Nine: Dreams like fog slip away

It was one of the happiest periods of Hiccup's life, qualified by the fact that he was still a condemned man in the worst prison in the North. Reunited with the godfather he could barely recall and given a companion with whom he got on like a house on fire were two things he had completely given up on. Though Hiccup loved his father and had a very good relationship with him, Stoick Haddock was a very different person to his son,

Large, traditional, loud, Stoick had been a football star at college, spend a period in the army serving his country and then he had returned home to move into island politics to serve Berk, as his entire family had before him. He tended to be blunt, was very wedded to his physical being and was completely dedicated to his job, while Hiccup was brilliant, sarcastic, adventurous and intuitive. Lanky but lean, Hiccup had been more of a runner and swimmer and had excelled at school, taking AP classes in all his Senior Year subjects, though making sure he took Norse and Viking History to please his father as well. Working as a mechanic during the first couple of years of college, he had bought Toothless, his almost-scrapped Night Strike aircraft and rebuilt the rusted hulk from the ground up while funding flying lessons from his college fund. And he had deferred his last two years as he had used the rebuilt Toothless it to set up Night Fury Transport. His father had been mad at that, growling that his son should have stuck at what he had started as he always had. For about a year, there had been a breach between them but Astrid had loyally stuck by him, working evenings and early mornings to bring in extra money until the business had got off the ground-metaphorically as well as literally. Hiccup and his equally stubborn father had been brought back together by Astrid's loyal mediation and they had talked through their differences and patched their relationship back up. And Hiccup had completed his engineering degree while running Night Fury Transport, graduating six months before he was arrested. And one thing Stoick had never wavered in was his belief in his son…

The only problem with his new situation was that almost constant company had been a little jarring in the first few days for a man who had been subjected to almost complete solitary confinement for five years and Hiccup had found he needed to draw back from the constant chatter and recentre, clearing his thoughts through the chatter. But following that brief period of adjustment, it had been a blessing…and even better when Gobber had recognised him. Following their mutual recognition as godson and godfather, that last barrier was down and Gobber had finally been honest about everything, including his original but now scrapped plans to double-cross Hiccup and leave him once they had escaped to retrieve the treasure on his own.

Thinking about it, as he lay curled in his cell, exhausted by a day of tunnelling and squinting over the map, he couldn't really blame Gobber. The prison was filled with the worst of the worst and Hiccup was probably the only innocent man in the place, the guards and Governor included-while Gobber freely admitted that his convictions for larceny, graverobbing, murder and manslaughter had been fully deserved, though justified in the quest.

"There's a community of people out there searching for treasure and they get to recognise yeh," he explained. "And I wasnae one o' them so I set about it very differently. I mean, I broke into the museum of Uglithug and found a clue to the treasure on the underside of a parchment that was mounted because no-one had ever tried to look at it properly…"

"And they put out an Archipelago-wide ABP for you for that," Hiccup added, having heard the tale three times already. Gobber grinned.

"I looked at it differently to them because I wasn't trained in Archaeology or any of those namby pamby things people study when they want to find treasure…" Gobber told him proudly.

"Like maybe the ability to read the language that the clues are written in?" Hiccup noted dryly. Gobber clapped him on the shoulder so hard he nearly knocked him off the bed-shelf.

"That's why Odin brought me yer," he announced happily. Rolling his eyes, Hiccup squinted at the words Gobber had copied out and then his eyes widened as he mentally translated the words.

In Smidvarg's Lair keep your head,

The sun shall point your way ahead

"It's a rhyming clue," he muttered. "That's why it makes no sense. So who is Smidvarg?"

"One of Grimbeard's men? Though I never heard of one of them called that…" Gobber muttered, idly rotating his hook. "Do another one…"

On Viggo's Fall, the flames are hot

Eruptodon, eat your fill,

If it be cool, worry not

Gronckles will feed you still

"You see, that makes no sense," Hiccup complained. "I mean, I know a Gronckle was an ancient dragon. And probably an Eruptodon. But who is Viggo? Apart from the man who sent me here…and I doubt he's that old that he's featuring in an ancient Viking clue…"

"Aye, well Viggo isnae an uncommon name in these parts," Gobber reassured him. "I knew a lad named Viggo Hardrada in the army…he was a total ass, tae be honest. Couldnae find his ass with both hands if he had a map, if ye take my meaning…"

"Not really," Hiccup admitted, squinting at the third clue.

At the edge of land and sea

Where water turns to bone

There shall ye see

The path that leads ye home.

