Chapter 11
Portrait of Hiccup and Sightless Part 1
Measuring up to a Viking father isn't easy. Especially when that Viking father is also the Chief of your village.
So when you get a chance to prove your worth – you jump on it.
Meade Hall
"Batwings?" asked Arachne. "Why do you fly a monster when you already have wings?"
"Well," the Siren replied, leaning back in his chair, "you know that amazing, indescribable feeling that you get when you're riding on Venomwing's back, free as a bird?"
"Yep," she affirmed.
Smirking, Batwings finished, "On Mocktalk, I get to feel that without doing any work."
The gang was in the Meade Hall that morning, waiting for Hiccup to be finished with his father and Bucket. It had been two weeks after the battle with the Outcasts on Monster Island, and some Vikings had even taken to calling it the Battle of Helheim's Shores (after the old name for Monster Island, "Helheim's Gate"). To celebrate that victory, Stoick had decided to do what every Chief of Berk before him had done.
Hiccup was to have his portrait painted with his father, which would be hung in the Meade Hall for future generations of Hooligans to admire. The boy was elated at that news, and was currently holding onto that feeling as he and Stoick stood straight in front of Bucket's easel as the half-brainless Viking worked with his paints. In his hand, Hiccup held a shield, and his father had a hand on his shoulder and a sword, blade balanced on the floor, in his other hand.
"Shoulders back and chin up, son!" Stoick encouraged, and as his son did so, he added, "This portrait's going to hang in this hall forever!"
"And what a portrait it'll be," murmured Snaketail from her seat on the sidelines. "Chief Stoick the Vast, the best Chief Berk has ever seen, and his son Hiccup the Monster Conqueror!"
Oh yes, as if Hiccup needed reminding – since he had ended the three hundred-year-long war, and also because he was the first Viking to ever train a monster, it was only fitting that a monster should be in the portrait as well. Naturally, Hiccup opted for Sightless, who now stood obediently at his rider's side as Bucket painted.
However, Bucket soon stood up from his easel, muttering to himself, and walked up to them with frustration in his stride. Hiccup watched in bewilderment as he brushed some dust off of Stoick's shoulder pad and straightened the boy's shield.
"I can't do this!" he suddenly wailed, and then ran headlong into a pillar. After pounding his head against it a few times, he added, "Okay, I'm good now."
"Uh, Dad," Hiccup murmured, as Bucket went back to painting, "I've never seen Bucket like this before."
Stoick chuckled and explained, "Well, after he lost half of his brain, he discovered his hidden talent. He became an artist."
"So he can paint?" replied Hiccup.
"Oh, he's the best of the best," Stoick assured him. "He's going to do us proud. This portrait will take its place alongside all the others of past Chiefs and their sons."
He pointed over to the far wall, specifically to the last in a line of ornate shields that hung there, all in a row. "That is the only picture of me and my own father. It was a great day when the painting was finished…"
Hiccup could have sworn he heard Stoick choke up a little. But when he looked up, he was swatted roughly on the shoulder.
"Chest out, son," the Chief reprimanded.
Hiccup took a breath and expanded his chest, but then let the breath out with an audible huff. "Yeah, this is about as out as it goes," he replied sheepishly.
"Well, that's fair enough then," Stoick nodded.
That night, as all the adult Vikings had their meals in the darkened, torch-lit Meade Hall, Hiccup and his friends clustered around the line of portraits that hung away from the hubbub. Hiccup himself, though, kept a modest distance back, not very interested but still feeling obligated to take a look. Astrid was by his side, a hand on his shoulder.
"Look at all these great leaders," she told him, voice filled with wonder. "And tomorrow morning, you're going to be joining them."
The scrawny boy smiled to himself and blushed faintly, not replying.
I don't feel like a leader, he thought. But… it is true that I've led the Monster Riders before, against the Fatalis and against the Outcasts. Still, it's kind of weird knowing that most of my friends look up to me as one.
Yes, most of the Monster Riders indeed saw Hiccup as their leader. And one of the few exceptions was currently snickering to himself.
