Winter in Líf's Holt

by Midoriko-sama

Hiccup is back on Berk after having been missing for five years, just on time to hunker down for the Winter. But will the seemingly endless season hold beauty and happiness for him, or will everything that happened so quickly finally catch up with him? Rated for violence, colourful Viking language and some adult situations.

10. Skål

Remember that epithet?

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Berkian Eddur - 2

Winter in Líf's Holt

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Chapter 8 – Skål 1

Celebration is a confrontation, giving attention to the transcendent meaning of one's actions.

― Abraham Joshua Heschel

Every step up the Goethi's stairway was torture. He couldn't stop the nervous jiggle in his leg during the meeting, not when the UglyThugs had been playing such strange tricks all the time, and not when he was so worried about the situation with Cami. He'd calm down for an instant, and realise that his thigh muscle was aching and that his stump was throbbing, or Toothless would nudge him, and he'd realise that his foot was hopping up and down again. He thanked the stars that Astrid had oiled and shined it for the sake of making him look presentable, because otherwise he would have driven everyone crazy with the squeaking.

But now he was paying for it. He was sure that the nail-head sized blister was as red as it could get without checking, and that he'd probably torn the edges wider. The vinegar in the sock felt clammy, and the area around the wound felt wetter than it should with just the healing liquid on it; he knew it was oozing again, and that was not a good sign.

He'd had pressure sores before. He knew that the best way to heal was to give them air, keep them clean and keep weight off them. Most of them had been in the most uncomfortable areas, too, seeing as the sores usually came from riding Toothless all day for days on end, so this pain was relatively minimal. Still, it was an irritation he could have done without.

He couldn't say he didn't have enough on his mind to distract him, because he seriously did. The situation with Cami was at the forefront of his mind, but there was also the rather unexpected, horrid surprise of the UglyThug generals all behaving in an almost overtly hostile manner. Just Madfoot behaving like that, and talking out of turn, would have been regrettable, but two? And without Wolftooth reacting before it could escalate to his father yelling and the other chiefs making veiled threats? He was going to have to re-evaluate his thoughts on that tribe. He'd been worried about … actually, was still worried about them, as they were missing, but still. Wolftooth had given him a different impression every time he had visited, and now Hiccup began to believe that he'd been totally and utterly fooled. The chief of the UglyThugs had probably known who he was all along; Dogsbreath, too. They'd played him for a fool for trusting them, and now were using it against them at the Thing.

This sucked. He couldn't even trust Dogsbreath to find out what was going on for him, because he looked like he was in on it with the others. And without Dogsbreath, they had one less ally on their side to deal with Cami's situation; they had to keep it from getting out. They had to keep it from getting anywhere.

Thank Asgard for Astrid. She was a handmaiden of Freya, sent straight from the goddess' hall to help him. Never mind how frustrated she made him, or how mad he seemed to make her (apparently, he still couldn't get out of her bad side, he thought wryly). She could put it aside and help every time he looked at her during a crises situation.

Honestly, if he'd ever been right about something, it was that she would have been a smashing chief. In fact, if something happened to him, she could still be the next in line.

If she wanted. If it ever happened. Heck, even if it never did at this point.

He knocked on Goethi's door, receiving the double tap on the stone which usually meant to come in. Goethi was sitting on her stool as usual, her terrors flitting about and getting her this bottle of herbs or that sack of seeds as she mashed something up in one of her numerous stone mortars. When she looked up at him she gave him one of her deceptively wobbly smiles, ones that made her look like the feeble old woman she certainly was not.

"Hey, mother Goethi," he said with a nod. She waved him in, "I just need some more of my leg ointment. I've used up the honey paste."

She gave him a hard look, and he did his best not to flinch - he knew that she was also sharper than her 'doddering-old-lady' act indicated. With a shrug, she snapped her fingers and the terrors all stood to attention. A few scratches and taps later, one of them stepped forward, and then flew out the window when she pointed. An angry buzzing followed, and the following moment the terror came back with a piece of honeycomb in its mouth, licking bees off itself and crunching them enthusiastically.

Hiccup sat down as she got to work, making sure not to favour his right leg and to hide his wince - he didn't want her to ask to examine it. The terrors congregated around his feet, all looking up at him eagerly as if expecting a treat, which they possibly were. He sat up straighter, snapping his fingers and pointing. The terrors hesitated for a second before crawling away, looking back at him sometimes with a hopeful cringe. The only one left stubbornly sitting in front of him, chest out, was a green eyed, red terror who had an excited, waving tail and nostrils working overtime as he looked at Hiccup.

A tapping made him look at the Goethi, and he raised a brow. She cackled and scribbled a few symbols into the sooth beside the fire. One of them was an axe and the other was a nose.

"He smells the forge?" Hiccup asked. Goethi snorted, tapping the axe again and then slapping the top of her staff against his chest gently. What? Weapon, chest… oh. "He smells Astrid?" he didn't question how the Goethi knew his feelings. Apparently everyone knew, and this old woman was no slouch. "How's that important?"

The Goethi smiled, drawing a chain, and then crossing it.

"She released him?" Hiccup asked. "He got caught in an old trap by mistake?" Goethi shook her head with a crooked smile again, and drew a couple of symbols. Hiccup scratched his head a little bit, looking at … a post, a ship and a night fury? "Wait, before I came?" Goethi nodded, going back to her mixing. He smiled down at the dragon, holding the back of his hand out.

The dragon responded instantly, rubbing his head against his hand back and forth and then scampered around, smelling at his leather wrist wraps and his leather buckles after giving his foot a good sniff. "Yeah, Astrid's touched all those." He smirked. "You have competition if you want her, buddy. You have to get in line behind her nadder and half the village!"

Goethi snorted. Hiccup ignored her this time, until he got a thwack on the head by her for it.

"Ow! What was that for!"

She'd put an arrow on the ground in front of the picture of a nadder and what looked like a gaggle of Vikings. Hiccup huffed.

"Will everyone stop telling me that how I feel is obvious? I get it already." He folded his arms and leaned back against the chair. He puffed his hair out of his face, and then got whacked again. "OW!" He glared at her, and she scratched an axe and then pointed the arrow at him from it again. The red terror hopped into his lap and he let it, petting it pensively, before Goethi put a ring around the axe with her staff and connected it with the arrow.

It wasn't hard to understand what she meant, then. He blushed and looked away. The Goethi scoffed and went back to her mortar, leaving Hiccup to his own devices as he stroked the terror into a nap.

So Astrid had released a dragon before he'd even come home, huh? That made one corner of his mouth rise slightly; she never did disappoint. And he knew that she had killed dragons, too, but that sort of made it even more amazing that she'd just turned around and released one.

Hiccup's eyes were drawn to the scratches in the ash involuntarily; yeah, she belonged to him. He knew that, objectively. He knew that very keenly. He was her promised, and as that, she was literally his to do as he pleased unless she broke the contract or divorced him.

He didn't want to think about it, because there were so many feelings and thoughts pulling him in so many different directions. A part of him wanted to pounce on the chance - this was what he had prayed for, this was what he had sacrificed good food for on the altars of Freya and Lofn; he had often begged either to be given a chance, or to be released of the feelings he had never been able to shake off. And here was his chance!

But another part of him was shivering, alert and tense, and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Or, well, the other metal foot.

Now that the elation of waking up and being alive and being home had faded, a tension, a sort of … expectation had bled into him. He sometimes found himself looking around when people laughed, expecting them to be pointing at him and whatever stupid thing he was doing. He winced when someone yelled, a sarcastic comment ready on his mouth. He hyper-focused on every single task he undertook, obsessing on it till it's last detail so that he could make sure that it didn't go wrong, or it didn't backfire, or it didn't fail. Every time he succeeded, another little piece of that tension vanished; however, there was still a very large hunk of it hanging on his lungs.

And Toothless … he plain missed him. Even though most of the time he was standing right next to him, Toothless had become more of an … accessory. And he felt utterly and completely horrible for it. Toothless had seen him at his best, at his worst, and still stuck with him. He'd saved the dragon's life and had his own life saved by the dragon so many times now that it was routine. And yet, to steal even an hour from a day to go flying with his friend left him feeling guilty. Left him feeling worried that frowns would begin blooming in the village if he wasn't there the moment anything happened where he was needed, if he let them down even once.

The terror tensed in his lap, so he forced himself to relax too, and the dragon followed suit. Toothless was off flying right now. He'd literally forced the dragon to go take a trip around the sky with Stormfly, attaching the tail which allowed him to fly on his own much to the black dragon's protestations. He'd gone, in the end, after a hug and an assurance that he'd be armed (Smoulder was therefore currently strapped to his side, getting in the way). Somehow, though, Hiccup thought that he had damaged his relationship with his best friend more than it was strained before. He was going to have to make serious reparations. A long sleepless night of flying was in order, or maybe a nice massage with fish oil. He'd just have to cope the day after.

