To Be Loved the Way You Love Me

Life on Berk turns upside down when a sixteen year old boy traveling with a dark past, a world of hurt, and a Night Fury washes up on its shores. The love-starved boy will only tell people one thing about his past: His name is Hiccup. But where did he live before? And why doesn't he trust anyone?

Chapter 14: Trolls and other stories

Yeah. Er...here's the next part. I'm looking for a title...a better one...my eyes really hurt...anyway, I just rewatched Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix while munching on a slice of cheese pizza, and pizza and Harry Potter both make me insanely happy, combined with the fact that I got this written today, and this weekend wasn't half-bad. I'm not as fond of this chapter as I was the last thirteen, but this is the way it works, is that I have to write a few chapters I either don't like too well or that I honestly hate so much I'd like to throw in the fire before letting anybody see them, and then I feel better. xD then I can always write better chapters after that, or at least I hope I can, although by that time, I've begun to despise the story. Anyway, I'm done rambling.

"So, how did you two even become friends, anyway?" I asked, eyes shifting between Stoick and Gobber. It had been the right decision to come here: talking to them had successfully kept the guilt away. "You two don't seem like the type to have your paths cross."

"Oh, this is a good one," Gobber looked amused. "Do you want to tell this one, Stoick, or should I?"

"You can," Stoick replied, getting up and ladling a second helping of stew into his own bowl. "Do you want any?" he added to me.

I shook my head. "That's alright."

"I do," Gobber chipped in.

"Get it yourself," Stoick responded and Gobber dragged himself out of his chair and began doling some more stew out into his own bowl.

It was clear from the way they interacted that they'd been friends for years; they had already insulted each other several times by now, but as neither of them seemed to be taking it seriously, I concluded their friendship had the freedom of speech with it.

Gobber finished ladling stew into his bowl and only spoke when he had come back to the table with it and seated himself. "Well, there was a celebration goin' down in the Great Hall…I knew what it was for, all the villagers knew…"

"But some of us," Stoick interrupted, glancing at Gobber with both amusement and exasperation in his features, "remained ignorant of exactly who it was for."

"…there was a really pretty woman there," Gobber said reminiscently, gazing into space, as if seeing the scene all over again. "Well, they coulda told us that the celebration for the chief pickin' a wife meant that the woman I was chatting up was his wife."

"Ooh." I winced, glancing from Stoick to Gobber.

Stoick was smiling contently again, but there was something bittersweet about it and the cold, sad look that constantly decorated his features had not quite left his eyes.

So, stupid insensitive me, I blurted out, "What happened to her? Your wife? Is she away on a quest?"

The Vikings with the fighting spirit that can't ever be squashed out of them never stay at home much and often go on quests, seeking battles and bloodshed and the fresh ocean air.

We had a few Questors like that on Outcast Island, but my dad was never one of them. Being the chief of Outcast Island, he often told me, was adventure enough.

Well, I could certainly see why now.

What will all these wars Outcast Island fought and all the blood feuds we declared and got declared on us, it was no surprise why Dad had liked the life of it so much. He was a fighter, and the Viking blood ran thick in his veins. He didn't like the peaceable life certain other tribes practiced, like the Peaceables, or the Grim-Bods, or the Bashem-Oiks.

The sad look in Stoick's eyes seemed to grow more intense as he stared at me and eventually, thank Odin, he looked away and spoke in a strangely constricted and very sad, almost angry, voice. "No."

"Then…" I began, but then I stopped. There was an odd atmosphere about the room, as if a horrible story was about to be told.

"She died." Stoick said the words in a clipped, nearly emotionless voice, as if saying them made him want to cut out his own tongue.

"Oh." I drew a sharp breath, and then immediately felt terrible for the Viking chief. "I—I'm so sorry—I—I—

Stoick slowly put a hand up for quiet and at last I sputtered myself into silence.

"It's alright." He told me, still in that emotionless voice. "You had no way of knowing."

I glanced down at the table, struggling to think of something to say that didn't sound insensitive or idiotic, but thankfully, Gobber tactfully changed the subject. "Maybe we should tell the boy abou' tha' time we went fishing…"

The sadness in Stoick's eyes did not entirely vanish, but he relaxed a little, listening attentively, maybe a little too attentively for somebody who's already been there, to Gobber's story.

"…and that's why trolls are attracted to watering holes!" Gobber finished proudly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, looking as if he'd just won a heated debate beyond all possible dispute.

