And we're back, after a week of vacation! Here are two chapters meshed into one so that you get your dose of backstory and Berk characters bouncing off each other!
Stratoc- It is a cute funeral, and a sign that things will take a sharp turn away from cute . . .
Doomsday Beam- Hiccup isn't a killer by nature, so it would be difficult for him to change his tune now. :wickedlaugh:
Looking Up- Thanks so much!
Gobber sat by the smithy door. He was comparing Gronkle incisors to Thunderdrum fangs, having removed both from Meatlug and Thornado earlier.
I tried to sidle by. Toothless peered at the rotten teeth with curiosity, still limping.
"I'm going to see how the others are doing!" Astrid called. Gobber looked up and saw what was in my hands. His face twisted into a frown.
"Thanks, Astrid," I muttered.
"Ah, back in the saddle business aren't you?" Gobber asked sarcastically. "Hope you're not going to scratch my nice leather."
I winced and tried to back away. Toothless sensed my discomfort.
Gobber got up with a bloody tooth, looking almost demonic with his pointed helmet. Toothless's ears went flat, and his eyes became yellow slits. Gobber, however, only clapped me on the shoulder. I dropped the saddle.
"Just messing with you, Hiccup." Gobber bent to grab the leather. "A man has to accept failures as a side dish to main course successes. Where do you want me to put this?"
"In the backroom," I said. "It's going to be a rush job."
"Ah, trying to help your lady friend." He gave me a knowing wink. "Astrid will be happy to know that you can service her."
A blush sprouted between my freckles. "It's nothing like that; Astrid and I aren't . . ."
"And you shouldn't be," he said with genuine sternness. "Not until you're Chief at least. Goodness knows, neither you nor Astrid are ready to settle down with little ones."
I shuddered at the thought; Gobber placed the saddle on a table and stood back. Toothless marched in, circling Gobber warily. A covered pot bubbled over the fire.
"If you ever want to talk about it, though, I know your father won't broach the subject," he said. He wasn't joking.
"I'd rather talk about something more savory," I said, cringing. Gobber teaching about what goes on in a man's pants? A good reason to play hooky.
"And what would that be, young Hiccup?"
"Alvin the Treacherous."
His expression hardened. I made incision marks on the saddle with charcoal pencil.
"Gobber, he's our worst enemy but I've never heard a thing about Alvin. All I know is that he's an Outcast, he tricked my mother into getting killed, and he's after the Dragon Conqueror. Also, he hates my dad."
"We don't talk about Alvin because he's an Outcast, Hiccup." Gobber spoke slowly, as if I were a toddler again. "We don't want to remember the Outcasts, or give a reason to talk about them. Time then erases them from history and legend, and they don't become heroes or infamous villains."
"What about Mom, then?" The charcoal pencil jabbed into the leather. "Dad never talks about her either. He brought back her armor but didn't give her a proper Viking burial."
"Valharrama the Great was not an Outcast. How could you even suggest such a thing?" Gobber went to tend the pot. "No, your father doesn't talk about her because he blames himself for her death. It's also the same time you came to the smithy, so he feels bad that you didn't get proper upbringing."
"But he gave me her helmet; that must count for something." Never mind that the helmet had been made from her breast-plate, eurgh.
"Ah, probably." He took off the pot lid and offered a ladle to Toothless. Toothless's eyes dilated and he bounded to hide behind me. "Come on, how much dragon nip will it take to make you eat?"
Chapter Twelve
Gobber and I made a deal; in exchange for devising a Sleeping Soup that Toothless would swallow, he would tell me about my mother, Valhallarama the Great. Toothless didn't look amused.
"Think of it this way, bud; the sooner we find a potent formula, the sooner you'll be flying," I told Toothless as I rubbed dragon nip against his snout. He crumpled to the floor with reluctant pleasure.
The first thing I had to do, however, was remove the horn from Astrid's saddle. Gobber when sewing had made miniscule, hard-to-find stitches, and I couldn't use a typical knife. Much as Astrid claimed to not care about it, she wouldn't be happy if the local smithy's apprentice scratched her weaponry.
"Here, use this." Gobber placed a long Thunderdrum fang in my hand. "The tip's narrow so an army of them can snag a school of fish."
I slipped the tooth under a minuscule stitch. It snapped, but the leather remained unscathed.
"This could be useful," I said. Toothless rested his heavy head on my lap. "Hold on, bud; I'll get you more nip in a moment."
"I have dozens of spare teeth." Gobber's eyes twinkled. "Dragons lose them like I lose socks. You could practically build a new kind of dragon with them, if the edges don't slice through your fingers."
"That wouldn't be a problem with metal links to guard them." The fang sagged in my free hand as I tested its weight.
"Oh, you mean like chain-mail armor?" Gobber threw his head back and laughed. "That would a sight; chain-mail and dragon teeth! You'd have to find a way to attach the links through the teeth, after telling everyone that you're not a sermonizing knight."
"Maybe there is a way," I said to myself. "Maybe there is."
Dried dragon nip and chin scratching encouraged Toothless to curl into a scaly ball and rest, even with his stitches.
"Maybe you should stop trying the Sleeping Soup and simply give lots of nip to Toothless," I said. "He's practically asleep now."