Goethi tapped her staff, and one of the terrors flew off her counter with a small sack and landed on Hiccup's shoulder with the jar of his ointment full again. He stood, then stopped. The terror in his lap clung onto his leather armour and Hiccup looked down at it stuck to his chest like a gecko in bemusement. Goethi waved him away, and Hiccup smirked. When he tried to shoo the terror, however, it wouldn't budge.

"You know, I think I have just the solution for this problem. Do you mind having one less in your pack, Goethi?" She snickered and waving him away again. He gave a smile and headed for home, letting himself wince on the way down the stairs now with only the dragon to see. Sitting down had reduced his pain tolerance, as usual, and it took him a few steps to get his limp masked enough. He peeked inside once he got home, and was relieved to see that there was nobody there. The dragons were all out, too - a good sign. His father had been toting Fireworm around with a puffed out chest, and calling Brawlknife a drunk pussy for not getting a dragon himself. With a snort, Hiccup quickly got into the bath house, and with effort managed to drag one of the water supply canisters from the main room to the bathing room, and emptied half of it into the tub, promising himself that he'd re-fill it with Toothless' help later. He cajoled the terror into warming it up for him and quickly took his leg and clothes off and dragged himself into the tub, hissing and curling in on himself as his leg hit the water. He had been allowed to wet it for a few days now, and he quickly cupped water to drop onto the blister, which now was an ugly, angry red almost all the time. He quickly scrubbed the rest of his body and heaved himself out, emptying the water that had turned a rather unfetching colour between his wound and the soap.

He wished Toothless was there, because re-attaching the leg was torture. The tiny red terror gave him a hand by flapping at his arm as hard as he could, keeping some weight off his leg, but by the time he'd crossed the main area into his own sleeping space and closed the curtain, his stump was throbbing viciously.

It was sweet relief when he put the honey paste on. The vinegar sock nullified that completely, making pain shoot up so strongly that he hissed despite himself, and the little terror began throwing itself about in a frenzy until he calmed it. His adrenaline from long practice of dressing his own wounds kicked in, and he simply gritted his teeth and bundled up in his best clothes again, strapping his leg back on and standing. Astrid had readied the clothes in a pile for him, and his chest gave a twinge of annoyance - he was very well capable of dressing himself, he'd been doing that since before he left, and he was not used to someone walking into his space when he was not there - what if he'd left a loincloth running around on the bed?

Then he remembered that she washed his loincloths. Then he remembered she'd seen him without one, and not in the best prospects, either. The roiling discomfort in his chest increased.

And … the clothing was new, again? Hiccup shifted uncomfortably, looking at himself in the reflection of his polished shield, made out of his preferred iron alloy. Come to think of it, they were running short of it at the forge, and he'd have to borrow Meatlug to replenish the supply. If Fishlegs came with them, he could ask him about his searches … discretely. That was actually not a bad idea…

A flash caught his eye, and he looked at his reflection again. The tunic was woolen but fine, dyed a very dark green, and it was embroidered in red and silver thread on his shoulders with the Berk crest. As far as tunics went, it was beautiful, and went well with the dark suede trousers and matching belt and boots. Hiccup bit his lip, wondering why his father had wasted the money on several new outfits. He certainly hoped it was his father, at least; he couldn't quite stomach the thought that Astrid had sacrificed sleeping hours to sew them for him. The image of her cooped up with a needle and thread, haunched beside a candle instead of being out on patrol or simply flying Stormfly on a lark was a kick to the stomach.

He tried to clear his mind, tried to shake it off, but he knew it was impossible. Five years of distance and near solitude had not been able to do it, he doubted he'd manage the feat in one afternoon. She'd never been away from his thoughts - from remembering a long-lost memory of learning to unfeather chickens sitting down next to her while he did it alone on his island, to longing for her on cold Winter nights, where his thoughts had wandered to dreams rather than memories. He'd spoken to Sepha about her, when his shame had become too big. By then they had learned a few words in each other's language, enough to communicate comfortably, and she had laughed his fears away, saying that every woman wanted to be loved the way he did her. Hiccup doubted it; which woman wanted to have a man she barely spoke to dream of her while he slept with another?

He sighed, heading out, little terror still clinging to his shoulders and looking about excitedly. His mind was miles away, though, as he was hit by a wave of nostalgia; he wondered how Sepha was, whether she was well, safe, healthy. He wished her all the blessings of the gods. Sepha had become someone important in the months within which they'd travelled together. A friend, a counsellor, a teacher on how to live in the world out there that gave no one any quarter. By the end, they could communicate with a look, and she was the closest to a sibling he had ever had… and yet, she had also been, from the start, a willing outlet to the physical longing he'd never thought he would indulge in. He had been the same for her, as she had once told him she also let herself think of her beloved husband when she was with him, long dead and buried. Their nights together had always had a tinge of sadness that had never left them, even after months. She had taught him - patiently - how to please a woman, how to touch her and hold her; always, she used to say, with the aim that one day he would go back and sweep his 'Astreed' off her feet. It had always been bitter-sweet for Hiccup to hear that; it had been his favourite dream, his only fantasy to which he owned with shame, but he had always considered it the ultimate impossibility.

And now here she was, sewing for him, like a little servant.

For the first time since he'd almost broken Snotlout's face, he had the urge to punch something really hard.

Astrid had always been … almost a role model, to him. Someone he wanted to strive to become, to impress, because if he impressed her then he would be good. Even along the way when starry-eyed, child-like admiration for his best friend had become the boyish realisation that - wow, Astrid was a girl, and maybe someday he could kiss her - which then transformed into a burning passion whenever he saw her body move - he'd never really stopped admiring how beautiful she was in battle. He wanted to fight beside her, wanted to spar with her. He wanted to fly miles and miles on end, still watching how her body moved on her dragon as she challenged him to another round - because Stormfly had a head-start, and that's not fair.

Granted, he … looked at her differently, now. Whenever she entered a room, he couldn't stop his eyes from sweeping across her discretely. She was a beautiful, beautiful woman even when she was covered in flour from the mill. But she was not … his Astrid. He didn't know where the domesticity had come from, but while a part of him wished for it, he didn't know what to do with it, and he wasn't sure how to reconcile the Astrid he knew - and the Astrid he knew was still there, from the weeks of training and fighting leading up to the showdown with the Red Death - to … this. She had been herself when he was Cattongue; active, with a sense of challenge that was almost hostile and exhilarating. Fighting with axe-in-hand and fire in her eyes. But the moment his helmet had come off, she'd become … something else. He wasn't even sure what it was, but it was like she was hiding behind the curtain of duty, doing what she had to do and going through the motions because she had to. And every time he did something out of place, something to remind her that she was stuck with him, she retreated further away. It was true that she had hugged him, and even kissed him, but he'd come to the conclusion that she had been trying to get used to the idea, to be Astrid and take their eventual marriage as a challenge. She had probably been that happy that night after she'd kissed him because she'd managed to do that without feeling too bad, not for any of the reasons he was rejoicing about.

He was glad he had cut the bathing sessions short, at least. Not even in his five years of travel, or when he was half a world away, had he felt farther away from her than in those moments. Gods, the utilitarian way in which she looked at him and touched him tore at his heart. She never really blushed beyond a partial show of discomfort at the start, he never really caught her looking at him in any way that may have been interpreted as interest. Just yesterday, she'd walked in on him fallen from his bed, practically naked, and her eyes had never lingered as a lover's would. She'd just looked and laughed.

Well, that was a great thought to have. His chest wasn't in danger of hurting anymore if he'd been run through by Tuffnut's spear. At least, this was increasing his upper-chest pain tolerance. Or maybe it was heart disease.

He knocked on the door and waited a few moments, hoping he wasn't too late. But there was shuffling inside, and noise - too much noise for his knock to be heard, possibly. After quite a long time had elapsed, he knocked again.

A frazzled-looking young girl opened the door, hair half-done and dress pinned in various places. Hiccup blinked at her, and she blinked back until she squeaked, blushed and ducked back inside. Brunhilda was at the door instantly, giving him a glowing smile as she looked at him and complimented his outfit, unfortunately confirming that it was Astrid's work in the process.

A part of him felt thrilled her fingers were touching his skin vicariously. Another part of him was listing the number of reasons why he was a pathetic little horn-dog for having even thought of that. He'd probably be luckier if he tried to woo a gronkle, with the amount of charm he had.

