Sorry about the stupidly long wait. Home troubles mean I can't do most of my work at home. So I rely on the local library which was closed for two weeks recently. Fucking fantastic.
ASTRID
"If you would just give me a chance to explain!"
"There is no need for explaining!" Stoick bellowed, "You have brought one of the few dangerous dragons into our village! We took your weapons and leave you defenseless, so you decide to repay by allying with the Rogue? You shall both die today!"
"Oh for fuck's sake, he never wanted to kill! He wanted a rider!"
"Liar!"
The shouting match between Anders and Stoick was steadily losing control. The Chief, growing increasingly more hostile, wanted to kill Anders, unless Anders himself killed the Rogue. However, he was having none of it and wouldn't back down from his arguement that the Rogue was in fact friendly. Eventually, Stoick had had enough. He signalled for his dragon, Thornado, to stand next to him and get ready to fight the Rogue. I watched as all the othger dragons stood off with it, growling, snarling and gnashing their jaws at it. Snotlout, Ruff, Tuff and Fishlegs all went collect their weapons, but I couldn't help noticing that, for once, the Rogue looked... scared. I think Hiccup and Heather has noticed aswell.
"Astrid, Hiccup," she said to us, "Look. It's cowering away!" It was true. Whilst everyone else was focused on the conflict between Stoick and Anders, Hiccup and I gazed on in astonishment as the hulking Timberjack, the very same dragon that had put Toothless in a chokehold this morning, was now backing away, completely docile.
"It's not fighting our dragons. It almost looks scared." I looked at Anders, still locked in verbal combat with Stoick, then back at the Timberjack. It also seemed to be trying to reason with our dragons, chattering away in unintelligible dragonese, but to no avail. Snarling intensely, Stormfly went in for the kill...
"Stormfly! Here!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. Just in time too. She was just a split-second away from snapping the Timberjack's neck, when I called out. She looked back, confused, "I mean it! Here now!" Stomping my foot and pointing to the ground next to me to emphasise my point. Hiccup looked at me and caught my drift.
"Toothless you too! Come here bud." Heather followed suite.
"Cressida, come!" Our very bewildered dragons, out of loyalty rather than want, came and sat by us. By now, we had attracted the attention of not just the other dragons, but the crowd that had gathered to watch. Stoick stared, his jaw dropped, shocked.
"What are you doing?!" the Cheif yelled callously.
"We're doing what's right, dad, " Hiccup responded, "Dragons can change remember? Thornado wasn't the rogue we thought he was, was he?" he pointed at Stoick's Thunderdrum, listening intently, "He was attacking ships for a purpose. The Timberjack must've also had a purpose to be 'rogue'."
"But he's killed a dozen good Vikings!" Stoick bellowed, emphasising with a swing of his hammer.
"Not intentionally, dammit!" Anders spoke up, "That's what I've been trying to tell you! He was lonely, but he kept killing by accident! He took all the wrong approaches. If I can just try and make him make friends in a not so violent manner, please?!" Stoick gazed menaceingly at Anders, but I noted that his hammer had dropped a fraction.
"Stoick please!" I pleaded, walking up to him and taking his forearm in my hands, "I know you don't trust him, but he hasn't been given the chance to prove he's a good person. If he can train that dragon, then..." I trailed off. Stoick got the point. Frowning dejectedly, he released the hammer, clanging as it hit the ground.
"All right," he growled, "You win. But if he fails, the dragon is dying, NO QUESTION!" He ripped his arm from my grip and stormed off, "All right everyone, nothing to see here... for now. Thornado, COME!" We watched as the crowd dispersed. As Thornado padded after his master, he grunted gruffly at me. I took it as 'I hope you know what you're doing'.
HICCUP
"Well that went well." Tuffnut moaned.
"Damn, I was hoping to see those dragons tearing the Timberjack limb-from-limb!" complained Snotlout. Disgruntled, he turned round, probably to go home, ooonly to find Anders staring him down. The grown man leaned forward until his nose was just inches from 'Lout's nub of a sniffer.
