Chapter 11
It was her day
I will ride, I will fly
Chase the wind and touch the sky,
I will fly, chase the wind and touch the sky
She had woken up long before the sun arrived at the spacious interior of the Thorston House.
It was not that she had slept unwell, nor that her sleep was light enough to be interrupted by any random noise. Quite the opposite – despite all bewilderment and daze that had surely been her share during the first days of her stay on Berk, she could not complain about one restless night. Her sleep was healthy and strong, but maybe those were the reasons why she didn't need so much of it. Especially that even with her best will, she was never able to find an exercise that would truly tire her – her new friends really didn't let her overwork herself.
And how could she help the fact that was an early bird by nature?
She was lying supine now, her gaze fixed on the wooden ceiling, the thick beams supporting the roof looming blearily many feet above her head. She was smiling to herself, musing about the upcoming day, wondering what new discoveries she'd have a chance to make. Would she be once again forced to run, chasing the Twins around the island? Probably. Would she manage to learn some other detail about her temporary place of living? She sincerely hoped she would.
Maybe she'd even be blessed enough to make a new acquaintance.
She turned to her side, resting her cheek on her hand, and sighed quietly. Obviously, her current situation still was a cause of confusion, not letting her enjoy all of the positive events she could otherwise experience in her everyday life. However, even though Whisper would have given all she had (on the other hand, how little that was!) to learn who she really was and what she was doing on this small, isolated island, she was not going to waste her precious time on meditations and sobs. All she had experienced so far only proved that even without that knowledge, she still could befriend her hosts, and as simple as it sounds, just seize the day.
Berk seemed to cloak more than a few mysteries, and getting to know them gave the girl some kind of strange, inexplicable joy. Every time she succeeded in gaining a new piece of information or combining two fragments of the same story (which, however, she heard as two separate ones), she relished the fact as if she had at least found a new unknown land. She was aware that her enthusiasm amused the Vikings, to whom her discoveries were nothing but a part of their everyday lives, and she certainly couldn't blame them for the cordial laughter with which they reacted to her pride as she told them about her victories in that field. Still, they had remained kind towards her, and for that, even their slightly sarcastic comments could not discourage her to continue her search.
She glanced at the small window, pondering on how much longer she would have to endure for the dawn. The sky wasn't entirely dark at this point, yet it was still far from being bright, too.
Alright, she would linger. After all, they say being patient pays.
The truth was, she couldn't wait until she'd be able to leave the hut in which she was staying. Not because she didn't feel well there; she did not mean the actual moving out, either. It was just that on that specific morning her entire being craved going out – she wanted fresh air, bright sunshine and a little bit of time for herself. The rawness of the morn allowed her to hope to be gifted with all three of those at once.
Still though, she preferred to avoid strolling around the village at a time that might be considered too early – the last thing she needed was raising the suspicion that she was snooping around at nights, poking her nose into other people's business.
That was why she waited.
She was approached by the sudden grunting coming from Tuff, soon followed by his indistinguishable murmur. Whisper's smile widened when she thought of her hosts, ready for all sorts of concessions for her sake. An old thought came to her mind, reminding her that she didn't deserve all of the kindness she had been granted with lately, regardless of the fact that the whole island claimed something completely opposite.
After a few moments of this kind of contemplation, she once again glanced at the window frame, joyfully noticing that beyond it, the sky had already gained a much warmer hue. Carefully, she lifted herself from the bed, and as quietly as possible, she stood next to it. The chilliness of the floor tackled her; yet, she didn't mind. She stretched, folded the blanket given to her and dressed up as quickly as she could, setting towards the door immediately after.
When she approached it, she turned back, embracing the room with one last look and listening to the possible noises that could in some way disturb her – nothing of the kind occurred, though. It was empty and it was quiet; Barf and Belch were nowhere to be seen.
She wasn't sure whether that final observation should worry her or not, the fact remained, however; there was no use pondering about it any longer.
She cautiously cracked the door open and crossed the threshold. She felt the difference at once – and as she was closing the door, she already knew that getting up so much earlier was an idea not only good, but in fact perfect. It was true that she adored her friends, no matter if they were the representatives of her own species or not. She did, however, as every other human being need a moment of solitude, and now she finally had a chance to get it.
