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Chapter 36: Hiccup
Hiccup's hands shook as he grasped the material of the man's black robe. The cloth seemed to be solidified ichor; gritty and shifty, almost like the sand on a beach. What made the situation worse was that it seemed to melt away in Hiccup's hands, turning back to small sparkly black particles—fluttering helplessly onto the contorted and deformed face of the grey man.
The tears slipped from the Viking's eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. Perhaps it had been at the birth of his son, or the death of his mentor, or the death of his mother…he couldn't recall. But nothing—except for the death of his father—had ever burned a hole into his soul like this.
His body quivering, Hiccup gathered the still, bloody, mangled corpse into his arms and rocked it back and forth. Before he could realize what was happening, the words left from his mouth in a mournful tune. As the world broke around him, his song reverberated through crumbling halls.
"May the V-v-valkyries welcome you and lead…lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your name with…love and fury, so that we might hear it...hear it rise from the depths of V-v-valhalla and know that you've taken your rightful…rightful…rightful place at the table of kings. For a great dragon—man—has fallen: A dragon. A warrior. A friend…a father."
A cry broke from his throat the moment those words were uttered. He hadn't meant to say them. Of course Toothless wasn't dead. The dragon-man would wake up in a minute, burble at him for worrying and then explain to the best of his capabilities on what the Helheim was going on. Of course the last Night Fury in existence wasn't dead, it wasn't possible. The dragon had lived through so much, he could not be felled at the single stroke of a sword. It wasn't the dragon's nature to be conquered by such a petty weapon.
It wasn't his fate.
"Oi, kid…"
A soft hand fell upon Hiccup's shoulder. The Viking reacted in no time at all. Resting the body quickly onto the floor, his sword—Inferno—was drawn and pointed at the throat of a very unusual creature. A giant rabbit as a matter of fact. His breath was caught in his throat before he shook his head and narrowed his eyes. His dragon had transformed into a man right before his eyes and he was going to question a giant rabbit?
"Kid, we gotta get outta 'ere. This place is fallin' apart!"
Okay, the talking is a little weird. Hiccup admitted to himself before gripping his sword tighter, glowering up at the rabbit.
"The Helheim are you?"
"Look, kid, that don't matter right now! I have to getch'ya outta here though!" The rabbit growled.
"I won't let you take me anywhere. We can't leave Toothless!" Hiccup argued, scooping up the prone body with one arm while the other remained armed and pointed at the giant animal.
"There's nothin' you can do for 'im. 'E's dead!" The rabbit yelled.
Hiccup bellowed, switching the fire on his sword to ignite. "He is not dead! I will not leave him behind!"
"Look kid!" The rabbit roared, pointing at the body. "He's already leavin'. So should we!"
A moment of horror crossed Hiccup's face before he looked down upon the body in his arms.
Starting at the fingertips of the grey body, the skin slowly started to crumble, and then everything within. Muscle, bone, fat, and sinew began to glitter and churn like the black of the soiled robe. Bit by bit, the flesh began to fall off into little bits of black sand. It worked its way up the arms, the skin shimmering like polished ivory until it fell apart into splotches of sand.
Hiccup screamed gathering the deteriorating man closer to his chest. He began to hiccup, the tears pouring down his cheeks as this abhorrence continued its path. He was scared. He was afraid.
The cracking of rock walls echoed through their makeshift haven, but Hiccup did not flinch. He could only watch, terrified, as his best friend from childhood began to shrivel into dark gleaming sand.
The hand—er, paw—that had been trying to pull him away from the spot on the ground, clenched his armor tighter. Before Hiccup could react, he was pulled away from the ground and thrown over the furry shoulder of the rabbit. What remained of the body fell to the ground amidst a pool of black.
The tears poured down like falling stars.
"No! Take me back!" Hiccup howled. "Please take me back we can't leave him!"
The rabbit's ears flattened against his scalp but he didn't turn around. He didn't look back. His large feet tapped the ground, a large hole appearing at his whim, before he jumped in with the Viking.
