Integrated
Krankr footslogged through the village with hoary legs to struggle along Berk's rocky paths and lungs to enjoy the sea breeze. His feet knew the route so well that it made no difference that first light was still some time away. On this island, a day started long before the sun decided to drag its lazy arse over the horizon.
The ocean's greeting had not changed once in all his fifty-two years; the gentle crashing of waves, call of the gulls, and creaks of the docks all welcomed Krankr into a new day. Salt scented so strongly in the air that he could taste it, and already the stickiness that clouded every summer breath made his trek home more uncomfortable than usual. His limb-stiffies always acted up in this humidity. Of course, if he moved any higher in the Archipelagos it'd likely be too cold for his poor joints. Such testiness. Just like his wife—Odin, rest her soul.
The limb-stiffies really had him out the night before, so he had to skip the mandatory meeting called when the chief returned from his summit with the Outlaw. Krankr's participation in a lot of village activities had been lacking as of late—a real tragedy considering how chaotic their war had gotten. If he were only ten years younger he could show these striplings how to really kill a dragon...
His daughter-in-law, Kernella, promised to inform him of the decision reached this morning, but it turned out Krankr didn't have to wait. Already he'd passed by one-too-many conversations; whispered excitement charged the air more readily than the sun could.
The Outlaw would come to their village today.
Krankr had to wonder if their chief had finally lost his marbles. Not in his day would an outlawed man be allowed to walk the grounds once more. Not for crimes of that sort—the unspeakable sort.
Krankr shook his head, heedless of his grumbling. His worries these days leaned more toward his lack of cane than the downhill management of their village. With any luck he'd be dead soon anyway.
He journeyed over the crest of their village, where the highest class built their homes. Nelly still slept when he left, but his early-morning walk had been a long one; hopefully she'd be awake and ready give him more details of the Thing last night by the time his uppity legs brought him home.
Wishful thinking. Those brats of hers were nearly grown, yet the pair of them seemed to suck the life out of her just as well as their tot-years. Should have used the Cane on their sorry rear-ends more often—then maybe they'd hold a bit more respect for authority.
Krankr almost missed the man sitting on the stone-ledge outside of the chief's house during his bemoaning of his undisciplined grandchildren. He slowed to a stop—he didn't know this man—and openly observed the stranger. The stranger stared right back.
He was young, brushing the throes of manhood while bearing a build and complexion of a Southerner. He had oddly colored armor on his arms and an odd leather vest not commonly worn this north. Odd style of hair—decorative braids rather than a sensible singular one. Odd weaponry of a curved blade and a strung bow at rest. Odd in the way he sat on the wall in front of the Chief's house, so brazen, even though he certainly wasn't Berkian.
He was, simply, an Odd man.
"Morning," the Oddman offered. He said it in a bright, almost falsely cheery manner, nodding his head and minutely raising his mug in salutation. Krankr questioned the sincerity behind it.
"Mornin'," Krankr returned, cautious. He didn't like strangers. And he didn't recall any new ships coming in since their last Visitors four days ago.
Oddman took a sip of his tea, looking absently content with the world as he did so. He didn't seem put-off by Krankr's plain distrust.
"Sleep well?" Oddman asked after he swallowed. Krankr noted a hint of boyishness left in that tenor, which help him to date the young man as below twenty winters.
"Well enough." Krankr patted one of his hips. "Never can quite git through a night without these ol' things shockin' me awake."
Oddman nodded as if he knew exactly what Krankr spoke of and drank again. Krankr found himself craving a nice hot cuppa himself, despite how unwelcoming the idea of anything hot would be once the sun arose.
"How's your sleep?" Krankr returned politely. He usually wasn't one for small talk but this man intrigued him.
Oddman shook his head. "Haven't slept yet."
Krankr cocked a look to the horizon, where the sun would break through any time, and then looked forward again.
"Don't have much time left before th' day starts."
Oddman smiled, "Don't usually sleep until the day starts."
Krankr's frown deepened. The man's peculiarities grew the longer their conversation lasted. Where would such a man come from?
A door creaked. Krankr's ears, sharp as ever, caught the noise, and he turned his head up to see a large figure in the doorway behind them. The chief had awoken—later than usual—and now stood, stricken, staring at Oddman like someone left a frost giant on his front step.
"You should probably get going, Krankr," Oddman mumbled into his drink without so much as a glance behind him. "Things might get awkward."
The chief had started towards them with such stiff movements that Krankr feared the young fellow (by comparison) suffered from his own bout of limb-stiffies.
"Suppose I should," Krankr agreed. Clearly, the chief knew this Oddman, and he himself had no business being there. He had to go wake Nelly and learn what was to become of the Outcast.
