A/N: Couple of things: First, there is mild graphic imagery thanks to the ancient methods of tattooing. Secondly, this concludes the last of the super-long chapters! Now, I need to rewatch the first season of Race to the Edge so I can remember what all happens and work on plot stuff xD Also, I just want to let ya'll know if ever you wanted to send me a PM to just chat or something, feel free! I may not be able to respond right away thanks to Real Life, but I will respond to you 99% of the time :)
Laughter and the smell of burning cedar filled the air.
It was Snoggletog and Stock had invited the Bog-Burglars and Bashem Oiks to Berk to celebrate. Three giant bonfires had been erected along the beach and people gaily danced around them as drums, flutes, and lurs shook the earth with their songs.
Away from the dancing, there was a fourth bonfire, but this one was smaller and two entire boars were being roasted over the flames. Around this fire were many tables, each one piled high with food and drink. Traditional foods, such as smoked and cured fish, roast chicken, salted pork, stewed roots, and hearty pastries were easily found, but if one looked past the usual, they could find imported foods such as Cypriot Flaouna from Greece, candied figs, Roman wine, and a strange dish Trader Johann called baklava.
Of course, the dragons running around and playing together were a nice addition to the scene, even if the Terrible Terrors were being, at times, absolute terrors. Big-Boobied Bertha's flock of Terrors found particular joy in harassing the chief of the Bashem Oiks by stealing whatever vegetables he pulled onto his plate. He knew it was all in good fun, however, and was thankful they didn't try to steal his meat instead.
Hiccup had found himself unable to stop smiling. It was rare for everyone to be in such good spirits, let alone when other tribes were around. He wondered what was more to blame: The holiday, the free-flowing mead, or the recent marriage between Pála Hofferson and a Bashem Oik named Jorgen. Or, he thought, maybe it was a combination of all three that made things so good.
Either way, things were good.
Making his way through the crowd, he stopped when he reached the three bonfires. Not possessing enough skill nor the proper set of legs to dance, he stood there, watching as his friends held hands and danced in lines around the fires. Those women who were of age and unmarried wore loose, white gowns that floated around their ankles as they danced while their hair, unbraided, twirled about their shoulders. Some of the women wore crowns of holly while others jingled from dozens of bells decorating their persons.
His smile turned into a dreamy expression as his eyes fell on Astrid. This was the first year that she and Ruffnut were allowed to partake in the ritual Snoggletog dancing, though he admittedly paid little attention to Ruffnut -not that she would have cared; she was too busy making eyes with Kenna.
Astrid, however…thanks to years of battle training, she was light on her feet and her movements were graceful and fluid. The gauzy material of her dress swirled behind her as she twirled around and around, the bells on her ankles ringing lightly.
Hiccup hoped she would dance a few more years because, by gods, she was beautiful…
He was brought out of his reverie as someone lightly punched his arm. Blinking, he looked over only to see Gobber, a knowing expression on the blacksmith's face.
"Evening, Gobber," he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Having fun?"
"I daresay there isn't a soul here tonight who isn't," he chuckled. In his usual Snoggletog manner, he had switched his helmet out for one with reindeer antlers and had decorated it with boughs of holly. "I see you're enjoyin' the view."
Hiccup felt his cheeks flush as he looked back at the dancers. "It's—It's just nice to see everyone in such good spirits," he partially lied. "Especially when other tribes are here. The last few years have been so chaotic, after all."
Gobber nodded, though he didn't seem entirely convinced by Hiccup's words. "True that!" he agreed. "I'm surprised you're not out there dancin', though."
He shrugged. "Ah, I'm not really the dancing sort," he said. "Especially when the ground is this uneven. The ol' foot likes to get stuck." He let out a small laugh as he motioned to his pegleg, which had become the latest victim of his modification sprees.
Raising half his brow, Gobber rolled his eyes before giving Hiccup a hearty shove forward. "Get out there, ya love-sick ninny!" he laughed. His grin grew larger when he saw Astrid hook her arm around Hiccup's, pulling him into the dance. "Atta lad," he murmured.
"Did you just shove my son into the dancin' line?"
Gobber nodded, not needing to look to know that Stoick had come up beside him. "The lad needed a wee bit o' coercion, but he seems happy with it now." He took a drink from the mug attached to his stump.
Shaking his head, Stoick quietly laughed. "Let me guess: He tried t' tell ya his leg was going to get stuck in the gravel?" He glanced over, seeing Gobber nod behind his mug. "He tried t' use that excuse on me when I asked him 'bout dancing earlier. I said his leg would be just fine."
"And it seems to be just that!" Gobber grinned. "Anyway, do ya really think I'd let him get away without dancin' this year? He's the chieftain's son! He's got t' set an example for the other teens his age!"
At that, a hearty laugh came from Stoick. "Funny -I don't recall bein' forced t' dance when I came o' age."
Gobber shrugged. "Well, at the time, ya didn't have yourself a girl you fancied either," he retorted. "Nor were you as hesitant as Hiccup. For you, it was easy t' throw yourself head-first into the lineup for dancin' an' share a round with almost all the women." He used his mug to motion out at Hiccup. "For him, it's different. He's got his eye on a single lass an' she on him. He doesn't want t' dance with anyone but her, even though he'll have to. But it'll be good for him."
Stoick's brow rose; he knew full well Gobber was right. "How is it that ya seem t' notice more things about my son than I do?" he questioned with a sigh.
Again, he shrugged. "I'm a da' myself, remember?" He let out a small sigh. "An' without Thora here, I've found myself spendin' more time with Hiccup, since he's constantly in the forge tryin' t' come up with new tail gadgets for Toothless. Meanwhile, you're out doin' your chiefly duties." He glanced over at Stoick, seeing an unpleasant look on the chieftain's face. "What I'm really noticin', though, is how much he's started takin' after you."
At that, Stoick's expression seemed to soften into confusion. "What?"
Nodding, Gobber finished off the drink in his mug. "Yep. That boy's a natural-born leader, even if he doesn't realize it yet. Though they give him headaches once in a while, those dragon riders are loyal t' him and follow his orders -mostly without question." He let out a belch, patting his belly to force out a second, quieter belch. "He's definitely your son, that's for certain. Not terribly good with politics just yet, but when Thora comes back, I'm sure he'll get his lessons in it soon enough."
