Hello! I'm usually a bit more vigilant about responding to reviews, but this time I had internet problems instead of computer problems, so sorry about that. My computer curse continues! I did respond to any direct questions however, using my phone data. Anyway, thank you all for your lovely reviews and I hope you like this chapter. Oh, and just letting you know we're starting to drift towards the end game, so not a huge amount of chapters left. Still a while to go, however, so don't start panicking yet. :)

Chapter 13- Secrets

The moment passed and Astrid began to stare down at her boots, wriggling her toes and ignoring Fishlegs' gaze.

"You should probably go now," Astrid sniffed stiffly.

Fishlegs remained where he was. "Astrid, where is he going?"

She continued to look down at the ground. "Your family will be missing you by now."

He leant in closer to her, causing her to lean away. "What about yours?"

She laughed bitterly. "You went to the funeral Fishlegs, you know there is no family."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes there is. What about the village, the place you grew up? Surely those people count for something?"

She scoffed. "The village that tried to pass me off to another man, you mean?"

"At least you know him better than this Einar figure."

His voice remained calm, and Astrid hated that. She operated on fury, using it to stoke the passion in her heart and remain as tough as steel, on the outside at least.

"Do I?" she asked sceptically.

"I believe so. Look at him, he can't even look me in the eye without his helmet on. Whether it's scarring or something else, that man is hiding something, and I don't think it's just from me." His voice remained low, but it was becoming more frantic, his arms waving around madly as he made his point.

Astrid's face grew more and more livid, her lips pulling tightly together and her eyebrows growing lower on her forehead. A stab of nerves ran through Fishlegs' heart. He knew that face all too well and had time and time again run away from it screaming. But he liked Astrid, she was a friend, and he didn't want to see her hurt, so he stood by his point.

Her voice was piercingly icy. "He may have issues, yes, and he may not be able to show you his face. He may not be the greatest warrior that ever lived, but he's brave. He's noble. He's helped me through some hard times, and I him. We may not have known each other long, but I already like the person I see. He's intelligent, creating things most Vikings would spend lifetimes trying to create and never succeed. He can stare a dragon in the face, and instead of fear or hatred he shows compassion. A dragon has scarred him beyond repair, but he can still see the good in a creature that is meant to be the bringer of death. He's been to the dragon's nest, for gods' sake! Most of all, I feel I can trust him more than anyone else on Berk, and I think you should be going now." Her voice, which had been growing louder and louder came back down to almost a whisper on the last part.

Fishlegs gaped at her for a moment, then turned around, picked up his food bag, and left. Astrid watched him go in silence, a stormy look on her face.

()()()()()

Hiccup left the cave conflicted. He had left a little early intentionally, hoping to give Astrid some alone time with Fishlegs. They had some issues to sort out and he knew Fishlegs didn't trust him. He also knew Fishlegs will try convince her to go back to the village. This is where the conflict came into action. He knew it was better for Astrid to go back, she had problems to resolve, and he could only have a negative influence on her. She had already done so many socially destructive things since meeting him, she needed to get on with living her life, and with him was not where she should be living it. But then there was this selfish little voice in his head that said he didn't want to let her go. His life had dramatically improved with her around. Suddenly he had a purpose again, even if it was just comforting an upset and rather confused girl. She brought back his humanity, which he feared he had been losing. She helped him remember. Remember what it used to be like. To just be Hiccup, the Useless. Not monster, not dragon-boy, just useless.

He hauled himself up the side of the cliff-face and then sat down to eat his small dinner while watching the sun sink. All his mind could think of though was Astrid being lured away from the cave below, away from him. His heart skittered at the thought, and then sank. He tried to tell himself it was for the best, but his heart wasn't in it. It was still hanging out with his stomach. His dragonesque eyes grew saddened, the orange glittering in the consuming black of his pupils. He heaved himself up and prepared himself for the change. As his body morphed he told himself over and over; she needs to go.

()()()()()

As Fishlegs trudged back to the village, his mind reeled. She had gone mad, lost her mind! At least that was his first reaction. He was going to have to tell the village where she was, and get them to pull her out of there. Away from him. The grief must have been too much for her. But then he began to think some more. Except for the rant at the end, she had seemed perfectly in control of her mind, and her situation. Perfectly Astrid. And the two had seemed to get along well, he could see it in the way they interacted. His furious trudging slowed as the gears in his mind began to click to life. There was so much he was missing here. There were so many ends that did not meet. The most obvious was who this masked man was. Then there was the matter of the dragon. That in itself questioned the entire Viking culture.

This would have blown the mind of a lesser person, but Fishlegs was above just freaking out. He surmised that there had to be a greater force, a bigger clue that connected all these fragments together. But for the life of him he could not find that missing piece. The rule abiding voice in his brain told him he should still get the village involved, or Stoick at least. However, there was something that held him back. Maybe it was in favour of Astrid, maybe it was because he sensed the greater good that was at play in this situation, but mostly it was his own curiosity and his want to solve the mystery himself that silenced him. His lips pressed firmly together has he came to this resolve.

