Ten.

Gobber was astonished when Snotlout dropped a message in the next day that Hiccup had quit. Astonished and annoyed-and very puzzled. The previous day, the boy had been enthusiastic, trying a new technique and shrugging off the wounds from his beating. His craftsmanship had just been making itself known and the boy had been chattering excitedly about how he was planning to improve his axe-making techniques. He had left smiling, laughing and had waved happily at his boss before he had walked up the hill to his lodging. And now…he quit? When the forge was the only thing that gave his life meaning and joy?

Snotlout had been smirking as he delivered the message. Gobber gave a shudder: he didn't trust Snotlout with Hiccup's safety-especially after what Hiccup had told him. The Heir was a nasty piece of work-that was for sure-and the tale of his malice and cowardice had scared the blacksmith. Something felt very wrong. So he pulled down the shutters, scanned the village and went on search of the Chief.

It took him two hours to locate Stoick, who had been out on a remote farm, marrying a young couple. The Chief was a man who took his duties seriously, always performed weddings himself and that tended to take him out of town and all over the island of Berk. Fortunately, he had headed straight back after the simple ceremony and had been met by his friend with a concerned look on his face. Gobber was determined and cornered the Chief the moment he set foot back in town. The blacksmith was straight to the point.

"Yer saw Hiccup yesterday, didn't you?" he said. Stock nodded. He looked uncomfortable.

"I knew I should have gone sooner but I got busy. I know, Gobber," he replied wearily. "But the lad seemed pleased to see me."

"Did he talk about quitting?" Gobber asked directly.

"The forge? No,, he looked genuinely happy to work there," Stoick said. "He was smiling-that little happy smile he had when you made him his apprentice. He thanked me." Then he paused. "But he wasn't so happy when I arrived. He looked beaten down." Gobber frowned.

"Yeah-he hasn't had it easy with the Jorgensons." Stoick scowled. "Yeah-I know they're kin, Stoick-but he ain't their kin and he's slaving and suffering there. I worry for the lad."

"Gobber, I know that you never agreed with housing the boy there but…"

"Stoick-Snotlout said he quit!" Gobber argued. "Hiccup was so keen to work with me. He was really talented and loved learning to work metal. And he was happy."

"I can't understand the mind of a boy…though Alva Jorgensen said he was lazy and defiant," Stoick admitted. Gobber scowled.

"Does that sound like the boy we both know?" he asked.

"She sees him every day in their home…" Stoick suggested. Gobber snorted.

"I see him every day in the forge and I can tell yer he ain't lazy and he ain't defiant!" he shot back. "The lad works really hard, never shirking and always completing tasks. He ain't afraid of hard work-you remember him on the ship?" Stoick nodded. "And defiant? That doesn't sound like the beaten down, trembling boy you first showed me! He may make the odd smart comment but he'll bow his head and avoid conflict because he's scared of being hurt!" Stoick nodded.

"I know," he muttered. Gobber sighed.

"And he was such a decent boy, so grateful for his opportunity in the forge that if he really had to quit for some reason, he would come himself to explain and apologise. If he quit. But I doubt he did." Stoick stared down the hill and took off. Gobber stared after him.

"Okay…I'll follow at me own pace, shall I?" he said to the man's rapidly retreating back.

Stoick reached the Jorgensen house and hammered on the door. After a few moments, Alva opened the door and found the Chief pushing past her.

"Where is he?" he demanded. She blinked.

"They're both out," she replied smoothly. "My husband at the docks and Snotlout is training. He takes his upcoming responsibilities very seriously…"

"Hiccup!" Stoick insisted. She gave a short laugh.

"That little slave!" she sneered. "He's a lazy, ungrateful bastard! He shirks his duties, attacks my son and dishonours our house! I have no idea where that brat is! He ran out this morning and he won't be back until tonight. He stole food and…" Stoick walked past her.

"Shut up!" he snarled.

"Stoick, I speak as I find!" she snapped. "I'm sorry, Chief, but that little bastard has fooled you all. He's a defiant and sarcastic boy who takes and doesn't give anything in return…"

"HICCUP!" he bellowed. HICCUP!"

"He's not here!" she insisted.

