The village of Berk was lit up like a surreal dream. When Harrow stepped out of the Mead Hall, he was struck by all the flickering colored lights. The ropes that were strung up in order to hang the banners also had lanterns with multi colored glass panes on them. There was plenty of regular torchlight as well, but he was pretty sure the village was probably visible far out to see.
The night sky was perfectly clear. A sliver of the moon shone high overhead and the stars shone no matter where one looked into the dome of the sky. Harrow supposed it was perfect flying weather.
The music of pan flutes, drums, lyres and fiddles filled the air at the village center where the largest congregation of Berkians and their guests could be found. A jaunty festival tune that made the heart glad and chased worries from the mind floated up from where the musicians stood. Certain as the moon follows the sunset, where there was music, there was dancing. Vikings danced alone or in pairs, though many participants were thoroughly inebriated and were not perhaps as graceful as they thought.
A large stage had been assembled sometime in the last couple of days and upon it sat the chief, Stoick, in a ornately carved chair. He was smiling paternally with a merry twinkle in his green eyes and a cup of mead in one large hand. One large booted foot tapped the stage to the time of the music. It was the most disarming image of the chief that Harrow had ever seen in his brief time on Berk. The chief almost looked… carefree. Or, dare it be said, happy?
There was one other thing about the celebration scene that caught Harrow's eye. There were dragons everywhere! Gronckles, Nadders, Terrible Terrors, the odd Nightmare or Zippleback on their best behavior, there was not one part of the village center or the nearby rooftops that did not sport at least one scaly denizen of the island. To a one, they all seemed happy and playful.
The Berkians around them were happy they were there, of course, since they had come to accept the dragons as companions in everyday village life since the Dragon Peace. However, the guests stood out, as they were more leery of the great lizards, and took great pains to stay away from them without being perceived as rude to their hosts. Harrow supposed the Dragon Peace hadn't reached far beyond the shores of Berk.
"Oi! Harrow, lad, good to see you up and about!" Mulch called to him. The big sailor stood on the edge of the crowd, Bucket nearby with a platter of sweet treats.
Harrow couldn't help but smile when he saw the pair of Berkians. "Good to be up and about, Mulch. How's it going, Bucket?"
"Oh Thor, but I love this music!" Bucket sighed wistfully, his expression one of pure happiness. "Here, try one of these honey cakes. Baked them myself!"
Harrow accepted one of the sticky confections and took a bite. He winced, overcome with the overly sweet taste. It tasted like pure honey. It reminded him of mead, not exactly a good comparison. "Uh, thanks, Bucket."
Mulch laughed. "Isn't this grand, Harrow? This is one night you'll never be able to forget for the rest of your life, mark my words!"
Over on the stage, Gobber announced the first of the entertainments. The young children of the village had gathered to march in a little parade. Sure enough, a lone procession of little Viking boys and girls came trotting along from one of the streets into the village center, colorful little flags flying from their hands. Their faces were lit with joy as they had the time of their young lives.
"Let's hear it for the wee ones!" Gobber cheered, thrusting his own colored pennant into the air at the end of his stump. In the torchlight Harrow saw that Gobber had daubed warpaint on his face, a series of vibrant blue stripes over a green field. The crowd enthusiastically cheered, clapping and whistling. The children laughed and scattered to their parents.
Gobber glanced back at his chief, who nodded from his seat of honor, then stepped forward to the very edge of the stage and cleared his throat. The cheering and whistling respectfully ebbed as it appeared Stoick's right-hook man had something to say.
"We Berkians have come a long way in four hundred years! For a long time, we were at war with the dragons! Hunting them, killing them! But that all changed one day, when some of our youngest Berkians had the guts to step up and take a stand! Ladies and Vikings, the time has come to look to the future of Berk!"
With a flourish, he turned and threw up his good hand in a gesture of presentation toward the Spire looming over the land behind him. "I give you, Hiccup and the Dragon Riders of Berk!"