His eyes flitted around his surroundings as he only just began to become aware of where he was. In his distraction he had begun wandering in the wrong direction. He growled and began to walk back in the direction of the village. By the time he got to the edge of the forest he was practically panting. He stepped right to the edge and leaned out, checking if anyone was watching. Finding all was clear he strode forward in the direction of his house.

"Hi Fishlegs!"

Fishlegs leapt backwards, a squeal escaping his lips as his hand flew to his chest. He turned to find Ruffnut pulling in beside him, falling into stride with him.

"Oh, hi Ruff. Err, nice night for it." His voice was unnaturally high and he suddenly had the urge to fiddle with his hands.

She pulled a face. "Hmm. Not really."

Fishlegs began to laugh nervously when Ruffnut interrupted him. "Though, it does depend on what you are doing."

She gave him a meaningful look. He just smiled anxiously.

"Like to tell my where you've been?" Her arms came to fold across her chest, her long golden braids brushing her thin arms.

"Oh, you know me. Just going for a stroll. Studying dragons, the usual."

Ruffnut began to laugh, and Fishlegs joined in, only for Ruffnut to stop abruptly. "I'm watching you 'Legs. And remember I have more than one set of eyes at my disposal."

She then gave him a charming smile and practically skipped off. As she left, Fishlegs breathed a heavy sigh and his strides turned back into weary trudges as he made his way back to his house. Keeping secrets in this village was practically impossible, especially with the twins around.

()()()()()

Astrid hadn't slept very well last night. Her head pounded and her heart fluttered as she began to rush around the cavern, packing anything in sight that night be slightly useful. She shoved it all into a waxed canvas bag she had found. Her stolen sword was already strapped to her waist; having a weapon on her person always helped her nerves settle. She was beginning to see a golden glow seep through the cracks, he would be here any minute now. She got all worked up again and she wiped her now moist palms on her breeches as she began the calming process all over again.

It was just beginning to work when her heart was upset again by the creaking of the door sliding open. She turned to face the door. The golden glow glinted off his hair and hugged his lean silhouette. He peeled off his helmet as her eyes adjusted to fill in the features of his face. She was met by a heart stopping smile as he saw her still standing there. He began to stride up to her welcomingly, then he skittered to a halt, his eyes narrowing threateningly. She followed his gaze down to the canvas bag clutched in her hand.

There was a tense pause, before Hiccup sprang to life, crossing the room, heading in all directions, words flying out of his mouth at high speed.

"Of course, it's what I expected from you. This is good. This is what you should be doing. You belong with the people of Berk. This isn't a real life. A joke. Ha, this life is a joke. I'm… uh, I'm proud of you."

Astrid stood frozen for a moment with her mouth open as she tried to compute the words hitting her at high speed. He continued to garble as he busied his hands by flicking through papers on his desk. His words came to a halt as her hand rested on top of his, causing his hands to fall still. He sniffed and looked down his chest to their two hands on top of each other. She stood up on her tip-toes so her mouth came to rest near his ear.

"I'm not going back."

His eyes shot up to meet hers. "What?"

"I'm not going back." She smiled at him.

Guilt began to fill his chest and he dreaded his next words. "But you have to. That's where you belong. You don't want to live like this. You don't want to be like me."

She shook her head softly. "No. I am leaving here, but not without you."

"I'm not going back with you. They'd kill me!" He was so confused.

Astrid shook her head again. "We need to leave here. To protect you, to protect Stormfly. Fishlegs knows where we are. He's going to blab any moment now, if he hasn't already. I just packed so we were ready to leave as soon as you got back."

"Oh." He felt he should be saddened by this, she really belonged back at the village, but the other part of him won over. The part that rejoiced that their time together was not over yet. Suddenly a big grin appeared on his face and he swept her up into a big hug. She gave a surprised yelp, and before she had a chance to return the hug he let her go, and an embarrassed flush bloomed on his cheeks.

"Sorry," he apologised.

She shook her head again, a big grin spreading across her face. She practically jumped on him as she returned the hug, the two falling into fits of laughter as she almost knocked him over.

"Where do we go?" Astrid asked.

"I don't know long term, but I have somewhere for us to spend the day."

"Oh?" she asked, stepping back to look at him.

He stepped back over to the bench, picking up a large piece of paper. He held it up.

"Oh," she breathed.

()()()()()

Gobber heaved a sigh as he sat down on a stool at the forge, his right hand fiddling with the prosthetic on his left. He scratched at it irritably. Stoick paced back and forth in front of him, in the middle of one of his rants.

"What am I to do Gobber? Honestly I must be the worst chief in existence. First I lose my wife, then my son, now one of the most promising shield maidens Berk has ever seen, and an even more promising second to the chief." He thumped his fist in frustration on the work bench, apologising when Gobber grumbled at him.

