It's Hard to Say Good-Bye

A/N: I know these Untold Stories were originally intended to be comedic and not taken seriously, but this is one time that I have to break that rule. This installment is not the least bit comedic in nature and is very serious. My beloved horse Mojo passed away on December 28, 2018 after a day-and-a-half-long struggle with colic. Since Mojo featured in this collection of stories I felt I had to write a memorial to the best friend I've ever had, and here it is.

Early one cold, wet winter morning, Audun emerged from his house to find that his beloved horse Mojo had a terrible case of colic. The twenty-two-year-old gelding's intestines had become blocked, and when he rolled in an attempt to ease his discomfort they became twisted. The poor horse was restless all day, pacing, pawing the ground with his hoof, rolling in increasingly desperate attempts to alleviate his pain, or else just lying down, panting and sweating. Audun stayed with him all day long, hoping against hope that his dear friend would pull through, but the longer the gelding suffered the less hope he had.

Hiccup, Gobber, and Gothi all did what they could, but none of them were familiar with horses, and colic wasn't the kind of ailment that could be healed by herbs. Audun had sent a Terrible Terror to the nearby Peaceable Tribe with a plea for help, for he knew they had a horse doctor on their island, but even when he arrived around midday on the back of a Nadder, his prognosis wasn't encouraging. Mojo wasn't doing well, and several times Audun told himself that he might have to make a difficult decision and end his horse's suffering, a thought that filled him with anguish. But ultimately he felt prepared to make that choice. He loved Mojo dearly, and he couldn't simply stand by and watch him continue to endure such pain.

Yet every time he was ready to suggest euthanizing him, Mojo seemed about to pull through. He spent most of the afternoon passing gas and acting more lively than he had been all day. Hope again filled Audun's heart, only for his unease to return as the sun started to set, for the horse's symptoms worsened again. Then the horse doctor gave the gelding a concoction to help him sleep, saying that if he pulled through the night then there was a good chance he'd be okay in the end. Audun's sleep was restless, and he woke up several times throughout the night, anxious about his horse's wellbeing. Yet when morning dawned, Mojo was alive and acting almost normal. The horse doctor still had some reservations, and Audun wasn't quite prepared to hold out hope for fear of being brought sharply back down to earth again. But he couldn't help but smile when Mojo greeted him with a fond nicker, rubbing his head against his owner as he so often did.

Then, around midday, Mojo took a sudden turn for the worse, and an hour or so later he passed away. It happened so suddenly and unexpectedly that there wasn't any time to put him down. The horse doctor was off responding to another emergency when it happened, and the rest of the dragon riders were having a lesson with Hiccup, so Audun was alone with his horse when he died. Later Hillevi and Alva would apologize, saying they wished they'd been there with their friend when it happened, but Audun was relieved they hadn't had to witness the horse's final minutes. He was quite certain those images would haunt him for the rest of his life. Besides, being alone had given him a chance to say good-bye to his companion of twelve years in private, with no witness to his soul-crushing grief. He knelt beside the body of his horse, running his fingers over Mojo's cheek and neck and crying unashamedly, wetting the gelding's mane with his tears, his sobs and wails echoing in the gloomy afternoon…

Audun blinked and looked around, startled out of his memories by a light touch on his shoulder. He was standing on the shores of the north beach, surrounded by his friends and neighbors. The sun was starting to set, throwing long shadows over the water and the little wooden boat floating some twenty feet away from the island. Despite the distance between them, he could make out the shroud covering a shapeless mass nestled in the boat's hull, a mass he knew to be the remains of his dearest friend, surrounded by dry twigs and branches. His heart throbbed painfully in his chest, knowing what he was expected to do and wondering if he could do it.

Hillevi, the owner of the hand on his shoulder, gave him a little squeeze, silently offering whatever comfort she could. Her eyes were red and her cheeks stained with tears, but her grip was steady and her voice was level when she whispered, "Hang in there. It'll be over soon." Audun, whose throat was too tight for speech, merely nodded jerkily.

Stoick was speaking, imploring the gods to allow Mojo's spirit to enter the halls of Valhalla, for he had been a good and noble steed in life and was as deserving as any Viking that had died in battle. Audun heard his words but they didn't register, for somehow they didn't have any meaning to him. They didn't properly represent Mojo the way Audun knew him, his sweet and gentle nature, his stubborn and even mischievous side, his steadiness and calmness, his way of simply grazing contentedly without a care in the world. They were grand words, but they were utterly inadequate when compared to the soul they meant to illustrate.

