stepping out into what could best be described as a clearing at the centre of the great sea of Vikings and dragons, the young woman saw that Stoick was now doing a final check to make sure that all of the right people were on board.
Over his shoulder, Astrid noticed that Gobber was hobbling slowly down the length of one of the ships, Hiccup's limp form still held safely in his arms.
Biting back the immense wave of pained longing that washed over her at the thought of Hiccup's helpless, injured form resting alone on the misty deck of the longboat, the blond Viking walked right up to stand in front of Stoick and planted herself resolutely in front of him.
Realising that Astrid's bold form was rooted directly before him, the chief turned with surprise to look at her.
"Astrid? What are you doing? I thought I said that all of you younger folks should –" But the young woman cut over his babbling with such force that Stoick was struck dumb.
"I don't think that will be necessary," she said clearly and neatly, drawing curious looks from both the Vikings and dragons around, "as I have a better idea...for getting everyone home safely." Giving her a look that clearly said "what-in-Midgard-are-you-trying-to-say-to-me-you-silly-woman?", the chief planted his hands firmly on his hips, and leaned forward reply–but as a sudden wave of gasps from the Vikings assembled mingled with the awed crowing of the countless dragons present and cut though the stillness like a gentle wind of wonder and amazement, Stoick leaned back and turned with surprise to look up at the sky, and at whatever it was that had attracted everyone else's unwavering attention.
Floating through the darkening skies of a cool spring evening was what appeared to be the wreckage of a longboat, the dragon-shaped bowsprit eerily visible against the white clouds.
The elongated form of a lone, black dragon could just be made out upon the ship's deck, one of his great wings hanging loosely over the side, and above the flying vessel was a veritable cloud of countless dragons, all with ropes extending down from their bodies and tied to the boat at various locations.
Riding upon the front few dragons was the rest of the gang, guiding the flight onwards, heading back towards Berk.
And as Stoick turned back to stare at the young woman before him with a kind of awed admiration, Astrid put forward her daring suggestion.
"We can all ride dragons back to Berk," she spoke loudly, and countless heads turned to look at her, the stares of shocked Vikings and fearful dragons pressing in upon her.
But Astrid wasn't worried; on the contrary, her own desire to help and nurture the new relationship now budding between the two races gave her courage enough to stand before them all with determination and conviction.
Seizing the moment, she dashed over to one of the longboats still grounded in the shallows and climbed up onto its prow, the eyes of everyone present still upon her.
Straightening up to look over the throngs of Vikings and dragons assembled on the desolate shore before her, Astrid took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"Think about it!" she yelled out over the huge crowd, her words carrying far in the still air of the deepening dusk and echoing off the distant cliffs of the Dragon's Nest.
"There are more than enough dragons here to help everyone get back to Berk safe and sound long before midnight. Of course, the wounded will have to travel on the boats, as they will need to be cared for at all times, but what is stopping the rest of you from simply facing your fears like you all did with that monstrosity, and taking a step into the unknown?" But as the agitated murmurings of numerous Vikings rose above the crowds, Astrid continued forcefully.
"And the same goes for you!" she called out, now clearly addressing the hundreds of dragons assembled to one side.
"Now that your enslaver is dead, you are all free to live how you choose, at peace with the humans who, whether you like it or not, call these islands home!"
With the nervous chatter and talk of the throng before her now rising to such levels as to potentially render Astrid's voice completely inaudible, the young woman continued as quickly as she could, now shouting over the din.
"Is it really so much to ask?" she yelled, her anger beginning to rise within her once again, and the crowd quietened down a little, listening intently to her frustrated words. "Hiccup gave his leg, perhaps even his life today so that you could all live in peace and harmony with one-another, free from the tyranny that was the Red Death! All I'm saying now is that you should at least put up with each other for a little while!"
It seemed that her words were really having an effect on the gathering of Vikings and dragons before her, and Astrid herself was starting to hurt inwardly again; the mere mention that Hiccup might have given his life for the village that had persecuted him so as a child sent pangs of grief through her head, and the young woman pressed on, determined to get a result before her own confidence gave out.
"Look, it's really quite simple!" she shouted over the growing wave of murmurings which rose up once again from the throng before.
"And if it helps," she yelled, starting to become hoarse from the tremendous effort of holding her own against the countless voices of the unnerved crowd, "why don't all you Vikings leave their weapons on the ships, and you can collect them later! You won't be needing them for a while now anyway–"
But she had really struck a nerve with this last sentence, and her voice was now completely washed away amidst a tide of angered shouts and insults.
"Traitor!"
"Siding with the dragons!"
"You just want us all killed!"