"Hiccup!" He peered around the hut and strode to the basement. He shot down the ladder and inspected the room, his quick eyes seeing the warm and comfy bed assigned to the son and Heir-and the pathetic blanket in the furthest corner that marked the sleeping place of the guest. He clambered back up to the main floor and looked around. There was nothing obvious but he knew the boy was here. He walked towards the back of the house.

"Hiccup?" he called softly.

"I tell you he's not…"

He shushed her as she made to speak and heard it: a faint thump and a moan. He swung his head and shushed her again then walked towards the sound. Behind the dresser and wedged behind the log pile, the Chief found Hiccup, his hands roped painfully above his head and tied to a shelf at floor level, forcing the boy to lie down, a gag across his mouth and blood from welts smeared over his back. Stoick turned to the woman.

"Get his vest," he commanded. "The vest I gave him. NOW!" As she left, he walked forward and stared down at the battered boy. His terrified green eyes were wide as the Chief leaned forward and pulled the gag from his mouth. He gave a gasp and Stoick's face dropped as he registered the split lip, the heavy bruising from slaps and punches. The boy's legs flailed and then he tucked them under his body as he tried to curl away. A small kick had been what he heard. Then he cut the rope.

"Th-thanks," Hiccup gasped. clutching his numb arms to his middle, his back burning with the beating. "I-I think…" Stoick hunkered down.

"I-I had no idea, son," he said gruffly. Hiccup closed his eyes.

"No," he murmured. "They were very good at making it look like my fault…" He hunched up tighter. Stoick stared at him.

"What happened?" he asked gently. Hiccup swallowed.

"I-I spoke to you and didn't say what they wanted," he said quietly. "I tried to tell you the truth." He flinched. "I may have made a comment about meeting Snotlout's friends." Stoick frowned. "I kinda…got into a fight…" he admitted ashamedly. The Chief's brow furrowed further. "He didn't introduce me to anyone. All he did was tell them what I was in the port and then make a horrible comment…about you." He stared at the floor. "So I might have jumped him and hit him in the face…" Stoick's mouth fell open.

"You did what?" Hiccup cringed away at the tone.

"Don't worry," he said with a twisted smile, "I got what I deserved. Snotlout's friends pulled me off and held me helpless and he beat the Hel out of me. And then he ran home to his Mommy and Daddy and they belted me to make sure I knew not to hurt their precious Snottykins!" His tone was dripping sarcasm but the look in his eyes was desolate. He guessed that he had alienated the Chief and that was the worst thing he could do. He turned his head away.

And froze as a hand gently rested on his shoulder, then lifted his chin and forced the boy to look at him.

"They did what?"

"After the fight was over-I lost impressively, by the way-he went to his parents and they beat me with a belt because I had fought with their son," he repeated quietly. Stoick stared into the miserable green eyes.

"And what did he say?" The Chief's voice was low. Hiccup swallowed-his throat was dry because they hadn't given him any food or water since he was tied up the previous night-and flushed bright red.

"He said…he said that you had only bought me from the port so you could have sex with me," he revealed ashamedly. "And I-I knew I was staying with them because you didn't want it to look like that. So I was putting up with them and he was still maligning you and you weren't there to counter it so I did." He sighed. "I'm sorry," he added. Stoick's eyes hardened and the boy stared at the ground. The Chief forced his face round to look at him again.

"I'm not," he said reassuringly. He rose and offered his hand but Hiccup painfully slid his legs under his body and with a grimace of pain, he hauled his beaten shape to his feet. He swayed but lifted his chin and walked haltingly out of the little space and into the main part of the house.

Alva was there and he instantly cringed, his body tensing and eyes widening. Stoick immediately laid a hand on his shoulder and steered him past the vicious woman, taking the fur vest from her hands. "I would thank you for your consideration or ask if he has any other things to collect, but I think we both know the answer. He hasn't been washed, he hasn't been given any clothes and he hasn't even got a bed. So please convey my disappointment to Spitelout that he was unable to extend the hospitality he promised to this young man who is in my protection!" The Chief's words were stinging as he steered the boy out of the house and marched Hiccup up the hill. The boy's eyes widened as they headed up the stairs towards the Chief's House. His legs ground to a halt and the Chief paused and turned to look at the boy.

