…Wow.
I think I got about 20-odd reviews on that last chapter alone. (EDIT: I double-checked. Only 13 since last update. Drat.)
So… I think I'm seeing a pattern here.
MORE DEVIATION ENROUTE! For the next little bit anyway. Though the arena's coming up soon… It all gets fast-paced from there.
And there might also be more Astrid-teen relations… Depends on how long I want to blab for.
REVIEWING REVIEWS:
ANGRYHENRY: YOU'RE GETTING REALLY ANGRY, I SEE. (bobber. Lol… I lol'd)
kitty.0: Well, he was planning on tussling with Toothless, but… actually… HA! Thanks for the story idea!
faisyah865: huehuehue
jaggedheart: *looks down* *looks up* Read, you.
My Lord Doctor6735: I'm working on something… interesting. So keep an eye out! Props!
PeguengPeguengPeguengPegueng: Sorry 'bout that. I'll edit the story sometime in the future. Promise.
R. Peter: Like I said, there will be more deviation in the rewrite.
Midoriko-sama: WOOOOO YOU REDDED MA STOREE
Also, wanted to say, BIG THANK YOU TO THE TONS OF LITTLER COUNTRIES that are racking up a sizeable amount of hits for me; Australia, Japan, there's someone from Cambodia… Wow. Thanks guys! I really appreciate it!
Without hammer or tong/ The day will seem long.
Gobber hummed a little ditty he created on the spur of the moment, while he was busy sharpening Phlegma's axe. Sure, he wasn't all that good at it (poetry, that is), but that was why he became a smith, not a bard. Bards had no real use in Viking society, what with all the dragon killing, and… well, dragon killing.
Being a smith allowed him to let out all his anger and frustration of the day on a piece of metal, smashing it and shaping it to his liking. Besides. He considered himself an equal with the chief in this task only; after all, men were putting their lives literally in his hands. While Stoick dealt with the interpersonal problems, Gobber would deal with the practical problems. Use an axe. And if that doesn't work? Use more axe. Or sword. Or bola. Basically anything that would hurt, maim, wound, and/or otherwise kill a dragon.
He enjoyed it. Immensely. And so did Hiccup.
Or so he had thought, until a little while ago – maybe yesterday or the day before – when he had happened across something of Hiccup's in the boy's little 'invention room'. Gobber had made a promise with the lad when Hiccup was about knee-high to a grasshopper, that Gobber wouldn't go into Hiccup's invention room, and Hiccup wouldn't use any of his inventions on/with/near Gobber.
So when he had picked up one of Hiccup's sheets that had blown onto the floor – without going in the invention room – and had examined it, he wondered if the boy really did want to continue smithing.
He would ask Hiccup when he came later – oh, here he was now. Perfect.
"Hey Hiccup?" Gobber asked cordially, limping over to where the gangly teen was coming through the door of the small shop.
"Yeah, Gobber?" He seemed to be holding up well under the pressure of his impending initiation, Gobber realized.
Gobber held the sheet in front of him so that he could see both Hiccup and the drawing. "I was, ah, cleaning up the shop, and I stumbled across one of your sheets. It must have blown out of your room. Could you tell me exactly what this is?" Holding up the sheet so that they could both see what it was, Gobber waited for Hiccup's explanation. This oughta be good.
Hiccup's heart had dropped when Gobber had first displayed the sheet, and then had fallen further when he finally turned it around so they could both see it.
It was a detailed – though not labeled – diagram of Toothless' artificial tailfin, sans dragon tail.
"Ah, erm… that's my next invention."
"Hiccup… are you trying to fly?"
"Ye-e-es?" It came out more a question than an affirmative.
"Well. That's a relief. For a little while, I thought you had been drawing dragons."
"Heh!" Hiccup laughed hollowly. "Yeah. That'd be silly." At Gobber's curious look, he bumbled on, "Yes, yeah, it's a flight suit. Thing. Fin. Fin. It's a flight suit fin."
"Well…" Gobber stroked his chin. "I could give you several tips if you want them…"
"You could help me with a dr- flight suit fin?" Hiccup asked, incredulous.
"Hiccup," Gobber gently explained, "if this… flight suit… gives you a confidence boost when you're fighting dragons, then I'll help you any way you need. Just… don't use it near me, right?"