Now fighting to keep her temper down, Astrid bit back the wave of furious retorts which welled up in her mind like a maelstrom of pure anger, and turned to look down at Stoick in utter desperation.
Only he now held the power to help her set the situation right, and she stared down at him, pleading silently with him for help.
The chief's eyes seemed to burn holes in her head with their penetrating stare, full of worry and suspicion, but Astrid held his gaze, determined to make him see that this really was the right thing to do.
And after a moment, he finally gave in.
Climbing up to stand beside the young woman on the prow of the longboat, Stoick placed his cupped hands up to his mouth and shouted.
His huge voice exploded over the beach, reverberating off the cliffs and sea stacks with a power inherent only in a Viking chieftain.
"QUIET!" he roared, and all heads, both human and Viking immediately turned to look directly at him.
The sudden silence was deafening.
"You'd better be sure about this!" he hissed to the blond woman beside him, and Astrid gave a timid nod, now feeling tiny and completely insignificant next to the vocal might of such an expressive man.
"Right!" shouted Stoick back to the crowd.
"I think Astrid is right!" Keeping his own voice way above the angered murmurings of the crowd, the chief continued.
"The easiest, safest, and quickest way for all of us to get home, right now, is riding on dragons! Believe me when I say that I never expected to find myself saying such a thing, but there it is!" Stoick was now commanding complete silence from everyone present, his words carrying terrific meaning.
"Now, I can't force you dragons to help us, and I would certainly rather not try," the chief boomed, now addressing the reptilian throng directly, "but I can do this much to help convince you that no Viking is going to harm any one of you!" There was a collective intake of breath from the assembled crowd, as every human and dragon knew exactly what he was about to say.
"Vikings," called Stoick solemnly, "if you trust me, and call me you chief, I want you all to lay down your weapons."
There was a deathly stillness for a moment, as though everyone was trying to comprehend exactly what they had just heard.
And then, slowly but surely, there arose a faint rustling from the Viking crowd, as a few of the humans began to unclasp their sheaths and place down their axes, resting them upon their shields.
And as more and more followed suite, Astrid breathed a huge sigh of relief; her plan had worked.
Glancing up at Stoick, she gave the chieftain his final prompt to secure a long-lasting and happy relationship between the two races.
"And now," continued Stoick, still with his terrifically powerful voice carrying far over the crowd to reach everyone's ears, "dragons, if you will, permit a Viking to ride upon you back to Berk. This I ask of you, and no more."
And, slowly once again but growing in might, the two crowds moved back amongst one another, dragons and Vikings mingling once more.
Astrid watched with joy and even a little pride as countless numbers of the fire-breathing reptiles knelt down upon the stony shores to allow a single Viking each to climb atop them and hold on tight to a horn here or a spine there, ready to fly.
"We'll see you safely back at Berk!" Shouted the chief, waving his arms at the great flight of dragons as every single one of them began to take off from the desolate beach, filling the dark skies with a glorious mixture of intricate colours and shapes, the forms of fearful yet resolute Vikings clinging to their backs.
The cries, roars and squawks of the great flock echoed around the grey cliffs and sea stacks, growing fainter and fainter as the dragons climbed higher and higher into the sky.
Turning back to Astrid with a look of pure astonishment at what he had witnessed on his face, Stoick shook his head in amazement, but then looked down at the young woman before him.
"You too, Astrid," he spoke sternly, albeit with a gruff smile visible even underneath his immense, bushy beard.
"Go with them. You of all people deserve to get home safely and quickly –" But Astrid interrupted him; she had one final request.
"Chief, grant me a favour," she said with a slight yawn, and the Vast man smiled widely down at her.
"Anything, lass. After what you've just done, you deserve it, whatever it is–"
"Let me stay with Hiccup." The smile faded a little from Stoick's face, and was replaced by a curious stare.
"But whatever for, lass? He's going to be absolutely fine; Gobber's looking after him –" But Astrid's spree of interruptions continued.
"Just...I...I–it's my fault he lost–he got injured. I just...I need to stay with him, for...it's important to me." Her voice faded to a mumble, and the young woman's gaze faltered, unable to meet the chief's suspicious glare anymore.
But a moment later, Stoick rubbed the back of his head, sighed indifferently, and shrugged his shoulders.
"Very well," he said, and Astrid's heart leaped within her. "Just don't get in Gobber's way. I'll be on the other boat, and we'll be needing some help to get out of this mist safely, especially now that it's getting so dark –"
But the sudden beating of wings told Astrid that help was already at hand.
Turning to peer up through the deepening gloom of the evening at the source of the noise, the young woman was delighted to see the silhouette of a Deadly Nadder descending upon the ship, having broken away from the rest of the flight, which was now making its way straight for the Viking village.