"Um…are we going there?" he asked worriedly. Stoick nodded gravely, reading uncertainty and fear in the boy's face.

"It is my home," he explained.

"And I was placed with…them…because you couldn't take me there," Hiccup pointed out slowly.

"Well…"

"They said…I would shame you. Cause you harm by just being there." The boy's voice was toneless but the anxiety was bubbling in his stomach.

"About that…" Hiccup stared up at the man's face and felt worry jolt through him. The man was looking embarrassed. "I think it was the wrong decision."

Hiccup froze and wrapped his arms around his body. A mistake. He had endured all those horrible days there…the cold, the hunger, the cruel words, the beatings…as a mistake.

He couldn't talk. Scratch that-he shouldn't say anything because he might just possibly say something so stupid and reckless that he would anger the Chief and then gods only know where he would be. But his face betrayed him and said everything for him. Stoick's brows dipped and Hiccup bowed his head, his stomach lurching in dismay and fear. He hunched his shoulders, expecting a blow or the tsunami of rage. Here it comes…

A gentle hand landing on his shoulder had the boy opening his eyes and peeking from under his hair at the big face inches from his. "I'm sorry, son," Stoick said. "You shouldn't have had to endure what they put you through. They promised to treat you like a member of the family."

"Yeah-the member everyone wishes hadn't been born," Hiccup muttered before he could stop himself. He winced. Stoick's scowl deepened.

"A Viking's life isn't easy," he reminded the lad. He winced.

"No, sir," he said defeatedly.

"And hardship is something we all have to face," Stoick continued. Hiccup stared at the floor, convinced he had shamed the Chief. That he was being cast off.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Laddie!" His head snapped up and he stared as Gobber panted up. "Finally! Stoick-yer could have waited for me!" The boy swallowed as the blacksmith frowned and inspected him. "I was worried about yer, boy. When yer quit as my apprentice…" Hiccup stared and his face jerked into a desperate expression.

"Quit? No, no, no, no!" he gabbled urgently. "No, Gobber-please, PLEASE believe me! I didn't quit. I don't want to stop being your apprentice. It's the only time I'm ever happy here! Please-I'll work longer, I'll stop having lunch breaks. Give me whatever hard jobs you want-just don't give my post away. PLEASE!" The pleading tone would have melted the hardest heart as the battered boy jerked forward and grabbed the big blacksmith's hand. "Please." Gobber smiled, staring into the wide, pleading green eyes.

"Don't get yer skivvies in a twist, boy-I didn't believe it," he reassured Hiccup. "That's why I found Stoick here!" Hiccup stared up at the big man-then across to the Chief. He was still breathing hard, his panicked response very unVikinglike and the boy feared he had shamed himself in front of the Chief.

"And that's why the boy needs to stay with me," Stoick said quietly. "It's clear the boy has been the victim of some cruel treatment and nasty tricks. For the Jorgensons to say that he was quitting the only part of his life he enjoyed is a cruel and vicious act. It's plain-even without Hiccup's comment which I did hear, by the way- that Snotlout has made no effort to help him meet the others his own age. And, I suspect, he has done everything to make life harder for the boy. And I am concerned because they have a number of friends and allies and seem to have done a good job poisoning some of the other elders against Hiccup. I am really not sure anyone else would treat him better." Gobber cleared his throat. "Except you."

"Thanks," the blacksmith said dryly.

"Hiccup, I truly want you to make your home with me," the Chief said. "I never felt sending you to my brother's family was the best option but I was persuaded it was for the best. And it clearly wasn't. I am so sorry, son. Please, trust me." He dropped to a knee and the boy stared into the big face. Then he flung himself against the big man's chest and buried his face, his arms tightening around Stoick's neck. The Chief could feel him sobbing as he closed his arms around the boy and hugged him gently, gently stroking his back. "Hardship is something all Vikings have to face but you have already faced far more than you should. I never wanted to add to it."

Hiccup looked up, sniffing and wiping at his face with his filthy sleeve.

"I know," he admitted softly. Stoick rose, his arm around the boy as he guided Hiccup up to the fine house, then in through the door. The boy stared at the large space in the house, the wide firepit, the table and chairs, the huge Chief's chair that was draped with fine furs, the storage and kitchen area at the back, the partition to the area where the Chief slept, the stairs running up the side of the house to the platform that formed the small loft space.

