Summer, 1041

Chapter 11: Norse By Norse-West

…due to the actions of merchants, couriers, and word of mouth, it is generally assumed that knowledge of Hiccup Haddock's victory over the Green Death, and the associated domestication of the Nest's dragons, had reached all of the major and minor capitals of Europe, North Africa, and Asia Minor within a year of the event, eighteen months at most.

Most of these feudal sovereigns and lesser lords reacted dismissively, especially at first, when evidence was minimal, while others, especially those who had seen evidence at first- or second-hand, reacted to the emerging power as a threat to appease or suppress. And a rare few acted otherwise…

—Origins Of The Grand Thing, Edinburgh Press, 1631

"I… got it!" Hiccup grabbed the compass from its spot on the shelf with a grunt of effort. Putting the drawing tool down on the desk, he then looked at his sleeves, now barely past the elbows, and sighed. Another shirt outgrown for sure. And this one had been his roomiest. And, as a result, his last. The straightedge continued to sit on the shelf, mocking him, now out of reach thanks to his too-small, heavily-patched and well-worn work shirt holding him back—literally, as it was too tight around the shoulders, neck, and his entire torso.

The village tailors had just laughed at him and said that it was normal, and that they'd have some new clothes for him soon.

He hoped so. Putting on his pants in the morning was starting to become an exercise in pain, and he had already made himself a new leather belt. On the plus side, if there was a flood, his pants would be perfect. But the absolutely worst part right now was trying to walk.

Sighing, he stood up to grab the straightedge, and immediately staggered, as his left foot felt like it didn't meet the floor properly. Catching himself against his desk, he sighed again.

Astrid just chortled from her seat nearby, looking over a sheet of figures. "Did you grow another inch since you sat down?" she asked, laughter hiding in her tone. She found his growth spurt to be utterly hilarious, especially since she'd endured her own over a year previously. But Hiccup's sixteenth natal day had come a week before the Summer Solstice, and it had been like the starting flag for a race, as suddenly none of his clothing would fit.

Hiccup rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Probably. Clearly my body decided to put all of its effort towards growing out the one leg instead of both," he said, waving his arms around to indicate his lower half. That didn't work so well, as the sleeves that had once been roomy were now rather binding.

A soft tearing noise issued from around his shoulders as the worn seams around the patches popped, and Astrid just laughed harder. Hiccup paused and sighed, trying to look over his own shoulders to inspect the damage.

Unfortunately, between his leg, his peg, his ill-fitting clothes, and not being used to being taller, he overbalanced a bit.

With a clatter, he fell solidly on his rear. As he gave a gasp from the impact, whacking his head against the side of the desk, he heard more ripping noises.

Then the first stick of writing charcoal rolled down the length of the desk and whacked him on the head. It was followed by the pointy end of the compass, and then one of the stone washers that he was using as a parchment weight.

"Ow!"

Astrid, in tears from laughing so hard, hopped to her feet and rescued him from being walloped by the rest of his drafting tools.

Placing the stone washers and other bits off to the side, where they weren't in danger of hitting her boyfriend on his brain, she then looked down at him, and burst out laughing again.

He looked up at her. "What now?"

"Your shirt…" she said, pointing, laughing so hard that she was starting to turn red from lack of breath.

He tried to contort himself in order to look, which had two results. First, it did not work, and second, there was another tearing noise, which made Astrid's laughter reach new heights. She leaned against the desk as she struggled to breathe.

Trying to haul himself to his feet, he found that he lacked leverage. He was stuck, quite nicely, between the furniture in the small room. Astrid was just turning bright red, verging on purple, her fist pounding on his desk, gasping for air.

"A little help here?" he said, looking up at her. He tried to roll a touch to the side in order to start to get to his feet. But his shirt was apparently caught on something, like a nail or splinter in the wall… and he felt and heard his shirt tear further. And that was apparently enough abuse, as stitches that were already under tension from his growing shoulders started popping in sequence. Suddenly, his back felt very breezy and unconfined.

"Oh, perfect," he said, as Astrid thumped to the floor, face bright red, still laughing.

He got the last laugh, however, as one of his prototypes—the ballista—fell off the shelf that it was on and fired, hitting Astrid in the stomach. The blunt arrow didn't have much force, but it had enough to score a solid hit and knock a bit of the wind out of her.

She gasped and flailed for a second, sending the arrow flying into a stack of carved pieces of wood off to the side, and she started hiccuping, her breath coming in spasms. Hiccup started laughing, and, realizing what was going on, she laughed too.

It didn't last long, however. The precarious stack of carved wooden pieces hit by the arrow—oddball components left from his prototypes—teetered, tipped and then tumbled in a clatter of oak and pine. And, this being Hiccup's workroom, there were piles of little things everywhere…

One of the larger pieces—an experimental quick-release for a catapult, carved from oak—tumbled across the floor as the pair of them laughed. It hit the small table upon which there was an unevenly piled stack of books. They wobbled back and forth for a moment agonizingly… and then, reaching the point of no return, tipped over and clouted the laughing teens on the floor.

Astrid yelped and jerked in surprise as a copy of Herodotus's Histories, borrowed from the Ingerman library, whacked her on the head. Next to her, Hiccup managed to avoid getting walloped by one of his own journals. His girlfriend's jump, however, resulted in her kicking another table, which upset a stack of sealed metal jars that Hiccup had been experimenting with.

One of the jars rolled off the table and hit the ground. A spray of greenish Zippleback gas that Hiccup had laboriously compressed into the jar jetted out from a crack, and both of their eyes widened as they looked from it to the candles lighting the room.

"Uh oh."

Astrid reacted first, swinging her leg and kicking the jar away…

Only for the jar to hit the wall of the room and crack open entirely. The rest of the gas inside the canister spread out across the floor in an instant, with more tendrils of gas expanding upwards.

The two of them had just enough time to look at each other with a mutual expression of impending doom before the gas reached the candles.

Without even thinking, Astrid jumped onto Hiccup to shield him.

###

Out in the main smithy, Gobber was merrily working on parts for Hiccup's big project, while also wondering what was so funny. It didn't sound like they were up to anything naughty… but he resolved to actually fulfill his chaperon duties and check in on them as soon as he was done with his current spar. If nothing else, he'd like to hear the joke.

Then there was the sound of many things falling over, followed quickly by a flash and boom.

As the sound of their coughing came through the door, he shrugged and kept hammering. This wasn't the first time such noises had issued from Hiccup's workroom. It wasn't even the first time this week.

"Either of yeh dead?" he asked diffidently.

"No," came the answer a few moments later.

Off to the side, Toothless and Stormfly stuck their noses into the building, clearly checking in on their riders with concern.