Hiccup smiled genuinely. "Right," he agreed, remembering invention no. 4: a sheep-powered beard trimmer. Ever since that incident, everyone had agreed to go back to beards again. Gobber included.
"So." Gobber cracked his back, then his lone set of knuckles. "Since you're talking to the world's leading authority on dragons, Bork not included, let's get started on your dragon-esque wing."
They discussed for many hours on the simplicity of the design – Hiccup wanted it simple, easy to maneuver with two separate straps, and Gobber wanted far more flexibility than it currently offered. He said, "In order to move with the dragon, you must move like a dragon. Not like a hairless yak," he said, gesturing to himself. "Which means you need to be able to change direction on a hardtack. Which means more flexibility," he argued, and the words went flying again. Hiccup's argument consisted mostly of: "If I make it too flexible, then I won't even be able to get it off the ground what with all the metal poles and all."
"Aye. You'd need a dragon's strength for that," Gobber reluctantly admitted.
Hiccup rushed to dissuade the claim. "No, no… just… a lot more than I have."
Gobber chuckled, and left it at that.
They had ended up deciding to use a thinner, sturdier fabric for the wing, and thinner, leather – reinforced poles for the stabilizers. New articulations would allow for better response time and magnitude, allowing for greater turning power. Unfortunately, Hiccup had to leave, so Gobber decided to continue making it alone.
Or rather, he would have, if Astrid hadn't told him Stoick had to see him – urgently – on some business with Silent Sven. Flight fin forgotten, Gobber rushed off to see what was so urgent about a man who never spoke.
Leaving Astrid alone at the shop.
Sneaking in gently, trying to look like she belonged here, Astrid went to get her scrap axe, the one she had been working on with Hiccup, and just leave, maybe come back later to finish, when something caught her eye.
A sheet of paper lying across the anvil had a drawing that looked vaguely familiar. Stepping closer, she could see that it was a picture of Toothless' tail fin. Only, there were scribbles all over it – some in Hiccup's obvious scrawl (she knew how bad his writing was), the rest in a neat legible format. That must be Gobber's. There was also a lot of red rust smeared over the whole thing, blurring the charcoal and making her eyes hurt to try to sort it out.
She was about to leave again when a brush from her skirt lifted the paper just a bit. She could see something, but as her hands were full of axe parts, she had to use her foot to lift the paper…
"Astrid?"
Jumping at Hiccup's sudden interruption, she dropped the dull axe blade on her toe. "Ow! Hiccup! I almost cut my whole foot off!"
"But you didn't," he reassured her, grinning like a man who's prepared to die via pretty woman but doesn't really care (again, pretty woman). "I really need to clean out my room," he said, gesturing to his hideaway. "Gobber found one of my Toothless fin designs and assumed I was trying to make a flight suit. Which isn't really a bad idea, actually… but I'm going to have to adjust it for my body so that I can control it with my arms…"
She couldn't help the grin when he babbled. "Hiccup," she reminded him gently. "The pictures. What are you doing about them?"
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I'm gonna get them all and take them to the cove. I'll get Toothless to flame them. That way there'll be exactly zero evidence to find, ever again."
"Okay, so you have the evidence figured out, but what are you planning on doing in…" She counted on her fingers. "Four days."
"Four-and-a-half," he sighed. "I still don't know. I figure I could keep Toothless nearby in case of trouble, but then someone might see him, and we'd have a problem. Or I could keep him shut in the cove. He can't get out, so no one'll find him. Unfortunately, that means if something goes wrong…"
"…he won't be there to save you," she finished, taking his hand comfortingly. "You'll figure it out…" She gave him one of her trademark smirks. "You always manage somehow," she joked.
He grinned, then hesitated, looked down. She did too, wondering what –
She let go of his hand, brushing a bang behind her ear as a blush started to creep from her cheeks. "You, ah, do your sorting thing in your room… place…" she ordered, turning away so he couldn't see her cheeks.
Of course, had she been looking, she could have seen some flush on Hiccup as well.
"Right, right," he said, gathering everything and anything pertaining to Toothless – except for the Book of Dragons and his first sketch – into a pile, which he picked up awkwardly. "Okay, where's the door?"
"Come forward about a step and a half," Astrid instructed, guiding him forward. "Okay, turn right – no, my right, your left. Okay, now take three ste – Stop! You'll hit the shields – okay, you're good. Just… footsie around the barrel… yep, you're good!"
