Oh and last time I forgot to mention Tagesh! You rock too! Thank you for all your reviews!

Thank you to EVERYONE. Again :)

So - do you want the good news or the bad news first?

Upside of this chapter, the good news, is that it's really long. And I used to be proud of it.

Bad news is that I'm not very proud of it anymore, and that Hiccup gets all eloquent again. :/ Ugh... *shame*...

As told by Hiccup

Chapter 24

After an uneasy night's sleep, Toothless and I trudged up towards the Great Hall.

Toothless left me partway through the village. It had been days since he had hunted properly, and he needed a meal.

It had frosted in the night, and I rubbed my arms for warmth, as I watched him scamper into the trees.

I reached the door to the main room of the Hall, but stopped with my hand on the cold doorhandle.

I could hear men talking. That wasn't a surprise – Stoick had always met with his advisors in the morning, and I assumed that it would be the same now I was chief. But I caught a sentence, and then stopped to listen.

"The boy will get us all massacred. Stoick was stupid to marry that flimsy little girl – her son is just like her – weak and small."

"His mind works just as well as his mother's, though."

"Perhaps. But there are others who would make better chiefs."

"Maybe we should just give him a chance."

"A chance? One mistake with that cursed army camping outside our walls, and we're all dead. We have to do what's best for our tribe."

The second man mumbled something, and I pressed my ear to the door. I was too late though, I didn't catch it.

The other man replied. "No. No! If we were in any other situation I might consider that. But not here. He cannot be the chief."

"What do you suggest, then?"

There was silence for a moment.

"Murder." It was a whisper.

"End the line of the Horrendous Haddocks? No! No! Never!"

"Do you trust me or a crippled, weakling boy more?"

I clenched my fists. A cripple! A weakling! The words rang in my head. So that was what they thought. Well, I'd prove them wrong.

There was another silence. Then –

"When?"

"When he's asleep."

"No, that wouldn't work. That dragon sleeps with his wing over him–"

"What's to stop us killing the dragon?"

"Don't be an idiot. That dragon's a Night Fury! You don't just kill a Night Fury. Do you remember when we first saw it? He was rescuing his master from a Monstrous Nightmare. And he just … just ground it into submission. Within a few seconds! And if a Nightmare's scared, so am I."

"Coward."

"No. No, I'm not!"

"I was a dragon fighter for forty years before that idiot boy stopped the bloodshed. One of the best, if I do say so myself. And so were you. We both know exactly where you can stab a dragon for a quick and noiseless death. One quick cut behind the ears, just where the skull joins the neck. And that Night Fury would never wake up. Then we lift the wing, or cut through it, and get the boy through the heart. Then we go back to sleep. In the morning, we feign horror, and no one will suspect us."

My heart beat violently against my chest. Assassins.

I opened the door, just a crack. And I saw them. Two men. They were my father's best fighters. Both had known me since I was in my mother's womb. And now they were planning to slaughter me and my best friend.

I put my hand on my sword hilt, and pushed the door open.

I walked to the table where the men sat, keeping my footsteps as even as I could. That comment about my being a cripple had cut home, and I was determined not to prove him right by limping.

I sat at the table, not at the large chair at the end, but on one of the long benches, where I had always sat before. I did not swing my legs over it, though. I kept them free, ready to spring up.

Down the hall, there were many more men, sitting around a map. I assumed they had not been involved in the plot, and turned my attention to the two men beside me.

"Good morning," I said. My voice was warm, but as I spoke, steel crept into the words. "I suppose you've seen many like it if you've been killing dragons for over forty years, but I still enjoy them. I'd better enjoy this one especially, as I hear it's my last."

I almost wasn't fast enough to block the man's axe, but I managed to stop him from decapitating me. The heavy shaft struck my keen blade, and with a thunk, embedded deep into the wood. I pulled my sword back, and by the action, dragged the axe from his grip. I flicked my sword, and the axe buried itself in the wood boards at his feet. The second man was upon me before I had freed my blade, and I ducked to avoid his mace. As soon as I could swing my sword I did, and, more by luck than skill, cut off his hand. He fell to the floor, doubled up in pain, and I knelt swiftly down and put the edge of the blade against his back.

I looked up to see the other conspirator struggling wildly against two men who had been sitting at the table a little way down and had now come to my aid.

Sweat beaded my forehead, as I remembered the feeling of bones and muscles giving way under the razor-sharp metal. It was too easy to ruin and mutilate human beings. Too easy.

I stared at the blade of my sword with revulsion. Why did we make things that could cause so much damage?

I glanced over at the end of the last table. Many of the men were on their feet, staring at me.

I looked down at the man I had my sword against again. "Why? Why did you want to kill me? I've known you for years. And now you plan to stab me through the heart without a second thought. Why?"

He did not reply.

"You know you'll die for this, don't you?" I asked.

"Aye."

"Don't just give in! Don't you have any excuse? I don't want to kill you! Give me a reason to spare your life! Please!"

The man shook his head. "I deserve the worst for scheming against you. Kill me."

I shook my head.

The two men who were holding the other plotter were looking at me expectantly.

I jerked my head at one of them, and he came over to me.

"Take them away," I sighed.

"To execution?" He asked.

"No… put them somewhere where they won't escape."

I turned away, clenching my fists.

