To Be Loved the Way You Love Me

Life on Berk turns upside down when a sixteen year old boy traveling with a dark past, a world of hurt, and a Night Fury washes up on its shores. The love-starved boy will only tell people one thing about his past: His name is Hiccup. But where did he live before? And why doesn't he trust anyone?

Chapter 25: Snow Viking

Okay, I just like, loved writing this chapter. I want to hug this chapter. And also, I already have ideas for the next. But I need a break.

Although we had to end the snowball fight early to continue on with our work, it continued on subtly throughout the day.

I was originally ready to let it drop, but Gobber stepped outside for "a breath of fresh air" just before lunch, and when he came back in, he clocked me with a snowball when he was sure I wasn't looking.

Seeing as there was no snow inside the forge that allowed me to retaliate, I satisfied myself with giving him a dirty look and then going back to my work.

But when we stepped outside to go to the Great Hall, I hit him with a snowball, throwing lighter than he had, as the lump on the back of my head was definitely growing bigger and I had no wish to permanently damage something on him as well.

I whistled innocently when he looked back at me.

I suppose he was thinking 'go big or go home', because the instant I touched the threshold of the Great Hall, a pace ahead of Gobber, I felt a hand on my collar and then something very wet and very cold was dripping down the small of my back.

I'm sorry to say that I let out a not-so-masculine yell and did a confused little jig as I attempted to get the snow out of my shirt, and, when I'd finally managed, I rounded on Gobber – only he wasn't there.

There was just me, standing out there in the snow, alone. I scowled and pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.

"I hope you're not too cold," Gobber said happily later that evening. "Because I've decided that we're making a snowman."

"Uh…" I tilted my head curiously at him. "What's a snowman?"

"You've never…" then he shook his head. "Never mind. Should've known ya haven', considerin' you've never been in a snowball figh'…"

"What is a snowman?" I repeated.

"Oh, you know…it's like this…" he picked up a small snowball and began teaching me how to make a snowman.

Halfway through the building, Gobber was in full flow about winter. "I know devastating winter is comin' up, but ya can' help but enjoy it, especially with Snoggletog." He grinned, pleased, and waited for me to say something.

And I did. "What's Snoggletog?"

"Oh." The grin slid off his face. "You've never celebrated Snoggletog, either, lad?"

I shook my head. "Sorry."

"Not all tribes do," Gobber replied, and then he began explaining it to me, how Snoggletog is a day for family and friends, and sometimes they exchange gifts, and how, if you leave your helmet out, Odin will fill it with goodies.

Well, no wonder Outcast Island never celebrated it. We're not exactly the warm, fuzzy type, are we?

"That sounds nice," I said wistfully, and I hadn't even realized how lonely I sounded when I said it until Gobber fixed me with a curious look.

Determined to change the subject, I said quickly, "Hey, I'm gonna go to the Great Hall and grab a carrot for this thing's nose, alright?"

"Alrigh'," Gobber nodded without looking up from gathering thick tree branches for our snow Viking's arms.

Just as I turned to walk away, my boot found an icy patch and I began to slip, but before I even connected with the grass, I felt somebody's arms encircling me gently. "Whoa. Careful there, Hiccup."

I glanced up to see Stoick the Vast, one hand on my chest, the other on my back, steadying me. I balanced myself and stood up again. "Thanks."

But Stoick wasn't listening. "You're freezing," he said, as if this was news to him.

I frowned, confused. "Well…I'm kind of cold, I guess, but…"

"Your skin is going to turn blue," he said disapprovingly. "Your lips are going to grow icicles and your tongue is going to fall out."

"It will not," Gobber objected loudly from his place beside our half-finished snow Viking. "My parents always told me that they would, and they ne'er did."

"All the same, I think you two should get inside," Stoick responded firmly. "C'mon. My day has just ended; you guys can come get warm in my house if you like."

"But…our snow Viking…" Gobber stared longingly at the snowman and all I said was, "C'mon, Gobber, we can finish him tomorrow."

Gobber shook his head. "He'll melt," he explained, as if it was a story worthy of Romeo and Juliet. "We have to finish him first." Then he looked pleadingly at Stoick, who muttered something about how there was a certain point where friendships ended, but he joined in the making of the snow Viking.

"That twig is too small for his arm, Stoick," Gobber commented, peering at a branch Stoick had chosen for the arm.

"Well, it is supposed to be a Viking," I admitted, looking at the twig, too.

"Hmph." Stoick tossed the stick away.

"Grab us that carrot, would ya?" Gobber said, turning to me.

When I got back, it was almost finished, except…

"Here," Stoick removed his helmet and handed it to me. "Finish it for us?"

I stepped forward and set the Viking helmet on its head and we all stared at him for a few minutes.

"Ah," Gobber said, "he's beau'iful."

I shivered a little and pulled my vest tighter around myself as I gazed at the snowman, too.

"C'mon," Stoick put a hand on my shoulder. "You two must be freezing."