"Is Ætta up?" he asked, and Brunhilda laughed.

"Like she can be anything else with all this din," Astrid's mother said with even more humour. She craned her head, looking about the room full of men and women preparing for the feast, and men - was that Astrid's father, naked to the balls as he smoked a pipe as someone combed his hair?

Urk. He could have gone all his life without seeing that.

"Ah, there she is, little rascal. Wants to stay up for the feast, she says." Brunhilda pointed to a corner, were a pair of bright eyes and a bobbing blonde head were peeping out at the frantic proceedings going on around the hall, the men playing on the boards as the women washed and prepar- ack, someone was in the tub and washing while he was in the room. This was insane.

He made a beeline to the corner, making sure to duck his head and look nowhere near the tub on the other side of the room. Honestly, they didn't even have it curtained off - ah, Brunhilda was putting the curtain up now, and two of the younger girls were squealing in the corner because he was in the room and they were in their underclothes. Perf- aaand the men (naked men, oh for Thor…)2 were laughing at it all. No, no, now it was perfect. All he needed was to trip in his own feet and fall face first into something.

Luckily, he managed to get to the barrel corner without incident, little Ætta crawling away and trying to hide in the crevice between the round barrel and the flat wall. She looked at him with big eyes, trying to see whether he would be angry at her.

"You should be in bed, little one," he said mildly, and her face fell right away.

"I want to go to the big Hall, with everyone," she pouted, crossing her arms in a familiar manner that made his heart ache. He patted his chest, and she crawled towards him hesitantly at first, and then more resolutely, sitting with her head against his chest, frowning at the dark little space she'd been hiding in with a set jaw and stubborn chin.

Unf, it was like looking through Urd's tapestry, back ten or more cycles, down to the twin pigtails. All she needed was a silly fool of a twig boy, following her around like a lost pup.

Speaking of pups.

"Well, you can't go little one, because then who would take care of him?" He pointed a thumb at the curious terror, who was twitching on his shoulder and trying to stretch his neck as far as possible to look at the girl without falling off. He offered a hand as a platform and the terror crawled upon it, now at a better vantage point to sniff at the girl. Obviously her resemblance to Astrid didn't stop at her face, because the sniffing got his tail twitching. Ætta's eyes doubled in size, and her new dolls, hugged to her belly, slid to her tiny lap as she extended an arm to the terror, who took the scritching with a blissful little purr and upturned eyes.

"He's a little naughty, but I'm sure Aunty Astrid will help you train it. And one of your cousins, too … I knew that at least two of them are in my class," he said, giving the two girls in question, who were looking at him and giggling, a look that sent them hiding behind the curtain. "He'll keep your feet warm, too, and he likes to stay on your shoulder, so your ears won't get chilly once you go out. But you have to watch him, you hear?"

Ætta gave a solemn nod. He couldn't resist kissing her crown.

"Why are you so nice to me, Uncle Hiccup?" she asked, blinking up at him. "Is it because I remind you of Aunty Astrid?" Ah, he was transparent even to the babies. It was truly pathetic, really, be he couldn't bring himself to mind the little girl.

"Well, there is that," he said, taking her pinky again3, and bringing it close to his chest once more. She grinned, nodding, pleased with herself because she remembered what he'd said last time. "But I've also not been able to keep my promise to you and take you up on Toothless. Both of us have been so busy, doing human things and dragon things. And I don't like not keeping my promises."

"That's naughty," the girl replied in a conspiratory whisper. "But you can't help it if you're busy, or if there should have been a picnic and it rains. Mama always said that gods do what they want, and we can only pick up the pieces." Ætta frowned, then. "Although I don't really know what we should be picking up. Is it the almond nuts, Uncle Hiccup?"

He couldn't help the smile. Honestly, this girl …

"Sometimes it's the almond nuts. Other times, you have to give someone a nice smile, so that they can pick up these." He tapped the corners of his mouth. She smiled and he couldn't help answering. "There, that's better. So now, the gods said you can't go to the big Hall tonight, because only grown-ups can. But look what they brought you instead."

Ætta nodded, letting the terror climb onto her tiny shoulders, where the small dragon barely fit. It scuttled about slightly, making her giggle as it tickled, and then curled up more tightly around her neck like a fur shawl, snuggling it's head under her chin.

"Can I really keep him, Uncle Hiccup?" she asked, rubbing the terror along his back.

"You'll ask your mama, but he's a gift from me. And mother Goethi."

"Mama can't say no, then!"

"No, she can't!" he chirped back, incredibly cheered up by the tiny sunshine of her smile. He kissed her crown again and stood with her in his arms, crossing the room full of gaggling women to put her into a large bed with another six children. One of them eeked at the dragon, but Hiccup soothed her enough when he showed how warm the little terror would keep the bed.

Then he turned to the room to find most of the girls looking at him, though, luckily, the men chose that moment to make a ruckus when someone won a decent hand at the board game. Hacknee Hofferson was still stark naked. Oh, for all the gods.

Astrid used to be part of this madness? Serious, straight laced, warrior Astrid? He blinked at the room of shrieking, laughing girls, loud, uproarious men and felt a little dizzy. He tried to imagine Astrid here, and he simply … couldn't. Certainly not the Astrid he'd known, the tough girl who smiled only when she'd done well on a training exercise, or when she was punching someone and then calling them a wuss. And yet, this was Astrid's clan. She was on good terms with her mother and father, so it wasn't like she didn't fit in. And she cared for them, enough to be in tears over Ætta's illness. Hiccup almost sat down to look at them, only to remember, with some chagrin, that he should be in the Hall already, to mingle with the leading families before the rest of the tribe arrived. Astrid was probably already there, and by Odin's eye, he wasn't standing her up.

He left the hall quickly (still making sure to look nowhere near anyone who was not fully dressed) with a wave at Brunhilda who was busy braiding someone's hair.

The trek up to the Hall was miserable. The good mood Ætta had given him evaporated into a mist of uncomfortable questions and trying not to wince at every step, as the long, long staircase didn't help with the chafing, and each additional step was making him hate this stupid dance more and more.

The heat engulfed him when he finally pushed the heavy doors open and he shuddered thankfully. He'd forgotten to put a cloak on, and he was paying for it.

In fact, judging by Astrid's scowl, he'd pay for it later, too.

But by the paths trod by the gods… Astrid was wearing a tunic which matched his, down to the details on the shoulders and … nope, not a tunic, that was a dress. And her hair was intricately braided and knotted, even her usually floppy fringe had been gathered up. Strands of ringlets fell down in select places to curl around her shoulders like golden rivulets.

His jaw was open. He had to close that jaw. Close it!

Of course, he didn't. Astrid hit it gently with a knuckle and he managed to look away and swallow, but it didn't help his stupid, burning face at all. She was wearing a dress. A dress. Tonight, the new domestic Astrid and the warrior Astrid had both been left outside, and instead there was this … this woman he didn't know who could floor him with a single...

Punch.

"Ow!" he hissed in a low voice. She had punched him in the gut, arm around his waist to keep him from toppling.

"Wuss," she answered with a small frown. "That's for keeping me waiting." She smiled, one corner of her mouth rising upwards, as she stepped aside and kept one arm around him, giving him a squeeze. "So, shall we?"

He nodded at her, her closeness, for once, leaving him with feelings of discomfort instead of all the others she usually instigated. He didn't know her; she wasn't the child who had played with him as a bairn, letting him braid her hair which had stayed a lasting fascination. Nor was she the driven girl who had pinched him and prodded him to be better, even from afar as he looked from the forge window. She was still Astrid, but …

Well, he had changed, too. He wasn't the quiet, silly pushover boy he used to be. Perhaps, she was trying to get to know him, too. And if his aching gut said anything, she was still Astrid, really, just … five years later.

An idea struck him, then, and he stole a glance down at her as she walked them both towards the center of the already slightly-crowded room. Perhaps … it was a stupid idea, really, especially considering the official state of their relationship … but then again, wasn't it usually how it happened anyway? It was the most dangerous sport for any young man, after all. But he was Hiccup Haddock, and after having lived through what he had, he'd learned that his father wasn't the only one with stubbornness issues.

