Chapter 7 - The Bar-fighter

Astrid's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Table

As I walked into the Great Hall, I saw Fishlegs and Gobber at a table near the firepit. Fishlegs was asking questions about the dragons, statistical ones that had no practical use in killing them. 'At least he's asking those questions while we don't have to listen to them.'

Several plates of food and tankards of water were already waiting for the other students. Thinking about all of the annoying people in class (bickering twins, flirting Snotlout, confusing Fierce-Eye, and wimpy Hiccup), I sat next to Fishlegs on the end of the crowded bench and tuned out the conversation. The chicken was good tonight.

About a minute later, Hiccup darted into the Hall, slightly wet from the rain, followed by Fierce-Eye, who was walking at a much slower pace. Rainwater dripped from Fierce-Eye's cloak, but I doubt any got through to him. His hood cast a shadow over his face, but I could still feel his glare. 'What's he worked up about?'

Hiccup slowed to warm-up by the firepit, but Fierce-Eye kept walking until he stood directly across from me and Fishlegs. Tossing back his hood, the teen surveyed the table. 'Why isn't he sitting down?' With a huff, Fierce-Eye selected a plate and drink and carried them to the neighboring table. He spread his cloak out over the far end of the table. 'Likely to dry it out.'

"Weapons aren't allowed in the Great Hall," Gobber warned Fierce-Eye, who still had his swords and archery set on his belt.

"Why?"

"Alcohol is served here," Gobber explained, "Drunk Vikings shouldn't be armed, save for emergencies."

Fierce-Eye smirked. "I don't drink alcohol. Took an oath of sobriety and everything. But can I get a pass this once? It's pouring out there. I do understand your reasoning and won't bring them in again."

Gobber looked towards the door and nodded. "As long as you know, I suppose. But why'd you take an oath like that? It's not exactly common among Vikings."

Hiccup looked over as the teen cringed slightly. "That is between me and my father," Fierce-Eye replied coldly. His tone made it clear that he wouldn't elaborate.

'Wierd. Adult Vikings drink all the time. I would get it if he never had alcohol to drink, being a hermit and all, but to take an oath against it?'

The visitor's behavior got wierder as he sat atop the table, not the bench. He pulled a knife out of his boot and cut a slice of meat off of his drumstick.

"Fah faal bahlokus," whispered the swordsman, placing the slice aside on his plate. He removed the drumstick from his plate and began to eat it, almost ravenously.

'Ooooookay.'

Hiccup finished warming by the fire and seemed confused by Fierce-Eye's seating preference. 'At least I'm not the only one.' The heir took the seat between Gobber and Fishlegs, looking a little crowded between the larger Vikings.

'Three places left and three students left to arrive.'

Sure enough, Snotlout and the twins arrived together. Ruffnut was trying not to smirk at the two boys limping beside her. Tuffnut even had a nasty bruise on his right temple. Snotlout was shooting dirty looks at Fierce-Eye, who was still tearing into his chicken.

'At least two-on-one, and Fierce-Eye wins. He might not be competitive, but he is a fighter.'

Hiccup's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Tables

Once the last three arrivals were seated, Gobber began the performance review session. "Alright then. Before we get into the individual problems, does anyone have anything to say about the group's performance?"

There was a moment of silence before Fierce-Eye spoke up. "Overall, focus was the biggest problem. Almost no one was taking it seriously. Teamwork was also in short supply. Seven-on-one, the Gronkle shouldn't have stood a chance."

"What's that mean?" Snotlout argued loudly.

"I didn't see a team of Vikings this morning," Fierce-Eye answered calmly, "I saw a bunch of individuals trying to outperform each other. Can any of you honestly say that you tried to help anyone else in that arena?"

I hung my head in shame, thinking about how Fierce-Eye had tried to keep the others focused on the dragon. 'He gave me advice before the lesson, even provided cover-fire when the Gronkle was chasing me.'

