Warning: Er, fluff? Lots of it. Bring your toothpaste or risk caries.

Berkian Eddur - 3

Meeting at Iðavöllr

10. All in the family

Stoick and Brunhilda felt like marauding youths as they giggled at one another. Hacknee, bless his soul, her darling husband, looked a little green. The poor dear; he hadn't really realised what he'd signed up for when Brunhilda had dragged him out of their bunk in the wee hours of the morning, fussing over his clothes and his hair and his ale-breath. He'd enjoyed the pampering, she was sure, but now Brunhilda was also sure that he was regretting it.

It wasn't every day you heard your precious, sweet baby girl orgasm loudly, after all.

As for Stoick and her, they were each gleefully sipping hot nettle tea, sneaking peeks at one another. Stoick's eyes were shining with happiness and a good measure of giddiness, and since she was feeling just like that, she was sure that her face looked much the same.

Their little ones, finally. Brunhilda knew how much Astrid had suffered in the last few months, had caught her daughter looking at herself and thinking and doubting and wondering. And being a mother, and self-appointed maternal figure for her new, dear, son, Brunhilda had also seen the strain on Hiccup, what it cost him to resist and keep his hands to himself. She'd seen his temper grow shorter with everyone but her daughter, and she'd seen him stay out with his dragon brother on longer and longer flights. Finally, their children could breathe again, grow again and allow themselves to live their domestic life fully. They'd been locked in a strange situation - married in all but name, husband and wife unable to seal the deal, maiden girl and barely experienced boy already with a child - and now, they could rest and ease away from that. The vows her daughter had given had nearly broken her heart, and Brunhilda knew in that moment that this surprise wedding had probably saved this relationship. Despite their care and love for one another, the lock down would continue to put strain on them had it not been lifted, and it was very possible, Brunhilda knew, that resentment and unease could soon have followed on its heels.

Not to mention - she gave Stoick a giddy look again, which he answered with a massive grin - they were going to have grandbabies!

Not right away of course, not necessarily, but probably soon. Stoick had unashamedly regaled Hacknee and her with the scene he'd walked in on that Freya's Day afternoon, and both Hoffersons, living in a crowded hall, had been a part of that situation often enough to see the hilarity of it right away. The description of the mortification on their children's faces had clinched it, and they'd been drunk and laughing at the young lovers' expense late into the night. The truth of the matter was, however, that even though none of them knew for sure, it was still probable that her little girl had not been a maid when she walked up to her future husband yesterday morning. That they'd probably had an encore on their actual wedding night. And that quite obviously, the wee hours of the morning had made them look very fetching to one another, because Astrid had wailed his name for a full half hour before she near screamed it - and not to be outdone, her new husband hadn't exactly been quiet either. Both probably thought that they were still alone in the house - Brunhilda was so going to enjoy making her daughter die of mortification the first washday they shared after the honey moon.

If Brunhilda was lucky, she could point at her daughter's belly and wonder whether she'd heard that bairne she was carrying come to fruit. She could bet a month's revenue from her sewing that her daughter's very eyebrows would go red.

'Well, who's going up there?' Hacknee asked gruffly. 'It sure as Hel's breath ain't me.'

Brunhilda snorted into her tea, Stoick actually choking and covering his dripping mouth as both of them made the mistake of looking at one another after her husband's brave announcement. It was some moments before they could compose themselves. Hacknee looked even more sulky, and that only made Brunhilda want to laugh more.

'Well, we're a wee bit early anyway,' Brunhilda said, her voice still wavering as it wanted to break into chuckles again. 'We can afford to give them a half-hour. Hide the mugs and all too - don't want them to guess we were here for that. They'd be too done up about it to concentrate on the gifting. Astrid may not have had her Dream yet.' The Hofferson matriarch shrugged. 'Let's give them a half hour.'

'Agreed,' Stoick said with a nod, his eyes never falling out of their fond, happy twinkle. 'And well … Brunhilda, Hacknee. You see, I ...'