"There goes the neighborhood," snorted Snotlout, in reply to Astrid's earlier comment.
"You're part of an elite group, my friend," Snaketail said kindly, giving Hiccup a nudge.
"And one of the few who wasn't killed by the successor," Fishlegs claimed.
Tuffnut chuckled with feigned menace, "So far."
"I guess it is a big deal," agreed Hiccup with a casual shrug, the first words he had spoken that night.
"It's like being a part of history, isn't it?" wondered Batwings. "Not that I'd know about anything like that. I'm just a dragon, not a high-and-mighty Viking."
"You're not just a dragon," Arachne said sweetly. "You're the nicest and cleverest dragon ever." She hugged his waist until not even the Siren could hold back a fond smile. And then he winced, when the short horns on her helmet poked him in the belly.
"But he's right," Snaketail said, tossing her brown hair over her shoulder. "Hiccup's lucky. He's going to be a part of Berk's history come tomorrow."
"A history of dorks," laughed Snotlout, pointing to one of the decorated shields. It depicted a young, impressively-muscled blonde Viking and his even-bulkier father.
"That's Hamish the First," Fishlegs lectured, "our richest and most revered leader. And standing before him is his son, Hamish the Second."
Snotlout clearly didn't take it seriously. In a high-pitched, mocking voice, he proclaimed, "I'm Hamish the First! Bow down before me and kiss my pointy shoes!"
The Thorston twins then got down on all fours and pretended to do just that, but then shoved their friend to the ground, laughing hysterically. And then the portrait of the real Hamish fell off the wall and down on Snotlout's head with a painful-sounding *thump*, prompting another round of cruel laughter from the twins.
"Look what you did to the Hamishes!" squeaked Fishlegs. He frantically picked it up and hung it back on its proper place on the wall – but as he did so, a single piece of parchment fluttered down from its hiding place.
"What's that? It's probably mine," Tuffnut said, making a grab for it.
But Snotlout beat him to it. "It looks like some kind of map!" the Jorgenson boy exclaimed. "With… poetry," he added with disgust.
A hand suddenly flew out from nowhere and ripped the map out of Snotlout's hand, who let out a protesting cry of, "Hey! That's my poetry map!"
"I'll take that," grunted Gobber, ignoring the teenager. "All o' these were supposed ta be destroyed."
"Why?" asked Astrid with a skeptical look. "What's so special about it?"
Gobber held it out of her reach and replied, "Many men lost their limbs, their lives, an' their minds tryin' ta find that treasure."
The Monster Riders all looked at him perplexedly, clueless to what the blacksmith was referring to.
Except for the all-knowing Fishlegs Ingerman, of course, who squealed, "Ooh, I read about this! It's the Treasure of Hamish the First – his son buried him with it and left this map. They say the clues are so complicated that only a brilliant mind could decipher them."
Gobber nodded wisely. "That's the truth. Stoick an' I even went after this treasure, but all it did was lure us up into the mountains, in a blindin' snowstorm. We fought like Jaggis over them clues. In fact, we were lucky ta make it back with our lives, an' no less with our friendship intact.
"Fer yer own good, kids," he warned, "ferget ya ever saw this."
The Viking then limped off with the map firmly in his grasp, leaving a hushed silence behind.
Dawn
Most Vikings are early birds, but today they were up at the crack of dawn in a state of great excitement. Indeed, the entire village had turned up to watch the unveiling of Bucket's completed painting. The Monster Riders were at the front of the audience, with a perfect view of what was to be revealed.
Hiccup was in front of the crowd with Sightless, Stoick, and Gobber, eyes wide and fixed on the easel, covered with a silk cloth in order to heighten the mystery. He was excited to see just what would be added to the annals of Berk for all time, and his heart was racing with anticipation.
The painting wouldn't just tell of Stoick the Vast and his successor. It would tell generations of Hooligans to come the history that Hiccup had made. It would tell them that the proud Chief and his runt of a Monster Rider had made peace with the long-feared monsters of Berk.
Needless to say, the crowd was absolutely buzzing with excitement. Astrid and the rest of the gang looked the most excited of all. But Hiccup knew that what they felt paled in comparison to what he felt.
