Dimmadreki's Quest Chapter 25
A/N
This chapter will push the story over the 14,000-hit mark. I'm loving this. I'm glad you're loving the story, too.
o
"Am I the kind of dragon who will kill someone who doesn't deserve to die, in order to save the lives of other dragons?" That was the question the Titan had put to Dimmadreki, and it was the question he had to answer, now, while the opportunity to destroy that Titan and put a stop to dragon enslavement forever was still open. If he chose to spare the Titan's life, and it turned out to be a mistake, he'd never get another chance like the one that lay before him now. If he killed the Titan, that was also a decision that could not be undone.
"He doesn't deserve death," Tannlaus warned him from above.
"His entire race deserves death! They've earned it!" Myrkrid urged him heatedly.
"Do the right thing, Dad," Næturvon said softly.
Dimmadreki's face hardened. He sparked a firebolt, folded his wings, and dove. The Titan heard him diving and spat out a quick flame strike, which was hopelessly off the mark. When the Night Fury was about one hundred meters away from the Titan and his vulnerable wings, he fired.
The purple firebolt passed under its target and splashed into the sea far below.
The Titan was startled in spite of himself. "What's this? I thought Night Furies never missed."
"And I thought all Titans enslaved other dragons," Dimmadreki said as he pulled up next to the huge Alpha. "I guess that shows that anyone can be wrong. My mate said I had to at least try to take you out. You're my witness; I tried. Now, can we set aside the fireworks and talk like civilized dragons?"
"You said you killed four of my sisters," the huge dragon retorted. "This, you call civilized? Should I offer you the hospitality of my nest after you've wiped out more than half of my species?"
"I don't expect anything from you," the Night Fury said, staying on his guard in case the Titan decided to flame him. "But if you could answer one question for me, it might have long-lasting benefits for both of us. Why do female Titans enslave other dragons, but you don't?"
"It's because they lay eggs and I don't," the Titan snarled. "They get in the habit of demanding to be fed when they lay, so they can spend all their time guarding their egg. Then when the egg hatches, they demand to be fed so they can spend all their time raising their hatchling. It takes thirty to forty years for a hatchling to grow big enough to step out on her own, so that's a long time for the mother to get into the habit of being fed. Then, when the hatchling flies away to find her own nest, the mother still makes her demands, because it's become a habit and she's gotten lazy. It's something they learn from their mothers, and then pass on to their daughters. I don't have that issue; I could be an enslaver, but I have no reason to, so I don't. I asked my father's final mate, one of my distant cousins, about that last year, and she..." All his eyes narrowed. "Are you going to kill her, the way you killed her other sisters? And her hatchling as well? Are you taking aim at my only possible mate? Is that your plan, Night Fury?"
Dimmadreki flipped his tail and climbed for the clouds as fast as he could. He heard the blast of a Titanic flame strike, but it was so far below him, he didn't even feel the heat. He vanished into the gray safety of the clouds and found his family and friend, still waiting for him.
"Well?" Myrkrid demanded.
"I missed," Dimmadreki said. "Let's get out of here."
"What?" Myrkrid was stunned. "Tannin's prophecy said you'd destroy the Monsters if they became enslavers. 'Destroy' means you're supposed to leave no survivors! Wipe them out! Shove them off the face of the earth! You still think you're the one who's going to fulfill her prophecy, don't you?"
Dimmadreki thought hard for a second. "Tannin didn't ask my opinion before she gave all the details of that prophecy. If she wanted genocide, then she picked the wrong ex-human to do it. I'll free all the dragons, but I'll do it my way. And I'll fulfill her prophecy... my way. If Tannin doesn't like it, she can come back and tell me herself. I'm not Tannin; I'm Dimmadreki, and I have to be me."
"I can't help thinking you're going to regret this," she said quietly. "Your sense of right and wrong is so completely un-dragonlike!"
"It's not very Viking-like, either," he replied. "I think we disagree about that more than anything else."