As for the Twins, she was not too worried about leaving them to themselves. She was well aware that they had returned to their hut quite late last night, having spent a good few hours in the Great Hall, apparently enjoying the company of a newly arrived friend. Whether it was the merchant whom the villagers had welcomed a day earlier or was it a completely different person, she could not tell; still, she couldn't bring herself to care about it now. All that mattered at the moment was the fact that her favourite siblings wouldn't get up from their pits for the upcoming few hours.
They shouldn't miss her, really.
She took off in a brisk step, looking around rather carelessly. She turned out to be right in her assumptions – even though the village obviously was not pulsating with life, it wasn't entirely solitary, either. A scent of baked bread was coming from the dwellings that she passed, and so were the noises of the work done on the occasion. Whisper immediately felt her own hunger, which, regardless of an early hour, was slowly starting to bite – she ignored it, however, too busy with the observation of her surroundings. Breakfast could surely wait a little longer.
She was curious if she would meet any of her close acquaintances while strolling around the island so early in the morning. It was not as improbable as it might have seemed – as a forge worker Gustav usually began fulfilling his tasks before anyone so much as thought of stopping by at the smithy, and her talks with Eret suggested that he himself didn't use to laze in bed until noon, either; nor did Valka seem to be a sort of person that would put her own comfort above the duties that were resting on her shoulders.
From what she'd heard, her son wasn't much different.
'Stop it,' she reproached herself quietly, feeling her good mood break down rapidly. 'Even if he did get up so early, it doesn't mean you'll meet. And if you do, then you'll bear it with a smile. Hiccup is not some kind of a monster you have to be afraid of.'
No, he certainly wasn't a monster. The problem was, she still couldn't say who Hiccup really was.
She shook her head, trying to get rid of the intrusive thoughts. She wasn't going to let her good humour vanish because of something she couldn't help – it was her day, her morning, and Whisper was determined to make the best of it. There were a lot of issues to sort out, a lot of problems and information to analyse. Hiccup did have a place on that list; yet the girl was resolved not to allow the memories of him slip into her mind until she has decided it was his turn to come.
She was by no means going to give him such a power over her.
Although her pace was free from its usual rush, the girl's journey was not completely aimless. Last evening, more or less at the time when all of her companions had left for the Great Hall, Gustav barged in into the workshop with a triumphant cry that Mrs Hofferson's saddle had been repaired, and that in his humble opinion, it now looked better than ever in the past. After hearing Gobber's obvious queries, the apprentice was released from his job until the next morning. However, instead of going straight to his home, he caught Whisper's hand and without a word of explanation, he dragged her in a direction unknown to anyone but him, ignoring her protests and questions, even more impatient than they usually were.
He lead her like that through the whole village, causing amazement of the Vikings they passed by, even though he didn't pay much attention to it. Only when they reached their destination did the boy let her hand out of the tight grasp and rather carelessly, he gestured to a fragment of the shore that was currently looming ahead of them.
"I thought it would be good for you to know about this place. You know, in case you wanted to be alone for a moment, without risking someone suddenly surprising you with their presence. It's not a very secretive spot, but maybe that's why nobody really cares about coming here. Nobody," he emphasised meaningfully. "The Chief included."
She wanted to scold him for a comment so improper, but Gustav didn't give her even a second.
"It's just so you'd have a place where you can gather your thoughts peacefully. Now, please excuse us, but Fanghook and I have a few more businesses to take care of. So with the permission of Your Majesty, we will now vanish from her sight."
And with that he was gone, leaving her alone on the little beach, cut off from the rest of Berk with nothing but a low spur; that was where she was heading now.
She went by a few familiar spots on the way, but didn't come across anyone with whom she should talk differently than by exchanging casual greetings. When she arrived at the forge's neighbourhood, she strained her senses, searching for her young friend, but apparently even he hadn't come up early enough for her to meet. She shrugged. Maybe that was for the better? Who knows how much time she would have spent on a witty, meaningless chat with the future blacksmith, while at the moment every second seemed to be worth more than gold.