"Here it comes, son," Stoick said, gesturing to the easel. "This is our legacy."
Bucket grabbed the silk. He paused for effect – and he pulled, revealing the painting in all its glory.
And in that moment, Hiccup instantly knew that something was very wrong indeed.
First of all, he had been painted in such a way to make him appear even more muscular than Snotlout.
Then there was his pose – alongside Stoick, he was raising his shield in a defensive position, as if readying for battle. The look on his face was courageous and determined, that of a true Viking warrior.
Finally, there was Sightless himself. The Gore Magala was rearing up on his hind legs, wings flared and puffs of black mist drifting from them. Hiccup could see that the monster's horns were erected and the purple patches underneath were glowing fiercely. It looked like Sightless was actually doing battle against Stoick and the not-Hiccup.
Naturally, the crowd loved it. But Hiccup was absolutely appalled. The real Sightless had his head tilted at the easel, as if he had suddenly grown eyes and was confused as to why he looked so demonic, and why he was apparently fighting his own rider.
That's not me, Hiccup thought.
"He looks ridiculous!" cackled Batwings.
"Whoa, what happened to Hiccup?" asked Tuff from the crowd, clearly confused.
"Who cares?" Ruff replied, letting out a dreamy sigh.
Astrid was set to punch the Thorston girl when she suddenly got second thoughts. Ruffnut does have a point… she thought musingly.
Hiccup turned to face the proud artist. "Um… Bucket?" he began, uncertainly. "Why am I so… like that?"
"Why is the sky blue?" Bucket responded. "Why do I have a bucket on me head? We'll never know the answers." The Viking tapped his hook to his bucket with a slight ringing sound and gave Hiccup a knowing wink.
"You did a brilliant job, Bucket!" Stoick enthused as he approached, a mug of ale in his fist. "Don't you think so, son?" he added to Hiccup.
The Chief-to-be looked up at his father with pained eyes. "Dad, that's not me in that painting."
"Sure it is," Stoick assured him. "Just… you know, bigger and stronger."
Mulch then walked up and offered his opinion. "Now that's the son of a Chief!" he said cheerfully, and clanked his own mug with Stoick's.
Hiccup sagged with despair, the truth of it all finally hitting him. "I'm still a disappointment to you, aren't I?"
Vikings weren't good at settling emotional problems – they preferred problems that they could solve with their fists and weapons. So Stoick could be understood when he became confused at why his son wasn't as satisfied with the painting as he was.
"Now, Hiccup," Gobber piped up helpfully, "yer thinkin' about this all wrong. It's not so much what yeh look like – it's what's inside that he can't stand!"
"Thank you, Gobber," hinted Stoick, leading the blacksmith away.
Hiccup turned to Mulch and Bucket next. "I… think I can see why Stoick made me look so… you know. But why did he turn Sightless into a monster?"
"Isn't he a monster?" inquired Bucket, befuddled.
"Mulch, you know what I mean, right?" Hiccup tried.
"Sure I do, Hiccup," the portly Viking chirped. But Hiccup could tell that he didn't, not really.
There really wasn't any reason to stick around. Hiccup's friends left for the village, but the boy himself headed for the woods, Sightless at his heels. He just wanted to be alone.
Village Plaza, an Hour Later
Hiccup wandered the woods, the coast, and even Mildew's cabbage farm, but still didn't feel any better about what had happened that morning. Not even Fungus, who greeted Hiccup with a welcome bleat when he arrived at Mildew's place, could lift his spirits.
Giving the sheep a pat on the head and a bit of clover to chew on, Hiccup left the cabbage farm and walked back down into the village. The fishermen had hauled up a huge catch of fish down at the docks, and the entire village was there to help them. Thus, the village was nearly empty when Hiccup arrived.
Just then, he felt a fist lightly connect with his shoulder. He looked up and saw Astrid walking along beside him, a soft smile on her face. But the expression turned to one of concern when he didn't smile back.