So, yeah … should he … court her, then? Make it official, too. Inform her of his intentions, make it clear that he wanted the marriage to work, that he wanted to get to know her better, spend time with her as a potential husband, show her that he was husband material. Give her gifts, attention and … well, full on court her. His heart started beating rather quickly as the idea took shape in his mind and looked like a real possibility. It was his right, he could court her freely and officially with absolutely no repercussions, because of the contract. And he could make it clear that if she did not change her mind about him, if she didn't see him as husband-stuff by the time the Winter was out, then they'd go their separate ways, no harm done. But then, he'd have a chance. An official chance where all was clear between them, where she couldn't equivocate his intentions, and couldn't … yeah. This was his chance, to make her stop seeing him as a child to be nursed and start seeing a man in him. It was his chance to know her too - to find out the things he hadn't discovered before he left, the things she kept hidden from everyone; show her he was ready to listen, to help, to be there … even when she didn't want him to. Find out who she'd become in the last five years, and share his own secrets, if she wanted to hear.

He halted in their progress across the hall, forcing her to stop too by the arm that she had around his waist. He swallowed the suddenly thick wad of cloth that had somehow found its way down his throat - or so it felt like - and gave her a tentative smile. She smiled at him in return, looking confused, and the expression helped to distract him from how utterly beautiful she looked in the torch-light.

"Say," he started, trying to give her a smile that wasn't nervous, and grasping onto the first thing that he could think of as an opening. "Tomorrow the talks are going to last all day. Will you be there?" I hope you will.

"Oh!" she asked, relaxing and shrugging. "I will probably be there in the morning, though I might not be able to for the evening talks. Chores aren't going to do themselves."

"About that," he said resolutely, "I wasn't lying when I said I would help. Dad has me tied up at the moment, but the Thing will be over in two weeks, and if we're honest…" he gave her a sheepish smile and ducked his head so she could hear his lowered voice over the din. "I used to enjoy doing part of the chores. My cooking is still terrible, but I was decent at salting and filleting, and I make a mean folder for the laundry." And I want to spend time with you, any excuse will do…

She snorted. "I do remember that you and your dad were always well dressed. Can you mend, too? Because I like sewing, but mending is the serpent's head. I'll take you up on the offer if you mend your own socks," she said jokingly.

It was working. He already learned that she liked sewing. She liked sewing, who knew. The last they'd spoken, she'd hated all the new domestic tasks and lessons her mother had been piling on her, because it cut down on her axe time.

"I'll mend all you like," he said cheerfully. "Leatherwork's made me good with a needle, not to mention…" nope, sewing up your own wounds was not an adequate courting topic. Shut up, mouth. "...having only one sock of my own, I'll have plenty of time to fix other people's, too." There, better. Now … now to ask her, properly. "And … when this is all over, and we have more time, maybe we … could…" Spit it out! "... take the dragons out for a good long race." Ung. he was a wuss. "I know I have to make it up to Toothless. Big time … he's going to be giving me the cold shoulder for weeks." Right, talk about his dragon. He was sure Astrid was extremely interesting in his dragon's moods. Might as well talk about the lint that got stuck between his toes too, she'd be riveted.

"That's a great idea," she replied, smiling up at him. She looked about three times brighter than she had before. For a second, he even forgot the horrid pain in his leg as his heart gave a jolt. Yes, Freya was on his side tonight. "I know Stormfly misses me, and she's not even stuck to ground the way Toothless is. I'm impressed you got him to go up at all, today."

"That's why I'm going to get a colder shoulder than an ice-giant's," he replied with some humour. "That darn lizard took me sending him to fly as well as he would take me hiding an eel in his basket. I'm surprised my hair isn't on fire."

"I'll make sure to keep a bucket of water handy tomorrow, then. Thanks for the warning," Astrid replied, with a jovial smile, and the sass he was so very familiar with. A huge part of his chest suddenly ached, desiring to bend down and kiss her mouth, possess it with all the fire he … no. He had to take it a step back. He was going to court her. And then, only when he was sure she wanted him to kiss her with the yearning that he felt, then he could kiss her. For now he'd … this. Make her smile like that and laugh like that. It would be enough - whether it was enough or not, it would be enough.

He smiled at her, laughing and letting an arm fall around her to mirror her own, feeling even more jovial when she did not stiffen. Tiny steps, perhaps that was the way. And there was no reason why he should tell her that he wanted to court her just now; they'd still be engaged once the Thing was over, and he could tell her privately, on that first dragon race, when they landed to eat and it was just them and their dragons. He'd speak to her there, tell her his intentions and let her decide whether she wanted to end it there, or wanted to give him the chance to court her, properly, charm her as much as he could and hopefully, with Freya and Lofn and all the gods' help, win her over.

He smiled, his chest swelling with hope again. He had a chance. He really had a chance. If she gave it to him, by the gods, he'd make sure she was as thoroughly courted as any woman ever was. A spark of excitement followed the hope; he wanted to get to know her again, too. He wanted her to know him and be comfortable with it. And if the village chores came in the way, then he'd find a way around them. Or find a way around other things. Sleep was over-rated anyway.

"Ung," he said, as his father spotted them and waved them over. "Fun. Let's go do this official thing, shall we?"

"Don't sound too enthusiastic, Future-Chief. The Hall may not contain it," she replied, and the sass went straight to his chest (and other places he was not going to think of) again,

"Oh, I know, there's few places that can contain this much raw Viking," he said with a lofty air, and readily avoided the punch to the shoulder. "What, can't handle my lame jokes?" he said cheekily, shaking his leg, and she blushed before snorting at him and shaking her head.

"Not funny, Hiccup," she said, sparing his leg a glance and looking up at him with eyes slightly muted. "You scared us."

"But it's past, and laughing at it makes it seem farther away," he said, sharing something he'd learned on his own skin. She snorted again and then let her arm fall from around him as they arrived beside his father, prompting him to, reluctantly, do the same. With the idea of the courting firmly in his mind, now, it made him feel better about anything she did. He was ready to take anything she gave him, no matter how small, and he'd let her set the pace. He had let their engagement taint his expectations with how he wanted her to behave, as his promised, and that was not right.

The first part of the evening, where only the leading families were in the hall, passed almost enjoyably. There was ale enough and mead enough to keep everyone happy, and after a few hours, Hiccup was glad to sit beside Thuggory and Heather, who had finally arrived that afternoon on the ship. His stump throbbed viciously, but he drank just enough ale to bear it - especially if he didn't stand again tonight.

He took another swig, sitting with his side resting against the table and his bad leg raised on the bench on one side, Astrid sitting beside him on the other. The ale was good, the Hall well warmed, and the company pleasant. He wasn't a fan of feasts, not with his cache of childhood memories (especially not the one where he'd accidentally set all the caskets on fire…), but he had to admit that if things kept being this pleasant (and especially if Astrid kept -mmm, nice- leaning into his side like that…), he was actually in the chance to enjoy himself tonight.

=0=

Thuggory guzzled down another tankard, flagging a woman passing to bring him more mead. The stuff on Berk was water compared to what they had on Freezing, especially now, with Heather's dad doing his thing in the brewery.

"It takes some getting used to," Heather was saying, swilling honeyed water around her keg and looking enviously at their mead and ale. Astrid was sitting beside Hiccup, listening with an understanding face. "And I can't say I enjoy my stomach being in the wrong place of my body almost all the time. It feels like I've eaten a live fish and … ung." She grimaced, the image obviously not agreeing with her aforementioned organ. Thuggory tucked her into his side, and she leaned into him gratefully, looking suddenly warn and green.

"Do you need to go rest, Heather?" Astrid said, kindly. Hiccup gave her an understanding smile. "I'll take you if you want. It's no chore. Are there any women who can assist you in the guest hall?"

"Not really," Heather grumbled, "unless you count this oaf's aunt. And I swear, she's worse than a pack of terrors when it comes to being obnoxious. I'm more likely to rest here than I am in the hall with her sitting there and telling me how very bad I am at the art of lying down and sleeping." Thuggory pouted sheepishly, receiving a vicious glare that made him wince. "And don't dare defend her. You know as well as I do that she hates me, thinks I'm a social climber of the worst kind, and would do anything to have you divorced from me. She's still sour about the fact that you got to choose me, and that she didn't get to be the one who hand-picked your bride."

"Eh, she thinks she rules the tribe from the inside," Thuggory said with an eye-roll to Hiccup. "I can't say it's not going to be a great day when she kicks the bucket, and that I won't call a feast. Hopefully she'll do it before I'm chief though, because I have the mad urge to ship her off tied to a mast if she so much as breathes in the direction of saying 'Oh, Thuggory dear'," he started in a falsetto, sitting up straighter and waving a hand on a floppy wrist. "Really, you should know by now that brown tunics shouldn't be worn during this time of the cycle - only in the spring, to honour Frigga. Oh youth these days!"

The entire table laughed, though Heather only cringed.

"Like I said, I'd much rather stay here. Even if you managed to stop her from bullying you out because you're Hiccup's promised, it would still be a miserable time for the both of us in that place with her, glaring at us because she's too old and ugly to dance in public without turning someone into a toad just by looking at her."