Having reached that point, she had no problems marking the further route. She truly was enjoying the thought that with every passing day she found it easier to move around the place, getting to know its winding streets better and better, almost effortlessly estimating her temporary locations.
It was one of those little pleasures that no one but her could understand.
Not much time had passed when she reached her destination. It was more than chilly – the sea wind stroke her with its fierce blast, and made her shiver; still, it made no impression on Whisper whatsoever. There was crispness in that wind, one that she craved so much, there was freedom and liberty which she had not felt since she had first opened her eyes on another of Berk's wide shores. She started to wonder how she could not notice that obvious longing in herself, one she was feeling most strongly at the present time.
Without much thinking she shed her heavy boots and dipped her feet in the bright sand. It was no warmer than the floor of the Thorston house, and yet again, she could not care less. Cold meant fresh, and that was exactly what she needed right now.
The girl shifted from one foot to another, experiencing a hit of the new wave of energy. She made a step forward, then another, and another, jumping higher and faster with every next try. She ducked back, dived to the side, and then with a smooth move she glided in the opposite direction, easily proceeding to a series of spins.
Before she'd realised it herself, she was dancing on the shore, dizzy with her own enthusiasm, moving with grace that had not been seen on Berk for generations.
Whisper stumbled and wobbled, however, that only caused her unusual cheerfulness to grow – the girl laughed loudly, and returned to her interrupted activity almost immediately. Nothing – and no one – called for her attention this once.
"Seven a.m., the usual morning line-up -" she hummed under her breath, not for a second wondering on why those specific words and melody were the ones to come to her mind, even though she should in fact be surprised she'd been able to recall any.
"Start on the chores and sweep 'till the floor's all clean -"
She swirled in another twist, simultaneously shaking off the uncomfortable vest Ruffnut had given her. Oh yes, it was much better without it.
"Polish and wax, do laundry, and mop and shine up -"
A flock of Terrible Terrors flew above her head, squawking a language no one but them could understand.
"Sweep again, and by then it's like seven fifteen!"
She halted. With her face turned towards the water, she inhaled deeply, imbibing the sight of the morning light that played on the ocean's calm waves. The wind was hauling in her ears; not a single cloud was looming on the bright blue northern sky.
Her ears were approached by another dragon scream. One of the Terrors had clearly strayed from the group, at this very moment landing just a few steps away from the young woman and glaring at her with an undisguised interest. Whisper turned her face towards it, and grinning, she tilted her head to the side; the animal that was watching her did exactly the same. She reached out her hand, just as she'd done it during her first meeting with her hosts' two-headed dragon – and she took it back at the same moment. If that gesture meant so much, she should not use it carelessly.
Still, the Terror seemed too intrigued to simply fly away, and not minding her behaviour at all, it came closer. Whisper froze in anticipation, and a couple of seconds later the dragon was hanging around her legs, brushing them, fawning like a cat in want of more caresses.
The brunette chuckled at the sight and was just about to bow and strike the creature, when the latter had incautiously stepped into the water with one of its legs, and recoiled like if it was scalded. Without any further warning, it took off in the air a moment later, and joined the flock that was disappearing in the distance. She followed it with her gaze, and then looked down on her feet. Her bare toes lay just a few inches from the clear sea water – it was enough to move her feet a little forward to feel its chilly caress; however, Whisper hesitated.
The last time she'd dealt with the ocean had been during that absolutely terrifying storm.
The tempest that had cast her away was a border line that separated her former life from the one she'd been leading on Berk for the past weeks. Not only in the most literal sense, so as a direct cause for her stay on the island. The storm was that threshold that divided her memory into two – she acknowledged and remembered everything that happened after it with no difficulty. She knew absolutely nothing about what had happened before.
As for the storm itself, the memories of it also seemed to balance at the edge of reality and nightmare, of which Whisper still couldn't think with a perfect composure. She would by no means recall where, with who and on what ship she had been sailing – instead, her head was still full of vibrant impressions of the moment when the crew had started to lose the battle against the raging elements.