Rolling his eyes, Stoick laughed. "Or maybe I should pull him away from the forge once in a while an' give him the lessons myself?" he chuckled. "Ah, he's a good lad, though, an' he's got a good head on his shoulders. I've no doubts he'll turn into a great chieftain someday."
"He's the son o' Stoick the Vast! O' course he will be!" Gobber laughed. His cheeks had grown quite rosy and he was beginning to wobble, letting Stoick know that he should, perhaps, cut off his friend's alcohol access.
Patting him on the back, Stoick started to lead him away from the bonfires. "Let's get ya some food, eh? Don't want ya wobbling all over the place with the night so young."
"Nah! I think I'm ready for another pint o' mead-"
"Not until you've eaten some food! Ylva baked a whole slew of honey cakes for tonight an' they're goin' fast. Don't want you t' miss out on those!"
"Oh, fine…"
It had been strange, waking up without a left arm.
Truthfully, Thora thought it was strange that she had woken up at all. Ulfr had told her it was because of Cæna that she survived the battle -but just barely. As the Celtic woman had been about to deliver the death blow, Cæna tackled her to the ground and stabbed her through the chest. He then brought Thora back inside the city walls, making sure she reached Ormr's care before racing back out into the fray.
But that was the last anyone had seen of him.
As Thora lay in bed, healing, she pestered Sindri for news about him, but it was always the same answer: There was no sign of him, living or dead. When Ulfr recovered from his own injuries -including losing half his leg-, she asked him if he knew anything, but he only remembered seeing the human carting her off. Ormr assured her he hadn't seen him since that night, either, and he had tended to every injured person in the city, whether they were hunter or not.
After a month passed, she stopped asking.
But she didn't stop hoping.
Astrid took a bite out of a meat pie, her eyes scanning the horizon in front of her. Stormfly sat next to her, preening herself while her rider ate. With Hiccup feeling under the weather, she had been tasked by Stoick to survey the islands around Berk for an unusual activity.
Not that anyone expected there to be, but with it nearing time for the Bog-Burglars-in-training to take their thieving tests, Stoick didn't want to risk being caught off guard.
"Can you imagine having to run off to different islands and steal things in order to become a part of a tribe?" she chuckled, leaning back on her hand. "It's ridiculous if you ask me."
Stormfly made a noise of agreement, though it was obvious she was paying more attention to cleaning her armpit.
"Though, I got to hand it to Bertha," she continued, tossing the last bit of crust over her shoulder, "she does teach those women how to be sneaky. Maybe I could go over there for a few months and learn a few things?"
The Nadder turned, looking at her with a skeptical look in her eye.
"What? Think of how useful it'd be! You know how useful silence is, especially when it comes to infiltration missions." She shrugged, wiping some crumbs from her shirt. "I don't think I could stay away from Berk too long, though. Someone needs to keep an eye on Hiccup and I really don't trust the others to stand up to the task."
Rolling her eyes, Stormfly tucked her head under her wing once more. She knew that Hiccup was fully capable of taking care of himself.
Astrid got to her feet, stretching. "You stay here, girl," she ordered the dragon. "I'll be back in a little bit. I want to stretch my legs before we head off to the other island."
A sound of acknowledgement came from the dragon, but she didn't look at her rider.
Leaving the cliff behind her, Astrid headed off. The island wasn't very big -only a quarter the size of Berk- but it was big enough to support a small flock of wild Deadly Nadders. Over the last couple of years, she had grown to be trusted by these Nadders and even friends with them. Today, however, they were nowhere in sight.
'Probably out hunting or fishing,' she thought, glancing around. Even though she knew she was the only human on the island, she kept herself on the alert. She didn't want to be caught off guard by anything or anyone. 'With spring here, their fat stores are more than likely depleted, so they need to start eating again…'
Tucking some of her hair behind her ear, she froze as the grass in front of her moved a bit. Expecting a rabbit or wild chicken to come bounding out, she was taken by surprise when a snake came slithering towards her. Letting out a curse, she jumped back and went to grab for her ax only to realize her ax was with Stormfly.
Dragons she could handle. Snakes, though?
Snakes were her worst enemy.
She swallowed hard, glaring down at the snake. Doing her best to stay calm, she kept her eye on it as she attempted to walk around it, but she had caught the snake's attention. It looked up at her, flicking its forked, black tongue. Astrid didn't like how big it was -nearly four feet long- but, judging by its bloated stomach, it had recently fed.
'So it probably won't try to bite me,' she thought, slowly backing away. "Just go on your way," she murmured aloud, hoping the snake could understand her.
The snake, however, continued to stare at her.
Biting her lip, she sprinted away. When she had gone at least ten yards, she glanced over her shoulder and found that the snake wasn't following her. A sigh of relief left her mouth.
"Now that that creature is gone," she murmured, brushing her bangs out of her face once more, "I can get back to my walk."
But before she could take another step, she felt something slither over her boot. Slowly, she looked down.
"Get off me!" she cried, kicking another, smaller snake off her boot. She watched its legless body soar through the air before landing in the grass some feet away. Shuddering, she quickly walked away from the area, hoping she wouldn't come across anymore snakes.
To her great disappointment, however, she kept running into them. It seemed everywhere she went, there would be another snake slithering its way through the grass. What didn't help was that many of them were over two feet long.
After her seventh snake encounter, she gave up. She started running back towards Stormfly, unable to stand the thought of seeing another snake. She made sure to not look at the ground, even if it meant risking a fall should something try to trip her.
Out of breath and side aching, she reached her dragon. Stormfly was laying down, her tail curled around her body, but when she saw her somewhat-panicked rider, she sat upright. A sound of concern left her mouth as she lowered her head, worriedly nuzzling the teen.
"We are…leaving…" panted Astrid. She doubled over, holding her side. "After…After I get…my breath back…"
Stormfly nuzzled her once more before looking to the sky. Squinting against the sunlight, she saw a large, familiar dragon racing towards them.
"Hey, Astrid!" Hookfang and Snotlout landed a few yards away. "I've been lookin' all over the archipelago for you!" He hopped off his dragon before grabbing something from Hookfang's back. Keeping it hidden behind his own back, he started walking towards her.
She glanced up at him, a none-too-pleased look on her face. He was the last person she wanted to see right then. "What…do you…want?" she wheezed.