"Heather," Thuggory said, tone only marginally reproachful, as he snickered some more at his apparently horrid aunt's expense. "And speaking of dancing!"

A jaunty tune started up, people forming a line and hopping about to it with laughs, jeers, leers and ale splashing everywhere. Someone wolf-whistled and then got punched in the face, and it turned out that Tuffnut had punched Snotlout in the face for whistling at … Cami was at least dancing, if with one of her tribe sisters. Thuggory caught Hiccup's eyes as he looked over at them worriedly, and then understood his meaning immediately when Hiccup nodded him towards the crowd.

"Ah, can't really…" he shrugged, but Hiccup widened his eyes at him, and Heather kicked him under the table. Ow, ow, right, there were too many ears. Cami's affairs were to stay between them until a time when they could be fixed.

The doors opened, and it had apparently skipped their notice that - well, of course. Tuff and Snotlout were there, so the other people of Berk had already begun trickling in. Therefore, the generals and other guests of the leading families from the other tribes also began to join. The dancing line became longer, and the punches in the face - as well as a few kisses here and there - became more frequent. Hiccup laughed as Gobber started hopping around opposite Bertha, and Thuggory joined in the catcalls when the chief of the Boggies started giving the one-handed smith a rather steamy look.

"I've never seen Gobber's mustache jiggle like that!" Hiccup laughed with good humour, and Astrid joined in, face jovial as she chuckled into her cider. "I hope he wore clean undies."

Astrid choked on her drink, laughing coughs as she slapped his shoulder, and Thuggory was glad to see them getting along, despite the rather staged protestation of pain and accusations of wussiness.

Heather sighed at his side, and he looked down at her.

"You're going to do it?" she whispered, nodding mutely towards the other couple, masking it as a snuggle of her cheek into his shoulder. Thuggory nodded. In all honesty, they didn't look like they needed help right now, not with Hiccup's eyes wondering enough to show his interest (though he never let her see - wise man, he liked his man-bits where they were) and her face glowing and gaze lingering on his. They were so damn obvious, but Thuggory was beginning to realise that they were obvious to anyone but each other.

He should know, Heather and he had gone through the same thing. When they'd met, she'd just managed to escape from Outcast island, battered and bruised. When he'd pledged to help her, she hadn't believed him, so she'd drugged his mead and stolen his money and weapons. He'd pretty much fallen in love with her there and then. He'd gone hunting for her as soon as he could get back to the village proper and recruit Hiccup, who had luckily been working on his dad's chainmail at the time. By the time they'd returned to Freezing with her on Clover carrying her parents, it was waaay too late for his poor heart. Unfortunately for the both of them, Heather hadn't - in her darling sweet manipulative head - believed that tattered clothes and zero status could hold attraction beyond the, er, obvious for a tribal heir who was practically a prince, and Thuggory was under no illusion of being the sharpest tool in the shed, certainly not smart enough for someone who was always three steps ahead of most people in the room.

There had been a terrible week when he'd thought less than pleasant thoughts about Hiccup as Heather had taken to hiding in his forge more often than not, but it turned out she'd only been mooning about him, and Hiccup had slowly been turning her around to the idea that getting into her leggings alone really wasn't going to be the deal with Thuggory.

Not that it wasn't part of the deal. Repeatedly. His wife was hot.

So, one good deed deserved another, and Hiccup was going to get his expert, married-man advice and help.

And he would admit that Heather and he had been lucky too; the moment his dad heard that her father was a brewer, and that he was offering caskets upon caskets of mead as a bride price, it had been a done deal. Aunt Glunda was still seething that she had been forbidden to taste it instead of Brawlknife to test quality, but everyone knew that she would have refused it all, if only to spite them and bring bad luck onto their marriage. One of the only times he'd blessed his father's affinity to drink.

"If you are, do it fast dear," she said. Dear. It still gave him a thrill. And made him feel old. Ung, he'd barely started knotting his side burns, and they were SO going to turn white soon. Anyway, what? "I spot Dogsbreath getting closer and closer to our table with every passing song, and it would be best not to speak of anything in front of him."

Thuggory nodded. He felt rather sorry for the boy; he'd always sort of been on the margins, and he had always been closest with Thuggory, though there had simply been a different relationship there than the childhood bond between him, Hiccup and Cami. And now he'd been summarily punted out of their group. Sure, he deserved it - no one liked a tattletale, especially when it hurt them all so directly (his father had not been happy at being left out of the loop, although Thuggory's ability to lie had drastically improved since his marriage through sheer survival instinct and learning from his dear wife). Yet the fact remained; until proven otherwise, he was currently on their black list.

"Ask Astrid to dance," Heather whispered, and Thuggory looked down at her, agast. "Don't look at me like that, you ninny. Everyone knows that you're married, and that Hiccup is your battle brother. There is nothing wrong in taking his promised out when he can't."

"Can't?" he whispered, confused. Heather leaned further against him, and he rubbed her arm; her being this tired was due to the babe, he knew, but it still made his chest twinge. If anything, right now it was probably saving him from an eyeroll and being called dull.

"His leg, I think it's hurting, but he'll never say it."

"But if she won't come …"

"Insist; Hiccup will probably want to see her dancing, so he'll help you there." Heather gave him a sly look. "I know how you men's brains work, dear, and the next best thing he has to dancing with her is watching her dance with someone he trusts. You can talk to her while you two dance. And Dogsbreath won't come to the table if there's just me and him, I don't think. He was always closest to you."

"Will you be ok, beloved?" he asked sadly. And it was a mark of how much she cared for him that whenever he said something sappy like that she just huffed a laugh and blushed instead of punting him a good one.

"I'm not going to be doing anything but sitting here. I think I can manage that, even with a babe in the belly."

"Well, alright then…"

He slowly untangled himself from her, shrugging off his cloak and putting it around her before he rose (and the fact that Heather only huffed at him and didn't shrug it off told him volumes). Sliding out of the bench, he went around the table and held his hand out to Astrid.

"My lady," he said with a grin, making a bow and attracting the laughter of their neighbouring tables. Fishlegs and his wife were walking up, grinning like buffoons as Astrid went crimson. "Since my own lady is indisposed, may I have your hand for this dance?"

"Oh, but, I'm … I was hoping that, I mean…" She turned to Hiccup, who was looking at her wide eyed at the inferred meaning. Her face went a darker shade of red as a very gratified grin spread on Hiccup's face before he cleared his throat and sat up straighter. A few whistles and catcalls around them from the somewhat already drunken denizens of the Hall made her duck her head. Thuggory couldn't blame Hiccup for being so smitten with her, especially when she raised a fist and punched his side.

"Ow… I really can't, Astrid," he said, rubbing his side and then nodding towards his leg. "I … wouldn't have minded, but I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh?" she asked. The colour faded slightly from her cheeks as she looked at him worriedly. "Maybe I can give it a look, later."

"Oh, no need," he waved her off. Hiccup looked away at Heather long enough to miss Astrid's face falling completely. "I've had Goethi give it a look, and it's doing well. Just a … just a little tired. And Heather won't be alone this way."

"But…"

"Oh, do go," Heather sighed dramatically, resting a cheek on her fist. "I'll never hear the end of it if he has to sit all night. He'll have too much energy to sleep, and then he'll either drive me nuts fidgeting about, or I'll kick him out and poor Fanghorn will suffer a night flight."

"Woman, no kicking me out of the marriage bed," Thuggory said in mock outrage to some whistling and jeering. Heather only smirked.

"The marriage bed's back home. Now go show Hiccup how to dance with two left feet."

"That's not very encouraging," Astrid said with a laugh, although she did stand up. Thuggory noticed she gave Hiccup one last look before she allowed herself to be dragged away, "Did he tell you anything about his leg?" she asked once they were out of earshot, throwing a worried look over her shoulder.

"Eh, he's not a complainer," Thuggory shrugged. They ducked an apple, Astrid turning to shake a fist at a large woman who turned out to be her mother, and they moved on, weaving around drunken folk, saying hi to Fishlegs and Ruffnut who had paused to haul Tuff off Snotlout.

"That's what I'm worried about," she sighed, flicking an escaping strand of hair from her face.

"Eh, he's a man, he knows how to take care of himself," Thuggory said with a shrug. They joined the line, and ironically, the din around them gave them a great deal of privacy to talk while they danced. They circled each other with an arm on the other's shoulder, and then stopped to clap on either side and repeated it in the opposite direction. "Though I have to say, that took some guts, asking him to dance with you like that. He's used to girl attention, but he's never responded before," he confided, more than a little happy to gossip and do some good at the same time. Astrid gave him a calculating look.

