So we're closer to the DVD/Blu-Ray/Whatever release! Because this one theatre in Backroads' town FINALLY stopped showing the movie as of this past Friday and there doesn't seem to be any other historical community theaters or libraries or college functions showing it, so we take this as a good sign!

Fishlegs found himself really wishing that he had spent more time during the years growing up acquainting himself with the ways of females. Humans females, to be more precise, as the habits of female dragons was comfortably familiar to him. But lately he was finding that information was pretty much useless when it came to living with one of human specimens of females. And there he had been thinking he had been doing pretty well. He had adjusted himself to the notion that Ruffnut was crazy and unpredictable and had attempted to act accordingly with fair results.

Now another factor had been inserted into the equation, and he found that he had no strategy for dealing with it or her.

Pregnancy. Ruffnut had been pregnant. And now she wasn't. And Fishlegs had no idea which of those concepts terrified him more. Obviously he would have to get past the terror before he could intelligently deal with either, but it was like being thrown out in front of a giant malicious dragon without any prior knowledge of any of its more important stats—and he had never been good around giant malicious dragons even with knowledge about them.

He had no idea what it was supposed to do with either piece of information. He had tried his best, sat with Ruffnut, had been nice to her, had taken care of her. Those had all seemed nice, had correlated with some instincts that had climbed out of nowhere, and Ruffnut had yet to kill him for doing those things, so he couldn't have been completely on the wrong track. He just hated inching out into the unknown and figuring out things as they happened. That was not how his mind worked. But at least the feedback so far was not negative.

Ruff was oddly quiet after it. She wasn't throwing things or bursting into hysterical tears, at least not in front of him, but she was quiet. And Fishlegs was aware enough to know that was unusual for her. She didn't seem particularly sad, just quiet. Which maybe did mean sad, he wasn't sure. He still could not read her. Or any girl, for that matter, which meant even more difficulty. So he had no idea what he was supposed to think of her being oddly quiet. Was it normal? Was it good? Was it bad? Was he supposed to be just as quiet or was he was supposed to say something so it just wasn't two people being quiet?

Sometimes being clueless really sucked.

Maybe if he knew what he was supposed to be thinking he would have a wondrous insight into how to deal with her. Instead every time he dared think about the situation he was met by a very large mental boulder that radiated panic. He attempted to deal with each concept by itself. Ruff had been pregnant. Because of him. Because of that one time on their wedding night and all that accompanying weirdness. Which would have explained at least some of Ruff's subsequent behaviors. But pregnancy tended to lead to things like babies and that was a terrifying concept in its own right. But all of those concepts of terrifying natures were now null and void and now what was terrifying were their absences. How was that logically possible? How could something and its non-existence both be equally petrifying?

A small part of him wanted to pretend it had never happened. That alternate world where there had been no pregnancy and no miscarriage was a world he could process. Except it wasn't that way and he knew it and there was no sense in pretending otherwise and things went badly and bizarre in alternate universes anyway. Everyone knew that.

So he eventually decided that the best thing to would be to take a deep breath, process what he could, and focus his attention on the more concrete situation of Ruffnut even if that put him right back in the vicious circle of having no insight into the situation. But at least she was more than just thoughts in his head.

Finally he decided that he did not like her being so oddly quiet. He had known her pretty much his entire life, so it was a reasonable observation that Ruffnut being quiet was not normal for her. It was abnormal, and abnormal usually meant bad, or at least warranting concern. Even more, the quietness did not suit her at all. And it did not sit well with him.

Unfortunately he had yet to master the art of talking to her. It was tragic because if she were not talking and should be talking the obvious solution would be to get her talking and one of the better ways to realize such a goal was to initiate a conversation—a social skill he had never quite honed. But apparently it was a skill that was necessary for living with Ruffnut. He was her husband, which meant it was his duty and responsibility to make sure she was happy. And she wasn't.