"I mean, it sounds like it should be the first clue but that is number three," he sighed. Gobber frowned.

"What do the symbols and numbers written at various points in the map mean?" he asked. Hiccup rolled his eyes and sat back.

"I don't know-but I do know that when we get out, we will need to research quickly on the ancient dragons that inhabited the Archipelago until they vanished," he sighed.

"I have Bork's diary here," Gobber revealed but Hiccup shook his head.

"I think we probably need something more detailed," he mused as Gobber suddenly brightened up.

"The Book Of Dragons and the Chronicles of the Edge," he realised. "I looked at them in the Meathead Library. Though I can't ever go there again. I mean, they have a picture of me on the wall as BANNED. And probably KILL ON SIGHT. I mean, I did steal a book." Hiccup's eyes widened: the Library on Meathead was renowned throughout the entire Archipelago as unusual as in the only place that carried an on-the-spot death penalty for stealing books, folding corners of a page down or bringing a book back more than fourteen days late. A small part of him wondered why the Council of First Ministers allowed such draconian and sadistic rules to exist but he dismissed the thought as irrelevant. It was tradition and that seemed to matter more than human life or common sense or reason to many people. His faith in human kindness and decency had long since been shattered and if the Meatheads wanted to kill people for marking their places in a book, that was their business. Though he would have to be careful when he visited-because he had already decided he was leaving with both the books Gobber had mentioned.

"Never even had a parking ticket," Hiccup told him. "Well, until I was condemned for High Treason fo course. But I've never got a library fine so I'll go." Chuckling at his sass, Gobber winked.

"That's meh godson," he said.

oOo

Months and years passed as they doggedly tunnelled towards the perimeter of the prison, the men developing an easy friendship as they spent almost all their time together. Sometimes they didn't even need to talk, though Gobber was, by nature, garrulous. Hiccup was more introspective and found his mind rolling over events. He had convinced himself that Eret and Grimborn were in league and Gobber had agreed that he believed there was a conspiracy there. But he had been forgiving of Stoick and Astrid, pointing out that the guards and Governor destroyed all letters and never allowed a word to escape from Jotunheim.

"Ye cannot expect them tae keep writing when all hope is lost and hey haven heard from ye for years," he pointed out. "They may even think yer dead, having not heard from yer. They still love yer, laddie-because that lass has been at yer side for most of yer life and yer Dad is a stubborn and loyal man-but sometimes, ye have tae give up hope when the person ye love vanishes into a black hole."

"I guess," Hiccup admitted quietly. "I mean why would they hope when it's been over ten years since I vanished here?" Gobber gently grasped his shoulder.

"They will be overjoyed to see you," he reassured younger friend. "No matter how long or how improbable, they love you and will have waited." Forcing a smile on his face, Hiccup sighed.

"I hope so," he murmured.

But there was a slowly rising sense of anticipation as they continued tunnelling. It was summer again and the temperature had risen to a consistent very positive value, thawing the surface layers of the ground as it hadn't for many years and making the progress much faster. For Freezing-To-Death, it was a real heatwave and the tunnel was forging ahead. Hiccup calculated that they had about two months left until they were safely beyond the wall and would be able to surface. And the warmer temperatures meant they could work for longer and were speeding ahead. It seemed that after so many years, Gobber was really keen not to wait a moment longer to get out of the prison.

But Hiccup was counselling caution. There was only so much soil they could smuggle out in their slop buckets and they were struggling to find props to strengthen the tunnel which was very long now and he was worried, with the rising temperatures, that the soil would lose some of its strength and cave in. The last thing they needed was a guard falling into their escape route as he patrolled the yard and ruining all those years of work. Stubborn and enthusiastic, Gobber refused to listen so Hiccup had loyally gone along with him, already planning their next move. He had bundled up everything he needed to take from the cell-the letters from Astrid and his Dad, his notes about every encounter with Eret, his plans, his translations of Gobber's clues and his copy of the map-in a little piece of oilskin Gobber had managed to smuggle in.

He had just scrambled back from the head of the tunnel when he heard Gobber give a low call and he turned. The man was looking back, a smile on his grimy face and a tiny piece of plant matter in his hand.

"Roots, laddie!" he said enthusiastically. "Roots! That means we're beyond the sterile stone of the yard. This means…we've made it. It's only a few days and we'll be out!"