At first, the approaching formation of dragons were just dark shadows that blotted out the stars as they flew through the sky. But then, each dragon opened their jaws and ignited their breath. In the case of Snotlout and the Monstrous Nightmare he rode, it set itself aflame and blazed through the cool night air like a comet. Hiccup rode Toothless at the head of the formation. From the ground it was easy to see him say something over his shoulder to his friends and fellow riders, probably some instruction or encouragement.
Shortly after, the formation broke up. Astrid, upon her Deadly Nadder, and Heather, upon a dragon that Harrow had no name for, separated from the rest of the flight and then flew away from one another.
When they were at the limits of sight from the ground, they wheeled their dragons back around and began to soar back in the other direction towards one another. It looked like the dragons would collide in mid-air. A wave of dismayed murmurs and gasps worked around the crowds as they became aware of this. However, as they closed, each rider stood up upon their mount and leapt forward into the open air. The crowds actually cried out at seeing this.
Harrow's jaw dropped.
At the apogee of their arc, Astrid and Heather clanged their wrist-guards together in a shieldmaiden's greeting. Then, their dragons caught them again. They made low looping passes over the cheering crowds, pumping their arms over their heads in triumph. The crowds ate it up.
Next came Snotlout and his flaming Monstrous Nightmare. They approached from out over the harbor, low and fast. Their flight path brought them just over the lip of the cliff and over the carefully constructed bonfire pile.
"Coming in hot!" Snotlout called as the Nightmare lit the bonfire with the flames of it's passing, before abruptly pulling up over the crowd. Harrow could feel the heat rolling off the great lizard and was utterly astounded that no one had been hurt. The crowd, fearful at first, became jubilant after they realized there had never been any real danger to them.
Triumphant, Snotlout looked like he had forgotten his earlier troubles, about the stories that were going around that painted Harrow as a living saint to Thor.
Right now, the whole village was cheering his dragon and him, and nothing else mattered. Harrow envied being so simple minded.
Now Tuffnut and Ruffnut rode high up into the sky over Berk upon their faithful Hideous Zippleback, Barf and Belch. Barf was emitting a long streamer of Zippleback gas as they began to curve and loop through the air. At first, the crowds murmured in confusion. What were they doing up there?
It became apparent to Harrow that the twins were drawing a huge rendition of the Hooligan tribal emblem, the grimacing Viking face that adorned the sails of the ships, the harbor guardians, and the guardians at the door to the Mead Hall.
The rest of the crowd finally understood the grand design when Belch lit the whole thing off with a spark. The design burst into flame, briefing turning day into night, before the whole thing drifted gently on the wind.
Fishlegs, and his Gronckle, Meatlug, came rocketing through the rapidly shrinking center of the fiery emblem at the fastest possible speed that a Gronckle could sustain.
Harrow looked on with bemused awe as the husky Viking man performed perhaps the most dangerous act he had ever seen him undertake in his short time on Berk. He had thought of Fishlegs as being the meek, gentle type on first meeting the dragon scholar. This act proved that he was a Viking deep down at his core, as much a daredevil as all the rest in his own right.
The best was saved for last. Hiccup and Toothless climbed up high into the sky as the fiery Hooligan emblem finally burned out. At the top of the climb, Toothless stalled out and flipped over backwards into a power dive. The telltale high-speed whistle of the Night Fury preceded their approach like a storm front.
However, instead of people diving for the deck in abject terror as would be dictated by tradition and good sense, they cheered. In fact, of all the rounds of adoration given so far, it was by far the loudest and longest display.
Toothless and Hiccup leveled out of the power dive over the village square and took off flying just over rooftop level, weaving through the streets.
All seemed well as the exhibition flight came to an end.
Abruptly, Toothless and Hiccup dove for the crowd, alighting not too far away from where Harrow, Mulch, and Bucket were spectating the celebration. The Night Fury landed and immediately assumed a threatening stance, cornering three Viking men who all bore a strong family resemblance with the same handle-bar mustache.
They cowered together as Hiccup speared them with a hostile glare, his red warpaint giving him a fierce demeanor. "Who are you!?"
"P-please don't harm them, Hiccup!" A fourth man, who also bore a striking resemblance to the first three, cried as he ran up.
"Wait, Sven, you know these guys?" Hiccup asked dubiously, indicating the three cowering Vikings with a wave of a hand.