"Building on fire again?"

There was a longer pause, as Toothless walked in.

"No…?" There was some shuffling inside.

Gobber kept shaping the spar at the anvil nonchalantly. Whatever the lad and lass were up to, he wasn't going to intrude now. He wondered idly if they'd figured out yet that, as far as he was concerned, they could be all over each other in there, and he'd swear up and down that they'd been perfectly chaste if asked.

Probably not. That would require them having actually done something for him to perjure himself. And, as far as he'd been able to tell, they were being disgustingly honorable about it—at least around him.

Pity that. It figured that the boy had to always be the exception.

As he mused, he watched Toothless walk up to the door to Hiccup's space and pushed it open with his nose.

That gave Gobber a perfect view of Hiccup, the lad's hair smoking slightly, his shirt torn halfway open and smoldering, lying flat on his back, and Astrid, her shirt and pteruges also smoking slightly, crouched over him, her hair askew. She was breathing heavily, which was interrupted by a spasming hiccup.

Gobber took one look and felt a grin sprout. "Aye there lad, that's more like it!" he teased.

The two of them looked at each other and a moment of comprehension crossed their faces. Astrid leapt off of him like he was on fire, and they both started babbling.

"It's not what it looks like!"

"One of the Zippleback canisters cracked open!"

"We weren't doing anything!"

Gobber laughed and gave them a knowing smirk, even as he looked them over, and eyed the cracked cannister lying by the wall.

"All right, all right, I believe yeh." He smiled and quirked an eyebrow. "But, lad, lass… oi. What an image." He started to chortle.

Hiccup got a desperate look in his eye. "Please don't tell anyone?"

"Tell them what? That I found the two of yeh looking like yeh had just given bed-breaking devotion to Freyja?"

Hiccup blushed magnificently, and Gobber chortled.

Astrid just hiccuped, and folded her arms crossly. "Gobber! Stop teasing him!"

"But why?" Gobber said innocently, dunking the spar into the quenching bucket.

She glared at him—although its efficacy was undermined by her giving another hiccup.

With a shrug, he placed the spar off to the side and nodded. "All right, lass. I'll leave the poor boy alone. I noticed that yeh jumped to protect him from the fire, so I guess that this is more of the same."

"Too right," she said crisply.

With a shrug of acknowledgment, Gobber just reached over and plucked at the pathetic remains of Hiccup's shirt. "That's going to be fun to explain, though. Lad, just take that off and put it in the rag pile."

With a sigh, Hiccup did as he was told.

Gobber tried to keep the chortle from escaping as Astrid looked at the lad's bare back and bit her lip, blushing slightly.

Inside, though, he did crow in support. While he only had an aesthetic appreciation for Astrid's looks, oh, the two of them…

Well, he was happy, and proud.

As Hiccup turned around, Gobber said mildly, "Now, Hiccup, could I ask yeh to please just put those Zippleback jars someplace safe? Again?"

Hiccup nodded, and went to gather them up. A moment later, he stuck his head outside of the workroom. "Uh… Gobber? Do you have a spare tunic I could borrow?"

"Nah, I don't," he said back.

"What should I do then?"

Gobber shrugged and gave a wicked chortle. "Well, the lass here ain't complaining. I guess you'll have to go without."

"Gobber!"

He kept chortling and smirking, as Astrid seemed like she couldn't decide between hitting him and agreeing with him.

###

As the wind blew through the smith's courtyard a short while later, Hiccup shivered, even though it was a beautiful summer day, with children and dragons playing nearby (supervised by Astrid's aunt Cecelia). Even the summer breeze was cool enough to raise goosebumps, and he gave some serious consideration to running up to his house and stealing one of his dad's shirts. His old shirt would only be useful as either cleaning rags or patch donations. Behind him, Astrid and Gobber were fitting the leather satchel over the iron spars that would give it structure; he'd been shooed off by his girlfriend on the grounds that she needed to know how it would go together without him.

Running his hands through his hair and ignoring Gobber's soft chortling behind him, he looked over the model dummies that he'd put together over the winter as something thudded to the ground near his feet. Glancing, he saw a shuttlecock lying in the dirt, and a bunch of the kids—some of his cousins, including Snotlout's younger sister Snitwit, plus a few of Astrid's cousins—standing near the fence, looking sheepish. With a smile, he bent and tossed it back to them.

They called out a thanks, and as they returned to their game of battledore, he returned to his contemplation of the model dummies, considering possible improvements. He'd built only three so far—one Nightmare, one Nadder, and one Gronckle—after having had the idea that day when he'd made Astrid's ax holster. He'd realized that he could make the job of testing the saddles much easier and safer if he had something better than a basic sawhorse to put the saddle on. A few months of work had resulted in the dragon-leather dummies, which could be adjusted to an individual dragon's measurements. Little notched bars of metal on the inside of the dummies could be moved along holding pegs to make the adjustments, making it much more comfortable for the dragons when making saddles for them.

Gobber, having seen the idea, and having a good idea of dragon anatomy, was working on making more of the dummies for each of the types. But that wasn't what they were doing now.

As he walked up to the Nadder dummy with one of Stormfly's old saddles strapped to it, his hands absently massaging his sore lower back, Ruffnut ambled past, talking to Hazelnut and Aodh. She was holding one of her saddles for Barf, with a tear visibly opening in the strap, and put it on the repair stack as they chatted.

Ruffnut paused her talk with her cousin and in-law as she walked up to the smithy, and looked Hiccup up and down, her thumb under her chin and her other fingers curled under her lip. Then she turned to Astrid and gave her a sardonic smile and a thumbs-up.

Hiccup blushed and considered grabbing one of the saddle blankets, just for the coverage… but that would make it worse.

Astrid just smirked in response, before leaning over and putting her arm around Hiccup's shoulders. Quirking an eyebrow, she gave Ruffnut a possessive smile.

Hiccup groaned a little bit as Cecelia Hofferson looked at the pair of them disapprovingly—especially at him. Ever since Thawfest, Astrid's aunt had been giving him a stinkeye every time she'd seen him. Annoyingly, though, she hadn't given him a lecture like she'd given Astrid… and part of him was wishing that she would, so that he could give her a piece of his mind, though the rest of him was quite happy that she hadn't.

Gobber, who still hadn't stopped chortling since Hiccup's shirt had been reduced to polishing rags, handed him the thin leather and metal satchel that they'd been working on, fully assembled.