Audun suddenly realized Stoick had stopped speaking, and all eyes were turned to him. He found it hard to draw a full breath but stepped forward, accepting the bow and burning arrow from Gobber. He gazed down at these items for a second or two before holding them up, drawing his arm back, aiming carefully, praying he wouldn't miss. Mojo deserved none but the truest aim.

He paused. His arm quivered a little. The flame burning at the arrow tip crackled. In the distance thunder rumbled. He took a deep breath.

Then he fired.

The arrow soared overhead in a perfect arc, burning a thin line into his vision as he followed its progress, and it embedded itself in the kindling surrounding the horse's body. The flame flickered and blossomed and began to spread. A moment later a volley of arrows followed his, fired by Hillevi, Alva, Hiccup, and Stoick. In seconds the boat was ablaze, sparks and embers shooting skyward, flames obscuring the vessel's precious cargo. For a single, wild moment Audun thought he saw the figure of a horse dancing amidst the fire, and the sight filled him with a bewildering mixture of grief and joy. He dropped the bow at his feet and buried his head in his hands, his shoulder shaking with fresh sobs. In the back of his mind he knew he wasn't displaying the strength and steadiness that was expected of him as a Viking and half-expected Snotlout or the twins to remark upon this, but no one said a word. He wondered vaguely if Hillevi had threatened them into silence and almost laughed at the thought. Almost.

The gathered crowd gradually departed, heading up to the Great Hall for the feast to honor Mojo's life. Audun and his friends remained behind, watching as the boat continued to burn until it finally sank into the sea, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke drifting up into the darkening sky. Even after these last traces had vanished and night had fallen, Audun continued to gaze at the spot where his horse's remains had burned. He had stopped crying, but his heart felt as though all the metal in the forge had taken residence inside it. The thought of the feast barely registered in his brain, for he wasn't even remotely hungry despite having eaten very little since Mojo first showed colic symptoms.

In the end, it was the rain that drove Audun and the rest back up to the village. They joined the festivities in the Great Hall, which was warmly lit and ringing with the sound of laughter and delighted feasting. Audun accepted a mug of mead and sipped from it only to give himself something to do. Hillevi and Alva stood with him, saying nothing as no one could think of anything to say and watching the party with disinterest. A small spark of anger smoldered in Audun's chest: how could everyone be so happy and want to celebrate when his horse, his sweet, beloved Mojo, was dead? But he couldn't muster up enough rage to even mention it, so he simply stood in mournful silence.

"Audun?"

He looked around and saw Hiccup and Astrid approaching him, each carrying something in their hands. Toothless ambled along behind them, his green eyes wide and filled with pity for the grieving Viking. He crooned and bumped Audun's hand gently, and he smiled faintly, reaching out to scratch under the Night Fury's chin. Toothless purred quietly. "How are you doing?" Hiccup asked, sounding as if he knew the answer already.

Audun shrugged, his smile fading. "It doesn't feel real," he murmured. "I keep thinking that I have to go home and feed him before he tears the fence down." He stopped and swallowed thickly. "He was such a special horse, and he was a part of my life for so long. I don't know how to function without him." He looked away, wiping tears from his eyes before they could spill.

"We, uh…" Hiccup glanced at Astrid, who held out the item in her hands, wrapped protectively in black cloth. "We thought you might want these. You know, to keep Mojo's memory alive."

Audun looked at the bundle and reached out with trembling fingers to lift the covering. His breathing hitched: she was carrying Mojo's tail and a braid of his mane hair. Both had been elegantly tied with strips of blue cloth, and Audun took them into his hands, fingers tingling with the familiar feel of his horse's hair. "Thank you," he said weakly.

"He had such a beautiful tail," Astrid remarked, trying to keep her voice light. "I always loved how it started white and then turned brown about halfway down, and it was always so thick and gorgeous."

"It was," Audun agreed with a little laugh. "Though it wasn't always. Remember when Nolita ate it?"

Nolita was a Gronckle, a sweet-tempered dragon who had one day and for no apparent reason bitten off Mojo's tail. She hadn't hurt him: her teeth hadn't come anywhere close to the bone, but by the time Audun realized what was happening his horse's tail was only a foot and a half long. It had been so bizarre and unexpected that he couldn't even be angry at the dragon. Indeed, he was more irritated with Mojo than Nolita. "You couldn't even be bothered to defend your own tail?" he'd demanded of the gelding, who continued to graze, completely unconcerned. "Just how lazy are you?"

Everyone laughed at the memory, and Hiccup said, "At least it grew back. What always amazed me is how he loved having his tail brushed. I've never seen anything like it."