"Wait…trolls?" I asked. I'd been watching Stoick and now that Gobber's story brought me back to earth, I realized what creature he had been talking about.

"Yeah! Weren't you listening?"

Stoick made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "They're not real, Hiccup."

"They steal your socks and—

"They're completely bogus; Gobber's only teasing you…"

"—but only the left ones! I wonder what that's about." Gobber paused, looking thoughtful.

"…Gobber's only pretending, they're not real…"

"Why do they steal the left socks?" I asked, ignoring Stoick.

"No idea!" Gobber spread wide his hands, looking as confused as I felt. "I jus' woke up one morning and all my left socks were gone! I wondered where they all went and so I asked my brother, the one who wears his beard in those girly little ringlets, I've told you abou' him…"

I nodded. I remembered the story about Ringlet Beard Brother. Gobber had told it to me over supper. "He was the one who always wandered around with a sheep?"

"No," Gobber shook his head, "tha' was me sister, Big Bertha…I named a catapult after her." He looked very pleased with himself.

I smiled absently back, privately thinking that having a catapult named after me would cause more embarrassment and derisive laughter than pride and honor.

Gobber continued talking about trolls and catapults and sisters and then launched into a story about a dragon called a "Boneknapper" that had recently set his house on fire, and that stole bones to build its coat of armor.

I cocked an eyebrow. "A Boneknapper?"

"They exist!" Gobber insisted defensively. "I'm tellin' ya, they're as real as you or me or a troll!"

"Very nonexistent, then," Stoick said snappishly.

Gobber rolled his eyes. "Doesn't know what he's saying. When your left socks disappear, Stoick, you'll know who did it!"

I laughed lightly as Toothless looked up at me and blinked his large green eyes sleepily. These Vikings are crazy, his expression read, now that we've eaten, let's get the heck out of dodge and get some sleep.

He was curled up next to the table with an empty basket that had previously been holding his supper of about a dozen fish. It was surprising that Stoick had agreed to let Toothless in his house, but Toothless was a ways away from the table, and farther away from the other two than from me.

I scooted my chair out closer to him and stroked his head gently, smiling down at him as I did so, attempting to stifle a yawn. Sleep did sound really appealing right about now, but I wanted to hear the end of Gobber's story and besides that, I didn't want to be rude.

"Oh, look at the time," Stoick interrupted Gobber's tirade, glancing out the window and then stealing a glance at me. I don't suppose I looked alert, seeing as I was mid-yawn and my eyes were half-closed.

Gobber threw Stoick an annoyed look. "Stoick…I was in the middle of telling the lad a story…"

"You can finish it tomorrow," Stoick said. "Get the bowls. I got them last time."

"This is how you treat your guests?" Gobber said in mock outrage, leaning over me to pick up my empty bowl.

"I can get them," I offered, jumping up, but Gobber shoved me back down.

"Nah. Stay seated, lad. We'll make you get 'em next time." He chuckled lightly and disappeared into the kitchen.

"I saved you from the ending of that particular story," Stoick muttered quickly under his breath to me. "But you might not be so lucky next time."

I grinned. "His stories aren't that bad. They're actually pretty interesting."

Stoick shook his head, as if he were questioning my sanity. Then he opened his eyes and smiled. I noticed the sad, cold something in his eyes had vanished for the time being, but I knew better than to point this fact out. No need to be insensitive or sound crazy. "What kind of stories have you heard, then?"

"Well, I've never heard about trolls stealing left socks," I admitted. "But those stories about bloody battles are a little overdone with us Vikings anyway, don't you think?"

The corners of Stoick's eyes crinkled when he smiled.

As Gobber walked back in the room, I stood up from the table. Toothless raised his head, licking my palm and getting up on his feet, too.

I noticed the cold, hard wall of distrust that made me keep my fists clenched and made my heart throw itself against my ribcage every time I was near Stoick had vanished.

Gobber began making his way to the door and as he did, I turned back to Stoick. "Thank you for having us over for dinner tonight, sir."

Stoick smiled at me again, but his expression grew a tad somber before he rested a large, beefy hand on my shoulder, looking concerned. "Look after yourself, alright, Hiccup?"

"I…sure, I…what?" I asked, completely caught off-guard.

"Just look after yourself, alright?"

"Um…alright," I said nervously, unsure what to think. Somehow, it just didn't seem in Stoick's nature to warn everybody who passed through to look after themselves. Then again, we were Vikings. Looking after ourselves should be second nature.

But this is you, Hiccup.

I shook it off and raced after Gobber out the door, Toothless following me.