The blue dragon alighted upon the wooden deck, right in front of Astrid, its vivid yellow eyes looking directly at her through the twilight.
"Hey there..." spoke Astrid softly, moving forward to stroke the side of the beast's scaly face, and the Nadder crooned softly; the bond of friendship that had formed between the two of them existed ever yet.
An audible huffing sound told Astrid that Stoick still wasn't completely happy with the idea of having a dragon on board the boat with the wounded, and the young woman looked over her shoulder to see the chieftain stomping away from her back down onto the beach.
He and several of the other Vikings who had volunteered to stay with the ships were still carting all of the warriors' fallen weapons back on board; nothing was to be left on the island.
Turning back to look at the Nadder, Astrid was intrigued to see that the blue dragon was now nudging its head towards a pile of what appeared to be wooden flares lying on the deck.
"Clever clever –" But she suddenly stopped; Astrid had been about to say "girl", but had realised that the dragon could just as well be a boy, and did not want to risk insulting it, or rather, them, by calling them one or the other...and getting it wrong.
"A-Are you..." she stammered, looking nervously at the dragon, who stared reproachfully back at her as if to say 'how-can-you-not-have-worked-it-out-by-now-you-slow-little-thing'?
"A-A boy or a girl...?" But the Nadder suddenly shook their head vigorously, and batted at the stack of unlit torches with one of their wings, causing the sticks to clatter about noisily.
"Fine, fine..." Astrid shrugged in acquiescence, "I get it; duty first, hey?"
Picking up a handful of the flares, the young woman held one aloft, right in front of the dragon's nose.
And one little puff of air later, and the new beacon of light was casting a bright, orange glow through the grey gloom of the evening, carving deep shadows into the woodwork.
Her eyes having been so accustomed to the darkness for so long, Astrid now squinted up at the burning torch in her hand, and smiled.
The flames seemed to represent a kind of rekindled hope for her, their flickering forms illuminating even the darkest corners of the Viking's shredded mind, soothing and softening the pain and grief of recent loss, and even the Nadder perked up a little, nudging with vigour the rest of the unlit flares.
Soon enough, the two of them had placed the lighted torches all around the sides of the two vessels, and the combined light from all of the flames threw a warm glow over the surroundings, penetrating the swirling fog of nightfall and lighting the way back home.
Having secured all the loose bits and bobs on the ship's deck, and made sure that everyone was ready to leave, Astrid now stood on the stony shores of the Dragon's Island, staring off into the night at the bleak form of the mountainous nest, now being swallowed by the encroaching darkness.
Her mind slowly clogging with the mists of exhaustion, the young woman barely heard the sound of her own name being called, as several burly Vikings pushed the two longboats off from their groundings and into deeper water, before jumping on board themselves.
Astrid followed them with a tremendous weight in her heart, almost as though she were leaving something behind on the desolate beach...
The cost of saving Hiccup's life had been high indeed.
As both vessels finally set off, sailing ponderously past the towering forms of countless sea stacks, the Viking woman turned back to the Nadder, who had decided, it seemed, to stay with the ships, and to make sure that they both made it back to Berk safely.
"So..." she mumbled, eyelids fluttering a little, "you're gonna tag along?" The blue dragon nodded slowly, staring back into Astrid's eyes...and tried to suppress a huge yawn.
Astrid chuckled.
"I guess even dragons need to sleep sometime..." Closing her eyes momentarily, the young woman was surprised to see a scene flash through her mind, as crystal clear as though it were the reality of the present.
The picture in her mind's eye of the astounding vistas she had laid eyes on earlier that day during flight prompted her to speak once more; there were still questions for which she required.
"Tell me something," Astrid spoke quietly, placing a gentle hand once more upon the dragon's brow.
Tired though she was, the young woman seemed to have no trouble at all connecting with the Nadder's mind, and even less sustaining the link.
"How did you know to find me back at Berk?"
"I followed you," came the answer, clear and simple. "I...I had hoped that your fateful reunion with that boy would bring to pass some great endeavour of heroism, and I was right. But I had not expected the end of the dragons' slavery or the sacrifice that young Hiccup has had to make in his pursuit of this goal. And now, young one, I confess, I simply must sleep." Astrid smiled, her eyes still closed.
"Go right ahead," she replied, and went to retract her hand and thus break the bond which now tied the two of them together in mental conversation.
"But let me ask one more thing," she added quickly, holding on for just a moment longer.
"Are you a boy or a girl?" she questioned once again, but received a exasperated sigh in return.
"I'm what you call "a girl"...are you happy now?"
Smiling once again, Astrid removed her hand from the dragon's forehead, and opened her eyes.