Fierce-Eye seemed satisfied with the silence. "On your own, it is nearly impossible to kill a dragon. They're tougher than they look."

'No kidding. That Night Fury must have been going REALLY fast to tear up the ground and those trees like that.'

Gobber took a sip of his ale, nodding in approval of Fierce-Eye's input. "Anyone else with group notes?" Most of the teens shook their head as they ate. "Then let's start the individual comments. Where'd Ruffnut go wrong?"

"She got in a fight with Tuffnut over a shield," Astrid supplied helpfully, "Who cares what's painted on it when it's likely going to get destroyed?"

"Why are we training with such weak equipment anyways?" Fishlegs asked, "We'd need at least a class three shield to survive a direct attack from a Gronkle."

Gobber rolled his eyes. "The weight of a shield like that would be too much for any of you to drag around the arena, let alone lift."

"Why do you think I used the door to the dragon's cell as my shield?" Fierce-Eye pointed out, "They're DESIGNED to survive a dragon's repeated attempts to escape."

Fishlegs' face brightened as he nodded his understanding. Snotlout and the twins seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, focusing on their meals.

"Anything else for Ruffnut, or Tuffnut while we're at it?" Gobber asked, not noticing that he already lost the twins interest. When no one answered, he continued to Fishlegs.

"Statistics can be handy, but you need to be more practical while fighting dragons," Astrid advised the large boy, "While you were in your information bubble, that dragon almost blew your arm off."

"And quit being a coward," Snotlout tried to order, "You know we're training to KILL dragons, not run away from them." Fierce-Eye glared at my cousin while Fishlegs sagged in embarassment.

'Does he dislike Snotlout, or anyone that treats others like that?'

"Where'd you get those numbers from anyway?" Fierce-Eye questioned the chubby teen, "A Gronkle eats granite as easily as we eat fruit, and you only give it's jaw strength an eight?"

"That'd be the dragon manual," answered Gobber, "It has everything we know about every dragon we know of. You can read it later. Anything else for Fishlegs?" No answer. "Then let's move on to Snotlout's performance."

"No problems here," Snotlout boasted, flexing his muscles, "I was perfect."

Astrid gagged on her food.

"Until you were blasted by the Gronkle," I muttered under my breath. I froze for a moment. 'I just said that out loud. Where'd that come from?'

"It caught me off guard," Snotlout tried to cover his failure.

"You watched me cartwheel away!" Astrid exclaimed, "From the exact same blast!"

"Okay, but before that -"

"You gave the wrong answer for the shot limit question," Fishlegs complained.

"And even worse, you stopped making noise to screw-up the dragon's vision to give that wrong answer," Fierce-Eye added before taking another bite from his drumstick, "That sixth blast was even the one that eliminated you."

Unable to come up with a response, Snotlout told everyone to shut up and began to sulk.

"You can't improve if you ignore what needs improvement," Gobber chided gently, "Moving on, where'd Fierce-Eye go wrong today?" No one answered immediately.

It was Ruffnut who eventually took a guess. "He didn't get a shield?"

"You mean the ones that blew up?" Fierce-Eye asked after swallowing some food, "I already said that the cell door was my shield."

"He missed his target," Astrid declared, "When he shot those arrows, they pulled down and to the right. Other than that, he did better than average."

'Not hard with this class.'

"I made the best equipment I could with what I had available," Fierce-Eye shrugged. Picking up his plate, the hermit began to shovel the peas into his mouth with his chicken bone. The action was definitely uncivilized, even by Viking standards. When the plate was back on the table, only a slice of chicken meat remained on it.

"I'm sure we can find a better bow and arrows in the armory tomorrow," Gobber nodded encouragingly, "What about Hiccup?"

'Oh great. Here we go again.'

"Uh, he showed up?" Snotlout asked.

'Not my choice.'

"He didn't get eaten!" Tuffnut complained, always hoping for some death and destruction.

'Probably would have without Fierce-Eye's help, bad equipment or not.'