Hiccup examined it; the leatherworking was plain, but that was all right—this one was just the latest experimental version. "That came out nicely, I think," he said, turning it over in his hands, noticing the button and loop that they had made, designed to be sealed with wax and stamped. "Let's see if it works." He slid under the dummy Nadder model to the modified harness that was wrapped around it. A quick twist and the sockets on the back of the satchel caught nicely onto the projection studs on the harness strap. Hiccup released the spring bar a moment later, and the satchel shifted tightly into place. Hiccup stepped back and motioned to Astrid.

"Astrid, could you do the honors?"

She grinned, which was interrupted by a small hiccup, before stepping forward and grabbing onto the satchel, trying to shake it loose without hitting the spring bar.

While she worked at it, hopping up and down, shaking the thing side to side, and every other motion she could think of short of grabbing on and attempting to hang from it, people stopped to watch; a couple of the kids were even calling out suggestions.

Hiccup watched and took notes, even as he really wanted to run up the hill to get a shirt. Between the breeze and the attention some people were giving them, he was getting uncomfortable.

The dragons were just watching the humans' antics, clearly mystified. Stormfly and Toothless kept exchanging looks that wordlessly said, Do you know what they're doing? Because I sure don't.

Five minutes later, Astrid pulled away from the satchel and shrugged. "I can't get it loose, and if that won't break it off, then the sorts of flying that Stormfly can pull shouldn't knock it loose either."

Hiccup and Gobber grinned. "Alright then," Gobber said. "But we still have another test to do. Hiccup?"

He shrugged, and when he heard Ruffnut whistle appreciatively and teasingly behind him, remembered that he was still shirtless, and blushed. Ignoring it as best he could, he walked forward and lifted the spring bar.

The satchel popped free without a worry.

Holding the bag in one hand, he gave a shout of victory. "It worked! Haha, it worked!" He tossed the satchel to Gobber. "We're going to need every one of those that we can make. Can you get started?"

"Aye, lad. Why don't you put on a shirt now?"

"Oh. Right."

Ruffnut's voice called teasingly, "Aww. Did Astrid play too rough?"

Hiccup turned and looked at Gobber, who had just sprouted an evil grin and opened his mouth. "Not one word." Gobber opened a bit wider. "No!"

"Aww, she did!"

Hiccup looked at Ruffnut and sighed. "I was working with Barf and Belch's gas and set my shirt on fire. Okay?"

"Then why is Astrid blushing?"

Hiccup sighed. "Because you're giving both of us a hard time." He walked away through the crowd towards his house. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

###

Toothless looked up and then lay back down on the warm stone, as did Stormfly, as Hiccup walked off. Astrid, pointedly ignoring the twin, just started popping the satchel on and off the saddle harness with the spring bar again and again.

So far, Hiccup's latest plan was looking like it would work just fine. Given all of the work that she had put into helping him refine it, she was pleased.

Now, they just had to finish it, and introduce it.

In the month or so since they'd gotten back from their tour around the Highlands, they'd been working pretty much continuously on Hiccup's creations.

Well… mostly continuously.

She smiled to herself in memory. Last week the two of them had managed to sneak off together, when Gobber, as their current chaperon, had been called off to meet with one of the freshly arrived Alban merchants. They'd taken the opportunity and vanished into the depths of the village storage tunnels for some truly heroic kissing and a bit more… exploration.

And it turned out that Hiccup's clever fingers were good for all sorts of… delicate work.

Ruffnut walked up to her, looking at the satchel, as Astrid kept popping onto and off of the harness stud. Gobber had told her to keep count to see how many times it could work before wearing out the latch.

"Doesn't look like much," she said, clearly probing for a reaction.

Astrid shrugged and smirked. Twenty-two. "Neither did he, remember?" Twenty-three.

"…Point taken." Ruffnut glanced up the hill to where Hiccup was visible walking to his house. "But he's looking much better now." She shook her head. "You got lucky there."

"Jealous, Ruff?" Twenty-four.

Ruffnut looked at her with a scowl. "Of him? No!"

Twenty-five. Astrid just gave her a wink to match the one that Ruff had given her before.

The other girl managed to maintain a straight face long enough for Astrid to pop the satchel on and off the harness eight more times before she cracked.

"Well… not of him, but of you. Both of you." Ruffnut scowled and groaned before looking around. Most of the adults who had been watching the satchel test had gone off elsewhere by now, and Ruffnut just said bluntly, "I'm jealous of how you two go together, not of… well, yeah, you two are cute, but that's the thing—it's you two. He'd bore my brains out with all of that," she waved at the satchel, currently on its thirty-eighth time on-and-off the harness, "but you find it interesting." She laughed bitterly. "Imagine me having that with Fishlegs? Or," she shuddered, "Snotlout?"

Astrid grimaced and nodded. "Yeah… I don't know, Ruff." She made herself smile to push past the grimace at the image. Forty-three. "Well… it's not like you'll be limited to just them. How many visitors have we had this past month? Maybe one of the neighboring tribes might have someone for you. Wasn't there that one guy over in Alba that you thought was cute when we visited?"

"Yeah…" Ruffnut slouched. "And Tuffnut went to talk with him."

Astrid winced. "Didn't go well?"

"Nope."

With a grimace, Astrid cast about for a happier topic. Sadly, outside of sagas and pranks, Ruffnut didn't exactly have a great many interests, and they had few interests in common. "Um… so… I had an idea the other day for something for Barf and Belch to try to do."

Ruffnut quirked an eyebrow at the transparent change in topic, and nodded. "Oh?"

"Yeah… remember how the gas can knock people out?"

Ruffnut nodded and cocked her head quizzically.

"Well… I wanted to see how fast that works, just in case we get into another situation where we have thieves holding dragons at the edge of their axes."

"Oh. Um… are you… volunteering?"

Astrid shrugged. "I might as well. Plus a few of the adults, just in case size makes a difference. But, well…" She gave a sweeping gesture of her left hand, "well, it would have made a big difference during that standoff—if we knew how fast it would work." Then, looking at her hand, she rolled her eyes as she realized she'd just copied one of her boyfriend's mannerisms that she teased him about.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Ruffnut smirked. "But then we wouldn't have gotten to see the look on that king's face when you gave him back his ship!" Her smirk widened. "That was a great prank!"

Astrid snorted. Sixty-one. "Glad that it met your approval."

"I wonder if they've gotten it out of his courtyard yet," Ruffnut mused.

Raising an eyebrow and smirking, Astrid chortled. "According to the merchants, they ended up taking down part of the fort wall and putting the ship on rollers to get it down to the river. Took them nearly two weeks."

Ruffnut cackled. "Nice!"

###

A few days later, Hiccup walked into the mead hall with Toothless at his side, and spotted his father, Gobber and Astrid already seated at the head table, with Stormfly sitting on one of the small furs next to it. Snagging a bowl of beef stew with parsnips and mushrooms for himself, and a platter of fish for Toothless, he made his way over to them, and took his seat.