He scurried on with a parting nod to the Oddman and a morning greeting to the chief. Chief Stoick did not acknowledge the greeting, or even Krankr's presence in general; his entire world seemed to revolve around this Oddman sitting in front of his house.
As Krankr continued on his way home he noticed a number of other farmers and fishermen slowing in their activities, each having noticed and keeping one eye on the stranger. None were close enough to carry a conversation, none seemed inclined to, but Oddman would give polite nods and smiles to anyone he made eye contact with.
Krankr glanced behind him, to where Oddman sat, now overshadowed by the hulking mass of their chief. He had never seen Stoick look more agitated or unsure of himself. It seemed to draw even more attention from the slowly rousing village.
The unusual attitude exuded by their chief distracted Krankr from the similarities in the two men's features, the set of their shoulders, the shape of their hands...
He felt like there was something his worn mind wasn't picking up.
Krankr's eyes narrowed as it came to him.
He hadn't told Oddman his name.
Or, he didn't think he had.
"Odd..." Krankr muttered, fearing his memory might be slipping along with his bones.
He shrugged, and continued on his way home to learn the fate of a chief's disgraced son.
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Hiccup could sense Stoick fiddling behind him, probably feeling as diffident and lost as he did in this moment. Stoick could suddenly decide to kill him—stab him in the back the way a traitor deserved to die, or clubbed in the head, never seeing the blow coming. Or, maybe he would touch Framherja in a moment of weakness against her allure...
In spite of the uncertainty, the danger, Hiccup could not bring himself to turn around. He could hardly bring himself to look at his left knee, where his father's shadow darkened the fabric of his pants like some diluted form of touch. Hiccup felt an alarming and unanticipated lack of control. He thought the tea would help, hoped the familiar setting would calm him, and it had. For all of three sips.
"How—how long have you been there?" Stoick asked. The man winced almost as soon as the words left his mouth. After seeing his son back in their village for the first time in over two years, the greeting felt lacking. And yet, 'hello' tasted meaningless on his lips.
"Not long," Hiccup answered. He continued to stare out over the ocean like nothing else mattered.
He used to do it as a boy too, Stoick realized, and he wondered if Hiccup missed this view in his time away. He hoped for it.
The silence drew on a bit longer. Stoick didn't know for how long, or whose turn it was to speak. He felt transfixed by the length of Hiccup's hair—the same color as Valka's—the way it clawed around his shoulders when the wind blew. The way it tickled the glittering bow at his back.
That bow...Stoick longed to reach out and touch the weapon, but a deeper instinct told him that doing so was foolish. There was something about the symbols etched into the brass, they way they curled and curved into each other; so perfectly spaced, so equally measured that it was unnatural.
Either a man spent a lifetime forging that weapon, or a god did so in an instant.
Hiccup took a sip of his tea and Stoick felt awakened. One by one, the stares came to his attention. He noticed the walks that slowed as villagers passed, the whispers overturning with the gently crashing shoreline. Stoick's face darkened and, immediately, backs were turned to them.
"You were alone? Unprotected?" Stoick couldn't help but be critical.
At his feet, Hiccup stiffened.
"I can take care of myself," the young man returned, curtly. He blew gently on his drink, his actions of disinterest shielding the slight shake of his hands.
The answer did not satisfy Stoick.
"What if someone recognized you and attacked?"
"No one's come near me." Hiccup remained inscrutable. He sounded tired. Annoyed. It annoyed the chief to be treated as such.
Stoick took another step closer, moving to Hiccup's side at the very edge of the stone hedge but choosing to remain standing.
"Where's your dragon?" he asked. Already he had scanned their surroundings and continued to do so, waiting for the devil to pounce out at him, waiting for all of this to be a trap.
From the corner of his eye, Stoick saw Hiccup set his jaw forward—his classic look of determination. Or maybe it was frustration?
Stoick felt contrite with the realization that he couldn't remember.
"I can take care of myself," Hiccup repeated in a softer voice, marked by anger.
Stoick could sense quite a bit of impatience beneath that face of casual indifference, but he ignored the boy's anger in light of his own.
"This is dangerous for you, you know. That I'm even letting you in the village is something in itself, but not everyone's going to be so lenient about it—"
"Did you tell the village?" Hiccup asked curtly. "That I'm coming?"
"Yes," Stoick replied. "Everyone's been told there's a temporary alliance and that you'll be treated as a delegate for the dragons."
"And no one is supposed to attack me," Hiccup finished, settling the matter.
"That doesn't mean they won't."
"I know," Hiccup said. This time he sounded weary.
"I don't think you do. This entire situation calls for a certain amount of delicacy."