Audun chuckled, running his fingers through the tail hair as he had so often before. "He did indeed. It never failed to calm him down. Didn't matter how upset he was: he could be stomping or tossing his head, wanting me to let him go so he could graze. Then I would start brushing his tail, and he would immediately zone out. His head would drop and his eyes would close and he would just totally relax while I brushed. It never failed. He absolutely loved it." His smile flickered. "And so did I."

There was a pause. Then Hiccup cleared his throat awkwardly and held out one of his notebooks. "I've been working on this for years. Watching you guys together…it always struck me just how close you two were, and it was so heartwarming. I mean, we dragon riders live for that kind of bond with our dragons, and I saw it every day between you and Mojo. So I…" He gestured vaguely at the notebook, now in Audun's hands. "I want you to have it."

Audun opened the notebook and sucked in a startled breath. On the very first page was a sketch of Mojo, done perfectly in Hiccup's trademark perfectionist style. In the drawing, the pinto gelding was grazing happily, clearly unconcerned with the activities of the world around him. Every strand of hair, every patch of color, even the relaxed tilt of his ears was so precisely rendered that it took Audun's breath away. "It's beautiful," he managed. "Thank you."

He turned the page and saw another drawing. In this one, Audun was riding Mojo. The horse was ambling along at an easy walk, his head lowered and posture relaxed. Audun was smiling, his hands gentle and the reins loose, obviously enjoying this quiet moment with his friend. Tears filled his eyes as he gazed at the sketch. "He was such a good boy," he sighed. "Such a joy to ride. We didn't even have to really work: simple rides like this were just as special. I loved the closeness, the feeling that he and I were the only two living things in the whole world. When I was on his back, nothing else mattered. He and I were one."

He turned the page and chuckled weakly. The next sketch also featured him riding his horse, though in this one the gelding was extending his legs in an elegant trot. "The trot was his best gait. His walk was slow and plodding and hard to keep going, and his canter could be a disaster, but his trot was so smooth and steady. I've ridden horses whose trot was like riding a runaway earthquake, but Mojo's was beautiful. I could sit it or post it, it didn't matter because it was comfortable either way. I loved it."

The next page featured another riding sketch, this time of the canter. Mojo's head was down and his ears were tilted back toward his rider, who had a broad smile on his face as his hair billowed out behind him, his clothes fluttering like flags in a breeze. "The infamous buck-you canter," Hillevi observed, and Audun laughed.

"Yes," he said, shaking his head. "I could never quite get the hang of Mojo's canter. Half the time he would go off on the wrong lead and I'd have to stop him and correct it. But worse, it was a heavy, thunderous gait, like I was riding a Scauldron jumping out of the water. And he always threw his head down when he cantered, which would throw him off-balance so it would feel like he was about to buck. But when I would pull his head up with the reins, he would get really pissed and buck and go faster. It took me a long time to realize I needed to ease up on the reins so he didn't go nuts. It was always a toss-up how he could react when I asked him to canter, and towards the end I just stopped asking for it as much. It was more fun to trot."

"I guess there's no such thing as a perfect horse," Astrid said, "just like there's no such thing as a perfect dragon."

Toothless shot her a glare, and Audun shook his head. "No, he wasn't perfect. Yet at the same time, he was. He was the perfect horse for me. He taught me so much, not just about riding but about life…and about myself. Through him I learned that I am sometimes a control freak, and I don't like it when something happens that I don't know how to handle. He taught me to calm down, to listen to subtle clues and signs, to think before I got angry, how to be more patient and understanding." He turned the page and found himself gazing at a remarkably lifelike drawing of Mojo's face, his ears up and alert, his eyes bright and lively. Audun's heart stuttered and ached. "He taught me that reality is sometimes better than fantasy too," he went on softly, still gazing down at the sketch. "I had all kinds of dreams about what owning a horse would be like before I had him, and none of those fantasies came anywhere close to what it was really like. At first I resented that, but as I grew older I realized that the real thing was a million times better. He wasn't just a pretty pony who obeyed me unquestioningly: he had his own personality, and while we sometimes clashed he became the best friend I've ever had. He and I developed such a bond, a partnership, a relationship…I think he knew me better than I know myself."