"Sure! They're my uncles! Whispering Waldo, Mute Marvin, and Soft-Spoken Sam! They're just boat-lagged from their long journey!"
Each of the three uncles timidly greeted Hiccup when they were named. Harrow watched as the tension melted away from Hiccup as he realized that he had nearly made a terrible mistake. Astrid landed nearby atop her Nadder, watching Hiccup carefully.
Sitting back in his saddle, Hiccup let out a deep breath. "Sorry, Sven. And you, too, Wailing Waldo, Muttering Marvin…er, oh, forget it! Nevermind! Welcome to Berk."
And off he flew on Toothless, with Astrid in hot pursuit upon her Nadder. The expression on her war-painted face was pensive. Something had happened, there, to make Hiccup react with such paranoia.
Harrow thought back to that first meal he had shared with the Riders of Berk, when Tuffnut had mentioned the bounty on Hiccup's head. He could sympathize with Hiccup, though from the other end of the line. It was no fun constantly watching over one's shoulder.
The crowd had witnessed all of this and it had dampened their mood somewhat. There was uneasy muttering, the crowd shifting like tall grass in a wind as they strained to see who Hiccup had been speaking to. Sven ushered his Uncles away quietly as Gobber spoke to the crowd from the stage. Stoick seemed thoughtful, looking in the direction his son had flown away.
"Hmm, wonder what that was all about?" Mulch mused, tugging on his thick beard. He glanced sidelong at Harrow. "You wouldn't happen to know, eh, lad?"
Harrow shook his head slowly. "I don't. I'm just an outsider looking in, Mulch."
"Huh." Mulch grunted thoughtfully. "Oh well, maybe it's nothing. Let's go back to enjoying the evening, shall we?"
"Go on without me, Mulch." Harrow sighed, feeling a sudden bout of exhaustion overtake him. "I'm going to go find somewhere to sit down."
Mulch peered at Harrow's face. "Are you feeling well, lad?"
"Just tired." Harrow assured him. "This is the longest I've stood on my feet since I got injured, so I'm kinda drained."
"Okay. Maybe we'll run across one another some other time, tonight." Mulch replied. "But, if you're feeling bad, maybe you should retire early?"
Harrow favored him with a wan smile. "Maybe."
Mulch slapped him on the back and collected Bucket before disappearing into the milling crowd of Vikings.
Harrow pushed his way through the crowd. He had seen a carved wooden bench out in front of a house at the edge of the village center. Thankfully, the bench was empty. He sat down and laid his head back against the bench's backrest. His legs felt like jelly and a familiar throbbing was beginning behind his bad eye.
He groaned. "Ugh, not now."
He had almost forgot about his headaches. Another unwelcome reminder of life before coming to Berk.
He felt someone take a seat beside him on the bench. He cracked his good eye and saw Ruffnut, her face daubed artfully in yellow and green warpaint, watching him with concern. "You okay, tough guy?"
Harrow snorted despite himself. "Tough guy?"
Ruffnut shrugged. "You're always trying to downplay how bad your feeling. Like right now, I bet. You look sick."
"I'm up past my bedtime." He quipped, deadpan. "And my body is reminding me."
"Do you want to go back to the guest lodge?"
"What, and miss the rest of this party?" Harrow replied, doubtful. "No way! I just need something to fortify me. Could you get me a drink?"
Ruffnut huffed archly. "What do I look like, your personal serving wench?"
"Please?" He favored her with what he hoped was a dazzling smile. He watched her petulance dissolve as she rolled her eyes.
"Fine! Gods, I can't resist that look!" She groaned. She stood and looked down at him. "Mead or ale?"
"Actually, if there happens to be wine, I'd take that gladly." Harrow answered carefully.
Ruffnut arched both brows incredulously. "Really?"
"I'll owe you big, Ruff."
"Gods-damned right, you will!" She declared. She reached down and poked him in the chest. "Now, sit right there and don't move. I'll be right back."
Ruffnut stalked into the crowd in search of the refreshment vendors. Harrow couldn't believe that she actually went to go get him something to drink. And wine of all things! He made the uncomfortable realization that this crush could be a useful tool, if he wanted it be. Not that he was thrilled with the idea of emotionally manipulating Ruffnut like that, but there it was as an option. But would he stoop so low?