He tried. When she had wanted to return to the house, he had taken her there, just like she had said. He had tried to make her comfortable. Handing her the kitten had not been the smartest thing he could have done, but he had done it with good intentions. All he wanted was that she would be okay. He had listened attentively to everything her mother had said with full confidence she knew what she was talking about. His own mother had died in childbirth so he knew whatever Stormbite said were valid and intelligent things.

By the next day, however, Ruffnut was not content to rest. She was awake before he was, busying herself with whatever she could find with which to busy herself. She said things like "good morning" and "hi" and other perfectly normal lines. The most abnormal thing was that she was actually awake in the evenings, either fighting food in the cooking area or walking outside in the snow or sharpening weapons. Which were normal things, so maybe it wasn't abnormal but good. And at those times she would smile at him and say something normal like "hi". But she didn't say much more than those. Yes. Quiet. It was wrong.

So he tried. He would say hi back, or another appropriate response to another perfectly normal line. He even asked how he she was feeling, to which she would respond with a shrug and a half-hearted "fine". It was the most inspired question he could think of, yet did not strike him as being enough.

It wasn't just day. He had almost adjusted to Ruff's habit of squeezing every nerve and drop of blood from his arm as she slept because he had never thought it could get worse. It could. He couldn't define just how it was physically possible to get worse, but he was pretty sure he was going to be sporting a bruise on his arm or even a broken bone from her. He almost wished she would just once again sleep on the other edge of the bed. But in the light of all that happened it just didn't seem appropriate to say anything or shove her off. Maybe he was supposed to like the idea of a pretty girl like Ruffnut clinging to him. And he did like it. Except that it physically hurt. He didn't like that part. But the only response he could think of that was in accordance with his plan to make her happy was to try to ignore it.

Apparently it was just a part of marriage.

Then something happened that threw him for another loop altogether. One evening he found her reading a book. One of his books. Of that he was sure, unless Ruff had a secret collection of books that included volumes that happened to be identical to his. Which he doubted, because bookmaking and bookbinding were not easy things that churned out look-alikes. So therefore it was Ruffnut sitting with her back against the bed, book in her lap, book open, her eyes intently on the pages. Which was evidence enough to suggest she was reading it.

Immediately he forgot about the pressing desire to make sure she was okay and happy. Bewilderment tended to make him forget things. All that was left was pure amazement and curiosity. "What are you doing?"

It was a full second before she looked up. "Reading. Duh."

So he had been right with that major assumption. It hadn't been one of the assumptions in the back of his mind pertaining to her plotting destruction or whatever someone like her could manage to do with a book. Fishlegs took a deep breath and remembered that he was supposed to be making sure she was happy. How did her reading a book fit into that? Was it good or bad? How was he supposed to react? The last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. "Oh."

She watched him for a few long moments with that studious look he still couldn't comprehend before looking back at the book. "I can read, you know. I learned runes like everybody else."

Had he said she hadn't? Had he ever thought that? Suddenly he wasn't sure. Her accusing tone apparently had a way of causing him to doubt himself. Was she mad? If she were, how was he supposed to respond in accordance to making her happy? "I never said you couldn't."

"I'm not illiterate. I read. Occasionally. At times."

He nodded. She didn't seem mad, just in need of clarifying information. Nothing wrong with that.

And she was talking. That hit him hard. She had said several phrases already, and in that dry tone that was so characteristic of her. That was good. Right?

"It's the dragon manual," she continued. "According to Hiccup it's really outdated, but I gotta say I get really annoyed when he goes off on dragon lies. It's almost annoying as you are with dragon stats. He's right, it probably should be completely rewritten, if anyone cared about stuff like that. But the gory stuff is way cool, I will admit that." She turned a page. Further evidence she was really reading. Then she glanced back up, eyes narrowed. "Fishlegs, why are you staring at me?"