"Me an' Hookfang were just taking an afternoon walk around the village," he began, a somewhat smug grin on his face, "when I happened to see this-" From behind his back, he pulled out Astrid's double-bearded ax, "-propped against Stormfly's roost."
Her brows furrowing in confusion, she looked between the ax and Stormfly. "What…? But I swear I thought I had it with me…"
Handing the weapon over, Snotlout shrugged. "I don't know, but when I saw that it wasn't with you, I thought I'd be a nice guy and bring it to you."
Feeling a bit awkward thanks to her own forgetfulness, she took the ax from him. "Er…Well, thank you. That was actually surprisingly thoughtful of you."
Grinning proudly, Snotlout waved dismissively. "Ah, I know how Berk's number one warrior woman doesn't like to go anywhere without her ax!" he laughed. Spotting some movement on the ground near her feet, he tilted his head.
"Call me that again, and I'll use this ax to cut out your tongue," she retorted, tone dry. Her brow rose when she saw him staring at the ground. "What? What're you-"
Snotlout suddenly bent over, scooping something up in his hands. "Aww, aren't you just the cutest?" he cooed. To Astrid's horror, he was holding a foot-long snake in his hands. To her utter disgust, he was making baby faces and kissy noises at it. "You can't be more than two years old, lil' guy! Have you just come out of hibernation?"
"What are you doing?" she demanded, teeth clenched as she glared at them. She watched as Hookfang came over, inspecting the snake as well. He slowly breathed some hot air onto the smaller reptile, helping to warm its body.
"Just sharin' my body heat with this lil' fella," Snotlout explain, his voice still babyish. "Snakes don't like the cold, you know." He quietly laughed as the snake crawled over his arm and around his shoulders.
"I don't care what they do or don't like. Just-For the love Odin, put that thing down! You don't know where it's been!"
He frowned, looking over at the blonde. "Uh…Judging by its leanness and the coolness of its body, it's probably been in its underground burrow, hibernating until recently." With utmost gentleness, he carried it away from the dragons and set it on the ground. "There you go. Go find the big mating party and get warmed up, alright? And get some lunch in your belly so you get nice and big! Field mice are good choice!"
Astrid shuddered. "I have no idea how you're able to do that."
"Do what?" he questioned. "Handle snakes? I used to catch 'em all the time when I was a kid. I love them." A reminiscing smile came to his lips. "Have you seen a snake's face close up? It's so cute! They've got these little noses and their mouths are shaped so that they're always smiling…And their flicking tongues making it seem like they're always blowing raspberries! But their bodies are stronger than you'd think! They're basically a length of solid muscle and bone." He patted Hookfang. "Like Hookfang, only smaller and not as handsome."
She wasn't convinced or amused. "They're creepy," she told him, crossing her arms. "Something with no legs shouldn't be able to move like they do, let alone as fast as they do. Not to mention the fact that if a snake bites you, you're as good as dead."
He frowned, putting his hands on hips. "I'll have you know there are no venomous snakes in the Barbaric Archipelago," he scolded, "and you should admire them for all they can do without legs! They're pure muscle Astrid! They're like me, but way more stealthy!"
"Well, you're right on that account," she muttered.
"Anyway, as I was saying," he continued, ignoring her quip, "there's absolutely no reason to fear snakes. They're harmless! They eat mice, frogs, birds, and bugs -sometimes the eggs of other snakes and birds, but that's rare." He shrugged. "They're just like any other reptile, really."
She let out a sarcastic laugh. "I don't fear snakes," she snapped. "I find them disgusting, not scary."
"You called them creepy," he said, brow raised. "When you call things creepy, it means you're scared of them."
"I am not scared of snakes. They are disgusting, overgrown earthworms who sneak into your boots while you're sleeping and who leave slime trails everywhere-"
"Alright, I'm going to stop you there, because I'm pretty sure you're talking about slugs. Snakes don't have slime. Frankly, I'm insulted you would even think they're slimy!" His tone betrayed how truly affronted he felt and there was a pout on his face.
"They work hard to keep their scales nice and shiny. Do you know how hard it is for a snake to shed its skin? A lot harder than it is for our dragons, that's for sure." He then paused, thinking over her words. "But, yes, they do have a fondness for boots and other recently-worn pieces of clothing due to their warmth. Snakes love warmth; it's why you find them sunning themselves on rocks during the summer and why they hibernate during the winter."
Astrid stared at him, incredulous; she hated to admit it, but she was rather amazed by how much he knew about snakes. "You sounded exactly like a mixture of Fishlegs and Hiccup," she told him.
He rolled his eyes, moving to mount Hookfang. "Please. Those two know nothing about snakes and their awesomeness," he scolded. "Oh, and don't worry." His entire demeanor changed as he gave her a 'handsome' wink. "I won't tell them about your fear of snakes." Taking to the air, he and Hookfang left Astrid behind, grinning as they heard her yelling after them.
Rolling her eyes, Astrid moved to strap her ax to Stormfly's harness. "Ugh. I'll feed him to the eels if he even thinks about bringing this up," she mumbled. A bit of movement at the edge of her vision caught her attention.
Yet another snake.
Watching it make its way through the grass, she swallowed hard. But, she noticed that its scales did, indeed, look shiny rather than slimy. And, thanks to Snotlout mentioning it, she couldn't help but imagine the snake constantly blowing raspberries as it flicked its tongue. In fact, the thought even made her chuckle.
She didn't dare go over and pick it up, but she did smile.
Maybe snakes weren't as scary as she thought…?
"How bad is the pain?"
"Not bad, actually."
"Good. Was worried you would be in more pain than with arms and thighs."
"Ahh…well, don't worry too much. It's not bad." Thora lifted her head, watching as Aphrodisios, Kelda's satyr husband, dipped a strange, needle-tipped stick into a small bowl of ink. "I imagine it'll hurt a bit more once ya get more towards the collarbone."
He nodded in agreement before using his thumb and forefinger to hold the skin of her breast taut. "True. Less meat, more bone there," he told her, making quick work of repeatedly stabbing the needles into her skin.
Letting her head rest on the pillow once more, she let out a sigh. Unlike her previous tattoos, this one had been Ulfr's idea. He had suggested that she get a dragon over her heart to represent her fierceness in battle; Sindri, on the other hand, said that she should get the dragon because she was strong like one. Even though she didn't entirely agree with either of their reasoning, she found herself laying on the floor and getting tattooed anyway.