He watched the crowd for Ruffnut's return. Instead of finding her face in the sea of Vikings around him, he was startled to pick out another pair that he had not expected at all.
Pike and Orley.
Bounty hunters. From Port Tempest. Here, on Berk! Harrow could not believe his bad luck. Both men were typical Vikings physically, large and imposing. Both were molded from the same clay, strong and ugly. They were usually some of his toughest competition for contracts. He remembered poaching a few marks from them.
Now they were here. What were the odds? They would recognize him if they got a good look at his face. Hel, if they even so much as saw his scar, they'd know who he was!
The two bounty hunters tried their best to blend into the crowd. They drank and ate, pretending and failing to appear a natural part of the scene. Harrow supposed they would seem like someone's distant cousin, so would remain undisturbed. Not that anyone would be particularly curious tonight, not with drinks and entertainment to be had.
Suddenly, Pike leaned over and said something to Orley. A moment passed before both men broke from the mass of people and walked in Harrow's direction.
Harrow suffered a minor panic attack. His heart jumped up into his throat as he tried to figure out how they had seen him through the crowd. Had they even looked? He didn't think so. What was he going to do? He couldn't start a confrontation here, amidst the crowd!
But the two grim-faced thugs weren't headed directly for him, hadn't even spotted him at all. They passed by the bench he sat on and ducked down the empty street.
"Shit!" Harrow hissed, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. His palms had begun to sweat, he had been so sure they were coming to deal with him.
It was beyond obvious to Harrow they were here for Hiccup. Viggo's bounty was still good, and it was by no means exclusively for him. It was only by the will of the Three Fates that Berk wasn't crawling with bounty hunters.
Well, more so than it already was, counting himself and those other two.
He stood up, ignoring the headache and his legs' desire to quiver. He damned his weakness. He dare not coddle himself, not with competition on the track of his mark.
Because, if Pike and Orley managed to get ahold of Hiccup, Signy was as good as dead.
Plus, it was the principle of the thing.
Gods, he hated competition!
He pressed forward, following in the direction he had seen the two men go, and was relieved to find that they hadn't gone far. They had merely ducked into a shadowy alley between two houses fifty paces up the street and were huddled together, whispering while casting furtive glances around.
He suppressed a derisive snort. What a bunch of amateurs!
Harrow approached the alley quietly. He saw that his shadow was being cast ahead of himself by the light streaming down the street from the town center. He paused, sure that would tip Pike and Orley off. After a moment of thought he pressed himself up against the front of the houses. His shadow disappeared. He inched his way side-on along the front of the house until he could make out what was being said.
"... supposed to get past a Thor-blasted Night Fury?!" the voice of Orley hissed urgently. "We didn't sign up for no gods-damned dragon-fighting!"
"Don't fret, I got a plan." Pike whispered harshly. There was a rustling cloth sound as he opened something, maybe a sack or a pouch. "We use this!"
There was a beat of pregnant silence.
"Uh, that's… just blades of grass." Orley whispered back, unimpressed.
"Not just any grass, Orley, my lad." Pike explained patiently. "It's that stuff these mad Hooligans call dragon nip. It knocks dragons out cold, it does. Makes them docile like an old tom cat."
"Well, which is it? It knocks 'em out or makes 'em lazy?"
"Suppose a little of both? Don't matter, so much as it'll make it so the dragon won't fuss us none."
The rustling cloth sounded again as the sack or pouch was closed.
"I hope so, Pike. I want to grab the runt and heel-and-toe off this dragon-infested rock fast as possible!"
"I hear you, this place makes my skin crawl. Vikings, living with dragons? This whole island is touched by Loki!" Pike whispered in reply.
"Now remember the plan, Orley. While these Hooligans are busy enjoying themselves, their precious Heir is all alone in the Chief's house. We give his dragon the nip, sneak inside, and give him a little bop on the head to keep him quiet."
"Then, we leg it out the back of the house and get to our boat." Orley added, continuing the plan. "And when they realize the runt is gone, we'll already be long gone."