She remembered the voices of men, calling out for help; a cry of a child, scared by the roars of thunders… She remembered a crack of a breaking mast, and the terrified screams of those who were unlucky enough to watch its fall on the flooded deck.
She remembered the beating of the waves, covering her with their weight and her own desperate struggling for even the shortest of breaths.
She shuddered and shook her head, forcing herself to come back to reality. That tempest belonged to the past, and it was not for her to judge whether it could have been avoided or not. All she could do was pray for those who'd been accompanying her, hoping that they had managed to come out of the catastrophe safe and sound, just as she had – and that's what she had been doing ever since gaining her consciousness back.
Once again, she fixed her gaze on the steady sea waves. She was not afraid of them; there were too many things she fretted about to add anything more to the list. Ordering herself to stay calm, she took a step forward.
Wading ankle-deep in the icy water, she felt her strength arising in her again together with the will do act, to work, to fight the adversities. She resumed her dance, splashing the water in every direction, while her movements showed that peaceful confidence, with which she was to achieve her goal. It was her day, and Whisper was far from letting anyone take it away from her.
Thus occupied, she did not notice a pair of green, almond-shaped eyes, carefully watching her from the peak of a high cliff.
"Sweep again and by then it's like seven fifteen!"
It was probably much earlier than the line sang by her suggested.
'Although, who knows,' Whisper mused, once more wandering between the odd huts, greeting the Vikings she met on her way. 'The sun is pretty high already, and the village is certainly much more lively, too...'
She must have stayed at the beach much longer than she initially had thought.
She smiled gently, joyfully recalling the surroundings in which she was spending her time only half an hour prior. Oh, how good it was to dance on the coast, laugh at the sand and sing to the waves! To the deuce with those awful memories of the storm – after so many days of forgoing herself the pleasure of focusing on her own needs, she finally felt it was a duty she had fulfilled as well. And even though it still wasn't enough, she was capable of appreciating the gift presented to her by Providence in those few valuable moments.
Of course, she couldn't have used that gift to the full if it hadn't been for Gustav's obliging, cordial attitude. She immediately resolved to search for him as soon as possible and wholeheartedly thank him for the favour he'd rendered.
In the meantime, she was pacing lightly on the narrow streets, inwardly planning the whole upcoming day. She knew that her plans didn't really depend on her own will, but at least she could choose the order in which she would pester her friends with the constant requests of assigning her for some kind of a job.
Like on the day before, her glare found its way to Berk's main harbour, and stopped at the furled sails of a small mercantile ship. The port must have been empty at this time; there was probably no one there except the few fishermen coming back from the catch and the potential guard. Maybe she could have a look around and -
"Whisper!"
An enthusiastic shout roused her from her meditation and made her turn towards the person that was calling her. The girl beamed at the sight of a Viking that was running in her direction and nodded at him in greeting.
"Good morning, Fishlegs," she welcomed, simultaneously giving her friend the time necessary to catch his breath; she'd already learnt that running, even short, was not his particularly strong suit. "It's good to see you. What are you doing up so early?"
"I could ask you the same thing. How are you today?"
"The best. Really. And I woke up early, I had no reason to lie around when I was perfectly well-rested. And you? What can you say in your defence?"
"I've been helping my dad with bread making. Just the family thing."
Whisper sent him an astonished glare.
"Bread making? But that would mean you've been up for -"
"For a good couple of hours. Like if you haven't been; I saw you through the window."
"Yes, but -" the brunette hesitated. "I went to bed really early last night."
"Well, so did I."
"Are you kidding me? And what about that party you were having at the Great Hall?"
The question clearly flustered the boy, that however only made the Whisper's determination grow.
"Fishlegs?"
"A party is a pretty big word, you know." Fishlegs waved his hand, trying to make the gesture look careless. "A little meeting with an old friend of ours, that's all. I had some additional work to do in the evening, so I'd decided beforehand that I wouldn't be going anywhere; thanks to that I could go to sleep at a proper hour. Here, that's my story."
The way in which the Viking kept drilling the ground with his foot during that speech was another proof that he was not telling her everything; yet, she resolved not to push the matter. Almost immediately, her attention was caught by a bundle he was gripping in his hand.