His father and his teacher were polishing off a roast chicken, while Astrid was waving around a drumstick as a pointer, talking to the two.

"…So the good news is, we won't have to keep going for fresh fish next winter in order to keep the dragons fed," she said.

Hiccup hopped in. "Oh? Did the tests work out?"

She nodded, taking a bite out of her drumstick. "Yep." She chewed and said around the piece of chicken, "and you were wrong, by the way."

"Oh?" he said, putting the platter of fish aside for Toothless, who immediately tucked in with enthusiasm and a distinct lack of table manners.

"Yep. You were betting that they liked roasted or smoked meat," she said, swallowing her bite. "But it turns out that most of the dragons like their meat brined. We put some in vinegar, or pickled it, and got some fermented fish going too, just to try everything, along with the smoked and roasted, and they really really liked the ones that we had put in vinegar and pickled."

Gobber spoke up, "Although I have to question the tastes of anyone that likes the taste of rotten fish soaked in spoiled beer."

She rolled her eyes and continued, "So, as I was saying to your father," who nodded, his mouth full of roast chicken, "we won't need to depend entirely on winter fishing to keep the dragons fed, because the fish doesn't have to be fresh. Also, not all of them like fish."

Hiccup nodded. "Go on?"

"Well, the dragons are like people."

"Sharp and you like to throw them into trees?"

She snorted, while the two men exchanged mystified looks. "No, that's just the Timberjacks. They're all individuals, and they don't all like the same things. Stormfly here," and she patted her dragon's flank, "likes chicken, especially pickled chicken that's then roasted." She took another bite of her drumstick. "With rosemary."

Hiccup laughed. "You spoil her."

She gave a mock-serious scowl. "Me? Spoil my dragon? Aren't you Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, who picks all of the cod out of the basket so that Toothless can have all the salmon?"

He pointed his spoon at her. "Okay, point." He turned to Toothless. "What do you say, bud? Would you like to try Astrid's cooking?"

Toothless looked at Astrid, looked at Hiccup, looked back at Astrid, and then comically cowered.

"Okay, okay, she won't be the one cooking it." Toothless perked up and gave a nod.

"Hey!" Astrid protested. "I'm not that bad of a cook!"

Stormfly gave what could only be a sarcastic cough. Astrid turned to her dragon. "You stay out of this." The dragon chattered, cocked her head, and gave a bird-like chortle, then stood up and walked off to sit next to Astrid's mother a few tables over, who smiled and gave the dragon a bite off her plate.

Gobber hastily took a swig of his ale to cover his grin, and Stoick covered his own smile with his hand. Hiccup just innocently scratched Toothless behind the ear. Astrid looked at the three men and huffed for a moment, before giving a laugh herself.

"Okay, maybe I'm not beyond the 'put it on a stick over the fire' skill," she admitted. Pointing her drumstick at Hiccup, she grinned and said in a mock-serious tone, "You are going to pay for that later, mister."

Gobber laughed. "Oh, you're in trouble now, boy!"

Stoick's eyes were gleaming with laughter as he resolutely chewed, trying desperately to keep a straight face.

"Anyway," she said firmly, "we found that most of the dragons like fish, while some like chicken or goose or duck, and only a few actually like beef or mutton or pork."

"Hmm," Stoick said. "That just… feels odd, after so many years of having our flocks raided."

"I guess the Green Death wasn't that much of a picky eater," Hiccup said.

"Guess not," Gobber said. He looked at Astrid and pointed his hook at her. "Just don't get them started on people-meat again."

"Uh… no problem," she said weakly.

At that moment, the town horn blew, the sound coming in through the open mead hall doors. Three notes. Incoming ships.

A few people looked up towards the doors, but most stuck to their meals. Over the last few months since the Thawfest, visitors had gone from being exciting novelties that came once a season to regularities that showed up every few days. There were two ships in harbor at the moment already, merchants from Cornwall and Wales.

Hiccup started spooning in the stew to placate his rumbling stomach as he idly wondered who the visitors were. If they were merchants, he hoped that they had paper or parchment; he'd run out again. Well, they'd arrive in an hour or two; with the patrols five miles out, they hadn't had any surprise visitors in months.

Then in through the doors came running one of the lookouts—Ragnvaldr, a clanless freedman who had come to Berk years before. "Stoick! We just spotted a half dozen ships making way towards Berk," he said, moving towards the table. "Ross went on Leatherwing to go challenge them and told me to come tell you."

Hiccup looked at his nearly full bowl and sighed, making to put his spoon down next to it. His father looked at him and said, "Eat, Hiccup. You won't help us any by starving yourself."

Gobber laughed. "Don't tell him to finish it too quick! We'd have to nail down the bowl to keep it from being sucked in!"

Hiccup just gave his mentor a level look and firmly picked back up his spoon, ignoring the two older men and his girlfriend's laughter at his expense.

Sobering, Stoick turned back to the lookout. "Thank you, Ragnvaldr. Return to your post and we'll be out shortly. Pass the word to saddle Thornado, and get Toothless's," he glanced at Astrid, whose expression essentially dared the older man to try to leave her behind, "and Stormfly's tack ready."

"Aye, chief." The lookout turned and walked out smartly.

Stoick stood and addressed the mead hall. "It seems that we will be having guests again. I know that this is… unusual for us, but I think we can all guess the reason."

Some wit in the back of the room called out, "Aye, we caught a two headed fish last week! Clearly they want a look!"

Someone else called back, "Too late, the Zipplebacks ate it already!"

Stoick looked amused, and said, "Aye, clearly, that's it. Someone get a salmon and half a cod and stitch them together, quick." He sobered after a moment and said, "But, jesting aside, we will see what they want, and react accordingly. Do not worry, and go about your day as you will."

Hiccup, ignoring the banter, was resolutely spooning in stew, and kept at it until his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. His stomach growled a few moments later, and, sighing, he got up and went back for seconds, as had been his habit since his growth spurt had hit its stride. In the last three months, he'd grown over two finger-widths in height, and was now slightly taller than Astrid, much to their mutual amusement.

The extra baggy clothing that the tailors had made for him wasn't helping him cut a dashing figure though. He had needed to roll up the cuffs of his new pants a fair ways in order to keep them from tripping him, and the tailors had promised that they'd hem them… after he was done growing.

So he'd gone from bursting the seams of his clothes to swimming in them. Astrid had started amusing herself by grabbing the loose folds of his clothing to drag him off somewhere (which he wasn't complaining about, because it usually involved them having private time for heavy kissing).