He turned the page and let out a laugh. This sketch featured Mojo with his neck extended, head tilting to the side, eye rolling, and his upper lip quivering with pleasure. "His itchy face!" Audun chortled. "He always did this when I scratched a spot that itched. That's how I knew I'd found that right spot. Watching his lip quiver and twitch was so funny. And he knew how to make sure I knew where to scratch: he would shift and turn and even take a step forward or backward, guiding my hand to the right place. And if I stopped, he would reach back and bump me with his muzzle, asking me to continue. Sometimes he would even return the favor, using his teeth to scratch my back. Sure it was a little uncomfortable, but I always loved it when he did that."

"And don't forget, whenever you approached him the first thing he'd do was scratch his face on your side," Alva reminded him.

Audun nodded. "I was his favorite scratching post, that's for sure. It used to annoy me, but honestly I grew to love it. It was like his way of saying hello."

"He certainly was a character," Hiccup said. "And I've never seen a creature, horse or dragon, act so jealous when their rider rode someone else."

Everyone smiled and chuckled, and Audun said, "I remember once, before we moved to Berk, I rode a friend's horse, and the whole time Mojo stood by his pasture gate, watching me. He would glare at me every time I passed him. After a while he started grazing, but even then he still kept his eyes on me, and eventually he just turned his rump to me entirely. When I was done riding my friend's horse, I went in to see Mojo, and he completely ignored me, acted as if I wasn't there. I had a few minutes to spare, so I saddled him up and rode him real quick, and would you believe it: he was the best behaved horse in the whole world! Everything I asked for, he gave me without a fuss or hesitation, and every move was flawless. It's like he was telling me, 'Anything that other horse can do, I can do better!' It was hilarious and honestly kind of touching."

"And you were the only one who could ride him well," Alva pointed out. "Whenever Hillevi or I tried, he would barely walk no matter how hard we kicked."

"Well he did trot for me that one time," Hillevi said fondly.

"Yeah," snickered Alva, "and then you panicked and pulled him back down to a walk. His face was all, 'Can you make up your mind, woman?'"

Hillevi punched Alva's shoulder good-naturedly and everyone laughed. "Even I couldn't keep him moving for long," Hiccup recalled. "Though that did make him a great lesson horse. I could put a kid on his back without worrying because I knew he wouldn't run off or do something crazy."

"Slow and steady was his favorite mode," Audun agreed. "I don't know that I ever saw him put any effort into movement if he could at all avoid it."

"Unless food was involved," Hillevi interjected, and then she snorted and added, "Remember when we reached your place and saw that he'd gotten out of his pasture?"

Audun grinned. "Yeah. He'd scratched his rump on the gate until it opened, and then he started grazing on the grass outside his pasture. Then when Hillevi and I arrived, he looked up and saw us. He paused for just a second, and then he took off at a full gallop, going right back into his paddock and then standing there looking at us like, 'Oh hi, Dad. Yeah, the gate opened by itself but I'm a good boy and stayed here the whole time. You believe me, right?' Like we hadn't seen him earlier."

"There are so many stories," Astrid said.

"Twelve years' worth of stories and memories," Audun confirmed.

"You should totally write a book about him," Astrid continued. "You know, put all those memories down on paper. I bet it would make a really touching story."

Audun smiled faintly. "Actually…I started writing that book earlier this year. But I hit a writer's block and stopped. Now that he's gone, I might have to go back to it and give it another try. There certainly is a lot to write about." His smile faded. "But I don't know…I'm afraid it might hurt to write about him now…"

"I'm sure it will," Hiccup put in, "but I bet it will also be really cathartic. Maybe revisiting those memories will bring you some healing."

Audun didn't reply. He was looking at the notebook again. The next page featured a sketch of Mojo standing next to his owner, his head cradled in his human friend's hands. It was a peaceful moment captured flawlessly and immortalized by Hiccup's charcoal.

And suddenly Audun was crying, his face crumpling and his shoulders shaking with sobs that racked his whole body. Tears spilled from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. He snapped the notebook closed and clasped it to his chest, hunching over in response to the hollow pain that blossomed inside him. One hand came up to clap over his mouth, muffling his cries. Hillevi rushed forward and hugged him tightly, her own eyes watering too. "I—I want him back!" he moaned. "I want my horse back! Oh gods I miss him! I miss him so much!"

No one quite knew what to say to that. Hillevi held him tightly and Alva reached out to rub his shoulder. Hiccup and Astrid exchanged helpless looks, and Toothless warbled sadly, his ear fins drooping. All around them the funeral feast continued unabated, and no one seemed to notice that the deceased's dearest friend was falling apart in the corner of the room.

"Why?" Audun choked out. "Why Mojo? There are thousands of horses in the world who are suffering and have never known love, so why did the gods take mine, a horse that was adored and well cared for and happy? Where's the fairness in that? What did Mojo do to deserve the awful drawn-out death he got? What did I do to deserve this kind of pain?"