"Alright then, let's say I believe you," she threw in with a friendly contrariness. "But you have to tell me what you're hiding in there."
A moment had passed before Fishlegs understood what Whisper had in mind, although apparently, he wasn't going to keep any more secrets.
"Oh, this. This is for you, actually." Having said that, he handed her a small package, wrapped in a piece of linen and loosely tied up with a string. "In case you run out of your own."
Whisper curiously took the packet and opened it. The dark cloth hid a few oblong bits of charcoal, properly plastered to secure the artist's fingers from unnecessary staining. She smiled widely.
"Thank you kindly, but those you gave me last time will easily serve me for more than a while now."
"You say so now, but you'll hardly blink, and you'll use them all. I've heard you've been drawing quite a lot lately."
"When I only can," she admitted.
"See? Go on, use them as much as you like, and I'll deliver you the next portion soon. It's not a particularly valuable thing, after all." Fishlegs fell silent, thinking. "And if you need paper -"
"Oh, I'm certainly not short of that," she hurried with an answer, remembering the stacks piled up next to her bed at the Thorston house. "Don't worry about that."
"Perfect. Have you had breakfast already?"
"No, not yet. It's still early."
"Good." Fishlegs nodded, as if he wanted to demonstrate his approval, and then realised he shouldn't have exactly been doing it. "That is, it's not good, considering that you've been up for so long, but… You know, I've just been to the Twins; I've left you some bread, some milk, about a dozen eggs -"
"Thanks again, but you really didn't have to," Whisper cut him off.
Fishlegs waved his hand again, and this time his sincerity was obvious.
"Tell that to my mum. It was her idea. As soon as she heard it was Ruff and Tuff who were responsible for feeding you, she got so scared that she almost made me bring you to a family dinner – yesterday, and on all the days that follow. Trust me, you wouldn't want that."
"That's very kind of her, but I haven't been living with the Twins for a day."
"Maybe not, but mum's only learned that; now she'll be trying to catch up and fat you even more. You better accept that breakfast, or otherwise she'll personally see to it that you eat properly."
"In that case, I give up." Chuckling, Whisper raised both of her hands, admitting her defeat. "I'll take whatever she sends."
"I was hoping you'd say that. The basket is standing on a shelf, right to the entrance, covered with a pelt. Usually, I wouldn't leave it with the Twins like that, but they both looked to be fast asleep, so I assumed I could take a risk. Although, you should probably check on them as soon as you can, you never know what those two will come up with."
"You think they would bolt it all without me?"
"Unfortunately, the Twins' creativity goes far beyond eating someone else's meal."
She grinned, silently agreeing with the boy. She really should come back home; it would be a shame if the delivery, prepared so carefully by Mrs Ingerman ended up as a toy in one of her hosts' crazy games. She resolved to go there with no further delay – she would only call by the smithery…
Or maybe she didn't have to?
"Fishlegs," she opened again. "Do you know if Gustav is in the forge already?"
"He's not, and from what I know, he won't be there at all today. It seems that Hiccup found some sort of a special task for him for today, and sent him off in the very morn. He won't be back to Berk until the evening, maybe later."
"Oh," the girl blurted out, plainly disappointed with the news. "I see. Well, I'll find him when he's back."
"Something's wrong?" her companion asked carefully, mildly worried. "Is there anything special you need?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I need to have a word with him, but it can wait."
"But he's behaving well?"
"Absolutely." She laughed cordially, noticing the blonde man's concern. "He helped me a lot recently; really, you should have more faith in him, too."
She felt the next wave of hunger, and decided it was time to say goodbye.
"I'd better go," she added half apologetically. "Maybe I'll manage to save the breakfast."
She was gone next moment. Without looking back, she was running in a brisk trot to the wooden hut she'd involuntarily started to call her home, amazed by another act of benevolence that she had just experienced. She might have been struggling with fear and nightmares, and yet she knew that her new friends would not let her fall. They provided for her, they looked after her – and with every new day she felt she was more attached to them.
On one hand, it roused in her an obvious anxiety – on the other, nothing could improve her mood more than the knowledge that there was someone who cared for her, and for whom she cared herself.