The next bowlful was empty before he even realized it, and Gobber was making nailing motions next to him. Shooting his mentor an unamused look, he got up and walked away from the table to put the bowl into the wash basket, trying not to cast wistful looks at the cauldron with potential third helpings in it. Later, the dirty dishes would be taken down to the Scauldron cove by the docks, where the seawater-loving dragons stayed. There the Tidal-class dragons would use their boiling-water breath to scour the plates and bowls clean, in exchange for fish, a back-scratch, and some dragon-nip.

The kitchen staff of the mead hall had been ready to bend down and kiss his shoe when Hiccup had come up with that one a month and a half ago, shortly after they'd come back from their trip around the Highlands. Lopsides Jorgenson, the junior dishwasher, had actually burst into grateful tears when he'd demonstrated that the days of scrubbing pots were more or less over.

He'd just been feeling embarrassed by all of the extra work he was making for them with his newly improved appetite, and, well, it had worked out nicely that time.

The Scauldrons found it amusing, and had apparently started to make a game out of it. At least Hiccup assumed it was a game; it looked to him like they were competing to see which of them could hit the most number of dishes with a single water-spout, and he had noticed that the ones that tried and failed were basically teased by the other sea-dragons.

As for the cooks…

Well, they were showing their gratitude and extra time by making little delicacies for him, which he was inhaling as only a teenager on a growth spurt could.

He left the mead hall, Astrid and Toothless at his sides. Five minutes later, they were in the air, and spotted Stoick on Thornado's back circling over the sea stacks. Joining up with him, they were quickly directed towards the incoming ships by Ragnvaldr.

Spotting the ships was easy; even though the ocean was vast, ships were polite enough to have wakes that conveniently made little arrows to point at themselves from above, obvious against the deep blue-green waters of the sea.

Astrid's cousin Ross flew up on his dragon, a friendly Nightmare named Leatherwing, to meet them as they approached.

"They say they are a delegation from the King of Norway!" he called. "I didn't see any weapons beyond what you'd expect!"

"Good job, Ross!" Stoick called out to him. "We'll go to greet them; hang back and keep watch, and go for aid if things go poorly!"

"Aye, chief!"

They banked and approached the ships, Toothless and Stormfly flanking Thornado, their riders hugging their backs.

"I don't see any weapons at the ready," Stoick called out to the two teens. "Let's go in closer."

Hiccup and Astrid nodded, and they circled closer to the longboats.

Stoick cupped his hands and bellowed, "HELLO THE SHIPS! WHAT IS YOUR BUSINESS IN THESE WATERS!?"

The crews of the ships, which had been watching them intently, moved aside as a man in a rich tunic stepped forward and bellowed back, "We already told the other dragon rider! We are a delegation under a flag of truce and peace from our king, Magnus the Good of Norway, on our way to the isle of Berk! We wish to meet with your chieftain!"

They moved in closer, and hovered nearby, ready to dodge if necessary, and Stoick bellowed back, "Aye, and here I am! Why do you need so large a company to meet under a flag of truce!?"

"The crossing of the North Sea is dangerous, and we felt it best to do as a group. Besides, we sail into a region infested with dragons that are still wild, or so we understood!" the man on deck called back.

Stoick chewed that over for a moment. "That is fair!" he acknowledged. "I will meet with you at our mead hall. You are on course for our shore. I offer you sacred hospitality; all those with good will to our home may enter it! Do you accept?"

"Aye!"

"Then I will see you soon! You are roughly a league out from our harbor! I will send out a pilot to guide you in past the sea stacks!"

"We thank you for your kindness and hospitality!"

With that exchange done, the three riders set off for home, and a pilot was dispatched to bring in the foreign ships past the maze of sea stacks.

###

An hour or so later, Astrid stood with her boyfriend atop Berk's bluffs as her chief and his advisers watched the seas below and discussed what to do. Astrid watched them talking as she fussed, as best she could, over Hiccup's formal attire—a new overtunic made from blue linen and embroidered with dancing dragons, and a neatly made boot and pair of pants—as it gave her something to do while they waited… and it wasn't like she could make them look worse. It was his first time wearing it, and they were so ill-fitting he looked like a child wearing his father's clothes, even though the tailors swore that he'd fit into it in another year; they'd made the seams such that they could be let out easily, but he was still practically swimming in it. Hiccup, for his part, was smiling at her with a raised eyebrow as she tried to get his tunic to lay properly over the undertunic, and she fought down a blush as she remembered pulling on his other new tunic a few days before to pull him off someplace private, for other bits of clothing to get pulled on (and off…). She gave him a quelling look and went back to trying to get his shirt to behave.

"Well. Six ships from the boy-king of Norway," Spitelout said thoughtfully as they watched from Berk's heights as the ships appeared out of the sea-mist. "We are moving up in the world, aren't we?"

"Aye," Stoick said, and scowled. "What do you think, Spitelout?"

Spitelout shrugged. "I'm the marshal, Stoick. You want to talk cracking heads, that I can do. You want to talk about seeing what's inside those heads, you'll have to find someone else for that job."

"Well, I'll work on that," Stoick said with a resigned look. "Before, never had much reason for it. There was us, there were the neighbor tribes, and there were the traders. Now…" he nodded his head at the ships moving in towards his harbor, "now I'm thinking that I might need to put some thought into it."

"Aye, you do. If we're going to be dining with kings, we need someone that speaks their language. Perhaps literally."

"True, but for now, you and Gobber will just have to make up for it. I want you two down at the docks to meet them with me and Hiccup for the formal meeting, as steward and marshal."

Spitelout looked like he wanted to spit. "Gobber? How are you going to keep him from talking about his undies?"

"Leave that to me."

As she listened, she kept fussing over and adjusting Hiccup's shirt, the belt, how the neatly-hemmed fur draped over his shoulders, knowing that the ill-fit of the clothing wasn't something that she would be able to fix, but it gave her something to do in her nervousness. She was strongly aware that this was not her strong suit. Fighting, she knew. Organizing people, she knew. Dragons, she knew better than anyone aside from Hiccup or Fishlegs.

Diplomacy? Noble titles? Uh, no thank you, I'll be over here.

Thawfest had been bad enough, but at least there it had been as part of a formal event. Now… what did she do? Did she do anything? Was she under Spitelout's command? Or Hiccup's? Was she even any use as a shieldmaiden, when Hiccup had shown just how overpowering dragonriders could be against regular warriors?

And she didn't know.

So she redid the stays on his shirt for the sixth time, just to give her fingers something to do, as the chief talked.

Then Hiccup, who had been basking like a cat being stroked, spoke up. "I want Astrid there too. If nothing else, she's got a good eye for detail."