"I can't believe it," Hiccup sighed. Strolling through the village again, this time with the Hofferson girl in tow, he continued, "My dad likes that portrait more than he likes the real me! I mean, you saw how proud he looked when Bucket revealed his work. Whenever he lays eye on me, it's usually with this look of disappointment, like someone skimped on meat in his sandwich…"
Hiccup then stopped walking and paraded around in front of Astrid, doing a theatric but convincing impression of the Chief. "Excuse me, barmaid! I'm afraid you've brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms, extra guts, and glory on the side! This here, this is a talking fishbone!"
Astrid couldn't help but hold back a giggle.
"Even my name!" Hiccup ranted. "You know that it's Viking tradition to name the runt of the litter 'Hiccup'."
Proving his point was a shepherd leading his flock through the village right at that moment. The Viking patted his leg and said to the smallest lamb, "Come on, little Hiccup! Oh, hello Hiccup," he added with a smile when he noticed the Haddock boy.
Of course, Hiccup felt even worse once the shepherd Viking had left. "What do I have to do to get my father to accept me?" he despaired. "Defeating the Fatalis, making peace with the monsters… what more could he ask of me?"
"He does accept you," Astrid told him, soothingly. Then she added bluntly, "He just accepts the painting more."
"Thank you for summing that up," muttered Hiccup. "I feel like I'm saying that a lot these days."
He was about to move onward when Astrid suddenly pulled him into a hug. He froze momentarily, then relaxed somewhat when she gently and quickly pressed her lips against his.
"Look at it this way," the girl said, once she had pulled away, "I accept you just the way you are."
"Thanks, Astrid," Hiccup replied, spirits rising. "That means everything to me."
She only smirked and gave him a punch to the shoulder that sent him into a pile of barrels. But at least she helped him up once the barrels had stopped tumbling.
At least someone likes me the way I am, Hiccup thought. If only Dad could, too.
Then, something caught his attention. Glancing over in the direction of Gobber's forge, he caught sight of Fishlegs standing in front of it. Astrid saw him too, and the two of them walked over to meet him. The closer they got, though, the more clearly they could see his face – it was full of the kind of strained nervousness that one only got when he was in danger of being caught in some forbidden act.
"What are you doing out here, Fishlegs?" Hiccup questioned, half-curious and half-suspicious.
"Nothing!" he replied, a little too quickly. He then turned his head slightly and made a few bird calls in the direction of the forge.
"Okay, where are the rest of them?" asked Astrid, crossing her arms.
Fishlegs didn't reply, just let out a few more weak bird calls, so they walked around to the back of the smithy. Sure enough, the rest of the gang was there, all looking at the window expectantly.
Arachne came crawling out almost as soon as Hiccup and Astrid had joined them. "I've got the map!" she said, and held out the parchment that Gobber had confiscated last night.
"We're finding that treasure," Snaketail said to the newcomers, smugly.
"And you," Snotlout added to Fishlegs, "are a horrible lookout."
"Your signals stink," Ruff agreed.
"I'm warning you only one more time," said Batwings. "You heard what Gobber said. The bravest warriors in history have died trying to find that treasure."
"Yeah, and I'm next," replied Snotlout.
Astrid scoffed and muttered, "Well I, personally, want to live to see another Snoggletog."
Fishlegs turned toward her and Hiccup, excitement making his eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "We'll be legends!" he enthused. "Bards will sing songs about us all over the archipelago!"
In response, Astrid got up in his face and spat, "You'll be dead! Come on, have some common sense, guys. Not even Stoick could find it."
Something clicked in Hiccup's mind, and from it, a brilliant and crazy plan sprang forth. All of a sudden, he knew just what to do in order to win his father's acceptance of him…
"You're right, he couldn't," he agreed. "Arachne, could I see the map?"
Arachne nodded and handed the Haddock boy the map, who began to skim over its contents.
"Finally," Astrid said with approval. "Someone's making sense."
"Where do we start?" asked Hiccup, ignoring her.
Batwings facepalmed and asked in an exasperated tone, "You're joking, right?"