"How has arm—ah, shoulder, I mean—been?" he asked.
"It's healed up rather nicely, though I'll always have a nasty scar t' show off. Ormr feels bad about it, but I told him not t' worry."
"Why does he feel bad?"
"If we hadn't been in a warzone, he said he would have rather left a flap o' skin an' neatly sewn the wound shut after he removed the arm." She tilted her head back and scratched her chin. "Instead, though, he had t' chop an' burn before hurrying t' the next patient."
Aphrodisios nodded in understanding, though he wore a grim expression. "Understandable. But, eh, gives good story to tell in future!" Dipping his stick into the ink again, he went back to pricking her skin.
Thora winced ever so slightly; he was getting further away from the fatty section of her breast. "Only if ya don't mind hearin' 'bout only half o' a battle." She winced again before clenching her eyes shut.
Frowning, Aphrodisios sat upright. "Need Kelda to make some tea?" he questioned. "Am going to be on that part of chest for a while."
She cracked open an eye and looked up at him. "How long is 'a while'?"
"Ten minutes or so."
"…Aye, I'll take some tea." Sitting up, she looked down at the work he had done so far. "It's lookin' real nice, though! You're puttin' a lot more detail into it than I expected."
Setting aside his bowl of ink and his piercing tool, the satyr stood up. "I want to make sure it looks like dragon," he chuckled, offering her a sheet to cover herself with. "Will return with tea in few minutes. Would like anything else?"
"The tea should be good enough, thanks." Wrapping the sheet around her, she let out a small sigh before shifting her positioning so that she leaned her back against the wall.
She felt a bit awkward, as the room they were tattooing in was Kelda and Aphrodisios' bedroom. Before, when Vigdís was still an infant, Aphrodisios had tattooed her in the main room. But now. the bedroom was the only place where Vigdís, who adored both her father and Thora, couldn't bother them.
Again, she looked down at the handiwork of Aphrodisios. Even though he came from Greece, he had easily picked up on the stylings of Norse artwork and it showed in his work. The dragon he was doing for her was deep red in color -only a few shades lighter than her skin- and was made up of many intertwining lines. She lightly ran a finger over one of the lines, but bit her tongue and pulled her finger away.
'Should have expected it to be tender,' she thought, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. She breathed in deeply through her nose, inhaling the incense the incense Aphrodisios had burning, only to exhale a sigh. 'I don't think dad is going to approve of all these tattoos…but who said he had to know about all of them?' A mischievous grin came to her lips. 'Unless I wear my troll clothing, no one will see any of them except the one on my arm. Well, Cæna might—'
She sighed again, bringing her knees up to her chest. It had been three months since the battle and, while most people had been convinced that Cæna had been amongst the burnt bodies found in the remnants of the forest, she still couldn't bring herself to accept that he was dead. Something in her gut told her that he was still out there -where and why, she didn't know.
Her hand slid to her neck, where a new necklace now hung along with the one from Dagur. It was much simpler, as it was just a leather cord with a ring hanging from its center. The ring, too, was simple -a gold band with a single amethyst in its center. A sad smile came to her face as she looked down at the ring. Trader Johann had given it to her after she delivered the news about Cæna.
The ring, he said, was supposed to be an engagement ring from Cæna.
Hearing the gentle tapping of Aphrodisios' hooves on the stone floor, she let go of the necklace. As the satyr came into the room with a mug of tea and a plate of cream cakes, she chuckled.
"I take it Kelda wouldn't let ya come back without a snack?" she questioned.
"You know Kelda," he smiled, holding the mug out to her. "Always must make sure people are eating!"
Taking a sip of the tea, Thora scrunched her nose up somewhat; she knew it wasn't going to be the best tasting of drinks, but that did little to actually prepare her for the taste. "An', I imagine, she knew I'd need somethin' t' get this taste out o' my mouth."
He gave her an apologetic look as he sat down. "That, too. But, should help with pain."
"Aye. It did last time, anyway." She took another drink and guessed that her disgust was all too apparent, because Aphrodisios was doing his best to not laugh.
"So, how is Ulfr's leg?" he questioned, distracting himself with a cream cake. "Has gotten fake leg yet?"
She shook her head, setting the mug down. "Not yet, no. But Jeltsje is workin' on one for him. He's hobblin' around rather well with his crutches, though." As he offered her the plate of cakes, she took one. "Last night, though, he forgot he was missin' half his leg and tried to walk. Ended up kissin' the floor."
Aphrodisios cringed at the thought. "Ugh. That not good."
"It's kind o' weird, actually," she admitted. "Sometimes, it feels like we still have limbs. Like, there will be times when I swear I still have my arm and try t' reach for somethin' when I'm workin'. Ulfr says his is mostly pain in his foot -the foot he doesn't have anymore." She took a bite out of the cream cake, chewing and swallowing the bite before continuing. "I get pain, too, but it mostly just feels like my arm's still there."
"Interesting…wonder if it because had limb for whole life and both were unconscious when lost the limb?" he wondered aloud. "Body didn't know what happened, so it is still getting used to the missing limb."
Wiping her mouth on her wrist, she shrugged. "I couldn't tell ya. But I can tell ya that it's quite frustratin' layin' on your side in bed an' ya want to roll over, but since ya don't have an arm, ya just kind o' wriggle like a worm."
He couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like what happens when own arm falls asleep at night. You know, how it won't want to move?"
She nodded, smiling. "Aye, that's actually what Ulfr likened it to! The odd pins an' needles feelin' all throughout his leg, only more painful." Finishing her cream cake, she brushed the crumbs from her chest. Then, picking up her tea once more, she drained the rest of its contents.
"Ugh. Am glad still have all my limbs. Would not enjoy having that feeling. Is bad enough when wake up with sleeping limb."
Thora let out a small laugh, shifting her position so that she was laying down once more. "I'm sure the feelin' will stop after a while. For now, Ulfr an' I will just have t' put up with it."
"Is there no way Ormr can be of help?"
She shook her head, tucking her hand under the pillow. "Can't help what's not there."
"Makes sense." Taking up his tool, he dipped it into the ink and stretched her skin. "Ready then?"
"Aye. At least this time, I'll know the pain is real."