"I'm glad to hear you feel that way. Next time I come back to this time (which is hopefully never), I'll be in a Mark 18 Mosquito and I'll stick your tiny penis down the barrel of its 6-pounder gun. Would you like that?" Lout looked blankly into Anders' eyes, obviously lost at the assault. It took a few seconds for Anders to realise his error, "Imagine one of those weapons I brougght along, but this big!" He created an O shape with his right fin ger and thumb. It wasn't really that big, but it was definately much bigger than the 'rounds' for the other weapons. Lout eeped in girlish fear, but then he lightened up.
"Ah-ha! You said next time you're here you'd bring it. Well right now isn't next time!" Anders pouted his lips and nodded in humble agreement.
"Hm yes. Oh well, my current mount has rounds that are still pretty big for a rapid-fire weapon." He lifted hand again, a smaller O shape, but still noticeably bigger than what he already had. Before Snotlout could mount any sort of response, I decided to step in.
"Oooookay! Shows over. Lout, don't touch the Timberjack. Anders, don't kill Lout." Anders harrumphed at this.
"Lout?! Pfft, what kind of a name is Lout? I guess it's because he is one!" Snotlout charged. It took all my strength to keep him off of the traveller.
"Leave him Snotlout, it's not worth it!" I puffed, "A little help?" I hissed at the gang. Gods, Snotlout is strong. Thankfully, Ruff and Tuff came and took his arms, holding him back. Anders laughed, then turned to me.
"Keep your dog under control people. Though perhaps its not necessary, seeing as the worst danger about him is his smelly armpits." He reared his head and roared, "Not the greatest insult of all time, but it lifts my spirits. Now I'm going to go put my stuff somewhere and... well I dunno. Spend some time with Rogue here I guess. Oh and think about how the hell I'm going to get that damn plane out of the cove." He wandered off, muttering to himself. As soon as he was out of sight, Lout relaxed enough to have the twins release him.
"Man, he doesn't even know us, we don't know him and already, I don't like him. There is something seriously wrong with that guy!" Lout moaned. Ihad to admit, he did seem a little harsh on Lout for a snide remark. But perhaps there was a reason.
"He did say there was a war on where he comes from," I explained, "War does strange things to people. When we had our war, good people became bloodthirsty. Take Mildew for example..." I looked at the disbelieveing faces blinking at me, "Okay maybe not him, but you get the idea right?"
"Wha?" grumbled Ruffnut, "What's an idea?" Facepalm.
"Hey guys," piped Tuff, "Where'd Fishlegs go?"
ANDERS
"Fishlegs huh? What type? Salmon?" I grinned at the little jibe I threw at the big guy.
"Oh no, it's cod, absolutely." I punched him lightly on the shoulder. I dunno what it was about this guy, but I kinda liked him. He wasn't as monotonous as Hiccup, as thick as Lout or as gormless as that other guy. Our dragons followed us a few paces behind, his bulky, little one and the Rogue chattering away in their language.
"What does a Viking do these days then? With no more war, what do you do with your time? We're nowhere near anywhere to go and plunder."
"Oh there's surpriseingly lots to do. There's, like, always some event that happens like every week or something. Like when the Outcasts invaded and that baby Typhoomerang Hiccup found."
"Tell me, what is a Typhoomerang? Another dragon?" he nodded excitedly.
"Yeahyeahyeah. There's like, so many types of dragon, all specialised for different tasks and environments. For example, my dragon is a Gronckle. She is built to lift heavy weights, crush her prey and be more maneuverable than any other type." I looked the Gronckle over and gave a dissaproving grimace.
"Heavy lifting? With wings that small? Wouldn't this guy be better at it?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised." I guess I should take his word for it, "What's my dragon?" It seemed I had caught Fishlegs off guard.
"Why do you wanna know? You did say you weren't planning on staying long." I stpped and turned him to face me.