"Aye, that we will be." Pike agreed. "Soon to be a thousand gold pieces richer!"
Harrow heard a sound that might have been stifled laughter from the two rival bounty hunters. Then he heard them start walking toward the street. He scuttled for the other side of the house and managed to duck around the corner into another alley. He froze in the darkness, waiting to see if they had caught a glimpse of him. When they didn't come to investigate, he relaxed a touch and crept to the house's corner. He waited another beat then risked a glance. Pike and Orley were two vague figures in the dark, moving away up the street toward the rise of the slope.
Toward the Spire, the Mead Hall, and Haddock Hall.
And Hiccup.
Harrow rushed back to the village center. He arrived back at the bench he had been sitting at just as Ruffnut appeared through the crowd. A cross expression darkened her face, a cup was clenched in one hand.
"Do you realize how hard it is to find a cup of this stuff right now?" She demanded of him, thrusting the cup at him as he reached for it. Dark red wine sloshed over the rim and coated the back of his hand. "Just wait, I think I know exactly how I'm going call that favor in! And you better not even dream of backing out!"
Mind turning, Harrow forced a smile at her and drank the wine as fast as he could. It did wonders for the pain in his head and his rattled nerves. A plan was forming as he drank. When he was finished, he put the cup down on the bench.
"Oh really, and how is that?"
"I'm not telling you, not yet! You'll have to suffer the agony of suspense." Ruffnut told him, smirking.
"Okay, fair enough." Harrow replied, sounding preoccupied. "Just hold that thought. I need to ask you for a favor."
"Another one?"
Harrow blinked. "Uh, what was the first?"
Wordlessly, Ruffnut snatched up the empty cup and waved it in his face.
"Oh… right."
"So, what is it you want this time?" Ruffnut asked smugly, crossing her arms over chest and cocking a hip. "Just understand, this'll make two favors owed. They're starting to add up."
"Fine." Harrow agreed brusquely. "I need you to go and get a hold of the chief. Tell him that he needs to head home immediately."
Now it was Ruffnut's turn to blankly stare. "What? Why should he do that?"
"Because, I think I saw two suspicious characters creeping away from the celebration a moment ago."
Ruffnut shrugged, unconcerned. "So? Could be just a couple of drunkards looking for somewhere to take a piss. No big deal."
Harrow fixed her with a hard gaze. "They were headed in the direction of Haddock Hall."
Ruffnut's expression went from blank incomprehension to high alert in about two seconds flat. "Bounty hunters!"
Harrow nodded grimly, his lips a thin line. "Exactly what I suspect."
Ruffnut grabbed him by the hand and started for the platform where Stoick had been sitting. "Well, come on! We can't wait a second longer!"
"Hold on a minute!" He held his ground, forcing her to look him in the eye by grabbing her by the shoulders. "If we both go to get the chief, they'll be free to grab Hiccup. Then who knows where they'll be? If I go now, I can catch them at the chief's house and slow them down."
"Are you crazy?" Ruffnut cried in dismay, trying to shrug away his hands. "You're not fully recovered from the last fight you got into!"
"I know, I know… but this is too important!" Harrow argued, tightening his hold on her. "It was only just by luck that I saw these guys when they snuck off. I can't waste this chance!"
Ruffnut scowled, clearly unhappy with the idea. "You only slow them down, Harrow. Try not to need any more stitches!"
Surprising himself, Harrow flashed her when he hoped was a winning smile. "I make no promises."
Ruffnut surprised him even more when he grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a clumsy kiss.
That froze him on the spot. All thoughts of heading off the bounty hunters shuddered to a halt in his brain.
Ruffnut didn't seem to mind his sudden passivity, or maybe she too was stunned by her own boldness. She broke away from him with one of her old leers, and told him somewhat huskily. "That's for luck, then."
"Uh… r-right…" Harrow mumbled shakily. She ran off to get Stoick. He shook himself out of the stupor he had found himself in. He frowned furiously, glad of the dark. A confusing roiling ball of emotion churned in his belly.
He went forward into the night, hoping for a fight. He needed the distraction now.