Spitelout looked at both of them with skepticism. "Boy, I understand wanting to impress the girl, but we're going to be meeting with a foreign viking lord's men, and it's them we need to impress. Bringing your…" he swallowed a few words, Astrid could tell, and she doubted that any of them were complimentary, "lady with you just because you… That is not going to impress them. Gobber, at least, has the excuse of having an official position as steward."

Hiccup smiled crookedly and shrugged. "All right. I mean, there's the bit where she's already a trained warrior and could be part of the honor guard, or, if you don't think that she's 'good enough' at fighting," his tone made his opinion of that attitude perfectly clear, "then there's still the part where having non-shieldmaids present shows good intent towards peace. But, hey, you're right. We're trying to impress them." He turned to Stoick. "So, dad, if we're talking about starting to appoint people for handling things, I'd like to nominate Astrid as our Master of the Dragon."

Everyone froze for a moment, except for Hiccup, and Astrid clamped down on a squeak before it could escape and embarrass her.

"She knows more about dragons than just about anybody else, both theory and practice. She's already deeply involved in the details of the job, as she told you earlier, and I need someone to work with, and Fishlegs is too deeply involved in other projects. And we can stop looking like barbarians as much to the mainlanders; they have a Master Of The Horse position for their courts, so we can use that system pretty much direct." He looked his father dead in the eye and said, completely straightforward, "What do you think?"

Stoick smiled just as crookedly as his son had, and said, "Sounds like a fine idea." He turned to Astrid and said, "Consider the report you gave me earlier to have been your audition." She just stood there, still a bit stunned. "If, of course, you want the job."

She blinked and said, "One moment, I need to think it over." And then dragged Hiccup by the lapels of his vest off to the side, and hissed in his ear, "I have no godsdamn clue what to do, and what in Midgard are you thinking!?"

His response was so very Hiccup.

"I want someone who knows dragons with me as this keeps getting more and more crazy with time, and you're the best person for the job," he said bluntly. "I trust you with my life, and with Toothless's. Fishlegs is good, but I need him for other things, like managing the Broodery and Rookery and the day-to-day stuff for the dragons that he excels at. Honestly, I want him to be working with you and Gobber on the stuff at home, and when Gobber retires, give him the job of Steward. But you're already doing the stuff that you'd be doing anyway—help train the new dragons and new riders, help manage the dragons and their needs, and things like that. Really, I'm just getting you the name that comes with what you've already been doing."

Astrid just looked at him, stunned.

"And the fact that I'm your girlfriend…"

"Only has anything to do with it because you were already doing that stuff because we're always with each other."

"Uh…" she turned to Stoick and the others, who were displaying varying degrees of politeness in pretending not to listen. "I accept."

"Good. Welcome, Mistr… Master Hákonsdoittor," Stoick said, grinning at her, and then turning to his son with a gleam in his eye. "Oh, and Hiccup, it occurs to me that I need a herald. Someone to go out and do the talking to other people instead of having them come to me." He smiled, in a way that reminded her of her parents coming up with a fitting punishment for her earlier escapades. "You're it."

Hiccup blinked.

"I, uh…"

"Great, that's settled," Stoick said, smiling, and pointed at the incoming ships. "Looks like they're almost here. Come, down to the docks."

He walked off, trailed by Spitelout and Gobber, while Hiccup just stood there, stunned. He looked helpless at Astrid, who shrugged and followed her chieftain, before turning back and saying, "You have no right to say anything, Hiccup. C'mon. You need to be down there anyway."

A bit numbly, he took her hand and they walked down the stairs to the docks, Toothless and Stormfly following close behind. He only stumbled a little bit today; thanks to his growth spurt, his current false foot had reached the limit of how far he could adjust the height. At this rate, he was already designing a new one, and would probably need it by next week—or have to deal with a leg that was shorter on one side than the other.

As they turned down to the path to the docks, she turned to him and abruptly said, "Did you really mean all of that?"

Placing his feet carefully, he looked up and said, "All of what?"

"The Master of Dragon things. You're not just saying it to make me happy?"

Hiccup sighed, rubbed at his face, and said flatly, "Okay. Who else would I give the job to? Snotlout? The twins? Fishlegs is busy managing the dragons—making sure they get fed, have a place to sleep, whose eggs belong to who, watching and raising the hatchlings, and scribing notes. Do you really think he has time to experiment to see what kinds of food the dragons like, or keeping an eye on our leather supplies, or helping with saddle construction, or training new riders, or organizing lookout watches, or handling disagreements between riders—all of which you've been doing already?"

She blinked. And then chewed over everything that he just had said.

"Have… have I really been doing that much?"

Hiccup snorted. "Didn't even notice, did you?"

"I… it all just kind of grew up around me."

"Yeah, it did. And that's why I think you deserved the job. This was just my best chance to bring it up to my dad."

They reached the docks, and the ships were coming in. Astrid was suddenly aware that she was still dressed in her everyday clothing, and not in formal dress. She didn't even have a formal dress that wasn't just for the blots and other holy ceremonies. Her last one had met an unfortunate end back around Yule, thanks to Stormfly's frustration about her injury.

Hiccup just leaned over. "You okay?"

"Just feeling massively underdressed," she whispered.

"Oh, don't worry about it. You work. It's us chunky nobles who have to be turned out like a prize goose for the high table's meal."

She laughed, and he let go of her hand with a sad smile. "All right, here we go. Remember. For all things and people dragon-related and not me or dad, you're the boss now."

She looked at him and smiled, and then, when what he said sank in, she went, "Hey, wait a minute…!" with suddenly wide eyes.

Hiccup just smiled and walked away, as she suddenly realized how much authority Hiccup had just given her. How many times over the last few months had she needed that, when people wouldn't listen, or listened only because she was his girlfriend? A pair of Jorgensons had actually said to her face last week that she wasn't Hiccup or Stoick and didn't have the authority to get them to listen.

Oh.

Wow.

As the lead ship pulled into dock and was tied to the quay, she worked on composing herself.

One of the men aboard the ship stood to the side of the gangplank as the fellow in the sharp tunic walked forward, and spoke aloud.

"His noble highness, Chief of Rygjafylki, Yngvarr Arlaksson the Merry!"

A few warriors, carrying shields and with axes holstered at their waists or backs, hurried down the gangplank, making a display of martial might. It was undercut by them giving awed or worried looks at the two dragons, who looked mystified at first at all of the humans running around and not-quite-brandishing weapons at each other. That lasted for a few moments, and then Toothless made a draconic chitter to her friend. She had no idea what he was saying in specifics, but, given the expression on Stormfly's face, she guessed that he was making a comment about territorial displays. Stormfly coughed in laughter, drawing alarmed looks from the honor guard.