"Part of my job is to know my enemy... and to know my friends too." The Viking boy mulled this over a little before it finally made sense.
"He's a Timberjack. The edges of his wings are razor-sharp, so sharp they can cut through fully-grown trees perfectly!"
"Really?" he nodded, "Incredible," I commented as we began walking again, "Even my Spitfire would have difficulty cutting even a sapling perfectly. It would just snap it. And don't bother with a fully-grown tree. Maja would just crumple like cotton." The movement in my peripheral vision dissappeared. I cranked my head over and saw Fishlegs had stopped walking, staring confusingly at me. He wetted his lips and spoke,
"Who's... Maja?" Crestfallen, I noticed my mistake.
"It's the name of my plane, a pet name if you will." I said with a lump in my throat. His stare told me I was letting more information through the net. I breathed sharply and tore myself away, clenching my fists until the knuckles were white, "She was someone... close to me. She died and I couldn't save her."
"Was it because of the war in your time?" I did a double take at what Fishlegs had just said. It dawned on me that, although I hadn't told him of the war, he had probably heard of it from Hiccup or Astrid. I had been out a long time.
"She's the reason I... that I had a moment of insecurity." I admitted.
"Insecurity?" the boy snarled, in a moment of anger that rarely came from an otherwise good-natured young man, "Man, that was insanity! You scared us half to death and wrongly accused Ugly of doing things a dead person was doing! I'd be surprised if she wanted to see you again." Ugly. That woman who seemed so...
"I'm sorry. But I was traumatized by Maja's loss and your friend there looked sooo much like her! I couldn't stop a relapse into..." I trailed off, letting my anger at myself consume me. I guess Fishlegs was looking forlorn right now.
"Do you think you're...?"
"Insane? Unstable?" I answered for him. He was taken aback, but soldiered on.
"That wasn't what I was going to say. I think, you're just repressing your true feelings. You need to let it all out and become your true self, not this 'insecure' man who freaks out when he sees a familier face. Despite everything, I'm willing to give you another chance." I looked up at him meaningfully.
"Thanks," Was just about all I could muster. By now, Iwas eager to change the subject, "So, if that Gronckle of yours is built for heavy lifting... fancy giving it a go on my plane? Perhaps Rogue here could lend a hand?" The Timberjack snorted in contempt as I uttered 'Rogue' and butted me with his snout, "Whoa, easy there Tiger!" The dragon growled threateningly.
"I don't think he likes 'Rogue' as his name." Suggested Fishlegs. Oh great. I have a dragon to name now. As if that's the worst of my problems, but still...
"Call it cliche," I whispered to the beast, "But Fishlegs over there said you have razor-sharp wings. How does Razorwing sound to you, hmm?" He purred, content, causing me smile and give me one less cause for concern, "Razorwing it is! Come on you guys, let's go salvage that Spitfire!"
MAGNUS
The ship's horn pooted on and off three times. Black smoke belched from the side mounted funnels as HMS Attacker got under way. It wasn't a glorious event. The aerial presence of the Exiled-RAF was being evacuated. We could only hope our replacement got here in time, but seeing as the only ferry ship available was the paddle carrier USS Wolverine that was unlikely. I looked at my friends, Olav and Lars and they sadly returned my gaze. Our inseperable fourship had become a threeship just hours ago when it was confirmed T-for-Thor had not returned. With the squadron's numbers so dangerously low, there was no point in keeping the few planes left in Iceland. As we passed the port's sseawall, we reflected on the losses Britain had sustained. 30 Spitfire's unaccounted for, 12 pilots dead, missing or mortally wounded. Three Town class destroyers had been obliterated and hopes were not high for the safety of HMS Hood. I banged my forehead against the hull of my aircraft, O-for-Odin, silently sobbing for those we had lost, not least of which, Anders stuck out. I guess he was lucky. He was with his family now. I only wish I could be with mine.
Again, I apoligise for the long wait, but I hope it has been worth it.