Brunhilda smiled at the man fondly. She remembered Val, talking to her in enamoured exasperation about how getting something tender out of her shy Stoick was like prying a tooth out of an unwilling man's mouth. Brunhilda couldn't compare, because her husband spoke his mind with insistent alacrity, the good and the bad - Astrid had taken after him there - but Brunhilda could suddenly see Hiccup in his father so clearly it hurt. Oh, Val - she would have been so proud of their children. They'd made fanciful plans and dreams and laughed about them over their laundry. Who would have thought, even with all the circumstances against it, that they would come true? Brunhilda was sure that this was partly Val's doing, up in Valhalla.

'What is it?' she told her chief kindly. He put his mug down and wrung his hands. He had the audacity to blush. Brunhilda could certainly see the appeal this gentle giant had had on her best friend.

'Well, I don't want to sound … facetious. And I know that Astrid's been a part of tha' family for years by now. But I swear she'll be well taken care of. And I want to … thank you both. For allowing this and … well, my son is happy.'

Brunhilda couldn't help the smile on her face growing bigger. She exchanged a look with her husband, who seemed to have recovered enough to give a shallow snort and a teasing glance her way.

'Our daughter is happy too,' Brunhilda replied. 'If we're honest, she couldn't have done better than that boy if she'd tried.'

'Aye,' Hacknee grunted into his mug of tea.

'I'm just … well, I'm glad.' Stoick said with a nod.

'Aye, us too,' she sighed in reply, watching her chief sit back straighter, more comfortable now that this whole 'feelings' issue had been put out of the way. Men made her laugh; they were such easy creatures to read, and then they were surprised when women simply ran circles around them.

The half-hour passed relatively quickly, the parents discussing their plans for the near and far future in hushed voices as Brunhilda kept a sharp eye on the light coming in through the shutters. Spring weddings were best, because there was time for building the new wings of the house Stoick was planning to add - a Nursery, to start with - and then there were all the weeks of the honey moon, and Brunhilda kindly offered a bed in her own home - though poor Stoick could hardly be less exposed there with all the people in it - which he tactfully refused as he had already made plans to stay with the old blacksmith, and take Ætta with him.

Brunhilda had guiltily allowed the young newlyweds to sleep nearly an hour more before she sighed and stood. Both men took it as a signal and followed her standing, moving out of her way as she rinsed the mugs as silently as possible and hid them in the pantry behind a dish rag, then she took up a bundle she'd prepared. The men grinned at one another, and Brunhilda held a finger to her lips in extra warning before she mounted the stairs as quietly as her girth allowed her.

The door was thankfully well oiled, and she peeked in cautiously. Thin sunlight was filtering through the window shutters, and the couple on the bed was fast asleep. Brunhilda stopped for a moment, letting herself soak in the scene and feel the happiness of it. Her daughter and new husband were entwined in sleep, covers thrown carelessly about them and barely covering anything. Suppressing a smirk, Brunhilda made a note to tease her daughter (and possibly her new son, at a later date) on how lucky she was with this one- no wonder she hadn't been able to keep quiet. But Hiccup was turned towards Astrid, his body in an awkward position as he was simultaneously acting as his wife's pillow and trying to curl around her. Astrid was shivering slightly, but deeply asleep, head on his chest, hands lazily curled around his biceps and one of her legs thrown over his lap. Evidence of their wedding night was everywhere, and Brunhilda sighed in wistful happiness. Wishing to spare them, she took the discarded silk night-robe from the foot of the bed, covering them to the shoulder and letting it settle for a moment before reaching down again to shake her daugher awake.

Astrid's hair was all agog, and her groggy, sleep-swollen eyes took a moment to focus on the room and the reason why she'd been woken. Once her eyes landed on her mother, they widened and flitted behind her in alarm. It took Brunhilda a second to realise that their awakening the previous morning had been much the same - only noisier and more crowded.