Hiccup yowled and shrieked. He pounded the animal's back—demanding he be taken back. He fell thirteen years old again, screaming to empty ears to be reunited with his dragon. With his friend. But like then, he would have no such luck.
"Please!" He wailed. "Take me back! He can't die alone!"
"Hiccup, you must be strong for 'im!" The rabbit scolded, running down a tunnel. "'E would not want ya like this!"
"He would never leave me alone to die!" The Viking chief agonized. "He would stay by my side to the very end!"
"He didn't die just for you to follow him!" The rabbit yelled, leaning forward throwing the man off his back; the man skidded forward onto the ground, looking helplessly at the rabbit. "Pitch died to save your life! He knows you have a family to get back to. A wife and a son, as well as an entire village! He would want you to move on and protect those that you have to."
Broken emerald eyes looked up to fierce burning ones. The rabbit's facial expression softened, and that was all it took to break the last of the man's composure. Hiccup burst into a series of harsh cries and screeches like a pained child. The rabbit's warm arms encircled him and he was drawn into a furry embrace. Hiccup clutched at soft tufts as he keened into the strength of Hope.
"Ya gotta be strong for 'im." The rabbit shushed. "It's what 'e would've wanted."
Hiccup sobbed his heart out.
"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
His world stopped, and he turned around slowly, still in the comforting arms of the rabbit.
Running towards him, like there was the spirits of Helheim chasing after him was Erik. Hiccup pushed himself away from the embrace and ran towards his son, his peg leg clanking against the dirt ground. His arms enclosed around the child.
For the first time since Toothless' death, a sense of reality and security clasped Hiccup by the heart. His son was in his arms and he knew that the boy was now safe. Whatever happened, the child was now in his arms. Hiccup looked up from the blonde locks where his face had been buried to see, coming around the bend a skinny boy with bleached hair and a brown cape and a large man—who reminded him much of his father—in a bright red cloak. His arms tightened around Erik.
The rabbit rushed up to the incoming two.
"Jack, North! 'Bout time ya both showed up. Where the 'Ell 'ave ya been?"
"Fighting off Nightmares," The white haired boy growled. "They were everywhere down there."
"Ve vere lucky to leave vith our lives." The bulky man added, popping his back joints.
The white haired boy looked around. "Hey, Bunny, speaking of Nightmares—where's Pitch?"
Hiccup realized that they must've talking about Toothless. Who else could they have been?
He stepped forward his son in his arms.
"He's gone." The tears were blurring through his eyelids again.
"Vhat?" The burly man demanded, baby blue eyes wide.
Must more phantoms haunt me today? Do the gods enjoy tormenting me? Hiccup mourned, the eyes of his father looking back at him. "Toothless…he didn't survive the fight with the dark man."
The white haired boy was the first to speak. "That's impossible! Pitch…he's unstoppable whenever you're around! There's no way he could've been defeated."
"Do you think I would lie?" The Viking snapped.
Erik whimpered.
"Toothless is gone! He's dead and I could do nothing about it—because I was too terrified to be able to do anything else! If I had just thought to reach for my sword on my leg…to just think…"
His voice cracked and once again he buried his face into the hair of his son. Erik held onto the braids in his father's hair. He knew who they were talking about and his little innocent heart shattered at the thought of never seeing his favorite dragon again.
"That is vhat Fear does to person…" The red-cloaked man murmured.
"He's really dead?" The boy whispered, looking to the rabbit with wide grief-stricken eyes; he'd come to finally accept and befriend the former Nightmare King…now he was gone.
"I saw it myself." The rabbit mumbled.
"Let's go."
The three looked up to see fire-burning emerald eyes staring right at them.
"Our work is not yet done." Hiccup rumbled. "Let's go."
Hefting his son, the chief stalked away from them, heading into the next tunnel entrance he could find. The three tottered after him dazedly, confused at the sudden change in the man's demeanor. But if they were inside Hiccup's head, then they would know why he was suddenly stoic.