He had been staring at her. Oops. "No reason." Now feeling awkward, he sat down next to her. "You know you just said more in the past minute than you have said in four days?"

She sighed and slammed the book. "I don't bother you this much when you're reading, do I?"

He considered saying "sometimes" but decided against it. "Um…" Terrible answer.

"I happen to have some change in my speech patterns and you go nuts."

She was mad. And he had been trying to be so careful. Make her happy, not make her mad. He had failed. But maybe it wasn't too late, maybe he could fix this. He put up his hands defensively. "No, no! I was just… just saying that. I mean it's good."

She continued to glare. Her glares were like stone, like having a staring contest with a rocky cliff. "It's good that I have some changes in my speech patterns? Is that what you're saying?"

Total failure. Maybe he should just leave. Except maybe that would make her mad. "It's good that you're talking again!" He squeezed his eyes shut in fear. "I was worried!"

He half-expected to be slugged, but no fist came. Cautiously he opened his eyes. She looked significantly less mad.

"Oh," she said. "I see what you're saying. Nice." A pause. "Thanks."

He heaved a sigh of relief. Okay. Save. Good. Which line that he had said had done it? "Thanks for what?"

The glare returned. "For being worried, you idiot."

Oh. That made sense. He had been worried. "Of course I was worried. You can go back to reading if you want. Sorry I interrupted."

She shrugged and glanced at the book. "Eh, I don't feel like reading it anymore."

Which to Fishlegs suggested that she wanted to do something else. But she didn't move.

Apparently talking didn't mean she was altogether fine. He tried not to stare at her, but he couldn't help it. "Are you okay?"

She shrugged again. "I'm fine, I guess."

Of course she would say that. But she was talking. Which was one goal met. Maybe he should continue with that. She was talking, now he needed to make her happy. That was his duty. He pulled his gaze from her and stared at the floor. Much more comfortable than staring at her. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He really hoped he wouldn't have to clarify "it". The thought was terrifying enough without voicing more details.

"I said I'm fine!" she snapped.

"But you also said you guessed you were fine."

She sighed and stared at the ceiling. "What part of it do you want to talk about?"

"That's not fair. I asked you first."

"Fishlegs, there's a lot involved in it. If you're asking me if I want to talk about something, you're going to have to be a lot more specific."

So this was all turned back on him. Oh well. Duty. He shook his head and tried to think of a specific detail. "So you were going to tell me." He sighed. This was hard. "That you were… pregnant."

Ruffnut brought her gaze down to him and nodded. "Yeah, I was. Like the night before. And there was another time. But I totally meant to tell you."

How would he have reacted if she had? He couldn't image that now. "How long did you know?"

She pulled her knees into her chest. "Awhile. My mom's a midwife. I know the signs. I first suspected that night when you were out doing your weird star thing, if that's what you're asking."

He remembered. Her acting all weird and running back inside the house. "Oh."

They were both silent a long time. And motionless. It went to the point where either one of the dragons need to break out of hibernation and run chaotically into the house or on of them needed to do something. Fishlegs considered how comparatively well it was going. She was talking. His awkward questions were sort of working. Obviously he should ask another one. If he could phrase it right. If he wanted to think about it himself. "Did… you want a baby?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I did. I know that's completely crazy, but I did. At first I was freaked and shocked but then I liked the idea and I was even excited, really excited, and then next thing I know it's all over and it really sucks. So everyone in the village thinks I'm crazy but there's a lot of other crazy women who have babies. And isn't that what's supposed to happen? People get married and have babies and so on goes the Berk population. Nothing wrong with that. So, yes, I did want the baby."

Fishlegs suddenly found himself scared she would start crying again.

But instead she kissed him quickly and briefly on the mouth. "Thanks for the talk."

He was never going to get used to her random kisses. Why did she give them? He knew he definitely liked them, but that one didn't even give him a chance to kiss back. "Ruff—"

She picked the book back up. "Quiet. I feel like reading again."