'It's time for the Gift, dear,' she murmured gently. Astrid settled down, blinking some more as she turned to look at her still-sleeping husband, movements slow with the calm of morning and sleep still clinging to her limbs.

'Wake him up,' she said gently, unable to resist the urge to card her hand through her daughter's tumbled hair as she yawned. Oh, the sweet stab of pain in her heart as she remembered her sweet little girl, like it was yesterday, only seven summers old and waking up gently in this way, hair awry and yawns wide open. Here she was now, a bride and beautiful. 'I'll ready the small bath downstairs, dear. Your father, Stoick and I are in the main room of the hall, and you two should come down soon. You have to bathe, and then I'll help with your hair and-'

An unexpected wave of emotion hit her, and she dabbed at her eyes. Astrid instantly moved to hug her, though she stopped when the silk descended precariously down their bodies. Hiccup began to stir.

'Don't worry, dear,' Brunhilda said tearfully. 'It's just your old mother being a nelly-head. Now wake your husband and come down. I've prepared your clothes, but don't wear them before you bathe, darling.' She dropped her bundle and extracted a pair of well woven trousers, dropping the folded garment beside them on the bed. 'You wear your robe, dear, and help him into these here linens. Come downstairs soon as you can; I've let you sleep in a little, but you know how drunk Vikings get.'

Hiccup's eyes blinked open; he looked around, and Brunhilda took that as her cue to make herself scarce. With a gentle smile and a caress to her new son's head she could not contain lest she die, she retreated to the main room with the men, quickly preparing the bath with some terrible terrors' help.

It was some minutes before they descended, as Brunhilda had suspected. She didn't know whether any other intimacies had been exchanged, but they had been tired enough to account for their slowness at any rate. The men both boisterously congratulated the couple, Astrid being uncharacteristically shy as she hid her blushing face in Hiccup's chest. After allowing the men to have their fun (and kicking her husband for almost mentioning the fact that they'd been present for at least one encounter), Brunhilda intervened again, herding the youths into the room with the tiny tub of already lukewarm water.

The temperature of the water probably accounted for their abbreviated stay in the bathing room, if not the parent's presences right next door, and Hiccup exited first, dressed in the clothes she'd prepared for him and looking mighty handsome for it. He still seemed mellowed and sheepish, both men's loud, good-humoured jibes doing nothing for the colour on his cheeks, but the beaming smile he shot her as they dragged him out made her heart skip.

Brunhilda waited a moment before she moved towards the tiny enclosure that contained the bath. Astrid was still in the water when she peeked through the curtain, absently staring at the water as she ran a finger along the surface, making ripples.

'Dear one, may I come in?' she asked, somehow feeling that she was intruding, even though she knew very well that time was short and that it was her right and duty to sit by her daughter's hair this morn.

Astrid made a noncommittal hum, not looking up from her fingers as they kept splashing the water around, and Brunhilda decided to take it as ascent. Her daughter was obviously puzzling something out, and her mother simply knew she needed the time and space to think of it before she turned to someone else. Taking a soap and brush, she quickly built a lather, kneading it into daughter's ample amount of hair before she rinsed. It was while she worked in the egg yolks, kindly provided by the Bog women, with her old belt-comb that Astrid finally spoke.

'Is it …' she began, and stopped. Brunhilda breathed not a word, and kept combing. 'Is it normal to feel like this?'

'How is it, dear?' she asked, keeping her tone neutral.

'I don't know … calm?' she replied. 'Happy. But more.'

Brunhilda smiled, pausing only momentarily as she reached the ends of a particular lock, before taking up another.

'Well, part of that's the fatigue,' she said gamely, and pretended not to see Astrid's ears going red. 'But otherwise … yes. You see, you're luckier than some of us, being already full in love with your husband when you reached the wedding bed. But I did feel what you seem to be saying, after it happened to us; your dad and I. It's somewhat like … after a storm, and the birds are all out a'chirping.'