Gobber hummed quietly to himself as he hammered away at a piece of yellow-hot metal. He wasn't sure what he was going to shape it into yet; the metal hadn't told him what it wanted to be. As he continued to flatten it out, it seemed the cooling brick of iron wanted to be on the longer side, but its base wanted to remain thick.
"Ahh…so ya want t' be a spearhead, eh?" he chuckled to himself. Taking the now-cooled metal back to the forge, he shoved it into the hot coals. "I'll let ya be one then. Guess that means I should get started on shapin' some wood for your shaft…"
Going into the actual shop, he started rummaging around in a pile of logs and planks of wood. His nose scrunched up as he sorted through it all only to realize most of the wood he had acquired over the last three years was, well…crap.
'This is what I get for letting Thora run off to the mainland,' he thought with a sigh. 'She always kept this part of the smithy organized and well-stocked. I've been so busy with dragons and leatherworking that I haven't paid any attention to my wood supply…'
Eventually, he did manage to find a suitable piece of wood for a spear shaft, though it was somewhat on the shorter side. Ducking, he stepped out of the storage room only to stop in his tracks.
Snotlout was standing next to his anvil, looking over his shaping hammer.
Half his brow rising, he glanced outside; there was Hookfang, curled up in a large ball as he peacefully napped and his saddle was completely intact. Spitelout, Snotlout's annoyance of a father, was nowhere in sight. Neither Stoick nor Hiccup were in sight, either, leaving Gobber quite confused as to why Snotlout was here.
"Er…Afternoon, laddie," he spoke, drawing Snotlout's attention. "What brings ya here?" Going over to the anvil, he plucked the hammer from the teen's hands, afraid he may manage to break it.
"Oh, uh…" Snotlout rubbed the back of his head. "I was, ah…actually wondering if you needed any sort of help?" He didn't meet Gobber's gaze, letting the smith know that something was up.
Stirring the coals with his tongs, he glanced over his shoulder. "An' just how did ya come t' suddenly have an interest in blacksmithin'?" he inquired. "Did your da' put you up to it?"
Quickly shaking his head, Snotlout somewhat frowned. "No! My dad has nothin' to do with this. I just…ah…" He sighed; Gobber noticed how different he acted when there weren't other teenagers around to 'impress'. "I'm getting tired of going to the same islands over and over again with other riders. We never find anything new. But, I get this weird feeling in my stomach if I don't go without having a reason."
"Ya mean ya feel a bit guilty?" Again, using his tongs, he pulled the reheated iron out of the coals and carried it over to the anvil. Snotlout instinctively backed away.
"I wouldn't necessarily use the word 'guilty', but I guess that fits." He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away as he hooked his thumb in his belt. "So, uh…yeah. I thought if I found something to do, I wouldn't feel so 'guilty' about not going with them." He watched as Gobber began hammering the metal again, able to see that the smith was seriously contemplating his words. "I'll, ah, be on my best behavior," he called over the ringing, "and I'll work hard! I promise!"
After a few minutes, Gobber ceased hammering and once more tossed the metal into the coals of the forge. "How 'bout this," he began, resting his hand on a work bench and his tongs on his hip, "I'll give ya a test. If ya pass the test, then I'll let ya help me out. Sound good, lad?"
Snotlout nodded eagerly. "Alright! I'm game!" he grinned. "What's the test? Is it making my first sword? Or maybe sharpening all the weapons you've already made? Oh, I know! Measuring a dragon for a new saddle!"
Gobber almost felt bad for dashing the lad's enthusiasm. "Ya see that piece o' wood over there in the corner?" he questioned.
"Yeah?"
"I need that turned into a spear shaft."
His brows furrowing, Snotlout glanced up at him. "You want me…to carve that into a spear?"
Nodding, Gobber walked across the smithy and tapped a wooden box full of tools. "Just the shaft," he told him. "In here, you'll find all the tools you'll need. Now, they shouldn't need sharpenin', but if ya find any o' them t' be a bit dull, let me know. I'll show ya how t' file 'em properly."
Snotlout frowned somewhat as he went over to the piece of wood. It was already round, but much too thick, and there were pieces of bark left on it in places. He glanced over at Gobber, seeing no hint of amusement in the smith's face.
"Quick question," he said. "How long should this take me, about?"
Gobber shrugged. "Thora used t' do it. She got it down t' an hour, two hours at the most. But I'm not goin' t' hold ya t' that. She grew up here, after all. You're startin' fresh. It wouldn't be fair t' compare the two o' ya."
Rubbing the back of his neck again, Snotlout nodded. "I guess that makes sense," he murmured. He then put on a determined face, placing his hands on his hips. "Alright, so…I guess I'll get started then! By the time I'm done carving this spear, I'll have you wondering why you didn't have me as an assistant all this time!"
Laughing, Gobber patted Snotlout atop the helmet with his tongs. "We'll see about that, laddie. Try not t' cut yourself. It's bad luck if the first blood spilled on a weapon isn't from battle."
"Yes, sir!" Grabbing the box of wood carving tools, Snotlout went to the corner of the shop and started working.
For the most part, Gobber kept his back to the lad, since it was the side of the anvil he preferred to be on. He was more than a little surprised to hear no sound of complaint come from the lad, but outside, Hookfang had crawled quite a number of yards away for his nap. Gobber didn't blame him -the hammering of metal was a loud chore and dragons didn't like loud noises.
Occasionally, he would glance over at Snotlout, finding the pile of wood shavings around his feet growing larger while the would-be spear shaft grew narrower and narrower. From what he could see, Snotlout was also managing to keep it an even thickness -something even he still had problems doing, and he had been at this twice as long as Snotlout was old!
By the time he had finished roughing the shape of the spearhead, it was well into the afternoon and his stomach was demanding some sort of food. Twisting his tongs out of his stump, he replaced them with his usual hook before going to check on Snotlout.
"Hey, lad, how're you doing?" he questioned.
Snotlout turned around, his front covered in wood shavings, his brow covered in sweat, and his hands a bit red from the unusual work he had been doing. "Does it look alright?" he questioned, holding the shaft up for Gobber to inspect. As Gobber took it, he set a strange, curved knife down in the box of tools. "Since the spear is shorter than normal, I kept the bottom a bit thicker to help even out the balance. I know you'll probably still stick a butt cap on it, but those don't tend to add too much weight…"
Gobber looked it over, finding himself more than a little surprised at how impressed he was. Thanks to Snotlout making the butt end wider, it would be better balanced once he added the spearhead to it. He had also made markings for where leather or wire wrappings should go, if Gobber chose to decorate it at all. The only thing Gobber could see wrong with it was that it needed a bit of smoothing down.