Hiccup gave a shocked smile, his breath hitching. Freedom! The culmination of years of work and toil, of cramped conditions and pain and cold and hunger. The chance to finally get back to Berk and clear his name and…

The first siftings of dust didn't register but the next moments were in horrific slowness as the roof of the tunnel slowly collapsed, rocks and heavy chunks of still frozen soil landing on Gobber's prone body. Hiccup flung himself back and shielded his head, coughing in the fog of dust as the collapse finally ended. Blinking and lifting his tiny light, he peered into the smog and blinked.

"Gobber?" he called softly, listening for any sounds of life and for any sounds of detection. They were relatively deep and the roof had not breached to the surface but it had seemed thunderous to the prisoner and he was praying that no one had heard. Though the guards seemed to spend most of their time asleep, drinking or watching online television rather than patrolling. He called again, more softly as he was mindful that a rumble or thud could be dismissed but a yell underground would definitely be suspicious. "Gobber?" he breathed. "Please, Odin…" A faint groan sounded. "GOBBER!"

There was no reply so Hiccup burst into action, clawing his way through the rubble, moving soil and rock aside, coughing at the dust kicked up and ignoring the scratches and injuries to his hands. His only thought was his friend, half-buried under the collapse. He had to use all his strength to move some of the chances of sharp rocks that were lying over Gobber's head and chest and struggling, Hiccup turned the man over, seeing blood on his face and hearing the hitch in his breath. "Gobber…" he breathed, staring into the battered face.

"Y'were right…" Gobber murmured, his eyes fluttering closed. Desperate, Hiccup began the long and exhausting process of dragging Gobber's heavy body back through the tunnel and finally, he managed the haul to the man back into his own cell and onto the floor. Tenderly, he folded the older man's blanket under his head and gently raised his metal mug to his lips. A little water trickled over his bloody face but Gobber didn't drink. Instead, he just licked his bloody lips and his blue eyes opened blearily.

"Gobber…" Hiccup breathed, his face stricken. The older man gave a hoarse cough, more blood streaking from his nose and mouth.

"Rookie error," Gobber breathed. "Too eager. Stoick always said…" And he halted, fighting for breath. "Sorry, laddie. Yeh gonna have tae…go on without me…"

"No…" the younger man breathed, tears streaking his grubby face. "No, Gobber. I-I can't lose you. You've brought me back to life. You taught me to walk again. You gave me hope. We'll get out of here together and…" Gobber managed to pat Hiccup's cheek rather clumsily.

"S'okay, laddie. Dying. I'm not afraid. Tell, Stoick…I'll be waiting for him with Val…" Hiccup blinked and tears dripped from his face and landed on Gobber's.

"No…" he breathed as the older man fumbled under his shirt and brought out the map.

"Get the treasure…and have a drink…fer ole' Gobber…" he murmured, his voice fading. "Build yer plane. Get yer girl. Be happy…" His eyes closed and his head sagged back, his features growing slack.

"Gobber…" Hiccup breathed and flung himself across the body, sobbing bitterly. From the absolute heights of hope at almost being free to despair in losing his partner in misery, Hiccup felt as if he had lost everything. And he lay there, hugging the body as it slowly began to cool.

Finally sitting back on his heels, he palmed his cheeks dry and then looked up. The sun was westering and it looked suspiciously like time for the evening meal. Urgently, he pulled Gobber onto his bed and covered him with his blanket, making sure his plate, jug and slop bucket were in the correct place so he looked like he was just sleeping-for now. And then he grabbed Gobber's copy of Bork's Diary, all his notes and tidied the place, then carefully pulled the slab closed over the entrance behind him as he scrambled down the tunnel and erupted into his cell, sliding his plate into place just as the hatch opened and the gruel splatted onto the metal.

"Thanks!" Hiccup called, breathing hard as he watched his slop bucket emptied and water sloshed into his jug…and then he pulled his body back into his cell, staring at the wall of scratches. The tunnel was collapsed, his friend was dead and all his hopes were dashed. Once a new prisoner was put in 29, he would be denied access to the tunnel and that would be the end. He was going to die in prison.

As he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, he ran over all the years they had spent together, from that first moment when Gobber had popped his head up in his cell through deception and lies, realisation and truth, mentoring and laughing and friendship and hope…and now it was all gone. And Hiccup mourned, not only for the man he knew, his godfather and friend but for the severed link with his father and his past. And then he sat up.

They would find Gobber in the morning when his full plate and empty slop bucket would betray the fact that he no longer needed feeding and Hiccup needed to find out what would happen. He gave a thin smile. Unknown to the guards, he had an opportunity to listen in and see if there was any way he could use it to his advantage. So as soon as his morning gruel was delivered, he scrambled down the tunnel and then stopped at the brink of Gobber's cell-for he could hear voices in the cell-and one of them was the familiar, hated wheezing tone of Alvin.