"Thanks, Astrid!" he grunted around the pile, carefully leaving through the door and making a beeline for the cove. Everyone else was at lunch, so it was the perfect time to go anywhere without being noticed.
"Oh," he turned around, pile blocking out most of his sight. "Up for another evening flight? Just a jog around the block."
"Actually, I wanted to work on my axe instead," she said, holding up the pieces.
"Ah, okay," he said, slightly disappointed. "You… want a hand with that?"
"Naw," she brushed off, "I'm good. Thanks, though. You just go on a flight with Toothless."
"Alright," he mumbled, now really disappointed. "See you at supper?"
"If you're not mobbed," she joked, waving goodbye as he left.
She grinned. Hiccup had forgotten one sheet. The one on the anvil. Mhuahahaa.
She folded it up, fully intending to examine it further that evening.
Gobber nursed a mug full of sweet mead, listening to the scuttlebutt floating around the Hall. It consisted of primarily three things: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, the Initiation in four days and counting, and the lack of dragons recently.
"They're massing a huge attack…only reason…"
"…heard there'll be a Zippleback, maybe even a Nightmare…"
"…you see his muscles?"
That last one sounded interesting enough. He discreetly sauntered over to where he had heard it.
"I mean, Stoick's fairly bulked, too, but Spitelout…" A sigh followed shortly after, and Gobber walked away, foiled.
He just wanted to gather some grist for the mill… just a little tidbit…
"…based on previous records, he has an 87% chance of winning. And …" The tidbit dropped off, there, and Gobber found himself at the 'teen table'.
"Any word on Hiccup's prowess, Fishlegs?" Gobber asked, introducing himself into the conversation without prior explanation.
"Well, like I was saying to Snotlout, Hiccup has an 87% chance of winning, and a 92% chance of surviving. He's really good." Gobber could almost feel the reverence in the older boy's voice.
"Ach. You were all very close to entering the Initiation. In fact -"
"Who are you trying to kid, Gobber?" Snotlout said, head rising from a bowl of thick soup. "Hiccup was way ahead of us. He did in four months what took us two years to get to. I think he'll win." The last part was drenched in as much sarcasm as Snotlout was in soup.
"There'll always be more dragons to fight, Snotbrain," Tuffnut added. The raven-haired boy didn't even react to the insult. "I mean, it's not like we're going to run out any time soon."
"He's right. While you have to be tough on yourself, it's not like there isn't going to be more chances later."
Snotlout looked straight at Gobber. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"
Gobber was struck by the amount of venom in the boy's glare. But then he remembered…
The forge! He needed to finish that order of weapons. Hiccup's fin tail thing completely forgotten, Gobber excused himself and left.
Snotlout watched him go, then let his head drop back into his bowl with a sigh.
Fishlegs, quiet and unobtrusive throughout the whole conversation, finished his internal calculations and had come to a very potent and interesting conclusion.
Snotlout was extremely depressed.
He had reason to be, Fishlegs allowed. Snotlout had had everything all set to fall in his lap. With Hiccup being a public disgrace, Snotlout would be the true leader of Berk, and he'd let Hiccup keep up appearances. With such a position, he'd be able to woo even Astrid. A perfect life.
But then the hits began coming. Hiccup actually showed some promise in the ring, then Astrid began showing distinct signs of disinterest. Snotlout had actually confided in Fishlegs on multiple occasions, wanting the huskier boy's opinion on Astrid's aversion. Snotlout had originally tacked it to her crushing on Hiccup, but that had been ruled out fairly quickly in his opinion.
"I mean," he had drunkenly stated, "can you imagine what they'd be called together? Hiccstrid. Euuuch. I mean, Snotstrid rolls so much better off the tongue…" Then he had collapsed, and Fish had carted the inebriated seventeen-year-old home to his somewhat disappointed dad.
And then two massive thunderbolts struck. Namely, Hiccup's success and Astrid's fist.
From there, Fishlegs had seen a definite slide in Snotlout's confidence level. He wondered if he should tell Hiccup…. Maybe after the Initiation. He'll be the toast of the town; of course he'd have time for Fishlegs.
This part right above here will make some more sense later on; I'm using it to tie some things together.
Keep bombing me with reviews! I will respond to each one.