Handing it back to Snotlout, he shrugged. "Got t' admit, I wasn't expectin' much from you, lad," he told him, "but you've put me in my place. It just needs a wee bit o' smoothin' out and it's good t' go."
Snotlout's eyes widened and grinned. "Really?! So I did good?"
Gobber nodded. "Aye, ya did," he chuckled. He knew full well that the lad was constantly trying to impress the adults of the village -especially his dad- but usually he only succeeded in annoying them. This time, however, he had truly impressed Gobber. "I'm goin' t' go get a snack from Egil. Ya want somethin'?"
"Ooh, I'd love one of his goat cheese smeared flatbreads," Snotlout replied, still wearing his grin.
Nodding in understanding, Gobber made to leave the shop. "While I'm gone, sweep up your mess. Go ahead an' toss the shavings into the forge, but try not t' get too much dirt in there, alright?"
"Yes, sir!"
He shook his head, hearing the lad laughing victoriously to himself.
Her hand felt cool, bringing a small smile to her lips. Keeping her eyes shut, however, she focused on trying to draw as much magic from the earth as possible. It was a hard task thanks to the dispelling poison running through her veins, but she was able to slowly draw out enough to do the task at hand. Opening her eyes, she directed the magic through her body, feeling its coolness travel up her spine, around her throat, down her arm, into her fingers, and finally into the wooden box before her.
Engulfed in the pale, blue light, the box began to twist and warp itself. It didn't get much bigger, though it did get taller and rounder. After a minute, it had settled itself into an egg shape with a flat bottom.
Thora grinned.
"Good job!" Sindri chirped, heartily patting her on the back. Plucking up the box, he looked it over, his eyes wide in enthusiasm. "Yes, did good job, Little Sister Thora! Look, Ormr! Ulfr!" He held the box out to their brothers, still wearing the proud smile.
"We see," Ormr chuckled. He continued grinding cardamom pods in his mortar. "Little Sister Thora has been working hard at getting magic back."
Feeling her cheeks darken at the praise, Thora took the box back from Sindri. "It's hard, though," she told them. "Tryin' t' draw the magic out is…different now."
Ulfr frowned, his brow rising. "Different? How?"
She lightly shrugged, setting the box down in favor of picking up a mug of spiced cider. "Before, it came t' me like water from a cup." She took a drink of the cider before setting her mug back on the table. "Now, though, it feels like I'm havin' t' force it out o' the earth. Like…like tryin' t' pull a net full o' fish out o' the ocean. It's difficult an' almost doesn't want t' come. Once I do draw it out, though, it behaves."
At that, Ormr frowned, setting his pestle down. "That is odd," he told her, "but to be expected thanks to dispelling poison. Wish I could tell you how long it will last, but…" He let out a sigh and grabbed a nearby jar. "But, being that are able to even draw that much magic from earth now is sign of improvement."
"Doesn't feel like much," she admitted, twisting the box around and looking it over. "I'm basically back t' where I was when I first arrived."
"Not true at all!" Sindri lightly scolded. "When arrived, you knew very little of magic or how to work it. But now, you know plenty and how it works. Because of poison, are having to work around eh…not disability…"
"Obstacle," Ulfr told him. "The poison is an obstacle she must -and will- overcome with time." He reached over, picking up his own mug -his, however, contained mead- before taking a long drink. "She is improving faster than we thought she would, so that is proof she will overcome this."
Again, Thora felt her cheeks grow warm; it wasn't often that Ulfr complimented anyone. Picking up her mug again, she made to take another drink of her cider only to realize that it was empty. She pouted and slid out of her chair. As she crossed the room to get more, she ducked under Ulfr's tail as he teasingly swatted at her.
"Nice try," she chuckled.
"Do not know what you're talking about," he replied, only a hint of a smile on his lips. "Should probably take break. You have been practicing for many hours and could use rest."
She nodded in agreement as she ladled the hot cider into her mug, her tail holding the mug for her. "I think I'll go lay down for a while," she told her brothers. "If I fall asleep, you'll wake me for dinner, aye?"
"Of course," replied Ormr. "Rest well, little sister."
Thora smiled as she walked down the hall to her room. Even though it was a short distance from the main room, she passed by a handful of servants, their arms laden with clean, but wet, laundry. With it being one of the rare, sunny days of early spring, she knew they wanted to take advantage of it while they could.
Once she was in her room, she set her cider down on her stepstool-bedside table. Then, going to her window, she opened the shutters, finding Death Dance asleep outside. She smiled; the Boneknapper had taken off for a few days the previous week only to return with all new bones. Where she found them, Thora had no idea.
She then went to a row of shelves Sindri had built for her. From one of the lowest shelves, she picked up a small, leather bag -her rune stones. Climbing onto her bed, she pulled the covers over her lap before closing her eyes and giving the bag a shake. As she shook it, she mentally tugged at a sliver of magic, pulling it from the earth.
"How is Berk doing?" she whispered as she felt the magic travel along her body and into the bag.
Opening the bag, she drew out five runes and laid them in a line before her: Tiwaz, mannaz, wunjo, hagalaz, and dagaz. Distant past, recent past, present, near future, and distant future. They were all carved into different colors of gemstones; a gift from Sindri shortly after she arrived.
'I know how Berk's gone through a time of personal growth,' she thought, merely glancing at tiwaz and mannaz. 'That would be the whole dragon escapade. Wunjo says that currently, everything is fine at home. That's good. It's been wunjo the last three times I casted…But I don't like hagalaz…'
Picking up the stone, she turned it over in her hand, letting her thumb feel the line carved into the gem. An ill feeling came to the pit of her stomach the longer she held it, so she finally set it back down.
'Halagaz means that big trouble is coming soon…What kind of trouble, though? Dagaz doesn't give me much to go off of -just that a new time will arise. But that could be anything!'
Frowning, she scooped up the stones and poured them back into the back. Shaking it again, she did her best to bring more magic from the earth. This time, though, it struggled against her. She fought with it for a minute or two before she was able to pull it free.