"Used to it?" she asked; urk, trust women to latch on to the unimportant part of the sentence. Still …

"Well, he was popular with the ladies on most Islands - not as much as me of course." They paused for them to turn back to back, kicking out at the appropriate moments. The expression on her face as she turned to face him again was a mix of apprehension and derisive amusement. "What, you don't think I'm a handsome catch?" He puffed his chest out and she laughed. The music picked up and he took her up and swung her on the other side of him on the time, noting her very red face as she turned around him like a maypole. "He was good at this, too. Taught my little sister how to dance."

"Hmm," she said, "I should have danced with him first, he is my … my promised," she said, throwing a look over her shoulder, and her face couldn't have been more different than the fiery maiden who had pronounced the same thing months ago, axe to his throat and rain falling around them. Her statement had been strong and bold, then, rain-wet hair plastered to her face and eyes blazing to know where he was, ride out and rescue him if she had to. And now there he was in her hands, and she didn't know what to do with him.

Aw, they were so cute. They really needed his help.

"That he is, lass, but don't hold it against him, aye? He doesn't invite the attention and doesn't reciprocate it," he said. "And I tell you, he wouldn't have let you go dance with anyone else he didn't trust. Maybe Fishlegs… can't see any of the others happening. He's got an eye for you." Astrid snorted. "Make fun of me, but I don't lie. Oh, the stories Cami can tell you about how fast he ran from the Boggies… there was one where he hid in the rafters of her bedroom to get rid of some relative or other." Astrid barked a laugh before covering her mouth and looking around at the other dancers, making sure they weren't listening. She elbowed him as they passed each other. "Ow, mean bones, there. But you? He totally lets you next to him, and he seeks you out himself when he gets the chance. You saw how uncomfortable the Boggie generals made him when they were sighing at him in the meeting … but he doesn't mind you close to him and touching him. There's a big sign."

"You think?" she asked, and Thuggory was glad that they had to interrupt for a few moments as they danced with the person diagonal to them, because he could hide his shit-eating grin. That question gave her away, with the tone of voice and the slightly worried look beneath her lashes. She wanted Hiccup to like her, and that was a sure-fire way to tell if any Viking woman was interested.

When she wasn't, she punched you in the face and told you so, his wife said.

So, it should be easy from here. Hiccup liked her, he knew that from the axe thing - and he remembered Cami saying something about falling for a girl when he was 12 or something like that … time to push the ducky.

"Yes, of course," he said when they were once again dancing with each other, and grin was marginally less obscene. "And I recall there was this girl he was mooning about while he made my wedding axes … someone from here he made an axe for whom he'd liked…"

Thuggory totally took credit for the blush on her face. And if Hiccup got laid tonight, he would owe him. Maybe he could be godfather of their first kid. He got to skip the line and be godfather! Or they could even name it after him. Thuggory Haddock the First; sounded awesome.

"Right," she said, composing herself. "He did make me an axe when we were younger. I didn't even know it was him until Gobber told me." She winced. "After he left."

"Hmm," he said, threading her arm inside his and going round in circles. "He missed you, you know?"

"What?" she asked, clearly startled.

"Oh yeah, I think he missed you the most." he said, containing his grin to try to look sage and brotherly. "Wouldn't mention anyone from Berk; but you? You came up a few times, and he was all bent out of shape that you were probably married to someone else, too."

"He … he spoke of me, huh." The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "The little liar…"

"Oh?" Thuggory asked.

"When he was Cattongue, he told me 'Hiccup' never spoke of me."

"Well, he didn't like to speak of Berk," Thuggory admitted with a shrug. "He loved this damn tribe and he thought he wasn't welcome here." Aw, screw him three ways to Ragnarok, he didn't want to make her face fall like that. "But I tell you, when I told him he was promised to you -" He panicked, denied it and refused to speak for the rest of the night. "He was really moved. Poor guy was struck speechless." Ha! And Heather said his poetic ability was lame! "And don't tell him I said this," he pretended to look around before ducking his head, "but he seriously thinks you have the best legs on Midgard. And don't get him started about your hair." He tried to remember anything else Hiccup'd moaned about when he'd been drunk, but came up blank. Damn shy man. "Don't tell him this either, I sort of broke the man's code telling you that. If he finds out, he'll have the right to kill me." He paused as they skipped a step. "Or pull my trousers down in public. Not very comfortable with either."

Astrid laughed openly then, even as they moved back into the line and clapped as the song stopped. He offered her his arm dramatically, which she took with a grin.

"So, ask him to dance again. If his foot hurts that much, talk him into a corner then strip-search him." Astrid looked startled for a second, before she started laughing along side him.

"He wouldn't like that…" she said, quieting down suddenly. "He doesn't like it when I try to help with his leg."

"Yeah, that's because he's trying to be all manly for you," Thuggory snickered. Then stopped. "I'm giving out lots of secrets of the man code here for my brother. He'd better appreciate it because if the other guys find out, I'm toast."

"I'm sure you and Bloodlust will be fine," Astrid replied cheekily as they began weaving through the people. "Even if they threaten that now you have to learn how to use a loom."

Thuggory shuddered, Astrid grinning up at him with a true Viking's malice. Once they were at their table, however, they both stopped short, as neither one of the people they had left sitting there, seemingly incapacitated, were there anymore, and the table had been occupied by people neither one of them knew. Thuggory blinked around, a sliver of worry blossoming in his belly. As he craned his neck, he heard a muted gasp beside him.

He turned to find Astrid looking the other way, her face slack as she stared at the people lining up for the next dance. Thuggory winced at her expression, wondering what on earth could make her look so profoundly hurt that she forgot to guard her features… and then he turned just in time to see Hiccup clap the opening of the dance with the other men as a fast-paced tune filled the room.

"The childhood infatuation seems to be gone, Thug," Astrid said, her tone flat and her face schooling itself into the hard lines of a smile. She nodded at him, her face wooden, before she quickly scurried out towards the door, bumping into a few people on the way and looking upset enough that they all began to talk and mumble.

Thuggory grimaced, but then he also began looking at every single corner for his dear Heather, because Hiccup up there wasn't dancing with her at all, and he was looking as pale as death, lips a grim line and movements jolty. Shit he wasn't kidding when he said he was in pain; there was more to this than met the eye.

"Yo."

Thuggory turned around to find himself face-to-face with Snotlout. He nodded politely and planned to ignore him until the other man folded his arms across his chest and turned to look at the dancers.

"So, your wife felt all woozy and Fishlegs and Ruff took her to their place."

Thuggory blinked at him, but nodded gratefully and turned to go.

"Wasn't done yet," he said again, and Thuggory turned with an annoyed word that died on his mouth when he saw Snotlout's grim expression as he followed the dancers with his eyes. "Hiccup was supposed to wait for you two so that he could tell you, and then he said he was probably going to head in. He said … he admitted the leg was hurting." Both men exchanged a grim look, and turned back to the pale-faced man who was hopping around with his cheeks turning colours every time he landed on his bad leg.

"What the heck…" Thuggory growled.

"The UglyThugs set this up," Snotlout replied. "Look, I'll wait for him here. I think he's going to need help getting home. You go after your girl, ok? We need to meet so we can talk about this," Snotlout hissed urgently. "You have to back him up at the talks, ok? I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it."

Thuggory nodded, taking a moment to take the other man's face in. Was this the same guy who'd let Hiccup down so badly during the battle for Berk? It would seem that Hiccup was right, again, when he said that Snotlout was making amends.

"I'll hold you to that." With a grim nod, he ran out of the hall.

=0=

Tuff hit hard, Snotlout thought as he lay on the floor under a random table, looking up at the Hall lights through the gaps between the wood. His helmet had rolled under here and he'd come after it, but he'd hit his head on one of the benches and, already being dazed from Tuff's right hook, he'd just let himself lie there for a few moments, the world spinning between the hits and the mead.

He hadn't even been whistling at Tuff's damn woman, just at that pretty girl with the sweet, long strawberry blonde hair. They'd spoken a little since he'd been cross with her some, and he wanted to ask her to a dance - the mead made him courageous. Then he gets pounced into the ground by the damn drougr from Helheim in Tuffnut form, and that went sod to the dogs.

Snotlout had realised some time ago that he was underneath Hiccup's table, and that Hiccup didn't know he was there. The woman he was talking to wasn't Astrid, and it took him a while to place her as Thugg- Thurs- Thugdamnit's wife.

Five beer kegs on the wall, five beer kegs…. the song was stuck in his head, but it had it's appeal.