But the Nadder, it seemed, had had to exert more of an effort to sustain the mental link, and promptly lay down on the ship's deck without so much as batting an eyelid.
"Pleasant dreams..." the Viking girl murmured, before turning back to face the bow of the ship, rubbing her eyes once again, yawning with extreme tiredness.
And then she noticed that Gobber was staring at her with a look of awe on his toothy features...and perhaps a little fear, too.
"Blimey Astrid," he spoke with raised eyebrows, casting a small glance down at the resting Nadder, "you can speak to dragons?
What did you do while you were gone?" Her mouth agape with the force of another exhausted yawn, Astrid shook her head a little, and blinked a couple of times before answering the blacksmith's question.
"It isn't...I'm not really talking with her; we're...communicating. Don't ask me to explain how, as I have honestly no idea. That's probably a question for Hiccup..." Her voice faded off once more at the thought of little Hiccup lying on the deck all by himself on the front of the ship, and she started forward, suddenly realising that she wasn't by his side.
Gobber grimaced.
"Aye, indeed it is...you'll be wanting to stay with him, then?" Astrid staggered a little, leaning against the mast, her exhaustion almost overcoming her.
"Y-Yeah..." she mumbled, blinking again, but the blacksmith grabbed from a small wooden chest behind him a thick, fur blanket, and thrust it at Astrid with a smile on his face.
Wrapping it around herself as tightly as she could the young woman returned his smile with a slight shiver; she had completely forgotten how cold she was feeling.
"Just keep an eye on the lad...let me know if anything at all happens. He may be alright now, but..."
Gobber's voice trailed away, and he shook his head, turned, and hobbled back down to the stern of the boat to converse with some of the other Vikings onboard the small longboat.
Astrid watched him dazedly for a moment longer, before shaking her head, yawning widely once again, and staggering down towards the prow of the ship, where Hiccup's lifeless form could be seen beneath a great heap of warmest blankets.
Kneeling down at the boy's side, the young woman shifted the furs just enough so that his pale, freckled face was visible in the orange glow of the numerous torches now clamped down all around the side of the boat, pushing aside the veil of night's deepest darkness and lighting the way home.
Hiccup seemed, strangely enough, to be at peace.
Though the muscles in his face twitched ever so slightly from time to time, the pain of his physical injuries cutting through into his mind even in this deepest of sleeps, the underlying pain of tremendous emotional strain which had, until now, been ever present, was nowhere to be seen.
Smiling at the mere fact that he was, at least, no longer hurting inwardly, Astrid lay back and rested against the wood of the bow, resting her head against the dragonesque bowsprit, her tired eyes still fixated upon Hiccup.
But in spite of her desire to stay awake, the weariness of such a long day was finally beginning to catch up with her, and Astrid closed her eyes, trapped ever yet in a maelstrom of deepest thought...
She had only really known Hiccup for a little more than a day, but it seemed like countless years had passed since she had arrived at the great hall of hollow bastion, only to be confronted by a terrifying tornado of resentful rage incarnate.
The day had started out so well, with a fresh start for a sad young man ready to make amends and help save the very village which had cast him out so callously so many years ago...and ended with terrific struggle against the bonds of slavery and trappings of a war which had threatened to tear apart the very fabric of society in the village of Berk.
Thanks to Hiccup, the Vikings would have their peace at last...but at what cost?
And thanks to Astrid, Hiccup had lost his leg.
There was no simpler way of putting it; she, Astrid Hofferson, was responsible for an injury so horrific and debilitating that it could be likened to the loss of a true friend...without his leg, Hiccup could no longer fly.
A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, and the blond Viking opened her eyes once more to stare at her surroundings.
As the mists of fatigue rolled in to veil her mind in a blanket of pure exhaustion, Astrid took one last look at the Nadder, now sleeping peacefully to once side on the ship's deck, still receiving worried glanced from the watchful Vikings present, at Gobber's metal prostheses which gleamed red in the light of the flares, at Hiccup's pale face, partially obscured by a mop of unruly brown hair, and at the distant figure of Stoick the Vast, standing alert and observant at the stern of the other boat.
Contemplating everything that had now come to pass, Astrid barely even noticed as sleep's grip stole stealthily over her mind, wresting and relieving from the young woman her final vestiges of conscious thought and worry.
I know, I know...another chapter that's a bit too much like the movie. But there were differences which were implemened by the changed scenario for this conflict!
Once again, your proofing and reviewing is very much appreciated people.
Oh, and I'd just like to apologise for the higher concentration of dodgy spelling and grammar in this chapter. My usual, fantastic proof-reader was somewhat busy...it just goes to show what a fantastic job they do.
Two weeks, people.
Lumpyness.