Tired but happy, she eventually stopped in front of the Thorston house's door, and panting heavily, she leaned on the wall right next to it. There was a smile on her face, a smile she was not going to suppress, while a youthful, even childlike enthusiasm was twinkling in her eyes. She pressed her hand to her breast, trying to calm down the irregular breathing, not wanting to come inside in such a state. She wasn't able to move as quietly and unobtrusively as usually at the moment, so if she had stepped into the hut now, she undoubtedly would have woken the Twins up from their blissful sleep.
While she was waiting, she heard a flapping of large dragon wings above her, and reflexively shifted her gaze in the direction from which the sound was coming. The Night Fury's graceful silhouette scudded before her eyes, soon landing on a path just a few huts away from where she was standing. Whisper froze. She could still sneak into the house unnoticed – however, if she wanted the plan to be successful, she would have to do the manoeuvre incredibly quickly, and then she could as much as forget trying to keep any pretence of silence.
She would not hide from them, would she?
She saw Hiccup unbuckle his prosthetic from the saddle mechanism and resolutely dismount the dragon. He was standing with his back turned to her, preoccupied with his talk with the Viking who had left the house to greet him.
Even though the Rider was paying her no mind, his dragon was doing something entirely opposite. Toothless was staring at her questioningly, as if he'd been taken aback by her sight and the position in which he had found her.
Whisper put her finger on her mouth, ordering him to remain silent, and hoping the creature would understand her request. The dragon titled his head, astonished, but didn't make a single sound; then he turned back towards his Rider. Had it not been for their mute conversation from a moment ago, the girl would be ready to believe that Toothless did not realise her presence at all.
Hiccup followed his interlocutor, and disappeared inside the hut. Without waiting for the opportunity to pass, Whisper did the same.
She had been in a grave mistake assuming that her hosts were still laying in the loving arms of Morpheus; as soon as she' crossed the threshold, she was welcomed by the excited shouts of the siblings, who apparently hadn't thought of sleep for a long time now.
Ruffnut waved her hand in an inviting gesture, in case her companion wouldn't have thought of coming closer herself. She was bending over a big basket that stood on the floor, occasionally whacking the head of her brother or the green dragon that was staying behind them, depending on who of them was currently sidling towards the valuable package.
"Glad you're back, a minute later and those mutton heads would've got to you breakfast," she threw in in a lieu of a greeting, rolling her eyes in a theatrical manner.
"Whisper! You won't believe what happened," Tuff cried out in his turn, clearly thrilled with the situation. "Odin must like you a lot, because when we were sleeping, he sent the trolls with a whole box of food for you!"
"Those weren't trolls, you moron," his sister bridled. "Odin doesn't hire trolls."
"No? Who does he hire, then?"
"He's got his ways, and none of them is your business."
"Whatever -" The young man decided not to prolong the discussion, and instead, he turned back to Whisper. "there's plenty of food in here, and it's all yours. Look, there's even a note: Ruff, Tuff, hands off the basket." He read out loud almost proudly. "See? Totally awesome. There are eggs, yak's milk, even Mrs Ingerman's famous pie!"
"Oh, really?" Whisper raised her eyebrows, pretending to be sincerely surprised. "And what it Mrs Ingerman's pie doing in a gift from Odin?"
"Are you kidding?" the Viking blurted, offended by his friend's scepticism. "There's no way you can mistake that pie. It is food of the gods, I tell you! I'm sure Thor himself feasts on it whenever he gets the chance."
"I concur with your statement, dear brother," Ruffnut sighed, placing her hand on her stomach. "Honestly, if there's one thing in Berk's cuisine that's actually worth living here, it's this."
"I see." With a ghost of a smile wandering around her face, Whisper peered into the basket, and frowned immediately after. The pie she found inside was huge, but what was more, it was not the only surprise that had been awaiting her – except for it and the supplies already mentioned by Fishlegs, the bottom of the container was covered with at least a dozen of apples, cheese, a pot of curd and… a hen. Plucked, prepared, yet still in one piece – a hen.