Putting away the map, Hiccup looked at him and Astrid very seriously. "Think about it, you guys. My father couldn't find that treasure for the life of him. What would he say if I did something that not even Stoick the Vast could do?"
"I should have known," the blonde girl sighed. "You're going to go after this no matter what I say, right?"
"So, you're coming with us?" the Chief-to-be couldn't help but smirk. "And maybe without giving us a hard time?"
"Oh, I'll give you a hard time every step of the way," Astrid smirked right back, pressing a finger to his chest. "Someone's got to come along and make sure none of you risk your lives doing something stupid, and I'm the best woman for the job."
"Yes!" cheered Arachne. "Astrid's coming along! We'll find that treasure in no time flat!"
"Besides," added Astrid, "I couldn't let you go with just these clowns."
She pointed at the twins, who were now punching each other in the face. "I said harder!" grunted Tuffnut. "I said I want to see stars!"
Ignoring them was getting old, but the rest of the group did it again anyway.
"Looks like we've got the gang all together and ready for an adventure again," remarked Snaketail. "Let's get our monsters, meet back at the Meade Hall, and find that treasure!"
The teens quickly scattered, excitement buzzing through their veins in anticipation of the quest to come. Soon, the plaza was once again deserted.
It was only once they were gone that the eavesdropping monster decided to leave the safety of the shadows. Its relatively dim brain hadn't managed to comprehend the majority of their conversation, but one word in particular caught its attention – treasure. The monster knew that word and loved it more than anything else. It also knew that if it followed the little humans, it would get its claws on some of it.
So, with a few heavy flaps of its wings, it took to the air and flew toward the Meade Hall in pursuit of the Monster Riders.
Meade Hall
Thankfully, there wasn't a Viking in sight when Hiccup and his friends landed their monsters on the steps near the doors to the Meade Hall. Fishlegs had quickly ran inside and grabbed the portrait of Hamish the First and Hamish the Second, reporting that only Stoick and Gobber had been inside, and that they hadn't seen him. They were safe for now.
"Where the land meets the sea, in the crook of the master's knee, that's where your search will be," recited Snaketail, reading off of the map. "What does that even mean?"
Tuff repeatedly hit his head as if to pound his brain into working. "Think think think. Think think think… I forgot what I was thinking about."
While the twins grinned with some kind of satisfied amusement at his statement, the rest of the Monster Riders gathered around Snaketail and the map, trying to figure out the clue. Something about the riddle seemed to click in Hiccup's mind, and he examined the parchment more closely.
"You know, I think I've seen this before," the Haddock boy murmured. "Legs, show me the portrait one more time."
Fishlegs obediently held up the portrait that he had swiped. Hamish the First was standing with his foot perched on a rock, striking a heroic pose. His raised leg was bent slightly, and his exposed knee pointed to an oddly-shaped rock spire jutting out from the sea behind them.
"There, where his knee bends!" exclaimed Hiccup. "That's where we start looking."
They boarded their monsters and flew north. Out of sight in seconds, they were just in time to avoid Stoick and Gobber, who walked out of the Meade Hall shortly after their departure.
"What?!" exclaimed Stoick, outraged. "You had that map and didn't destroy it?"
Gobber just looked at him and admitted, "I know, I know, I'm an idiot."
"What were you thinking?" Stoick demanded.
Shifting his feet, the blacksmith responded guiltily, "I was just thinkin' that you and I could take another crack at findin' that treasure."
"Gobber," Stoick said warningly.
"We turned back too early!" his friend replied. "So we lost a coupla toes…"
Stoick couldn't believe that he was hearing this from him. Slashing his hand through the air to silence the other man, he ordered, "Come on. We have to find Hiccup and the others before they get themselves killed. Why would they do such a thing…?"
While Stoick couldn't see any reasoning behind his son's actions, Gobber certainly could. The old Viking had been the father that Hiccup never had, and knew the boy better than even Stoick did. So, as the Chief walked down the stairs while muttering to himself, Gobber shook his head sadly and sighed before limping off after him.