A whimper to the side caught his attention, and a pair of pretty legs - ah, wait, that was someone's, Thuggory's, wife - began twitching about as their owner moved uncomfortably. Fishlegs and Ruffnut made a commotion on the other end of the table beside Snotlout's feet, and Hiccup laughed at something the girl-twin said, and then tapped his metal let against the bench.

"I swear sometimes I wish I could just take the whole thing off at the hip, put it on my desk and take a rest from it," he laughed.

"Well, you have recovered almost 60% more rapidly than most leg amputees," Fishlegs said.

"I had good care," Hiccup replied warmly. "But I wasn't about to let her miss the dancing because I don't feel up to it. What about you two? Come on, confess, you've come here to leave Woodnut with me so that you can go hop around."

"Oh, I'm not the one who should confess," Ruffnut drawled. "You don't want to dance with her because you'd rather see her arse wiggle as she dances with your battle-brother."

"Oi!"

"Don't deny it!" Heather said with a laugh. "We know how honourable you are, but there's no harm in looking at the girl you're going to marry and appreciating the vie- oooh…."

"What is it?"

Snotlout blinked as the mood in the table above him changed completely, and suddenly there was a scrambling, scraping noise as Hiccup got onto his feet and got around to the long wooden bench Heather was sitting on.

"You're limping," Fishlegs noticed. "At least a 5 or 6 pain strain, taking your pain tolerance into consideration."

"Not now, Fishlegs," Hiccup replied, and Snotlout found himself sobering up surprisingly quickly as the table's agitation bled down to his prone position underneath it.

"Heather…"

"I'm ok," she said, but it came out as a completely unconvincing whine. "Oh," she nearly sobbed, "I don't want to go to the guest hall without Thuggory, I really don't. I can't take his aunt right now."

"Why don't you come to our hall?" Ruffnut said. "Before idiot over here decided to instigate a verbal spar with me - which he totally lost, by the way - we were coming to say goodnight. Woodnut doesn't like the noise, and if she doesn't sleep soon, neither will we tonight. Come with us and rest there until Thug can join you."

"I may be sick on the way. I may be sick anywhere."

"Eh, I have a baby, woman. I clean her arse. I've seen worse."

It didn't take much more cajoling after that, and Fishlegs helped lever and slide the rather ill-sounding woman out of the bench and then out of the hall. Hiccup sat back down with a sigh after assuring Heather repeatedly that he'd stay there and inform Thuggory right away.

His last words sobered Snotlout up the rest of the way.

"Once Thuggory and Astrid come, I think I'll call it a night, too. I hope she doesn't mind but … the leg isn't being kind tonight."

"Your pain tollerace is over 900." Fishlegs sounded worried and almost fatherly. "No need to feel uncomfortable; if you're saying it hurts, it would probably be at a level where I would be whining in bed about dying."

"And I would be threatening about finishing the job," Ruffnut laughed. "And don't be a stubborn man, let Astrid look at it, she's going to want to and she'll be annoyed enough to open your head like a melon if you drive her nuts with worry that you're hurt, and then don't let her see it. She'll think up all sorts of horrors it could be and drive herself crazy."

"And women and more-crazy shouldn't exist…"

The married couple had taken the Meathead wife away after that, still discussing the possibility of Astrid having Beserker blood somewhere in her lineage, but Snotlout's head had cleared and stuck on the single most important thing.

Hiccup, even as a boy, had always kept mum about any aches and pains he had - and who had inflicted them too. Snotlout should know; he would have been grounded his entire life if Hiccup had tattled on how many of his bruises had his cousin's name on them. And it hadn't just been a front, either - Hiccup just … took a hit, absorbed it and move on.

For him to admit that his leg hurt… Like Fishlegs said, it would probably have reduced anyone else to a weeping puddle of pain.

Snotlout rubbed his eyes, stretching slightly and getting ready to wiggle out from under the table. To be honest, he was also grinning, because he knew he was going to startle Hiccup - hey, teasing his cousin would never not be entertaining. It was just how he teased him that had changed.

A moment later, a high, lilting voice came from above him, one Snotlout did not know. Hiccup scrambled away suddenly, his bum facing Snotlout as he'd been sitting the wrong way around to look at the dancers shifting urgently to the right. And Snotlout saw another bum - this one very well dressed in a flowing dress dyed red - a shapely bum the burlier Viking would not have minded looking at at all, had she not decided to interrupt his prank. Oh well, he could wait.

"A good evening to you," Hiccup said, stiffly and formally, and it was liking hearing Cattongue again, minus the muffle of the helmet. "How are you enjoying the feast Berk is offering you?"

"Oh, I am enjoying it. So is your promised it would seem, dancing first with another man."

Hiccup bristled - well, Hiccup's bum pristled. Heck, Snotlout's bum bristled. That was not a very nice thing to say at all.

"I do not mind it," Hiccup replied stiffly. "My injury prevents me from dancing, and she's with my battle brother."

"Oh, well, then …" there was a very, very pregnant pause, and then the girl started again in a completely different, and much quieter voice. Snotlout had to slide closer to their feet to hear. "Catton- … Hiccup. Why are you talking to me like we don't know each other?" she asked pleadingly.

"Because I don't know what your father sent you here to do, Sleet." Hiccup's tone was biting, and urgent. The girl shifted, her red dress rustling. "Sleet, it's inappropriate for you to be here too long. I'm alone at this table, you're unmarried and I am promised, so-"

"He wants you to dance with me."

"What?"

"He sent me here, and told me I had to make you dance with me at any cost."

"Sleet, you know I can't, even if my foot didn't hurt, Astrid is-"

"He said-" she was almost sobbing by now, obviously saying the words with reluctance and more than a little fear. Snotlout almost pitied her. "He said that if you don't, he'll … he'll cause hell at the meetings tomorrow. He can, Hiccup, you know he can."

Hiccup shifted, going stiff as a board, obviously angry. He made to stand, and the girl - Sleet? - actually threaded her arm in his.

"Let go of me!" Hiccup hissed. "I'm spoken for!"

"Please, please. We used to be friends, Cattongue," she pleaded.

"That was in another time, when I had another role. Sleet, I can't endanger what I've been waiting for my whol-"

"You know what he'll do to me if I don't go out there with you," and this time, she was sobbing, head down so that no one would see. Snotlout lay there very still; any movement and she would spot him. "Cattongue, please."

There was a very tense silence, and Snotlout realised he wasn't breathing.

"Tell me one thing," Hiccup said tensely. "Does Wolftooth know about this? Or Dogsbreath."

"I … I don't think. Two of the other generals were coming in and out of the house frequently, at night, before we left for the Thing. But I never saw the chief or his son. Then again, they could have met them elsewhere… you know I'm only a pawn."

"Did your father need to make an excuse to bring you?"

"What?"

"Your tribe brought no ships. You were the only woman outside the leading family. What did your father say to let you come?"

"He … he offered me up as Dogsbreath's mother's companion. So she wouldn't be alone if she ever decided not to come to the talks."

There was another silence.

"Your brother is still a coward, isn't he?"

Someone laughed on the left as apparently an arm wrestling competition had come together. The loud noises helped to drown the tense conversation further, and Snotlout only heard them as he was lying directly under them.

"Yes."

" … Very well. Sleet, this is the last time I will ever do you a favour, however. I'm sorry but … after this, we can no longer be friends."

"Cattongue, please, I'm only a pawn, I swear…"

"I'm sorry, Sleet. My name is Hiccup Haddock, of Berk. I'm not Cattongue anymore. I have other responsibilities and … and I will have a loved one to whom I am going to owe a large explanation."

"A … loved one?"

"My betrothed."

"Oh… I thought it was political. I hoped…"

"I'm sorry, Sleet. I've always told you my heart belonged to another; that's her. I waited for her for five years, and she waited for me."

"I … I'm sorry."

"You will owe me for this, Sleet. I'm sorry, but our relationship has to be different now, and I'm going to ask you some more questions, during the dance. And after."

"But …"

"This is not a game anymore, Sleet. I know he's manipulating you, and you don't have a choice, but this favour I make you is going to be uncomfortable for me."

"Your leg…"

"Yes. The song is ending. Let's go."

"But shouldn't you wait for … I mean…"

"If I have to look her in the eye and tell her I will dance with someone else, I don't think I will be able to do it. Now come on." He rose with a groan deep in his throat, and he actually tottered for a moment.

They left without another word, and Snotlout stayed lying there, staring up at the knots in the wood above him.

Shit was going down here. Very, very stinky shit. Hiccup was caught in the middle of it.

There was only one thing Snotlout, self-appointed wingman and protector, could do, really.