"Stiff," Alvin commented callously.

"He hadn't eaten his dinner," a guard reported. "Though his plate was in place."

"Must have died about twelve hours ago," Alvin guessed and then he shifted his boots, scraping over the very flagstone that was inches above Hiccup's head. "Search him, Savage."

"What?"

"I said search him! This man was sent here for killing men, stealing artefacts and robbing museums so he could find the fabled treasure of Grimbeard the Grisly. And we are convinced he had the map on him when he arrived. And now…well, it's not going to do him any good so we better make sure it doesn't go to waste. So search him-every nook, every cranny…"

There were the sounds of muttering and then the creak of bodies, the rip of material and Hiccup screwed his eyes closed, trying not to imagine what the men were doing to the body of his beloved mentor. And he tried not to smile at Gobber's smug expression that he would have worn, knowing the men were scouring his body for a map that was safely in Hiccup's possession.

"Nothing," Savage growled. "No sign of anything." Alvin gave a scornful sigh.

"Honestly-do I have to do everything?" he muttered and then there were the sounds of creaking and the rip of cloth as he repeated the examination.

"Told you," Savage said as Alvin gave up. The Governor growled in his throat.

"Okay-prepare 'im," he said dismissively and stomped from he cell. Hiccup almost relaxed and then he froze.

"Do ye think the prisoners realise they don't even get coffins?" Savage asked cruelly. "I mean, why would we waste valuable wood on these scum? Though Al always charges the respective governments for the funerals, we just sew them in a shroud and pitch them into the sea. Ground's far too hard to dig a grave…and the fishes enjoy the meal…"

"I think they cling to the idea of a good burial," another guard scoffed.

"Jorg, Knut-sew him in and then I'll come back with a full party to dispose of the body," Savage announced. And then the guards left, clanging the door closed and clicking the lock. As soon as he was sure the cell was empty once more, Hiccup popped his head up and sighed, seeing Gobber lying partially disrobed on his bed shelf. Mouthing a silent apology, the younger man slid in and collected the screwdriver, chisel and wrench, bundled up everything he needed and made sure his own and Gobber's papers and the map and book were waterproof in the oilskin. Then he slid back into the tunnel as steps approached and two guards entered. Silently, they wrapped Gobber in the shroud and sewed him crudely in, then left to collect more men to carry him to the cliff.

Instantly, Hiccup burst from the tunnel, kneeling by the shroud and untying the thread and then pulling Gobber from the shroud and detaching his hook. Urgently, he tried to force Gobber down the main tunnel and felt utter dismay shoot through him, for the man was in full rigour and was stiff as a board. But desperation lent him strength and with a horrible snap, he found he had broken Gobber's remaining leg and neck and he was finally able to slid him into the cramped space, tamping him down and stamping the slab back into place. Then he carefully stowed the oilskin packet under his shirt and tied it into place before he resewed himself into the shroud, the hook grasped in his left hand in case anyone questioned its absence. The chisel was held in his other hand to help cut himself free when the time came. And then he lay back and prayed.

He had barely lain back when the door opened again and rough hands grabbed him and lifted him up. The guards weren't gentle in any way and he bit hard on his lip to stop himself twitching or making any move as fingers sank agonisingly into his left thigh, the fingers brutal. The guards swiftly carried him away and he had to try to breathe shallowly, for Gobber, of course, would not be breathing at all.

"He's much lighter than he looked," one commented.

"Well, they say yer sins leave you when you die," another commented.

"Boy-he must have been a bad boy to lose so much weight!" the first guard commented as Hiccup tried not to shiver: they had walked into the yard and for the first time in ten years, he was surrounded by open air. Goosebumps stood up on his flesh and he took a slow breath in, his nostrils filled with the salty scents of the sea, the rich scents of the thawing earth and the light scents of grass as they bruised the blades walking towards the cliff. There were the sounds of birdsong above and the harsh screams of the gulls…and the boom and plash of the waves, breaking on the cliff.

"About time," Alvin said a few feet to Hiccup's left. He sounded bored. "I ain't got all day." The guards walked forward and Hiccup got a sense of space as they began to swing his shrouded body. He tensed and gripped the hook and chisel tighter as they swung him once, twice, three times…and then the pressure on his flesh vanished. For a long moment he was flying out into the unknown and then he began to fall.

He took a deep breath and managed to angle himself so he was falling feet first. Breathing a prayer to the Gods, he closed his eyes as he hit the water-and promptly sank…