Meanwhile, a monster emerged from its hiding place in the staircase's shadow and flew off in the direction that Hiccup and his friends had flown in…
North Beach
A few minutes had passed when the Berk Monster Riders guided their steeds down to the northernmost beach. On this beach, there was a spectacular view of the water and the small field of spires that rose out from the waves a short distance away – and one strangely-shaped spire in particular. It was the same one as in Hamish's portrait.
"Okay guys, listen up," Hiccup advised, taking the map from Snaketail. He read aloud the next clue; "From here you will see a sea that's been sown, look to where water turns to bone."
"I certainly see a sea," said Arachne, giggling.
"But 'where water turns to bone'?" Snotlout spoke up from his leaning position on Snotsnarl's head, bored. "Hamish isn't even trying to make sense here."
Batwings shook his head. "No, I don't think he means it in a literal sense. 'Water turns to bone', he says… he must mean ice!"
"The glacier!" crowed Snaketail, pointing to a glittering white mountain in the distance, just beyond the rocky towers.
With their next destination clear, they urged their monsters back into the sky and across the sea, toward the titanic iceberg.
It didn't take them at all long to reach the iceberg, and soon they were flying into a vast cave whose opening yawned wide in the side of the icy structure. Everyone dismounted their monsters and stared in awe at their surroundings – the walls and floor of the cavern were made purely of ice, and there could be seen more than one Viking frozen for all of eternity inside.
"There's something down there!" Hiccup said suddenly, catching sight of a small, dark object buried in the floor underneath his foot.
"That guy saw it too," muttered Fishlegs, pointing to a frozen Viking nearby.
Snaketail snatched the map back from Hiccup and read the next clue. "Call on Magni, you'll go astray. Freja, though, will show the way."
"Oh, I get it," said Ruff. She pushed past Hiccup and crouched down onto the ice, getting on her hands and knees. She bent down over the ice-locked object and began to bang her helmeted head against the ice, fracturing it.
There was a sudden, ominous *click* that echoed in the icy cavern.
"No!" Hiccup cried, knowing that it was a trap. He quickly grabbed hold of Ruff's arm and pulled her away, just in time to avoid a giant clawed mace that swung down from nowhere and smashed itself into the wall right next to them.
Hiccup stumbled and fell, ending up trapped underneath Ruff's body. The Thorston girl grinned and leaned in closer – undoubtedly about to make a move on him – only for Astrid to step in obligingly and kick her off of him.
"Thanks," mouthed Hiccup, to which she merely smirked.
"We can't break the ice," noted Batwings. "That's what 'Magni' means. He's the god of strength – right?" he added uncertainly. The Siren wasn't exactly an expert in human folklore.
"Of course," Arachne replied matter-of-factly. "And Freja is the goddess of fire!"
Nodding, Batwings crouched over the ice that Ruff had already cracked. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his throat started to contract, as if he was about to spit up something that didn't agree with him. The Monster Riders stepped back a safe distance right before he opened his mouth and shot a stream of crimson flames at the icy floor, rapidly burning a hole in the floor.
I should be used to it by now, thought Hiccup, but it's still so weird seeing what looks like a human breathe fire.
Arachne picked up the sizzling object and gasped slightly as she felt her hands grow hot. Peering at it, Hiccup could see that it was some kind of ornate, artistically-designed piece of metal, with parts on the sides which made it seem like it would fit together with something.
"That's the treasure?" asked Ruff, sounding a bit skeptical.
"No," Hiccup replied, taking it from Arachne, "but it might help lead us to it."
Tuffnut snatched the key from Hiccup – if indeed it was a key – and held it at arm's length reverently. "Take us to the treasure," he commanded.
"Let us know if it answers," Astrid sneered.
Hiccup began, "This is just the first piece –"
But suddenly, from the entrance, something soared into the cave at a wicked speed and crashed into the floor just in front of Hiccup, sending him tumbling to the ground. Everyone scattered in shock as the monster raised its head and let out an aggressive cry that bounced around the cavern until it sounded like an entire group. Reflexively, Hiccup threw the key up into the air, and the monster grabbed it in its beak.