Hiccup shook his head sadly. "I don't have any answers for you, Audun. And I'm so sorry. There are a million different things I could say, but they're all useless platitudes and none of them are at all helpful. All I can say is that I'm so sorry." He paused for a minute. "You remember a few years back when all the dragons left Berk just before Snoggletog? My father told me that when the ones we love are no longer with us, we should celebrate them. And I know that's not going to be easy right now, since it's so recent, but I think he's got the right idea. I'm sure you're going to be hurting for a while. That's only natural, and don't let anyone tell you that you shouldn't grieve or that you can only grieve a certain way. But maybe…try to focus on the good. Remember those good memories, cherish them. And I know I don't really have any right to tell you this, but…as your friend, I encourage you to celebrate Mojo's life. It's okay to be sad and there's no shame in crying, but remember to celebrate him too."

Audun, unable to speak, nodded weakly, reaching up to wipe his eyes.

"Are you ready, lad?"

Everyone looked around to see Stoick standing a few paces away. He was gazing at Audun expectantly yet with compassion and understanding. It was only then that Audun remembered that he was supposed to offer up a toast in his horse's memory, and his heart missed several beats.

Even though he wasn't even remotely ready, he nodded jerkily and picked up the mug of mead he'd abandoned earlier in the evening. His fingers trembled as he stepped into the center of the hall, trying to ignore the sensation of each and every set of eyes turning toward him. He swallowed thickly, wondering what in the world he was supposed to say. How did he sum up the last twelve years of his life into a few simple words? How was he supposed to express to these people how important Mojo was to him in a single toast? For a moment or two he felt overwhelmed and on the brink of tears again.

Then he found his friends in the crowd, and he tried to focus on them. Hiccup gave him a subtle nod, and he remembered he was still holding his and Astrid's gifts. Mojo's tail hair spilled over his fingers, and the notebook containing Hiccup's drawings was still pressed to his chest. He closed his eyes for a moment, organizing his thoughts.

Then he raised his glass of mead. "I know it's unusual to hold a funeral for a horse. But Mojo wasn't just a horse. He wasn't just the creature I rode for transportation or a means of pulling a cart or anything like that. He was my friend. My best friend. For twelve years…the best twelve years of my life. And honestly I think he trained me more than I trained him. He taught me things about myself that I didn't know, and he singlehandedly turned me into the person I am today. He was always there for me when I needed him. Whenever I was having a bad day or was feeling lonely, all I had to do was stand next to him. He didn't have to do anything: just being there was enough to lift my spirits. And I never felt closer to any living creature as I did when I rode him. Sure we had our ups and downs, and there were times I would be so angry at him that I could hardly breathe, but ultimately these never mattered, and I could never stay mad at him for long. And he had the most forgiving heart of any creature I've ever known.

"Mojo wasn't just a horse. He was a part of me, the embodiment of my soul, the missing piece that made me complete. And while I'm glad he's not suffering any longer, I miss him so terribly that it's hard to believe I'll ever feel whole again. It's hard to say good-bye to someone who was such a tremendous part of your life. But I have twelve years of memories to cherish, twelve years of stories to revisit and laugh over when I'm feeling down. And I will treasure them always just as I treasured him in life." He lifted his glass into the air. "Here's to Mojo, the best horse and best friend a guy could ever have. I miss you, bud, and I love you."

A/N: Aaaand cue the gross crying…

Pretty much everything recounted in this story is based on fact. All those anecdotes about Mojo are true stories. He was sweet and silly and stubborn and I love him with every fiber of my being. It's been almost two weeks as of this writing that he died and it still hits me out of the blue sometimes that he's gone and I'll never see him again, never see his itchy face, never ride him, never brush his tail, never watch him as he grazes. It really is hard to say good-bye, especially to a horse like Mojo, and I will cherish his memory always.

And yes, I am actually working on a book about Mojo and the twelve years I had with him. I started it last summer but never finished it, and now that he's gone I really want to put it all down. Wish me luck on it, guys, because it's going to be extraordinarily difficult to write. Just writing this little piece was difficult: writing a full book on him is going to be a true challenge. And while it will undoubtedly hurt, I hope it will also bring me some healing. I could sure use it.

Any thoughts and prayers you could send my way are greatly appreciated. Mojo was a special horse and I miss him very much. Thank you all for your love and support and for reading these silly little stories. Hopefully the next one (whenever it comes) will be more cheerful.