'Sort of,' Astrid sighed, looking at the ceiling. Brunhilda smiled, rinsing the egg and honey mixture out of her daughter's hair with clean, hot water she took off the small stove in the bathing room. Brunhilda gave her daughter's head a pat once she was done, and helped her out of the tub. Her hair was rubbed vigorously in a scented towel and oils while Astrid pat herself dry, and once the young woman had slipped her undergarments on, they moved into the next room to sit by the fire's warmth and light. Strand by strand, her daughter's hair twined into sun-shaded simple plaits. The hair around her face became a long braid, wrapped all around her head, and then up went the plaits into a knotted bun.

Out of her bosom, Brunhilda brought out a carved hair stick made out of translucent, polished boar-horn in the shape of an axe, pushing into the knot to hold it firm. And then finally, out of a box wrapped in linen, she brought out her daughter's wedding gift from the Hofferson clan; a comb made out of shell with three long prongs, which she slid into the side of the plait bun. The comb head had been commissioned - the waves of colours in the cut squares gave way to an abony figure at the top that formed a night fury, a design matching her husband's shield.

'Come now,' she said, once again trying her best to contain the tears as her daughter stood, and she got a good look at the woman she had become. 'Let's get you dressed.'

The dress was simple, almost alarmingly so when compared to the previous day's extravagant brocade. Astrid's slightly stiff moments however told her it had been a good idea to go with a simple linen underdress in pale blue, covered in a warm woolen fare in dark grey trimmed in what was left of her white fur. Impishly, Brunhilda brought out a deep red belt, and her daughter smiled at it - the belt buckle had the same insignia of a curled up night fury her husband seemed to have taken as his own sigil, and Astrid gave no complaint at being branded, even though she didn't yet know about the comb in her hair. Hiccup had come down sporting three braids that morning, and Brunhilda knew very well what the third one meant.

Oh, she did wish Val could have been here, so much.

'I love him,' her daughter said suddenly, making an announcement to the room in a strong but quiet voice. 'I love him so much it's almost frightening at times.'

'Aye,' Brunhilda sighed, finally giving in to the tears. She hugged her daughter to hide her damp eyes. 'He loves you the same.'

'I know.' Astrid voice was still the same quiet, steady timber, her tone nonetheless filled with a sort of astonishment. 'I wonder how he stood it, for so long.'

'With the gods' help,' Brunhilda replied smartly, letting her daughter go and then straightening her clothes. 'You heard as best as anyone who he sacrificed to at the wedding.'

A smile broke out on Astrid's face, then. She didn't reply, instead fingering her hair and changing the subject.

'My forehead and neck feel so bare,' she said, light-hearted.

'You'll get used to it,' Brunhilda advised, pulling the front door open.

'I'm sure I will,' she replied with a laugh, stepping into the morning sun.

=0=

Stoick realised that Hiccup was probably annoyed with him by now, but if he was, his son was patient and kind enough to let him at it. Still, he was beginning to annoy himself by the time he'd rearranged his son's fur vest for the fifth time. Three braids stuck proudly out of his son's hair, whereas he usually sported two at the hands of his promised - wife, now. Well, well; it would take some getting used to, and then none at all.

Cheers preceded the arrival of the new bride, who arrived escorted by her mother, Bertha and Cami. The Bog heir was dressed finely, her usually wild hair only slightly less disarrayed, as the Bog women didn't care to gather their hair in marriage unless it was in a simple plait down their backs. Stoick saw Hiccup straighten beside him from the tail of his eye, and he looked down to find his son grinning widely, his eyes alight and his hands fidgeting.