'What sort of trouble is coming to Berk?' she thought, feeling the magic once more enter the bag. This time, she drew three stones and laid them before her: Inguz, nauthiz, and thurisaz. Importance of the past, a key point happening in the present, and a critical event in the future.
"The trouble starts with the peace that's been brought to Berk," she murmured, frowning. "But's it's because o' someone's stubbornness towards an obstacle in their life that things get rollin'. An' it's goin' t' result in someone or some people needin' t' control themselves in order t' prevent things from gettin' worse."
Sighing, she leaned back and ran her hand through her hair. "They're Hairy Hooligans," she muttered. "They're all stubborn…" Shaking her head, she scooped up the stones and put them back in the bag. Setting the bag on her stepstool-bedside table, she instead picked up her cider.
'If trouble is coming to Berk,' she thought, pulling her knees to her chest, 'then I need to go back.' Taking a sip of her cider, she sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head back against the headboard. 'It's been almost three years since I left home. I suppose it's time I should go back, anyway…'
Guilt and sadness joined the ill feeling in her stomach. Biting her tongue, she cocked her head ever so slightly, able to just barely hear her brothers talking in the main room. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but their voices were distinct enough that she knew who was talking.
'I…I almost don't want to go back to Berk,' she found herself thinking. 'I know I need to go back, but…it almost feels like I belong here.' She swallowed hard, feeling tears filling her eyes and her throat grow tight from a withheld sob. 'No one gives me nasty looks, no one calls me mean names -Odin's beard, no one even bats an eyelash at me!'
Her tail wrapping around the mug, she moved her hand to her neck. Her fingers ran over both necklaces and she started to feel a bit calmer. The tightness in her throat eased up, but she allowed the tears to spill. She wondered, for a moment, if either Cæna's ring or Dagur's necklace had, at one point, been enchanted because of how quickly they seemed to bring a sense of tranquility to her mind.
'Berk is my home,' she thought with a sigh, 'and it always will be. But Enda Fjarðarins is also my home. I've come to love my brothers dearly, but I need to see my family on Berk, too. And who says I can't come visit, or vice-versa?'
Taking another sip of the cider, she looked out the window. Death Dance was still asleep, having rolled onto her back by now. Lines of drying laundry could be seen wafting in the gentle breeze; the sky was bright blue and cloudless as far as the eye could see.
'I'll tell my brothers tonight what the casting said at dinner. Maybe Sindri can do a casting as well to see if he gets a similar result. Either way, though, I think it'll be safe if I leave around autumn…Castings like that usually see six months into the future. Yeah…That sounds like a plan.'
Setting her mug aside, she scooted down in her bed and snuggled up under the mixture of blankets and furs. She closed her eyes and buried her head in one of her many pillows, not bothering to hide a yawn.
'I'm going to really miss this place…'
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Smear. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Smear.
Slowly, line by line, rune by rune, Dagur carved a list of names into his arm. He used a chunk of flint to do the cutting; the sharpness of the rock made it a surprisingly easy task. When he had the name carved into his arm, he then rubbed a mixture of ash and wine over the cuts, forcing the color into his skin.
It was a slow, painful process and it had nowhere near as much honor or glory as his first set of tattoos. The blue slashes across his other arm and eye were a sign of reaching adulthood but these…these were different. He had unfinished business with these people -both good and bad.
Dagur closed his eyes for a moment as he finished one of the names -Astrid. His left arm burned from the markings, but he wouldn't give in to the pain. The rest of his body was tense and covered in a fine sheen of sweat; his right hand shook from holding the flint for so long. Slowly, he stretched out his fingers and gathered up some of the ash-wine mixture. He rubbed it into the bleeding wound, ignoring the stinging brought on by the wine.
"You're goin' t' give yourself an infection if ya keep doin' that." He didn't need to look over to know it was Logmar who was speaking. After three years -had it already been three years? How time flies…- he had grown used to the jailer's voice. "From the looks o' it, you've already got one brewin'…"
"The wine will keep it away," he replied, stretching out his hand a bit more. It had stopped shaking, but he still felt tense. He glanced over, wanting to see what would be on the menu tonight. A whole, roasted chicken. His brow rose and he looked away; he didn't trust it. "Roast chicken, huh? Don't suppose it comes with a sleeping draft sauce, hmm?" He began working on the next name.
"Not this time." He dropped a wineskin through the bars, letting it land with a 'plop' beside the chicken. "It's just plain, roasted chicken with salt, pepper, rosemary, butter, an' tarragon."
His brow remaining raised, Dagur chuckled. "Getting fancy, I see. Tarragon is a pricey herb. Why waste it on a wretch like me?"
"Because tarragon goes well with chicken." Crossing his arms over his chest, Logmar leaned against the wall. "An' it's not so pricey. I've got a whole garden full o' the stuff."
At that, Dagur paused in his work and looked at the jailer, confused. "You…have a garden?" he questioned. "There aren't gardens on this island. It's all rock!"
Logmar wore a cocky grin. "I went an' brought in a couple o' boatful's o' dirt an' made myself a nice lil' herb garden," he replied. "Miss Thora gave me the idea when she was here, since we don't -well, didn't- have the best medicine supply. Now, though…"
Rolling his eyes, Dagur went back to finishing the 'G' in Fishlegs. "I was wondering how you managed to make that sleeping draft since Trader Johann doesn't sell them. Guess I now know." Filling the cuts with the ash-wine mixture once more, he set his flint down and slid from his perch. He still had two names left, but his stomach was demanding food. Maybe it would help stop his shaking, too?
Picking up the plate, he leaned his back against the bars of his cell. "So, tell me Logmar: Anything new in the wide, open world? Or are things still as boring as ever?"
Logmar shrugged, watching as Dagur ripped a leg from the chicken and started to eat. "There isn't much t' tell. The other tribes are startin' t' train dragons, though they've not been too successful yet."
"You've mentioned that before." He ripped a large bite out of the chicken leg -Logmar was right: Tarragon was good with chicken. "Whatever became of that war on the mainland? Do you know?"
"Oh. That." He shifted his weight to his other leg before covering his mouth as he yawned. "It happened. Trader Johann told us 'bout it. Happened in a place up north, in a place called Elden Fjartrins or somethin'. Bunch o' non-humans fighting against bunch o' humans who wanted 'em dead. Apparently, Johann's nephew perished fightin' for-"
Dagur stopped eating and looked at Logmar with wide eyes, but furrowed brows. "What do you mean, 'non-humans'?"
