Hiccup was alone, in his forge. Two of the many guests slumbered in the next door room, too weak to do anything, enjoying the little comfort and peace they'd desired for so long.
The teen was sitting at a stool, bent over his workbench, carving out the clay mold with the help of a small pen-shaped metal tool. The mold would harbour the molten gold, turning the vulgar tooth, into a beautiful representation of the dragon stoker class insignia. This demanded ultimate precision and patience, something the boy was good at.
The auburn-haired teenager concentrated on his task, yet despite his best efforts his mind wandered elsewhere. He thought of the boy, that he'd tried to convince to return to warmth not twenty minutes ago. He hoped he would. He prayed he could help him. He reminded him of himself, a bit more than a year prior.
A stomach-wrenching though crossed his mind.
What kind of person would have he become, had he not met Toothless ? Who would he be now ?
Whatever the answer to that question was, he didn't want to find out. And that's why he hoped he'd be able to help the little boy.
The young blonde child's hand hovered before the wooden door. It trembled, but not from the cold.
He started to wonder why he was here. What made him leave the calm, frozen lake, and refuse to walk over the ice, only to come here. He didn't know the answer. He never did. But he subconsciously hoped he'd find out inside. And before his resolve tumbled like a card castle, he forced his hand against the wooden door. Sounding three hollow knocks in a rapid, successive, series. He waited, he could see steam rise with his breath from his numb lips.
He could hear some shuffling through the door, coming from inside. Followed by some tripping, a yelp, a loud 'clang !', some muttering. And suddenly, the door yanked open and Hiccup stood in the doorway, clutching his side and wincing in pain.
The child averted his gaze to the ground. His shaking hands fell limp on either side of his thin body.
Hiccup wordlessly stepped aside, inviting him inside. He was relieved he was back, there was no doubt. But the teen was also terrified. What if he failed ? What then ?
The little boy walked in and immediately went for his spot by the forge's hearth. But he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the cushion and blanket set up on the floor where he used to lie. To be honest, it wasn't so much of a cushion as it was a cloth bag full of straws. But it was the closest thing to a cushion on Dreki.
The boy wanted to look at Hiccup, and figure out why he did all that. Why he set those there, why he bothered for his comfort. But he kept his mouth shut and simply sat down against the cushion, though still discarding the blanket aside. But deep down, he wanted to wrap himself in it, forming a warm, safe, silent cocoon.
Hiccup went into the next room, and returned into the forge with a wooden bowl of hot brew with a spoon dipped in it. He set it down before the boy, and immediately sat back before his workstation. No eye contact, no words, no body language, nothing. He didn't want to scare the little one away. Not when he was so close to succeeding, to getting his trust.
Moments passed and Hiccup resumed his carving, his back turned away from the hearth and the boy. Over the sound of the scratching of his carving, Hiccup could hear the boy take little sips of brew from the wooden spoon. He smiled, he could tell the boy was trying to be stealthy, and not let him know he'd accepted the food. But his body must've been screaming hunger.
Eventually, Hiccup spoke. Trying to get things going. It was risky, but it was the only way to make any progress.
" So uh...You thought of a name yet ? "
Agonizing silence. Hiccup winced, had he gone too far ? Had he ruined everything ?
" Th-There are some pretty cool Norse names too...Well, better than 'Hiccup' at least." He continued, hoping to remedy the situation.
More silence. It obviously wasn't working. He decided to back off, and leave an uncomfortable silence floating in the air rather than let his destructive words chase the poor soul away.
Moments passed. The auburn-haired teen continued his irregular scratching into the mold until it was ready. That, as one might guess, took a long time. Hiccup was a perfectionist, as you know. But he eventually got up, and walked over to the red hearth, which was filled with a bed of calm embers. They were hot, but not blazing. Gold didn't need to be heated that much for it to melt anyway.
As he positioned himself by the hearth, he risked shooting a glance down at the blonde boy. But to his dismay, Hiccup realized he found himself on the receiving end of a deadly glare. The teenager snapped his attention back to the task at hand, realizing that he'd been too forward and would have to give the kid some time to cool off before attempting anything else.
He grabbed a small pipe-shaped kettle, about the size of one's palm, that was lying on the anvil. He caught it by it's long, thin arm that reached thirty centimeters out, and dropped the small gold tooth he pulled out of a pocket into it with a small 'clink'.
Hiccup tried to ignore the younger boy's hostile observation, setting his mind on his work. It was harder than it sounded.
He positioned the small kettle over the ember bed, before dropping the containing part right into the middle, burying it to the rim in the little red stones. He waited, a couple of minutes, making last little adjustments to the mold. And when the gold was completely molten, he gloved his hands with thick, brown protections, and took hold of the kettle's arm once more, before bringing it over the anvil.
There, he had set down the small, square, light gray mold. He held the kettle arm with both gloved hands, gently pouring the shining liquid with a concentration that couldn't have been broken if it was hit with a sledgehammer.
The liquid poured like water, and looked like the sun itself was flowing down into the mold.
The little blonde boy, couldn't help but feel a little awed. The expertise and skill that seemed to be invested in this activity was impressive to say the least. He found himself wishing he was just as talented at something. Anything. But he wasn't. And he hated it.
When the last drop of gold was poured, Hiccup set the kettle down, put his hands on his hips and stared contently at the full mold. All that was left was to wait. He turned his gaze to the little boy, who dodged it by staring at his feet.
Hiccup gave an internal sigh. One of deflation and irritation. He felt like he was getting nowhere. Well, at least the boy was back in a house, away from the deadly cold.
" I'm gonna go to the neighbouring island to get some clothes for all of you..." Said Hiccup, walking and reaching over to a shelf to grab various parts of his armour. All, but the particularly thick right shoulder pad that bore the red strike class insignia. "...If you need anything just knock at Qwynel's door. Especially if you're hungry." He said, glancing down at the half-finished bowl of cold broth. The boy, remained silent. Still absently staring into the ground, hoping the teen would just go already.
He walked over to one of the tables that were set against the wall, he grabbed a brown leather purse that jingled as he hooked it to his armor's belt. He walked over to the door with his helmet under his arm, opened it with a creak, set a foot outside, but stopped. He turned around, and looked at the little boy.
" Oh and..." This time, the blonde boy dared a glance. He didn't think Hiccup would be looking at him when he did. But he was startled to see the teen's flamboyant emerald green eyes just staring back at him. "...Please don't go outside again, not until we get you proper clothes."
And then... Just then... The blonde boy saw, through his stone grey eyes Hiccup's pleading. Visible in the teen's green eyes, was a sort of caring concern. The kind of look a family member, a brother, or a father, would give to their brother or son, a quiet look that asked him not do anything foolish. A look that said he cared. and because he cared, he suffered. It was a look that said he hated to see him like this, and that he was afraid. Afraid he'd try to walk across the lake again.
Finally, Hiccup broke the look off, deciding to end on a positive note. So he gave a goofy, crooked smile, a smile only found on his face, before walking off. The door clattered shut in his wake, and the little boy caught himself staring at the door a long while after the teen was gone. Something about that look Hiccup gave him hit close to home, prodded at his heart. And he wasn't sure if he liked it.
Next time we'll have a look at other Drekian/Guest interactions, make the story and focus a little more varied. I hope you enjoyed ! Please tell me what you think.