"Welcome home," Stoick said. Hiccup swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Home. Nowhere had been home since his aunt and uncle died, since before he was made a slave. He blinked hard against the burning in his eyes and then became aware that the Chief was expecting him to say something.

"Um…thanks?" he said, his voice showing he was feeling overwhelmed. Stoick led him up the stairs and the boy wondered what was going on. And then he froze.

The loft was a small bedroom, a small bed against one wall with pillows, sheets and a large warm pile of blankets and furs. A small table carried a pewter jug and a wooden mug. A candle was stuck in a holder. Against the other wall was a table, a shelf and a stool. Stoick looked self-conscious.

"It's-it's not much but it should be warm and comfortable," he mumbled. Hiccup gaped and then turned to the Chief.

"Th-thank you," he choked. "It's perfect…" And then he flung himself against Stoick and hugged him again. The Chief patted him helplessly: he wasn't sure what to say as the boy breathed raggedly. Finally Hiccup raised his battered face and swiped the tears away. "Sorry," he said roughly. "I-I didn't mean to embarrass you, sir, but this is the first place I could call home, the first space that could be mine since I lost my family." His voice was very small and the Chief felt ashamed at his irritation: it was easy to forget, here on Berk, how poorly the boy had been faring in the port.

"It's okay, son," he murmured. "Now, by my reckoning, you need a meal, a bath and some new clothes." Shyly, the boy followed him down and the Chief led him out. For a moment, he looked confused and then realised they were heading for the Great Hall: he stiffened. But Stoick was expecting him to come along and Gobber was waiting for them. The Chief and his 'Right Hook Man' stood each side of the scrawny outsider, chatting animatedly and heaping his bowl with stew. A large hunk of bread was also pressed into his hand as they steered him to a table by the fire and ate with the boy. Hiccup was astonished that they deliberately asked him about his home, his family and his life before he had been enslaved.

Stoick noted how the boy's face grew animated as he talked about his home and those he had loved; how his forest green eyes sparkled with life and his often timid and respectful voice warmed with affection as he described his former life. Flashes of his dry and often sarcastic humour just popped up, now and again and the Chief found himself smiling at the dry and witty observations the boy made. And his heart was saddened that such a lively and bright young man had been tormented and abused and beaten down by his cruel treatment.

Gobber watched the boy eat: quickly, hunched up to protect his food from theft, scarcely chewing in his urgency to get the food in his stomach before it could be stolen from his grasp. His head ducked when others walked close and his shoulders hunched in fear and the blacksmith felt ashamed that the village hadn't made the boy welcome at all. Hiccup chewed rapidly through his bread and then looked up, his expression still wary as the Chief downed his mug of ale. "Time to get back," he said and the boy groaned inwardly. He could hear whispers rustling round the hall like a breeze: they were making assumptions and he had to force himself to swallow the last mouthful. Stoick winked. "I can hear them too, lad, but you need that bath!"

In the house, the lad helped warm the water and he stared in apprehension at the tub. It looked so tempting and he was aching to feel the warmth seep into his aching bones and be clean: really clean. But he was ashamed of what Stoick would think of his battered shape. The Chief stared at him and gestured to the soap and the folded towel. "I'll leave you to it, then," he offered and headed out the door and Hiccup breathed a deep sigh of relief. In that one act, the Chief had granted him privacy and defused any rumours and he allowed the constant tension to ooze from his battered shape. With no hesitation, he stripped the stained and filthy clothes from his body and swiftly eased himself into the water.

His back was raw and stung furiously as he ducked under the water but despite his bruises and welts and aches, he was determined this time to be absolutely clean and scrubbed furiously at his skinny shape. He washed his hair and face thoroughly and when he was exhausted and the water was so grimy he couldn't see through it, he reluctantly clambered out. He felt warm and his hands and feet were wrinkled by the water. Tiredly, he dried himself on the towel and wrapped it around his battered shape. And then he stared down.