'And he said he would only bring some bread…' she thought, wondering what she would have to do to make the Vikings stop spoiling her with their gifts. On the other had, if her assumptions were correct – and everything she'd seen so far seemed to confirm them – Mrs Ingerman simply was a type of a person who finds pleasure in taking care of others, especially when it comes to feeding them. In such a case, all of her qualms could be thrown away at once.
"You haven't had breakfast yet either, I suppose?" she asked eventually, taking some of the basket's contents out of it, and laying them on the table.
"Yes, and we're hungry as Helheim because of it," Tuffnut answered decidedly, glaring at the pie longingly. "Hey, do you think you might treat us a little with that present of yours?"
"Well, I won't eat all of it by myself, will I?" Whisper laughed. "Just don't touch the pie, we'll save it for a dessert. For now, I need a bowl, a frying-pan and a spoon. I could use some salt, too."
"Woah, easy there, sister. We don't have the best memories concerning that thing."
"That sounds like another great story."
"To each their own, I'd say. What do you want to do?"
"Just some scrambled eggs. And a lot of it. Ruff, can you help me with this?"
In less than a second, the fair-haired woman found her companion's side, handing all of the necessary dishes and spices to her; Tuffnut didn't waste his time, either, running around them and asking what he could do to make the breakfast appear on their table even sooner. At last he was seconded by his vexed sister, and ordered to take care of the fireplace – a task he carried out with a stubbornness and attention absolutely incredible for his usual standards. Unfortunately, it did not mean he would close his mouth for a minute.
"Alright, so what do I do? Oh, right, the fire. Where is the brushwood? Don't answer that, I'll figure it out… Yes! There it is. Now all we need to do is pile it and… Ruff, where do we keep all those twigs? Outside? No, wait, there's something in here – nope, that's just Uncle Halvar's old prosthetic. Maybe it's better not to burn it. By the way, how is he doing? I haven't seen him since he ate all that Dragon Nip, and put out to sea with nothing but his shirt, and without his peg leg. Wait, that's why it's here? We took it from him? Eh, whatever, Uncle Halvar always did pretty well without that thing."
Ruffnut slapped her hand against her forehead, incapable of commenting her twin's meaningless speech in any other way – at least she no longer had to worry about Whisper's reaction, as the latter had already got used to the antics of the both of them. The brunette remained silent at the moment, focusing on the onion she was chopping, fighting the stinging in her eyes which unluckily for her couldn't be separated from that job.
"Here, there's the brushwood, there are the twigs, all perfectly arranged. It looks like no explosion is coming, although we all know that weird things happen in this house. Should I fire it? Barf, Belch, come here, and show them how it's done. No tricks please, we still have a guest around. Come on, move those four legs of yours! Oh hi, Heather. You've popped in for breakfast?"
Both Ruffnut and Whisper answered his final statement with an abrupt turn towards the entrance. Right there, rested on the door frame, stood a slender, raven-haired girl, and watched the whole scene with a slightly ironic grin spreading on her face; it was clear she'd been standing there unnoticed for quite some time now. Whisper, whose eyes had already had enough time to water, couldn't look at the stranger properly, yet something in the girl's general appearance made her lose the easiness she had felt so far.
In the meantime, Heather pushed off from the frame and approached them readily.
"Thanks, I've already eaten," she answered firmly. "You're up early. I didn't think you'd manage to get up before noon, not after what you drank last night."
"Hey, I'm clean," Ruffnut protested. "He is the one experimenting."
"Let's say so. Tuff, what was in that drink, exactly?"
"You don't wanna know."
"Probably not."
"It tasted worse than Yaknog, and this time it's not a metaphor," the other twin giggled, shaping her face in a disgusted grimace.
"I've never had a chance to try that legendary potion, but I think I know what you mean."
"Lucky you. Your friendship with Astrid would have ended before you'd take the first sip."
"Yeah, I bet," Heather snorted, apparently not finding the last comment funny. She turned towards the girl who was the real reason for her coming there. "You must be Whisper."
The brunette nodded in confirmation. Heather reached out her arm for a handshake, immediately causing the other girl to feel better. With a sigh of relief, Whisper took the hand that had been offered to her, simultaneously wiping her wet eyes with the sleeve on her free arm. Her new acquaintance chuckled quietly.