She sighed. "You may be the death of me before we're done, but I won't leave you over something like that. Or anything else, for that matter."
Dimmadreki tapped her wingtip gently with his own. Then he glanced at Næturvon. "I did what you said."
"Dad... you're awesome," she replied quietly.
o
"Astrid, you are being completely ridiculous! Married means married! It doesn't mean two roommates playing a game for political advantage, it means married!"
"But, Dad, I hardly even know him! I don't love him! How can I get that personal with a guy who's just a friend?"
Gunnarr Hofferson forced himself to settle down a little. "If you need some pointers, ask your mother. She didn't know me at all when I married her, but she seems pretty happy with her situation now. Except for the part where her only daughter doesn't understand what 'marriage' means! Honestly, I don't know where you get some of your ideas! Maybe we told you too many fairy tales when you were little."
Astrid wasn't interested in settling down until she'd proven her point. "Okay, Father, would you want to marry Fishlegs?"
Gunnarr stared at his daughter in disbelief for a moment, then broke up laughing. That took some of the tension out of the air. They sat and stared at each other for a few seconds.
"Astrid," he began again, "those fairy tales were fun and harmless, but they weren't real. Viking life is hard; babies and children die too often, we can't do much to stop disease and infection, and most of us don't live past 50. It is every Norseman and Norsewoman's solemn duty to produce as many children as possible, for the good of the tribe, the family line, and your own household. It is one of a man's highest duties, and for a woman, it is her highest duty. You're welcome to fall in love with the man you marry, but you don't marry for love. You marry for duty. You understand duty, don't you, Astrid? Please tell me you remember that part of your upbringing!"
"Of course I do. But what happens if I refuse to marry?" she challenged him.
"Astrid, are you thinking clearly?" her father burst out. "Are you even thinking at all? You don't want to be known as flannfluga, do you?"
That brought her up short. Flannfluga meant "she who flees from masculinity" [author's note: that's the K-rated way to say it], and it was both a serious social condemnation and an insult of the highest order. The word was attached to women who avoided marriage for any reason; it would mark her as a renegade, a sociopath, barely better than a criminal. No, she did not want that word associated with her name.
"Do I really have to get married?" she asked weakly.
"Yes. It's part of every Viking's obligation to his family, his village, and his tribe. There are no exceptions allowed. You'll never find a Viking village where a woman's place is anywhere but in the home."
"Can't I make my own place?" she asked plaintively.
"Not in our society, you can't," her father said, almost kindly. "The day may come when women can choose their own destinies, but that day isn't today. I'm not being cruel to you because you're a girl; we men don't get to choose our own paths, either. I didn't become a butcher because I love carving up meat and killing innocent animals. I'm a butcher because my father was a butcher. That's how it works. End of story."
"So I have to be a mother because my mother was a mother?"
Gunnarr had to smile at that, although he wasn't sure if Astrid was trying to be funny or not. "You have to be a mother because the tribe needs as many little Vikings as it can get, and your brothers can't make them for us. I'm not going to lie and say I know how you feel, because I don't. It's a safe bet that your mother does know how you feel, if you want to talk to her about it. But all the talk in the world isn't going to change the fact that you must take a husband soon. I'm trying to find you a good one. Maybe that isn't what you really want me to do for you, but it's the best I can do."
Astrid stared at the floor for a few seconds. "I suppose, if I was a good little Viking daughter, I should say 'thank you'."
"It would be nice if you thanked me some day, but I know today isn't the day. I know you're still upset. Why don't you go throw your axe in the woods for an hour? It won't change anything, but that always makes you feel better."
She rose swiftly. "I will. Thanks, Dad." She fetched her favorite axe and left, grateful for an end to that emotionally-charged discussion. Especially because the discussion wasn't going anywhere near where she wanted it to go.