"Maybe I should just pass it on to Snotlout now," he admitted in defeat.

Gobber pulled a face. "Now you and I both know that's not what you want."

Stoick rubbed his forehead with oversized hand. He then pulled out a stool and thumped himself down.

"I was so sure Astrid would be able to pull him into line. I was relying on her to be the responsible one. Now I don't even know what to think." His hands flew into the air in a gesture of defeat.

Gobber scratched at his beard with his hook attachment on his left hand before answering. "Och, Astrid is just grieving her mother. She's just twenty. And a Viking! I mean, could there be a worse combination? She'll be back punching Snotlout in no time."

"It's been 3 days Gobber!"

"And?" He kept his face calm. Gobber was old enough now to know things would sort themselves out one way or another. In Hiccup's case, it was for the worse, but there was nothing he or Stoick could do, so they just had to get on the best they could.

Stoick just shook his head. "It's my fault, isn't it? I should have made Snotlout leave her alone. Just while she got over Brenhilda. I forced her into this didn't I?"

"A little bit," Gobber admitted. "But you mustn't blame yourself Stoick."

Stoick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was so used to Gobber's offhand comments they hardly affected him these days. Instead he started on his next worry.

"Why can't we find her? We've looked all over the island. There's only so many places she could be."

"She's a clever girl. If she doesn't want to be found, she won't be." Gobber shrugged. That's all that there was to be said on the subject.

Stoick groaned as he heaved himself up off of his chair. He gave Gobber a swift nod as a goodbye before going on his way, to continue pretending everything was alright.

Gobber made a similar noise as he too stood. It was only morning and he still had a long day of work to get done. He sympathised with Stoick, he really did, but he had stopped being emotionally involved in these things a long time ago. Not since Hiccup. Even the thought of that clever, clumsy boy caused his mouth to turn downwards and his chest to ache.

He stretched his hands arms towards the sky and his joints crackled, telling of many years of dragon fighting. He then fell into his daily routine, which began with collecting fuel for the forge's fire. Some days he looked at the fire power of a dragon and wished he had the ability to harness it but, alas, a dragon was untameable.

He was out for a while, always making time to chat with other villagers making a good time of it, before he had to return to the loneliness of the forge. There was no longer a little boy filling in the silent gaps with his constant tinkering and the occasional crash when his clumsiness took hold of him.

Though the forge was meant to be empty of the young Haddock's presence, Gobber sometimes could not shake the feeling that a spirit remained. Gobber had always been a superstitious man, and had been scolded many times by Stoick for only adding to Hiccup's imagination. There was a little room off the side of Gobber's workshop, which mostly was left undisturbed. It was Hiccup's room. The occasional times Gobber entered it, he was painfully confronted with half formulated plans pinned on the walls and blunted pencils scattered across the desk. Sometimes, when Gobber's imagination got the better of him, he could have sworn that the boy sometimes returned to the room, and it was all Gobber could do to not open the door. It was only the fear of the disappointment that would stab his chest when he found the room empty that kept him from opening the door. There were no actual signs, just feeling, a sixth sense, as if a ghost was breathing down the back of his neck.

Gobber returned to the forge in fairly high spirits and he dropped his load on the ground near the fires with a satisfied sigh. But then his back grew stiff as he felt the presence, strong as it had ever been. His eyes flitted over to the closed door, his eyes lingering on the tortured wood. He shook his head in dismissal, then went on with his work.

While his back was turned, there was a slight creak from the direction of the door. He continued to shake his head in denial. There was nothing there, it was just Hiccup's ghost come to haunt him. He would pay it no mind.

His head did shoot up, however, when there was a clang from the back of the forge and a feminine giggle. He limped at high speed in the direction of the noise, finding himself being lead out the back door into the alleyway behind. He found a piece of scrap metal on top of the scrap pile swinging slightly as if it had been recently knocked, but everything else was calm with no sign of another human being. His eyes shot upwards as he reprimanded himself for being a foolish old man, and he briefly noticed a Deadly Nadder gliding across the blue sky before he headed back inside to continue his work. Crazy old man indeed.

Mmm, what did you think? Pretty please let me know. :) I'm holidays, so hoorah, but I also have a massive pile of holiday homework, plus plenty of horse riding to keep me busy. However, I'm also hoping that I'll have lots of time for writing. I appear to be over my major writers block, so that has improved things considerably. Thanks for reading!

Guest Reviews:

Noctus Fury: Why thank you. Well, the mask is part of Fishlegs' sense that it's a false name, but also, I think deep down he recognises the voice and the mannerisms, but hasn't made the connection yet.

Ah, yes, the good ship Hiccstrid. Smooth sailing!

Gummy grins, next chapter. Unfortunately this and the next chapter are flashback free, but there should be plenty of excitement to keep you occupied. There are plenty more to come, however.