Oh Val, their boy was a man now. A good one, with a good wife beside him. Soon, more and more little feet would begin to pitter-patter across the floors of their hall. Ah, if only he thought of last Summer, even last Autumn, where he used to walk up to his door and think that he'd be the last Haddock to cast a shadow upon it…

Those were thoughts for another time and day. Hiccup eagerly reached an arm out, which Astrid took. Her husband pulled her in for a kiss, much to the enjoyment of the crowd, who lapped it up (and where there a few young Bog girls crying?) with cheers and cheeky jibes. Once they'd separated, the Goethi tapped Hiccup's shoulder gently, and he stepped back obligingly as the old wizened woman turned to stare at Astrid, waving her down to her level. Astrid obediently knelt, and the Goethi said a few prayers over her before rubbing oil onto the shining buckle of her belt, over her womb. Stoick noticed Astrid blushing, but her face was not reluctant as she looked down at the smudged mark.

Then Goethi stepped back, rattled her staff and pointed it at Astrid. It was a clear sign to those upon Berk who had grown used to the old lady's silent ways, and Astrid rose, biting her lip. The people around them went quiet, and Astrid began.

'I was in a glade, I was alone. There was the sun, there were flowers and it was beautiful.' She stopped and bit her lip again, squinting her eyes. 'Then a cloud appeared on the horizon, and it kept growing until it blotted out the whole sky. It was dark for a while, and then cold. But then I wasn't cold anymore, because ...' She looked up and smirked at her husband. 'My battle axe appeared beside me.'

The crowd laughed uproariously. Hiccup looked utterly diverted. Astrid continued. 'The flowers began glowing like fireflies, and the sky began glowing like the Winter Lights. It became warm and beautiful, and four dragons began to chase some of the lights. There was a brown fur cloak around my shoulders, I realised that it'd been there all along, but my mother woke me before I could turn around to see who put it there.'

A chorus of boos and slight murmuring ensued as the crowd began their own individual attempt at deciphering the bride's dream. Stoick wrung his hands as he waited, Hiccup beside him looking like he was holding his breath as the Goethi allowed it. Goethi Helmda, the wize crone of the Bogs, was also present, standing off to the side, and their own Goethi turned towards her, tilting her head. Helmda nodded her head slowly - how women did that with just a look Stoick would never know.

Brunhilda moved forward once the Goethi began to scribble into the clay under their feet.

'They will have a fruitful, happy marriage.' The crowd cheered, but Brunhilda's face fell soon after. 'But a hard life.' She sighed, her tone resigned. 'Hardly unexpected for a Chief.'

'Aye,' Bertha said, slapping Stoick on the shoulder. 'Shit's thrown our way the whole time.'

'But you will live through it to see beautiful times again. Husband and wife will fight side by side to preserve all that which is beautiful.' Brunhilda squinted at the writing. 'And … they are to have four children!'

Definite cheering this time. Astrid blushed and chuckled self-consciously, side-stepping the Goethi to reach for Hiccup. They embraced - that is, until Thuggory punched him hard in the shoulder, which Astrid retaliated to by clipping him in the jaw. The crowd exploded into even more noise, mirth rising and falling uproariously. Stoick spied Sigríðr pointing her thumb at Astrid and shaking her head at her son, and Snotlout was trying to look like he wasn't blushing at all while a red-headed girl beside him looked on with interest. He'd have to ask Spitelout what the story behind that was later.

The crowd quieted again when Hiccup held up a hand, slightly hesitant still. Hmm, Stoick would have to teach him how to address people, how to hold his shoulders back and never falter. Again, thoughts for another day. Hiccup turned towards him, and Stoick nodded, handing him what he needed. His boy took a deep breath and then let it out, and Astrid bit her lip and nodded at him encouragingly. That seemed to bolster him.

'Present your Gifts, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third, and may it be pleasing to your wife and to the gods,' Stoick said, a wide grin almost distorting his words.

'Well, um … this is the first part,' his son started, holding out a silk bag shut tight with a drawstring at the top. Astrid took it from him, unraveling it curiously and then her eyes went wide. She fished out a golden necklace, sky blue and milk white gems flashing as they caught the light. Astrid stared at it open mouthed for a moment before turning towards his son, dumbfounded.