She was halfway to the forest when she realized she really wasn't in a weapon-throwing mood. She wandered down to the cliffs that overlooked the harbor instead. That harbor was choked with small ships; the fishing fleet wouldn't set sail until near sunset, and then they'd be gone all night. That seemed like a rough way to make a living. Would it be worse than staying at home, bearing and raising children? She wasn't sure. It didn't matter, because even if her father was a fisherman, it wouldn't affect her own destiny.
She heard footsteps coming up the wooden ramp that led to the harbor. It was Fishlegs; he'd bought a pair of good-sized cod for his family's supper, and was carrying them home in a wooden bucket. He was startled to see her. "Uhh, hi," he stammered.
"Hi," she replied listlessly. She stared out to sea, unwilling to make eye contact with this boy who might be her husband someday. Near the horizon, she thought she saw three or four dragons skimming the surface. They must be fishing. As long as they didn't bother the village, that was okay. She didn't say anything about them because if she pushed Fishlegs' dragon-lore button, he'd ramble on and on about the flying reptiles until long after the sun went down.
Too late; he looked to see where she was looking, and saw the dragons. She heard him gasp in delight. She held her breath and waited for the torrent of useless dragon information. To her everlasting astonishment, he said nothing.
After a few seconds, she asked, "Aren't you going to tell me everything there is to know about those dragons out there?" while heartily wishing he wouldn't.
"No," he said slowly. "I was just... kind of hoping that one of them would be a Night Fury."
"You mean, like Hiccup?"
"You mean Dimmadreki? Yeah, like him." Fishlegs sighed and turned to face her. "It sure was weird, wasn't it? I mean, him just turning into a dragon like that."
Something about the topic caused a sudden burst of curiosity in her mind. "Fishlegs, what was it like to ride him? I don't mean riding on Hiccup; I mean riding on a Night Fury. What was that like?"
Fishlegs took a deep breath. "I've gotten some amazing gifts at Snoggletog. I've fought dragons in the ring. They're talking about making me the next chief, now that Stoick has gone away. But I don't think any of those things, or anything else I could ever do, could even come close to that short ride on a Night Fury's back. It was awesome! No, it was beyond awesome. Feeling the wind in my face, seeing the ground way down below me, feeling that controlled power right underneath me... it made me wish that dragons lived here, so I could make friends with one and ride him all the time. Not that that's ever going to happen, of course, but... wouldn't that be excellent?"
Astrid felt a twinge of resentment. It still bothered her that he'd gotten to ride a dragon and she hadn't. "How did you make friends with him?"
"Actually, he's the one who reached out to me first. I'm still not sure why; I got the impression that his mate was really against it. But she –"
"Why do you keep calling her his mate?" she interrupted. "That sounds so impersonal! Isn't she his wife?"
"I don't think dragons get married," Fishlegs answered. "That's something humans like us do."
"Do you have to remind me?" she snapped.
"Well, I didn't mean 'us' as in 'you and me,' I meant 'us' as in 'our species'." He was starting to turn red.
"But they are still planning to match the two of us up," she reminded him.
"Yeah," he admitted, turning even redder.
"Fishlegs, tell me something, and be honest. When you saw those dragons fishing, why didn't you tell me everything you know about them, like you usually do?"
"Well... I've figured out that most people don't care about that stuff like I do. I don't want to bore you. Of course, if you really want to know, I'll –"
"No, no, that's okay," she soothed him. "I just wanted to know what you were thinking. Saying nothing was a very normal thing for you to do." She leaned toward him and whispered, "I like that."
He turned absolutely crimson. "I, uhh, I need to take these fish home so Mom can cook them," he blurted out, turned, and ran.
She watched him go. So he could learn to master his dragon geekery for the sake of the people around him, could he? Maybe he could learn to be normal in other ways, too. She still wasn't keen on this whole "marriage" thing, but if it was unavoidable, he might be the least of all possible evils. If she trained him properly, he might even be worthy of the Princess of Clan Hofferson!
That was an interesting thought. She began turning over some possibilities in her mind. The first thing she'd have to teach him was how to throw a weapon with an edge on it, like an axe or a spear. That warhammer of his had no style at all.