"He's never where he's supposed to be," Astrid added.

'But you tumbled next to me!'

"He doesn't have enough confidence," Fierce-Eye stated, "He panicked when the Gronkle chased him -"

'Gee, why wouldn't I have any confidence.'

"- but he has the most untapped potential out of all of us."

'Huh?' Looking around the table, I could see a lot of confusion. My bullies clearly didn't believe what we all just heard. I wanted to ask for more details, but Fierce-Eye was chewing on his chicken bone like a dog, trying to strip away the last few scraps of meat. 'But there's still a slice on his plate.'

"Are you seriously saying that Useless can outdo this?" Snotlout challenged the leather-armored teen, flexing his biceps.

Fierce-Eye lowered his bone. "Yes, and I will tell you why. You are too confident. Arrogant, even. You already think you're the best, so you don't try as hard to get better. Hiccup knows humility. He knows what it means to have someone stronger than him. He has twice as far to go, so he works twice as hard as the average person, just to try and break even. Once you're used to that level of effort, it's a lot easier to maintain, eventually surpassing the prodigies."

I thought about all my attempts to impress my father and the tribe. My inventions that never seemed to work, how I'd eat until I was sick to try and bulk up, the weapons I've smithed that Gobber always proclaimed to be better than his own work. 'Comparing all that to what I've seen the other teens do, I guess I do work harder than them.'

Fierce-Eye locked eyes with me, and grinned. "Never underestimate a little guy with something to prove. My old tribe likely thought I wouldn't last six minutes on my own, but six years later, I'm still here. I bet that I could train him to beat everyone here."

I broke eye-contact and gave a small smile. Satisfied, Fierce-Eye went back to cleaning his chicken bone, still acting like a half-starved wolf. He was even growling like one.

Gobber patted me on the shoulder, silently agreeing with Fierce-Eye, before advancing the discussion."Where did Astrid go wrong in the ring today?"

"I mistimed my summersault dive," Astrid answered promptly, "It threw off my reverse tumble."

Fierce-Eye froze in mid-chew. He looked like a surprised dog with that bone in his mouth sideways.

'What's wrong with him?'

"Yeah, we noticed," Tuffnut joked. He had clearly not noticed Astrid's flaw.

"No, no, it was great it was so Astrid," Snotlout tried to flirt. Astrid just rolled her eyes.

Fierce-Eye pulled the bone out of his mouth. "Please tell me that you're all joking. Pointing out a minor flaw when she commited the biggest mistake of all."

Every Hooligan's eyes got really wide. 'Astrid made a mistake? Bigger than everyone else's? Please gods, don't let him die.' The twins were confused. Fishlegs looked terrified of Astrid's reaction. Snotlout was aghast that Perfect Astrid could ever make a mistake, let alone 'the biggest one of all.' Gobber seemed amused, curious even, about this supposed error. Astrid was, well, abosolutely seething.

"This should be int'resting," Gobber chuckled, "What do YOU think was Astrid's great error?"

Fierce-Eye surveyed our reactions, apparantly surprised that we hadn't seen it. "She abandoned her allies," he explained, "I already said that teamwork was lacking, but no one exemplified that flaw more than Astrid. She was the first one to separate from the group when the Gronkle was released. She kept isolating herself from others. It makes her a smaller target, but it also keeps her from helping anyone. She actually ran away from Snotlout and Hiccup, leaving them to fend for themselves against the dragon. Everyone else's mistakes only got themselves eliminated. To me, she's not a warrior. She's a liability."

Fierce-Eye's words seemed to echo in the Great Hall, filling the silence over and over. Even the few Vikings sitting at other tables had fallen silent. '... not a warrior ... a liability ...'

"Lie ability? She's good at lying?" Tuffnut sounded confused, so Ruffnut smacked the back of his head.

"A liability is someone or something that causes a hinderance or disadvantage," Fishlegs explained.

"Like Hiccup during the dragon raids," Snotlout declared. I sagged a bit under that insult.