'Let me help,' Brunhilda interjected instantly, and she took the necklace and fastened it to her daughter's throat. It rested in a circlet against her collarbone, golden chains dropping down her front in short droplets with different coloured gems of blue and moonstone hanging at each end to form a V down her breast. Astrid was still staring at Hiccup like he'd grown a second head - and Stoick would have dearly liked to know where his son had been hiding that particular treasure.

'Um, the second part-'

'Hiccup,' Astrid began in protest, but Hiccup pressed on. This part, Stoick was familiar with.

'Here are the keys to the Haddock house,' Hiccup said seriously. 'To the pantry. To the kitchen trunk. To … to your dowry.' He handed her a chain with four keys, one huge, the other three relatively tiny; a silver comb, knife and ear stick hung alongside them, a useful and traditional adornment. Stoick smiled, so very glad for her to have them. Astrid had been using Stoick's own copies in the years she'd lived with them, and it was only right that she have her own, as the wife and matriarch of the Haddock house, now. 'And this,' he gave her a roll of parchment, sealed shut with a curled night fury - a sigil Hiccup had accepted when his father had presented it to him. Once he was chief, it would be his individual mark. 'Um … this is … You see, the island I lived on wasn't charted. It was close to Berk, but no one that we knew had ever gone there 'cos of the squalls and fog, so … well, I charted it. And it's yours.' He pressed the roll of parchment into her nerveless fingers.

'You gave me your island?' she asked, voice high and disconcerted. 'But ...'

'There's not much on it, right now, I know. Just a dingy hut, lots of trees and … well, that's it really. But it's mine, since I lived on it first, and it's yours now. It can be whatever you want it to be.'

Astrid blinked down at the paper, the deed, and one corner of her mouth curled upwards when she opened it.

'You didn't name it?' she asked quietly. The people around them had gone silent. Hiccup seemed slightly agitated now, and he threw his hands around and shrugged his shoulders while he answered her.

'I think we've already established that I'm not good at that sort of thing? So I left it to you.'

'You named that island Itchy Armpit, Hiccup,' she said in exasperation, but her face broke into a smile as she held the deed close to her, and many people chuckled. 'I think my opinion is justified.' She paused for a moment while the people around them laughed and chattered, peering over one another's heads to try to get a glimpse of her necklace. '"Hero's Rest", then,' she said. Hiccup blinked at her, and she just smiled.

'Right, um, for the next part of the Gift-'

'Hiccup, that's really too much,' she said gently, and he just shook his head.

'Just tell me this; how quickly can you pack?'

Astrid blinked at him as he smirked. Stoick also suddenly felt blindsided. What on earth had his son been planning?

=0=

His answer, it turned out, was 'not quickly at all.' Hiccup sighed as he looked on at the still-feasting Vikings, fist fights and arm wrestling contests and drinking contests and singing, (bad singing), breaking out in odd pockets of the large populous glen. Almost all of the tribe heirs had been sitting beside him until a few moments ago, but now even Thuggory and Heather were out dancing, Cami and Tuffnut breaking out of line and moving along the music by themselves more often than not. Hiccup spied Snotlout spinning a very pretty young lady around - Lauga, wasn't it? - and Fishlegs was suffering Ruffnut's feet squashing his every five steps, but he seemed content enough to take the pain. His dad was out there with Ætta again, the little girl's feet on his father's as she held on to one of his fingers in each of her hands, and he stooped down, swaying and stepping with the music much to her delight.

It was a happy time, and he basked in it. The sun was warm and the flowers were everywhere. Food was abundant, and people were happy - happy for him, and her, and Cami and Tuff, and it just felt good. Still, he sighed as he took another gulp of mead. He wished his answer could have been 'quickly'. Brunhilda had put a bit of a veto on his plans - at least for the next two days or so, until - as she called it - she could get used to her dear girl being a wife. Hiccup found it a bit annoying, and at the same time endearing.