"Everything okay?"
"Yes, it's… It's just the onions."
"You know, my brother always says there's only one way you can avoid tears during this kind of work."
"And that is?"
"Don't get emotionally involved." The warrior sent her another smile and shifted her attention to the Twins. "Listen guys, how about you take Barf and Belch, and bring some more fuel wood? Your shed is practically empty, and it seems like it may start raining any moment; you won't find anything good enough for firing tomorrow. I'll stay here, and help with all those culinary preparations -" she turned to Whisper, realising that her offer might not be taken that willingly. "Unless you don't mind, of course."
"Not at all." Whisper shook her head, and more quietly, she added, "There will always be a use for some wood, and I'll spend enough time with them anyway."
Heather laughed, and more resolutely this time, she expelled both the Twins and their dragon from their own hut. Having closed the door after them, she spun around on her heel, and gave Whisper a highly disbelieving glare.
"I'm not even trying to understand how you can survive living under the same roof with them."
"That's no big deal. You're friends with them yourself."
"Yes, but if had to share a house with them, someone would end up with more than one broken rib."
"I flatter myself to be a pretty patient person."
"I don't think anyone could doubt that."
There was so much admiration in the newcomer's voice, that her interlocutor couldn't do much more than look away, grinning thankfully. On the contrary, the leader of the Berserker's Island didn't take her eyes off her even for a moment.
'Good Freya, you really are pretty. Even in those nasty old rags. Maybe it's better that Hiccup doesn't see it.'
"So, how can I help you?" she asked out loud.
"There isn't much left to be done, frankly. There's no point in heating anything before the Twins come back, and we've already prepared everything else. I just need to finish with those onions."
Heather gave a nod, and involuntarily, she started to look around the room. Her attention was caught by a stack of papers, spread on a bed that stood nearby.
"Are those yours?" she asked, pointing at them.
"Yes. Nothing special, just a few sketches, most of them barely started."
"May I…?"
"Sure, go on." Whisper's smile gained a look of an invitation. "Just please, don't expect too much. You won't find anything spectacular in there."
Her companion thought otherwise, however, and it was enough for her to glance at the drawings in her hands to know that she was dealing with no ordinary skills. True, only a small part of the sketches was finished but even those early stages showed signs of an uncommon talent.
More than once Heather had had a chance to examine the drawings made by Hiccup, and she was pretty good with a charcoal herself but this – this was something more. The longer she stared at them, the more convinced she was that her first impression was right.
One of the sketches arrested her attention more than the others. She stopped to eye it carefully, shifting her gaze from the sheet to the girl standing in front of her, and then back to the drawing itself.
She might have just come up with a very interesting idea.
"What's the matter?" Whisper raised her brows, not understanding her interlocutor's behaviour; Heather only shook her head, prolonging the silence for a few additional moments.
"Nothing," she explained at last. "It's just something that came to my mind. You're good."
Whisper didn't respond, not wanting to show the signs of fake modesty. She was happy to see the other woman's appreciation – yet, she certainly did not expect to receive the question she was asked a short while later.
"Could I borrow one of your works? I promise to give it back intact."
"Yes, of course," she answered, slightly dazed. "But please, just take it. I'm not that much attached to those works, you don't need to give them back. However, may I ask, what would you need them for?"
"I told you, I've got an idea. Now, let's get down to the real business: What do you think of Berk?"
Author's note: And here I come at last, with this new, belated, boring and completely unnecessary filler chapter.
And seriously: I really, really am sorry you had to wait that long. Then again, the chapter is very long, and translating it in the middle of my end-of-semester-hell wasn't the easiest thing to do. I just hope you'll find it a little bit more interesting than I do, or than I fear that you do.
Good news are, I'm working on the new chapters, and the writing is going pretty well - so, fingers crossed, I'll be able to come back to my regular schedule and update this story in four weeks time.
For now, I thank you for your attention and all the kind words you've been giving me so far. I love you guys.
PS Big thanks to Water-Star for her undying support and help with editing. You're amazing.
God bless you,
Margaret