The creature was relatively small, but still large as it towered over the Haddock boy. Its skin was rubbery and a slight lilac in color, while its pink wings stretched on either side of it. A flashing crest buzzed on top of its head while its snaggle-toothed beak grinned triumphantly down at him.
"A Gypceros!" exclaimed Fishlegs. "It must be after the treasure too!"
The Gypceros squawked and hopped several times on the spot, its crest flashing spastically. With the key still held in its beak, it turned tail and ran drunkenly toward the exit – just as the glacier began to shake. Big chunks of ice fell from the ceiling while huge crevasses split the floor into a massive jigsaw puzzle. As the seconds raced by, the tremors got worse, and the Gypceros got father away from the group!
"Sightless!" shrieked Hiccup, and the Gore Magala was instantly at his side. His rider quickly jumped onto his back and slotted his foot into the stirrup, and they were airborne within moments.
The Gore Magala let out a scream as he bounded toward the crevasse, and the other monsters, which had been waiting outside, immediately flew inside and toward their riders. The monsters didn't even have to halt or slow down as their riders leapt onto their backs and swiftly got into the riding position, steering them back toward the exit after Hiccup and Sightless.
They were safely in the sky even as the glacier started to crumble behind them. But Hiccup didn't notice, as he was too busy focusing on the fleeing Gypceros ahead of them. The bird wyvern had gained significant ground, but it was a slow and clumsy flier. Thus, it didn't take long at all for Sightless to catch up, fly directly underneath the Gyperos, and ram it right in the stomach. It lurched in the air with a startled squawk, and dropped the treasure key right into Hiccup's waiting hand.
"Now, Sightless, virus blast!" he shouted.
Sightless screamed and launched a blast of black fire at the Gypceros, which just managed to avoid it. It squawked once more with rage, as if promising its revenge, before lurching away from them with a few strenuous beats of its wings.
One step closer to the treasure, Hiccup thought, and one step closer to proving myself.
And with that, the Berk Monster Riders flew across the sky once more, searching for the next place to continue their treasure hunt.
Back on the northern beach, Stoick and Gobber braced themselves as the Chief's Anorupatisu landed heavily on the sand. They were still unused to riding a monster – even though Gobber had been friends with Silversol for quite a while now – but Stoick, for one, was rapidly getting used to it.
"Gore Magala tracks," noted Gobber almost instantly, bending down to examine the heavy monster prints. He gathered some of the sound, sniffed it, and added with some manner of hesitation, "They were here… about an hour ago."
"I'll never understand how you do that," Stoick said, blinking in bewilderment. "What does 'an hour ago' smell like?"
Gobber gave him a glance and replied, "Not as strong as a half hour ago."
All of a sudden, there was an immense crumbling sound that came from the distance, instantly recognizable as the sound of ice breaking apart. Stoick and Gobber turned toward the ocean in shock to see some of the distant glacial mountain tumbling into the sea.
"The kids must have found something," muttered Stoick.
"Ah, it was in the glacier!" crowed Gobber. "I knew it!"
Snorting, Stoick retorted, "Oh, you knew it, did you? Then how come we spent a week digging in the sand?"
Gobber scowled. "Tha' was yer idea!"
Allowing his temper to subside, Stoick murmured, "Hiccup and his friends got farther in one afternoon than we did in a month!"
Pulling up his pants, Gobber replied, "Yep, looks like the li'l Hiccup's got the best of us. An' we think we're the big, strong Vikings."
"What are you saying, Gobber?" asked Stoick, raising an eyebrow at his friend's exaggerated flexing.
"Stoick," Gobber answered plainly, "it's the painting."
Only now did Stoick really see what was going on. Hiccup's intentions were clear as ice to him – the boy wanted to prove himself worthy of being the son of a Chief, by showing that his brains were better than any amount of brawn. In particular, the brawn that Stoick had had Bucket give the portrait.
Oh, son… Stoick thought regretfully. I didn't mean any of this.
Yeah, motivation to write this chapter was at an all-time low, but I finally got through it. It didn't help that I was busy for a while this week, and didn't have a lot of time to write.
Anyway, part 2 will be coming as soon as I can finish it, so I'll see you then!