Chief Yngvarrstepped forward off of the gangplank, looking around with a smile on his face, and beamed at the assembled Hooligans. Astrid braced herself as that grin swept across her with approval. She'd only just met the fellow, and that only technically, and she already felt both intimidated and a bit fond of him, to be honest. Especially when he saw the dragons and visibly had to restrain himself from walking over to them.

"Hello!" he said, turning back to Stoick and his assembled people. Hiccup coughed and, as his first active act as herald, introduced his father, himself, Spitelout, Gobber, and ended with, "Master of the Dragons, Astrid Hákonsdoittor, of the Hofferson clan."

She did her best to look confident, as if she'd held her appointment for more than ten minutes. She also did her best to tamp down on the little gibbering screaming voice in the back of her head yammering about how she was a fraud and to run away as fast as possible She wasn't going to mess up. She was going to be good at this. Hiccup believed in her ability to do this. She wasn't going to let him down. Maybe diplomacy wasn't her calling… but she could damn well try.

The foreign chieftain beamed at them, and then looked at Hiccup "I think you forgot a few," he said with a slightly chiding tone, nodding at the dragons.

Hiccup grinned, clearly liking the man, and said, "And these are Toothless the Night Fury, who is my friend, and Stormfly the Deadly Nadder, who is Astrid's friend."

"Splendid!" Yngvarr grinned, and then turned to Stoick. "I bring greetings and invitations from my own sworn king and chief, Magnus the Good, from his court. I volunteered for this, and am most interested in meeting your dragons!"

His enthusiasm was infectious, and Astrid found herself smiling back at him. Not her type, but she had the distinct feeling that he had to beat the ladies off with a stick.

"Well, first, I think we need to discuss your men," Stoick said mildly. "We are a bit lacking in billets for them, but they are welcome to camp on the main island, and may carry their personal weapons with them, though I will have to ask that full kit be left aboard the ships. Beyond that, my offer of hospitality is open to them as well. They may draw food from the common pot and wood from the common piles. Is that acceptable?"

"Aye, Chief Stoick," Yngvarr said, smiling at him. "I accept your offer of hospitality on behalf of my men." He extended his forearms, palm up, and Stoick did the same, palm down; her chief and the foreign one each clasped the other man's arms, hand to forearm, and shook. It was vaguely comical, as Stoick was a good head taller and much brawnier than Yngvarr, but the other chief was lanky in a way that bespoke speed, and Astrid found herself wondering if she would have the opportunity to spar with him.

Then she scolded herself for falling back on old habits. He was a diplomat. While she pushed herself for every training opportunity that she could get for herself, that was an inappropriate thought. Just because he looked like he knew his way around in a melee didn't mean that she should assume that she could get him to teach her a few tricks to add to her fighting array. Naughty Astrid. You're the Master of the Dragon right now, not just a shieldmaiden. Decorum! Hospitality! Try to keep that in mind. If anything, she'd probably get to spar with one of his guardsmen, as a show of prowess, but that wasn't the same…

The entire group began walking up the pathway to the docks, and Yngvarr wanted to know all about the dragons as they walked, his eyes shining as he looked around in glee; Stoick, Gobber, and Spitelout went on ahead as Hiccup and Astrid explained names and breeds.

As they walked slowly up the path, Yngvarr was looking every which way to try to see as much as he could. When a quartet of Gronckles flew by overhead, carrying some wooden beams for the new construction, he goggled, his eyes wide and his grin wider.

"Dear heaven," he said, as he watched a Timberjack across the bay methodically slicing tree trunks into more beams and boards under the direction of its human rider. "They are truly tamed, are they not?"

"Yep," Hiccup said, smiling. "And most of them enjoy having something to do. Although we've got a few that are lazy like anything."

"Very much like people, then," the chief observed with a smile. He turned to Astrid. "That one, over there, with the two heads? What are they called?"

"Hideous Zipplebacks," she said with an answering grin. She could see why he had earned his epithet—he was so bursting with enthusiasm that it was hard not to smile in response. She just hoped that it was genuine, and not a false face. "And, no, the heads don't necessarily get along."

"How do you ride them, then?"

"Either like a pair of harnessed horses, or with a coordinated pair of riders," she said. "We actually have a pair of twins who ride one… although, since the twins don't always get along, the heads don't always manage either."

"Amazing. Simply amazing." Before he could say anything else, one of the hatchling Nadders flew awkwardly nearby into the side of a house, and staggered to its feet. Like all babies, it was adorable, and it swayed hesitantly on its two legs, and lurched into their path, making a grumbling noise that Astrid had zero problems translating to the effect of, Mommy? Mommy? Who put that wall there?

Yngvarr cried out in joy and turned to look at the toddling dragon. The dragon blinked back at him, cocking its head in confusion, and then it shook its head before steadying on its feet and rambling up to the group of them, coming to a stop in front of Hiccup and Yngvarr.

Kneeling down to pat the knee-high purple and green dragon on the nose, which it primly accepted, Yngvarr looked up at Astrid and Hiccup. "Is it all right? It's not hurt, is it?" Behind him, his guardsmen were watching, some in fear, others in awe.

"Nah, Nadders are tough," Astrid said with a grin. "I recognize that one. She's a little escape artist called Pinhead. The rest of the hatchlings should still be in the nursery unless she led another breakout." The baby dragon cooed, and walked away from the foreign chief in mid-pat, beelining for the fish urn.

Hand still poised to pat, he looked vaguely hurt for a moment, and then laughed. "I just remembered my mother's cats," he said, hopping back to his feet in a smooth motion that really made Astrid want to get him on the sparring floor, despite her resolutions otherwise.

Training Hiccup here and there in helping him use his peg with agility was one thing, but it was all basic stuff, and he needed someone to push him to actually walk on it and build up the muscles and callouses that he would need to use it regularly; left to his own devices, he'd be spending most of his time either in the forge or on Toothless's back, and he needed someone to push him to run and climb on the peg. But it wasn't any more interesting for her than it was for him, and while she still trained regularly against other tribesmates… the opportunity to get to spar against someone new—to learn their tricks and methods and test herself against them… it was so tempting.

With a flap, Pinhead launched herself into the urn of fish—which, thankfully, was not as stinky as it had once been. Astrid had come up with the idea of deepening the urns, waterproofing them, and filling them with water. Now that it was summer and the catch was good, they would fly a net full of writhing fish straight up from the water to fill the urns, and the dragons seemed to find the live meals much more enjoyable than the stinking dead ones. Yngvarr looked wistfully at the tiny feasting dragon swimming in the water after the fish as they walked on by. It wasn't until they reached the next bend in the path that he turned to look forward again. She laughed lightly, especially as his guardsmen were gawking just as obviously as their lord. "Don't worry about her, sir. I'll send someone to catch her and take her back where she belongs in a bit."