Why, why, why! My thoughts howled around inside my skull. Why should I let them off? I'm weak, just like Kenna said. Weak!

I looked towards the last table, where all the commanders sat or stood, gaping at me.

I started to walk over to their table, attempting to keep my strides even, as I had before.

I came to the end of the benches the men were sitting at, and stood there, looking at them all, waiting for someone to say something.

What a great first impression that must have made, I thought bitterly.

I felt lightheaded and my vision went black for a few moments. I closed my eyes, and put a hand on the table to steady myself.

A voice sounded. "What happened?"

I opened my eyes.

"I came to the hall after I woke up. I was about to enter the room when I overheard those two plotting to murder me. I went in, and revealed that I knew of their plans. They attacked me. I defended myself."

I sat down. Everyone was staring at me. I wanted to know what was going on, but it wasn't the sort of environment where you just say, "What's up?"

I rubbed my eyes. When I opened them again, all eyes were still riveted on me.

"Well don't just stand there gawking! Tell me something useful. How many fighting men do we have?"

The question seemed to take the commanders by surprise. The oldest one stuttered for a moment before answering. "About two hundred."

"Against?"

"That's the problem. Out there, camped beyond our walls, are upwards of a thousand men. And half our warriors are too old or too young, while their men are strong."

I tipped my head back. A full thousand.

I looked into the eyes of each man at that table in turn, stopping at the old commander.

"What was the largest number of men you ever killed in battle?"

"I don't keep count, my lord," he said, in a cold voice.

"Was it more then five?"

"Do you mean to insult me? A seven-year-old could kill five men in battle."

"An exaggeration that would be extremely helpful if it were true. Can any of you divide?"

"What do you mean?"

"Divide, as in math, the opposite of multiplying," I said impatiently.

"Of course."

"Well, what's ten divided by two? The answer is five. If every soldier in our army kills five men, they'll be none left."

The men exchanged looks. "Many warriors are killed before they can even kill one man."

"And many warriors kill more then five people."

"My liege, will every Thornburgian man try to fight?"

"Don't be stupid."

"Well, only one in every five Thornburgians will have to use their skill as a warrior if they want to obliterate us." He rubbed his eyes, and muttered,

"May evil fall on every Thornburgian man, and every Thornburgian's son. Every one of them is out there right now. Thor knows, we could use depletion of their forces – or at least a few more men on our side."

"Don't wish even one more man!" I spread my hands. "People will talk forevermore of how an army of three hundred flattened an army five times larger. Do you want to tarnish that glory, by lessening the odds? And if we die, we die in glory. We will be remembered. The men of Berk, sitting around this very hall in years to come, will tell their children about us." I laughed. "Their families will be hooked on their every word, as they explain how we fought with numbers so vastly different! The children will be inspired!" My voice grew more grave. "And if we end, let us make such an end to be remembered. Let us make it so that the Thornburgians will whisper in awe for decades, for centuries, about our feats. How we refused to die, enduring all pain. How we bravely went out to face them, rejecting cowardice! How we thinned out their numbers, till they were ready to surrender. How the ground was littered with Thornburgian princes and nobles. How they had to kill every last man, for the warriors of Berk never surrendered. How they returned with a tenth of the force they left with. They will recall the weeping of their orphans and widows more then they will remember the weeping of ours! For the side that has more men can lose more men.

And you needn't be afraid that they will boast how much the Chief of Berk cried out and begged for mercy. I will die with you, and if I cannot, then I will die there without staining our name.

And if you are still too afraid to face the men who threaten to murder your wives and children, then I will be ashamed to fight by your side. You can leave, now, if you are so pathetic and traitorous as to betray the ones who trust you. Get out, if you have no courage, and are willing to put a foul blot on the name of Berk. I will stay here, and no matter what happens to me, I will never run away."

One of the men drew his sword. I tensed, but he slid off the bench and knelt, turning the weapon so that the hilt was facing me.

"Your words could convince a rabbit to fight a Sea Dragon. And under your guidance, I believe the rabbit could win. I now pledge to serve you unwaveringly, as long I shall live. I offer you my blade and my fealty."

I took the sword, and placed the tip on his head. "Rise."

He stood, and I returned his sword to him. "Thank you. After we have driven away the Thornburgians, you will be remembered as the man who first stepped forward, and never forgotten."

I looked at the others. "Who will follow me into battle, and who will run and hide, and leave their loved ones to become slaves to the Thornburgians?"

They all drew their swords, one by one, and pledged themselves to me, until only one was left. The old general.

He stared me in the eye for a full minute. I stared right back. Human's eyes were easy to look into without blinking, compared to a Night Fury's. I didn't give in, and he finally broke the eye contact and looked down. I leaned forward, and said in a low, deadly serious voice, "I promise, that as long as I live, no one will lay a finger on the women and children. As long as I live, no army will set foot in these walls. But I need you by my side!"

He looked up, and scrutinized my face again. He then drew his mighty battle sword, and offered me the hilt. It took all my strength to lift it.

He said, "You are the son of Stoick the Vast and the grandson of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the second, whose reign I also saw. I am putting my trust in you, and if you betray that trust, you will pay dearly. I'm giving you one chance."

I grasped his hand.

"I swear I will not let you down."

Blame Shakespeare.