Then Tuff and Cami had insinuated themselves into his plans. Dogsbreath too, and Snotlout had decided to come along, his nightmare Vargsong now old enough and large enough to carry him, though juvenile and still rather flighty and uncontrolled. Thuggory had been about to pass, on account of Heather, but she'd all but thrown him on his dragon and threatened to kill him if he stayed, and then Ruffnut had declared she'd be damned if her brother got to go out there and she didn't, so she'd volunteered her husband for the journey whether Fishlegs liked it or not, in that typical twin-logic Ruff and Tuff possessed that only they understood. Hiccup sighed in resignation - there went his plans, the way of the ants once the rain came.

Still, it wouldn't be too bad. He hoped that the others would understand that they were intruding upon his plans for their honey moon - a good, long getaway, an adventure, the fulfillment of a promise he'd made her ages ago. He was taking her to the Great Beyond, and they had an entire moon to do as they pleased. He had a few ideas…

His (not so innocent) musing was interrupted suddenly when a number of people sat down en-mass around him. He looked up with a start and found himself surrounded but burly blond men. Hiccup swallowed as he realised that they were Astrid's numerous older brothers.

Trying to peer around boulder-like muscles, he counted six men, and swallowed harder. Holy Thor's britches, they were all present to the count.

'Well Hiccup,' one of them said gruffly, slapping him on the back so hard he thought his lungs would hop straight out of his rattle ribcage. 'Welcome to the fam'ly.'

'Aye,' another one of the men said. They were all very close in looks, blue eyed and fair, red faced - probably with more than enough mead and ale in their blood - with high brows and cheeks. It couldn't be said that the Hoffersons were ugly, even the men cutting the line between handsome and beautiful by a fine hair. Hiccup felt significantly cowed, taking a peek down at his twiggy arms and catching a glimpse of his ordinary red and brown hair.

'... thanks,' he started, trying to sit on his hands so he didn't scratch his neck. He really didn't want to look sheepish in front of them. He needed to look the part of the capable husband. At least Hacknee wasn't there; he'd already passed out on a table, somewhere.

'No, really lad. We're all married folk here.' A chorus of 'Aye's went up, many golden heads nodded with beards bobbing up and down. 'We all know what the women folk are like. And you're marrying our young bonny lass.'

'I know,' Hiccup said promptly. 'I swear I'll take good care of her.'

'Oh we've no doubt of that!' what looked like the eldest laughed. Oh Frigga, how could he not remember their names? Sure, the youngest was at least six years his senior, but he was in love with their sister, for Odin's sake. He could have made an effort.

'Oh aye, ye already treat her like the ground she walks on's sacred,' another one said, a tad snidely. The twins - at least he knew two of them were twins - snickered simultaneously.

'What we mean to tell you, lad, is that you're our little brother now.' The older one said again.

'Aye,' the others answered in an eerie sort of chorus.

'You're doing us two good turns you are. You took the poor little bairne Ætta in after our own Neckbeard died, and now you're taking that hound from Hel off our hands. I don't know how you do it, handlin' her as you do, and giving her gifts like that there necklace and more weapons - more weapons! We were wrong about you being a weak-kneed sort of boy all 'round, at any rate.'

Hiccup gawped. 'Hang on...'

'So it's only fair we return the favour,' one of the twins continued. His brothers all nodded. 'If you ever want to get 'way, or you need a human shield, come to our hall. We'll get the drougr of a sister we've got off yer back; for a few hours at least.'

'Aye, we'll protect ye, little brother.' The older one pat him on the back again, rattling teeth and bones and leaving him utterly bewildered. Hiccup looked at them in lost confusion, completely unable to process what had just happened. Hadn't they come to warn him, on pain of death, that he had better take care of Astrid or they'd skin him alive and make him wear a salted coat? Hadn't they come to threaten to feed him his balls for breakfast if he made her cry?

They'd offered to protect him? He … he wasn't sure whether to be affronted - this was Hiccup all over again; Hiccup the silly boy, Hiccup the useless little twig, Hiccup the weak - but really, it felt too surreal. Coupled with the scenes he'd witnessed in that mad and overcrowded hall last Snoggletog, some of the strange things Astrid said and did (he still couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how she could say that she was both turned on and unaffected by his naked body) he came to a simple conclusion: the Hoffersons were weird.