:You must say síðasta kveðjan, Hiccup. Pitch was very brave to give his life for you. It was your love that allowed him to come to the decision that he did. This is what you use in everything around you, Hiccup Nightmare's Dragonheart. Love. You have always done so—a love for your dragon, your father, your mother, your wife, your son, your people. It is your love that gives you strength and in return strengthens others. Do not forget this. For love gives courage even to the most hopeless of hearts. Now go, Hiccup. Finish what you must:
I will. Hiccup swore.
The three caught up to the man as he stood out of the tunnel, standing on a small island surrounded by nothing by sea.
"I thought your tunnels took us to helpful places." The boy grouched to the rabbit.
"I 'ave to be focused!" The rabbit defended.
"Well, then, get focused."
"Ya think it's easy, ya wanker?"
"You do it all the time."
"Well a person doesn't just die ever day do they?"
"You're going to blame Pitch when he hasn't even been dead for a day?"
"I'm not bla—"
A loud screeched filled the air and the foreign trio looked to the Vikings in surprise. Hiccup tilted his head up again and released a loud guttural sound. Erik followed his father's lead and mimicked the cry.
"Vhat are you doing?" The bulky man asked.
"Summoning a dragon." Hiccup brusquely answered, before returning his attention to the sky.
The trio looked to each other worriedly. Something was wrong with the man. He'd become solemn. Something different about his aura radiated from his essence. It was strange.
A response shrieked across the sky. It took about another thirty minutes before a dragon came into view. It's bright red scales, and silver-grey horns, and not to mention it's immensity made even the rabbit and the bulky man scared. Hiccup, Erik and the boy simply walked up to the dragon and mounted without a hitch.
Thank you, Torch. Hiccup thought numbly, his hand running across the bumpy scales of the dragon.
"Are ya sure it's safe?" The rabbit asked, looking nervously at the dragon.
"Just get on." Hiccup snapped.
The burly man and the rabbit wasted no time getting on after that.
"So where are we going?" The white haired boy asked.
"Back to Berk." Hiccup answered a matter-of-factly.
No one responded.
"Vhat…vhat you plan to do?" The bulky man asked.
Hiccup pursed his lips, his facial expression hardening, his arm curling around his son even tighter. He didn't answer them for a long time. His emerald eyes wandered the quivering waves of the ocean or the fluffy soft cloud. Finally though, his face softened and he looked slightly over his shoulder.
"Síðasta kveðjan." Hiccup whispered.
The bulky man, the rabbit, and the white haired boy looked at each other confusedly.
The Viking sighed and looked off into the distance. "The last farewell."
҉҉҉
In the darkness, a pair of gold eyes opened. Black goo poured from one eye, while more poured from the chest and shoulder. Pitch Black blinked, trying to remember why he was covered in the Fearlings' life force. As the wounds sewed themselves back together, leaving no trace of scarring, he tried to remember. The Darkness and the Gold threatened to emerge from their exile in his mind to help him with this conundrum, but he forced a barrier around himself, he was confused enough as it was.
All he could remember were the Guardians and that spirit Jack Frost…damn the all…
Looking down on his arm he noticed something glimmering. Tilting his arm slightly, he looked at the sleeve of his robe. There resting innocently, were flecks of bronze sand.
The Nightmare King growled.
Even though it seemed too dark to be Sanderson's dream sand, who else could it have belonged to? He clutched the bit of the bronze sand that rested in his palm.
If he were to ever bring about the downfall of the Guardians—Sanderson would be the first to suffer at the hands of his revenge.
Without a doubt.
A/N: Thank you to GuardianDragon98, Saph, Demonicsis, .Nightmare.1090, Britt30, Pearlness4700, general zargon, Liliana Dragonshard, sauara, Sapphire Roz, and Malica15 for all reviewing the previous chapter.
No major A/N due to the fact that I wanted people to pay attention to this chapter. The contents of this chapter are EXTREMELY important. So if you don't think you got everything, please re-read.
Thank you for reading.