Gobber slapped a palm to his forehead. "Overthinking does tax this brain. Once I get more nip from the garden, I'll tell you about your mother." He walked out.
"Typical," I told a prone Toothless. "Trying to get information from a Viking and all you get is delay. No wonder Loki had to keep tricking the other gods in Valhalla."
Toothless warbled peacefully. I sat back down and went to work.
For an engaged blacksmith, the sun can rise and fall and the person working inside wouldn't know, not if a project occupied his hands. I adjusted Astrid's saddle, painted a white skull on the front for good luck, and switched to metal.
First, connecting dragon teeth to chain links. Gobber had been right about one thing: forging metal links to make a net was a waste of time and metal. After making three little rings and connecting them, I threw them in the cooling bucket. Toothless kept sleeping.
"Whoever made these had plenty of time of their hands," I said. Gobber had kept the Outcast net and cleaned off the blood; it gleamed from where his spare shirts hung. I got up, pulled on thick leather gloves, and carefully removed the barbed wire from the hangers.
Up close, the sharp metal ends appeared threatening like Monstrous Nightmare claws. I took pliers and unwound them, setting them in a barrel. The net draped like an innocent curtain, flowing onto the table. I could poke three fingers into each link, but not much more.
"You seem to be making progress, using what our enemies provided." Gobber lumbered him, arms loaded with a fish basket. He set it beside Toothless, who purred and snuggled against the grass.
"If they do the work for us, I may as well." I doubled up the net over the bellow, so that the links overlapped. "Now tell me about my mother."
"Hm." Gobber chewed on his long mustache. "Valhallarama the Great was tall, blond, and buxom. She liked holding things to her chest, whether they were soft and cuddly like you or big and brawny like-"
"That's not the kind of information I meant," I spoke sharply. "How did she meet my dad? And why did she go on a Quest after she had me? What did Alvin tell her?"
"Well, every muscular Viking wanted their hands on your mother, just like every guy on Berk goes after Astrid," Gobber said. I groaned but made no effort to cover my ears. "Your father happened to be the chief's son, so he scared of them off with old-fashioned fighting. I only met her after they married, so I had no chance. Only one man didn't fear your father, and Valhallarama loved him deeply."
"What?" Despite myself, I turned from the fire to listen. Toothless rolled to one side.
"Aye, Humongous the Hotshot." Gobber grimaced. "Tall and blond like her but muscular and stupid in the right places. He was a traveling Hero who dropped by to help with Dragon-Slaying. When he saw your mother swinging an ax at a Gronkle, though, that's when he dropped anchor and said he wasn't going anywhere."
I hammered on the metal. If I were as stupid as Humongous- who had either a dragon's courage or a troll's apathy to challenge my father- I would attempt to meld the teeth to the links and watch them fall later. Instead, I grabbed the Thunderdrum fang and split the net in half.
"Stoick couldn't say no because Humongous was a famous Dragon-Slayer and he was a help in those days." Toothless stopped purring. Gobber petted him. "Apologies, Toothless. So Humongous would strut around the island with Valhallarama, offering tokens that he had picked up on his travels, and Stoick couldn't do a thing about it. His blood boiled, and he punched rocks at times. Humongous was honorable in his courting, even if he hit on Berk's best girl. Stoick did the best he could, slaying Monstrous Nightmares to win her affections, but Valhallarama turned a blind eye."
"So what happened?"
"Alvin happened," Gobber said. "He wasn't Treacherous back then, just Alvin of Berk. He got rid of Humongous so that Stoick could win Valhallarama over."
"What? Why?" This seemed at odds with the way my father's face hardened every time someone mentioned the Outcast.
"Alvin wasn't a nice guy or Stoick's friend, but he wanted the future Chief to owe him a favor. That way, when the next chief's son came along, he'd have some influence."
"But he got banished after I was born. How did he kill my mother?"
"Now that I can't say, given he's an Outcast." Gobber came to view my handiwork. "I CAN say that Valhallarama had some inkling of Alvin's scheme and wanted you to stay out of it. Your parents weren't stupid, you know, not like Humongous, but they were honor-bound. Alvin wasn't."
"Come on, Gobber, there's a reason Dad put me in the smith before I had the chance to mess up up his perfect village."
Before he could answer, we heard war horns. The smithy walls muffled them, but the deep blasts made the water buckets shake.
"Thank Thor for timing! Another attack!" Gobber exclaimed. He then saw my face. "You should get the Dragon Academy's finest; I'll lead the defense on land. Good thing we restocked the armory." He bounded over to the nearest pile of weapons and lugged it.
Toothless opened his eyes. He made a motion to get up.
"Stay here, bud," I told him, pouring more dragon nip on his scales. "You need to get those wings healed before fighting enemies with arrows."
Worry mixed into his swollen, glazed eyes.
"I'll be fine, and we'll be flying soon." I scratched his chin. "You already saved my life out there, twice; I can't ask much more of you. We'll do sky diving like old times, bounty or no bounty. How does that sound?"
He closed his eyes and bumped his snout against my gloved hands. I toppled the basket so that the dragon nip blanketed him.