'What's this now?' Brunhilda's voice rang out. She stood, arms akimbo, frowning at them all. The mountains of muscle and fair flesh cringed as one, wilting as they tried to melt into the bench they sat on and disappear. 'Go importune someone else! I have a new favourite son now, and it isn't any of you nonny-heads!' The men around him looked at one another, and there was an odd sort of relief on their faces.

'You've done us another'ne!' The man closest to him whispered. 'Astrid's taken after ma' alright, and if you're her favourite now, you'll be takin' the full brunt of th' Hofferson women all on yer shoulders. There's our lad.' Another slap met his back - he was going to get callouses on his shoulder blades if this carried on. 'Well, we're off, before she kills us all.'

They rose, almost simultaneously, and walked off , throwing invitations to come drink with them and come fish with them over their shoulders.

'Well, I ...' Brunhilda was red in the face and huffing, and Hiccup was in a quandary as to whether she'd heard what one of her sons (what was their name) had said - and whether he should just run. 'Those scoundrels, indeed. Don't you mind them, dear,' she continued, turning towards Hiccup and her tone and demeanor changed in an instant. 'They're just being the spiney bunch of ungrateful Viking heads I raised.' She winked, then, patting his head affectionately. 'My girl's on her way, dear.'

She gave his cheek another pat, and then made to move on.

'Oh, and Hiccup?' she said, turning to smile over her shoulders. He nodded and smiled back at her. 'Hurt my little girl, and I'll cull your balls and make you wear them as a necklace.'

A cold shudder when down his back as Brunhilda kept smiling at him, gave him a hearty nod and chuckle, and kept moving. He felt like someone had just walked on his grave.

'What's with that face?'

Astrid's voice floated towards him as she sat beside him, then she seemed to think better of it and moved to his lap. Hiccup couldn't help feeling momentarily flustered to have a lap-full of Astrid, but it was only a momentary cloud - it was soon replaced with a smug feeling of having a lap-full of Astrid.

She seemed to sense his feelings (or they were more likely written across his face) because she gave his shoulder a light slap, then she chuckled.

'So what did mother want?' she asked, her fingers playing with is jaw as her face came invitingly closer.

'Oh, you know, just the usual,' he shrugged. Astrid's brow curled questioningly. 'Welcoming me into the family and all that.'

'Aha,' she said, nodding her head in a way that told him she wasn't had at all. 'Well, I think I can do a much better job in welcoming you.' She kissed him. He didn't have any complaints after that. Holding her close, he made it a point to beware of any female Hofferson, ever. If he was to have any daughters, he was going to be in a great deal of trouble.

Astrid's warm hand slipped under his collar, and his thoughts didn't wander any further.

=0=

Here are the real-life links of the hair ornaments Astrid wears. There isn't, of course, one with a night fury on it, but there are examples with mother of pearl as I had envisioned it. As this website does not allow links, please look for the following items on ebay:

Hair ornament, Axe: MULTICOLOR-BUFFALO-HORN-BATTLE-WAR-AXE-HAIR-STICK-HAIRSTICK-HANDMADE-ACCESSORY (I have actually purchased this. This is amazing for any of you Astrid Cosplayers).

Shell hair ornaments: 2-black-lip-shell-hair-stick-hairstick-pins-findings-beadable

You should be able to find these examples by copy-pasting into the search bar.

=0=

Well then, here it is, the penultimate chapter. Only one more chapter to go, then an epilogue, and this saga will be over, for better or for worse. Hard to believe, but it is true.

For those who are curious, yes, I had originally decided on every one of Astrid's brothers' names, but then Hiccup couldn't remember them, and I found his panic too amusing to pass up. As it is, they are all written on a list in my diary, and you readers can make names up for them in your head to your hearts' content.

Published on Sunday 10th May 2015