While the guardsmen gaped, they were attracting a fair amount of attention themselves. While it was after the dinner hour, most people were still out, either working or socializing, as the summer sun only coyly dipped below the horizon for a few hours each night. They still had hours left to go before night would fall, and there was a fair amount of bustle still going on, and the ships coming in hadn't exactly been overlooked.

They finally managed to enter the meadhall after several more introductions to inquisitive dragons; in particular, her mother's Nadder, Sunflower, had flown over to investigate, and had proceeded to give Yngvarr a full-body sniff, much to the alarm of the more twitchy members of his guard, and had magnanimously accepted some neck scritches.

The mead hall steps finally behind them, Hiccup entered first and announced Yngvarr, who was watching with a knowing smile. As Yngvarr and his men entered the room, Astrid hurried over to one of the side pillars to get a good view, Hiccup and their dragons joining her a moment later.

Yngvarr approached Stoick's throne and bowed respectfully. "My lord Stoick, The Vast, of Berk, I bring you greetings and tidings from my own lord and master, King Magnus the Good of Norway, who recognizes you as a brother lord. He has sent me from his court across the North Sea to greet you and honor you and your son for your grand accomplishments. I have gifts to deliver in his name, and a boon to request in the same."

Stoick nodded. "Please. We don't stand on ceremony overmuch here. Please, continue."

Yngvarr nodded and straightened, beaming. "I am tasked by my lord king to deliver a gift." Stoick cocked his head expectantly and nodded. Yngvarr's smile widened. "You asked why we traveled with such a large group? I am tasked to deliver three of those ships to you, my lord, and travel home safely on the remaining three. You may pick any three of them that you wish."

Stoick's bushy eyebrows rose. Astrid felt her jaw drop and Hiccup somehow managed to trip over his own foot and peg where he stood, and they silently staggered against one another until she could prop him back upright.

"That… is an impressive gift."

"Your fief is an impressive holding," Yvgnarr said honestly.

"You said that your king craved a boon. What is it?"

Yngvarr gave a slight bow and spoke. "There is a touch of explanation needed. A year ago, I had the honor of accompanying my lord on campaign against King Harthacnut of the Danes and English. In the hopes that we might prevent the shedding of the blood of brother Vikings, we, his nobles, worked with our opposite number to arrange a meeting between the two of them at the Göta Älv, the river that marks the border between our two kingdoms. There, they agreed that whichever of them predeceased the other would gain the holds and vassals of his brother king, and reforge Cnut the Great's North Sea Empire once again."

He bowed. "It is my hope and desire to see if peace can be forged once again, but, instead of between rivals, between allies. Thus I ask, on behalf of my king, if you, or your heir and herald, would be willing to accompany me back to meet and negotiate with my own king, with a suitable entourage as befitting your status or his. I am willing to stay here as hostage, if you deem it necessary."

Stoick's eyes rose. Astrid's eyes widened. Hiccup fell back against the pillar with a thud, and she unceremoniously hauled him back upright again.

"That is a significant boon to request, my lord."

"Aye, my lord. But is peace not worth pursuit? My lord king offers friendship and perhaps an alliance." He looked Stoick straight in the eye. "Perhaps even friendship beyond the bonds of realms. Your heir and my king are of a similar age. He is currently rising seventeen, a kind and just youth. While the demands of kingship have ended my lord's childhood prematurely, there is still the possibility of boon companionship between them."

With that, he bowed. Hiccup looked stunned, and Astrid knew him well enough to guess why. A year ago, nobody wanted to be his friend, and now, essentially, a boy-king had asked him if he could come over and play.

She suddenly had to tamp down on a bout of giggles at the image. The Master of the Dragon did not giggle.

Even if she really wanted to.

And she wanted to go on this trip too. Oh, she so wanted to go. Maybe she wasn't the best diplomat… but getting to see the homeland of the Norse? Yes, please.

Stoick composed himself for a moment, and looked at the foreign chief. "May I ask what your king's intentions are, before I commit myself or my heir?"

"Aye, my lord. My lord is young, and has the fullness of time, and wisdom beyond his years. He works to cement his hold now, not expand it. Our primary worries are those who threaten our realm. We have no designs on your home as vassals, and recognize the foolishness of contemplating the attempt, unlike others whose words we have heard of. We would rather bind together with the silken bonds of friendship over that of the sword and chain. For proof, I would simply point to the fact that my lord abandoned justified vengeance for the death of his own father in the pursuit of peace. We pursued battle against Harthacnut because he is a cruel and vicious lord, and abandoned it when he no longer threatened us."

Yvgnarr straightened, only to bow once more. "I know that I am asking much, and have said much. With your leave, I and my men will begin to make camp on the island as you offered, and leave you to consider our offer. Our gift is not contingent on your response, and all I ask is that you take time to consider. Indeed, I beg you to think it over fully, and do not come to a rash choice."

At that, Stoick nodded. "Aye. You have my leave."

Yvgnarr smoothly rose from his bow and left the mead hall, smiling at Hiccup and Astrid as he left with his honor guard, before pausing at the door, a bemused expression on his face.

"Excuse me, but I have just realized one slight issue," he said.

"Aye?" Stoick said with a skeptical look.

"Where are we to make camp, exactly?"

Stoick laughed, his tension evaporating. "Aye, aye. Spitelout, direct them, would you?"

With that, the people already in the hall immediately began to talk.

Astrid just looked at Hiccup, her eyes wide. His expression was a mirror to her own.

They both turned and looked at Stoick together.

Stoick laughed. "I will think it over, Hiccup. Don't you worry. But, before I even begin, I have to ask you first: do you wish to go? It is a risk, of that there is no question."

Hiccup shrugged and grinned widely. "We're Vikings, dad. It's an occupational hazard."

Astrid smirked and rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. Sure, dangers were occupational hazards for Vikings, but that was raids and fighting and combat. Or, in other words, her area. She was still figuring out how dangerous his area, of peace and treaties and friendships, could be.

Stoick grinned and nodded. "All right then. I will consider it." He waved to the door. "Go. And make sure our guests do not bother the dragons, and that the dragons don't bother them."

Hiccup nodded, and, together, he and Astrid left the hall, then hopped on their dragons, grinning widely.

He turned to her. "You're coming with me to Norway, right?"

Astrid gave Stormfly the gentle poke that meant to pour on the speed. "Just try and stop me! Race you to the campsite!"

"Hey, wait up!"