His brand was ugly against his smooth chest, his skin pale with occasional freckles. His auburn hair was dark and needed a good brush but he finger combed it out and then glanced back-to see some cloth under the towel. He wondered if Stoick had just left him more drying cloths but then he lifted the greenish one and realised it was a fresh tunic, brand new and smelling of the cloth dye. Beneath were greeny-brown leggings and underwear. His cheeks flashed with embarrassment and he fingered the new clothes in his water-shrunken hands. Then a smile crossed his bruised face. New clothes were an undreamed-of luxury.

Eagerly, he dragged the underthings on then slid the tunic over his head: it was a bit too large, the arms long but it was whole and he could grow into it. The leggings were also a bit loose but he adjusted the garments, slipped his boots on and pulled the fur vest on. Then he gave a grin: he finally looked like a normal person, not a slave. Then he turned back, lifted his old clothes and methodically scrubbed them in the water before rinsing them in cold water. He had so few possessions that he couldn't discard even these wretched rags. He sighed then hung them by the fire. And then he sat by the fire and stared into the flames.

It had been an exhausting day and even though he was brave and determined, the emotional rollercoaster had pretty much drained him dry. This morning, he had woken, bound and gagged and savagely beaten by his supposed guardians, taunted by Alva that they had stopped him working at the forge and denied any food or water. Then he had been suddenly and miraculously rescued by Stoick and given food, reassurance and a home. Now he was full, warm and clean: three things he couldn't recall all coming together for the longest time. He stared back at the warm fire and shyly fed a couple more logs, then curled up by the fire and fell asleep.

He woke as he was being shaken and his eyes snapped open, his whole body tensing and curling up in fear of a blow.

"Easy, Hiccup," Stoick said gently, leaning over him. "You looked peaceful but that looks hard. Would you prefer the bed?" He glanced up and remembrance flooded back. He frowned, worry flooding his sleepy face.

"What-what about Gobber?" he asked muzzily. "He'll be mad if I miss work…" Stoick chuckled at his anxiety.

"Gobber is fine and just relieved that he still has his apprentice," he said cheerfully. Then he scooped the boy up in his arms and Hiccup stiffened. But the Chief had already turned to the stairs and was calmly carrying the boy up towards the bed. Hiccup felt his body clench in terror, the memories and implications of the Chief carrying up to the bed blanking his mind. But Stoick stared at him with sad eyes and carried him gently to the bed, resting the boy on the bed, then flipping the furs and blankets back. Calmly, he pulled the boy's boots off and then slid him into the bed, tenderly pulling the blankets up and tucking Hiccup in. The boy's cheeks were scorching with shame at his suspicions but the man smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Hiccup," the Chief told him. "I only see woman in that way." Hiccup blushed even redder at the words. "I know you have endured some terrible abuses and that means you will suspect my motives but believe me, on my honour, I will never lay a hand on you like that. You may resemble my dead wife, but you are not my type!" Hiccup stared up and his eyes shone.

"I-I-I'm sorry, sir," he whispered sorrowfully. He thought his cheeks would literally catch fire with the embarrassment at thinking so ill of the Chief. Stoick sighed.

"I rescued you because you needed rescuing and because you asked for my help," he reminded the boy. "I want you here as my friend…my ward. I have no son, no family. I am willing to offer that empty space in my life to someone who needs and deserves it."

Hiccup blinked hard. The Chief's words were true: he did need help, he did need rescuing. He desperately needed a home and a protector. And the shame of knowing that made him curl in misery. But the offer seemed honest, genuine. The Chief was offering him a home, a sort of family to replace the one he had taken from him. He stared up for a long moment and finally gave a slight smile.

"I-I would be honoured, sir," he admitted. "It-it would be nice to have a home and someone to care for me." Stoick's big face cracked a grin. He nodded and tucked the blankets in again in a self-conscious paternal gesture.

"Good, good," he said awkwardly. "Er-do need need some supper?" Hiccup gave a sleepy smile.

"Actually, I'm good, sir," he admitted. "I would just really like a longer sleep. It's not been easy with them and before…" Stoick leaned over and gently ruffled the clean and soft auburn hair.

"Sleep well, son," he murmured gently as he turned down the stairs. Hiccup was asleep before he even reached the bottom and he stared up at the gentle breathing coming from upstairs. His head was telling him that he just had a newly purchased slave in his house but his heart had already adopted the boy as his son. He sighed. No matter his wishes, he knew his fellow villagers: this wasn't going to be easy.