Snotlout rose - hitting his head on the bench, first, and sobering up the rest of the way before he began crawling out and standing.

He was just on time to see Astrid's face go slack as she spotted what must be Hiccup, with another woman. Snotlout shifted uncomfortably at the sheen that went over her eyes; he'd long realised that Astrid had begun to gravitate towards this arrangement as more than a political match, but to see it so plainly written on her face made him cringe. And the occasion of that revelation was not a happy one. By the custom of their tribes, when someone was married or promised, the first dance would always belong to the betrothed. Hiccup had first sent Astrid out with another man because of his leg, and now he was out there, hopping about, and that excuse was no longer valid. It looked … it looked really bad.

Astrid dashed off, and suddenly people started looking around. The Vikings who had taken up the table after Hiccup had left were shaking their head and gossiping. The ones who had bumped into Astrid on her way out were pointing at Hiccup. The people of the other tribes seemed amused, but every single Hooligan had suddenly sprouted a thundercloud on their foreheads.

Shit … Hiccup was … kinda, sorta offending the tribe, too, wasn't he? Because Astrid was offered to him by the tribe as a future wife, but he'd gone out and danced with another woman - from another tribe.

His first instinct was to turn and yell at them - Hiccup hadn't wanted to! He was just being nice, because he was Hiccup! Shut them all up, nipping the gossip at the bud.

But there was something beyond fishy about this. Beyond fishy and dangerous. The girl had almost sounded like her dad would kill her if she didn't manage to get him in the dancing line.

And weren't the UglyThugs allies? What the heck was going on.

It was why Snotlout decided to approach the Meathhead heir with it. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but Hiccup called him his battle brother, so there must have been some trust there.

After sending the man after his wife, Snotlout walked to the dancing line, standing by and waiting impatiently for the song to end. As soon as it did. He bodily yanked Hiccup away from the girl, and away from, he realised, two approaching men who were from the UglyThug tribe. He snarled at them overtly.

"Aha, my poor cousin. You've had too much ale," he said pointedly, glaring daggers at them. "Come, I'll take you home! Never could take your kegs!"

A few people stopped glaring at him as Hiccup stumbled - his leg, probably and nothing to do with the ale - and some began laughing, saying he probably thought it had been Astrid anyway. Snotlout perpetuated the theory with laughter and almost lifted his cousin's slighter weight bodily, getting him out of the Hall doors as fast as their fumbling pace could take them.

As soon as they were outside, Hiccup pushed him off, leaning against one of the statues and almost toppling down the stairs as a cry of agony tore itself from his mouth. Snotlout ignored his cousin's protests and threw one arm over his shoulders, lifting him off the ground slightly. Hiccup's colour kept turning from red to white, cheeks mottled with pain and effort, and it was all Snotlout could do not to curse.

They were half way down when a roar reached their ears, and suddenly a form blacker than the rest of the night landed in front of them.

"Toothless," Hiccup said with some relief. The dragon warbled in obvious worry and agitation, and then turned a hairy-eyeball on Snotlout. "No, bud, he's helping me out. This is just … the leg." Another warbled, and Hiccup began hopping towards the dragon, taking Snotlout with him as he carefully stepped down step-by-step. "This is not your fault, ok? You were angry with me for not flying with you; you had every right. This didn't happen because you weren't there, ok? It was just … bad luck. And dancing." The night fury looked unimpressed. "That's right bud, it's all my fault for being a lady-killer; now, do you think you could…"

Snotlout helped him onto the dragon, but Hiccup tugged his hand when he made to move away.

"Do you think we could … use the tub at your hall? Please, Snotlout."

"But …" Snotlout felt uncomfortable. "You should go find Astrid. Explain; you're good with words, I know you can explain."

"I don't want her to see me like this!" he hissed. "I can't even walk, I can barely stand! Please, Snotlout. I … I don't think she'll want to see me tonight, either."

Snotlout nodded, and it was an uncomfortable few minutes where he ended up flying on the night fury's backseat, and an awkward few more until the tub was dragged out and filled, and then Hiccup's clothes were shed.

Snotlout wasn't a girl, so he didn't scream when he saw the stump. Instead he swore colourfully.

"Keep it between us," Hiccup said. "It's going to be fine now anyway."

"That doesn't look fine to me!" Snotlout hissed. The sore was red, bleeding and large as a yak's eye. The shorter viking helped his cousin into the tub, and Hiccup swallowed hard as the water, warmed by dragon, hit it. Still turning colours, he looked Snotlout squarely in the eyes.

"Get me a piece of wood."

"What?"

"Wood, for my teeth."

Snotlout started in alarm. "Hiccup, what…"

"Please just do it, Snotlout."

There was no arguing with him when he looked at you with those blazing eyes, Snotlout had come to discover in the last few months. It was like looking at Stoick. With a swallow, he went to look for a hunk of kindling of the appropriate size that wouldn't also leave splinters along his lips, and tried to ignore the conversation going on behind him, where the dragon warbled angrily, worriedly, and mutinously, and Hiccup spoke in both cajoling and pleading tones. The dragon apparently knew what was coming, and didn't like it at all.

"Here," Snotlout finally said, handing him the requested wood. Hiccup nodded and swallowed, inserting it between his teeth and looking at the dragon beseechingly. The black head rested on the tub, looking almost mournful, and after another few seconds he seemed to give up, opening his mouth and letting his tongue hang out.

A drop of dribble descended and fell on his knee. Hiccup jerkily moved his leg so that the next drop of liquid could fall onto the wound.

When it did, Snotlout threw himself forward as Hiccup screamed, his entire body going red and his muscles becoming chorded as he grabbed the sides of the tub, knuckles white and body twitching in obvious paroxysms of pain. Snotlout held him by the shoulders as he shook, feeling his stomach threaten to rise to his throat. The wound started foaming, white and frothing, and Toothless crooned and cood in obvious distress.

Hiccup's ragged breathing followed, and then, he told the dragon to do it again, and again.

By the time an hour had elapsed, the water was cold, and both men and dragon were exhausted. Hiccup's teeth had left an indentation in the wood, and when Snotlout slipped it out of his mouth, his head almost flopped against his shoulder.

"It was infected, then" Hiccup said, his voice reedy and unsubstantial.

"You have to stay off that," Snotlout said. "You have to stay in your hall tomorrow, and make sure to heal properly, because…"

"Can't do that," Hiccup replied, patting his dragon's nose with a weak, trembling hand. "That's what Madfoot wants, I think. I can't leave dad on his own. They're planning something."

"Yeah, I know." He got a surprisingly sharp look. "I was, sort of … under your table. I ended up there after the fight with Tuff. Heard it all. Thug knows too, ok?"

"Good," Hiccup said and it looked like the effort of dressing himself was putting him almost into unconsciousness. "I need you to be my eyes and ears. They know you now after you pulled me away, but maybe the people in the village will hear something, and you can bring it to me or dad. Get Tuff to follow Madfoot around. Please, Snotlout …"

"No need to beg, I was made for spying missions," he mock bragged, giving up the effort of standing by and helping his cousin into his pants. "Stay the night, ok?"

"No, it'll look bad. I …"

"I'll be witness, and you can fly Toothless tomorrow to the hall so no one will see you limp."

Hiccup looked too tired to talk. "I can't, I … Astrid…"

But he was asleep halfway through the sentence.

Snotlout put him on his own bed, sitting guard with the dragon at its foot and scowling at the opposite wall. Something was going on here, and he did not like it. And when Snotlout Jorgensen did not like something, he did something about it.

=0=

1 The title means something on the lines of 'cheers!'

2 These are some of the cultural issues that I was speaking about. Hiccup, as son of the chief, has a number of privileges that he has not really been disillusioned about; even when he was Cattongue, he liked to keep mostly to himself, and therefore was not often in the company of anyone but people of his same actual status. The possession of privacy was a luxury, and one of the hints of the Haddock's social status in the film, apart from their new, vibrantly coloured clothing with embroidery on it, is the large, large hall and the privacy of your own bedroom. There is little background for the rest of the teens in Hiccup's age group, so I am going with real Viking culture; people had communal baths. Body-shame was not very often practiced, especially when only the members of the family were around, and especially during pre-Christian times. Chastity was obviously very valued, but the idea of 'privacy' hardly existed. Sharing a bed with siblings and cousins was all but inevitable when you had three or four or more nuclear families living under the same roof, and everyone helped out with bathing and washing duties. Thus, the laundry brigades.

3 If you are curious to know how far Hiccup has travelled, or at least how far he has found knowledge about, try to look up the origins of pinky-swearing.

=0=

Because I'm a total and utter evil-overlord. Of course things go South. I can't have them being happy now, can I?