Astrid's POV - Great Hall, Recruits' Table(s)

Being compared to Hiccup snapped me out of my stupor. I glared at Snotlout, silently promising a violent death if he pushed me one inch farther. He gulped in fear, clearly getting the message.

I stood up and walked over to stand in front of Fierce-Eye. He was sucking on that chicken bone, clearly not worried about me. I realized that he still had his weapons, so starting a real fight was out. 'If I had my axe, he'd be dead already.'

I settled for tossing Fierce-Eye's drink into his face. "How dare you," I whispered, voice trembling in rage, "How dare you say that I'm not a warrior?" As I slammed the mug back on the table, Fierce-Eye's plate jumped from the impact, tossing something off.

Fierce-Eye blinked a couple times as water dripped off his chin. He examined his bone, shook it a couple times to remove some errant water, and dropped it onto his plate. He ignored me, picking up the stray scrap of food, blew off some dirt, and set it next to his chicken bone. That done, he pretended to notice me and hopped to his feet, standing a few feet from me, expression completely neutral.

"Are you tryin' to intimidate me Princess?" His amused tone broke something in me.

'PRINCESS!? FORGET THE WEAPONS! DIE!'

I took a swing at the jerk's face, screaming in outrage. The arrogant pissant just hopped back and avoided the hit. I tried to tackle him, but the half-troll side-stepped. Before I turned around, something jammed into the back of my knees and I fell to all fours.

"Standard Viking fighting style," my soon-to-be-victim lamented. A heavy thunk echoed through the Hall from wood striking stone. "Charge in like a boar because the best defense is a good offense. Strike terror into your foes and you'll win before the fight's begun." I turned to face him and saw that he had propped a bench up on its end (probably what struck my legs), stabalizing it with one hand. "I was expecting something a little more refined from someone named 'beautiful goddess'."

My blood was boiling at this point and I charged again. I feinted with a punch before crouching down for a leg sweep. The leather-clad teen tried to block my punch with the bench, falling for my feint. I managed to hook my kick around his right leg, but there is no resistance. Before I could realize the problem, I had a new boot print on my face. I rolled with the strike, but it still stung. Studying his posture, I realized what happened.

Fierce-Eye had leaned on the bench, planted on his left, like a crutch. When I had struck at his right leg, there was no weight on it. Thus, no resistance. Using the bench for leverage, he kicked at the most meaningful target available, my head.

"Are we done yet?" he asked casually, "I'm getting tired of holding back against inexperienced recruits."

"Who asked you to?" I growled back, rising to my feet. I circled around him, planning to angle his bench to his opposite side.

'He's clearly used to fighting direct charges. Probably how he beat Snotlout and the twins. I need to be smarter.'

The arrogant munge bucket sighed and hoisted the bench diagonally behind his back, holding it with both hands. "Don't blame me if you're too hurt for training tomorrow."

I hesitated at that suggestion. Dragon Training is everything around here. All I ever wanted was to kill my first dragon in front of the village. I couldn't afford to get hurt before the final exam. 'But if I back down now, I'll look weak in front of the entire class.'

I charged, watching the weaponized bench. The lower end swung up towards my head, so I ducked under it. Fierce-Eye side-stepped my charge, but I was inside the bench's range.

Fierce-Eye smirked as he tossed his bench at my face. "CATCH!"

Instinctively, I caught the bench before it crashed into me. It weighed like twenty pounds and obscured my vision, but I still caught it. The problem was that now, my defense was high, leaving my core wide open. Fierce-Eye punched me just under my ribcage, knocking the wind out of me. A shoulder rush after that, and I was flat on my back.

I clung my aching head, which had hit the stone floor. Fierce-Eye hopped on top of the bench bridging over my chest. Fortunately, it landed on it's legs and wasn't crushing me. He sat on his ankles, looking down at me with ... disappointment?

"Well Princess, we'd better add accepting criticism and violent anger to that list of personality flaws."