He shrugged. "Ya know -Trolls, elves, dwarves, huldra. Them sorts."
For a moment, Dagur thought back to Thora. She had told him she was going to the mainland to study under her brothers. Now knowing that she had been playing him, he had thought she was lying about her brothers. But at the mention of a city of non-human-
"Do you know who ruled over the place?" he demanded.
Logmar scratched his beard. "Not by name, no -but I do know three big ol' trolls rule over it." He then cocked a brow and warily eyed Dagur. "Why? What're ya findin' so interestin' that ya have t' know more 'bout that place?"
"Because, dear Logmar," he dropped the plate of chicken and turned around, reaching through the bars and grabbing the neck of Logmar's tunic, "our little Miss Thora went to study magic on the mainland under her three. Troll. Brothers." A dark look came to his face as he snarled at the Outcast; he didn't care that Logmar was struggling against him. "And if little Miss Thora partook in that battle and died, then that means I won't be able to get my revenge on her!"
"I heard n-nothin' 'bout them or any o' their f-family dyin'!" he stammered. His fear was all too evident on his face. For having been locked up for so long, Dagur was strong. "T-Trader Johann only said one o' the b-brothers lost a leg an' that his own nephew died! N-nothin' else, I p-promise!"
Dagur gave a shove as he released the jailer. "Good. Good. That means there's still a chance I'll see her again. And when I do…" His shoulders started to shake as he began laughing.
As his laughter turned into loud, wicked cackling -loud enough to disturb the other prisoners from their deep slumbers- Logmar turn and ran.
"Are…are sure don't want to wait until spring? There will be more sunlight to travel by then! And better weather!"
"Read the stones, Little Brother. She cannot wait until spring."
"I know…" Sindri sniffled, wearing a small pout as he watched Thora tighten Death Dance's saddle into place. "I don't want Little Sister Thora to leave, though."
Ormr lightly patted his shoulder. "She promised to visit in future, so you can look forward to that."
Sindri said nothing; he merely continued to pout.
Ulfr lightly shook his head, quietly laughing under his breath as he helped Thora ready her dragon. He tightened a buckle on one of the saddlebags before giving it a firm pat; the bag's contents didn't budge. "Now, are certain you have everything you need?" he questioned. He looked up, seeing the two, large chests strapped to Death Dance's back. "Once you leave, if forgot something, may not get it for quite some time. Trader Johann has no regular schedule."
Thora nodded. "I'm sure," she replied, her voice quiet. Ulfr knew she was trying to keep herself from turning into a blubbering mess like Sindri. "If I did forget somethin', it probably wasn't very important t' me."
"And you are sure Death can handle this weight?" He knocked on the side of one of the chests. "Solid oak…is heavy even to me."
She managed a small grin. "You're not a dragon," she reminded him. "Aye, she can carry it. Ormr would throw entire trees for her t' fetch, remember?"
He nodded, conceding defeat. "True, true…She is good dragon." He limped forward, moving to give Death Dance a good scratch under her jaw. "She will keep you safe on your journey, I am sure."
Ormr and Sindri came over, also scratching Death Dance in all her favorite places.
"Before met you and her, never would have been able to think that dragons are tamable," Ormr admitted. "Have always seen them as wild, monstrous creatures. I see we were wrong."
"Death is like a giant puppy," Sindri sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Kind of want a dragon of my own…"
At that, Thora laughed. "Unless ya find a Boneknapper, I don't think you'd be able t' ride one," she told him, wiping a tear from her eye. "Unless ya don't mind treatin' it like a giant puppy."
Sindri smiled, though he was already shedding tears. "Of course! It could lay on my feet, keeping them warm in winter." He managed to make even Ulfr laugh with that remark. Then, scooping up Thora, he gave her a tight hug. "Am going to miss you both, Little Sister Thora." Kissing the top of her head, he gave her a small squeeze.
"I'm goin' t' miss ya lot, too," she choked out, hugging him as best she could. With only one arm, it was an odd task, so she used her tail as a second arm. "I'll be sure t' write as often as I can. Especially once the trouble hits. I hope t' gods it won't be as bad as our war."
Reluctant to let her go, Sindri finally acquiesced when Ormr gently pried their sister from him. "And we will write, too, and also hope the trouble is not as devastating," Ormr told her as he hugged her. His was also a one-armed hug, but only because he didn't want to squish her. "And will send gifts."
"Ya don't need t' send me gifts," she chuckled, trying to give him a big squeeze. "Lettin' me come here for as long as ya did an' trainin' me in magic an' healin' is more than enough."
"You know that is not how we do." He kissed her forehead before passing her to Ulfr.
If she wasn't so overcome by her emotions, Thora would have felt strange -this was the first time Ulfr had ever hugged her. He hugged her tighter than Sindri, but not enough to crush her.
"Am proud of how far you have come, Little Sister Thora," he murmured, feeling her return the tight hug. "Will admit, I did not have high hopes for you when you first came. But I was wrong, and am glad to have been proven such. You are every bit our little sister as can be." She felt a couple of his hot tears fall from his chin onto her shoulder.
She let out a small, choked laugh, though she was unable to say anything. Once more, Ormr scooped her up only to set her in Death Dance's saddle.
"Fly safe, Little Sister," he told her and she saw the tears falling from his eyes.
"May the gods protect you both on journey," Ulfr added.
Sindri was sobbing too hard to say anything, so he merely waved goodbye to her.
"You three stay safe, too," she told them, her voice shaking as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "If any more trouble with the hunters pops up, let me know…I may be able t' get ya some reinforcements. Dragons included."
They laughed.
She smiled, though it was a sad expression. "I mean it. Stay safe. I will visit in the future. I may even bring Hiccup or my da' when I come."
"We look forward to it," Ormr smiled. He glanced down at Sindri, who had clung onto his arm and started crying against his shoulder. Sighing, he rolled his eyes and patted the top of his head.
As Thora pulled on the reins, Death Dance spread her wings and rose into the air. She circled around the house once before pausing above the brothers.
"I love ya three!" Thora called down to them. "Goodbye."
"We love you too, Little Sister Thora."