"Dad I—" Hiccup jerked, like he just choked on something. "—I know."
Mercifully, Stoick ignored the slipup.
"You're trying to do the impossible here—it's bad enough how you left, you can't just waltz around the village like you're a part of it."
"I know!" Hiccup snapped. He turned his face to Stoick's shoes, but he didn't look up. Stoick could see those long fingers tighten around the mug. "Look, I was up all night, I'm tired. Let's just get this damn meeting over with—"
Stoick couldn't stop himself. He grabbed Hiccup's arm tightly and the boy's head finally whipped around to face him. Hiccup appeared shocked and Stoick took satisfaction in it—he was still the father.
"Don't you dare snap at me," Stoick hissed. "This is still my village and you are still a traitor. You are here only on the condition of helping win this war—"
Hiccup's shock melted quickly. He didn't struggle, didn't try jerking his arm from Stoick's hold—perhaps knowing it would be futile against the vast strength. He settled on giving Stoick such a cutting stare that the chief felt like he just took three steps backwards in making any sort of progress with his son.
Gods, there was so much defiance in that face. The worst part was, it looked familiar.
"When is the meeting?" Hiccup asked flatly. There was something dead in his voice, in his eyes—like he had expected such behavior from the chief, yet felt disappointment for it anyway. Affected, Stoick released the arm immediately.
"After dagmál," Stoick answered. "I—" He took a breath and ran a hand through his hair. Idly, he wondered where he left his helmet. "Hiccup, I—"
Hiccup rose in a sweeping, sudden movement that had Stoick leaning back a tick. Once again, the chief stood in shock of how tall Hiccup had gotten. Not exactly filled out—not by their standards—but passing every expectation the man once had for the boy.
"I'll meet you there," Hiccup announced, and he started walking away without any further ado.
Stoick's morning hunger left him. So did any sleepiness lingering from his waking. For a moment longer he stood, numb, and watched his son walk through the village towards the forge. People turned and stared, first for his unfamiliarity, then because of recognition. No one acted against Hiccup, probably too shocked to see him stroll flagrantly among them so soon after having his status suspended—but Stoick still felt pained at what they could do to him. He didn't want to see that sort of animosity directed at his...at his...
A sour taste coated the back of his mouth as the beginnings of the whispers reached his ears. He knew village life would revert to how it had been after Hiccup's departure—that people would tip toe around him and gossip would fly. What a shite way to start off a day.
Stoick glanced down at the mug Hiccup had left, the steam rising made visible in the first rays of dawn.
Bugger it all. That was his mug.
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"Howdy!"
"CRIPES!"
Gobber jerked so violently he nearly fell face first into the hearth. As it worked out, his lurch landed one of his mustache braids in the coals, and the frayed strands caught fire. The blacksmith bellowed and began slapping at the flame with his flesh hand.
"What the—What the bleedin' Hel is the matter with you?" Gobber roared. His wild eyes switched between the smoking hairs and Hiccup's grinning face in the shop window. "I coulda' cut me other arm off! Would'a like that, eh? You barmy idget! Look at my bleedin' hair! Look at it! Not got enough as it is! And what in Hel's crossing are you doing in the village, out in broad daylight? The first dullard with a half-sharpened axe can lop your thick head off. You're a bloody outlaw is what you are—who d'you think you are just walking around—"
Hiccup grinned, and vaulted through the shop window effortlessly. It was child's play after hopping on the back of a growing dragon day in and out.
"Morning, Gobber."
Gobber approached Hiccup in a far more foreboding manner than his father had; his hammer-hand gleamed and his dark, sweaty brow could match Demyan's dirtiest days. Yet Hiccup felt only comfort from crossing the threshold. It was almost like having Toothless with him—a charm to bring him familiarity, safety and luck in an otherwise terrifying environment.
Hiccup's geniality could not placate Gobber. He stopped a mere arm's length from Hiccup and shook his hammer.
"I oughtta knock that smarmy smirk off your face—"
"I thought we should go to the meeting together," Hiccup interrupted brightly. "I figured if I had a higher-up with me it'd be less likely someone would try and kill me."
"Meetin'—what?" Gobber's brow lowered as he stopped to think about what Hiccup said. Then his eyes grew large. "Oh—that...yes. That... Okay. Right. That's well enough. But its still not safe for you to just—"
"Yeah, I got it from my—from Stoick already," Hiccup cut in quickly.
He found it difficult to continue to face Gobber as he struggled through his father's name, so Hiccup took to observing his old work environment. It still smelled the same, still tasted like thick ash and sweat on his tongue. This had been his second home, his sanctuary—from the village and from his father. He would breathe these fumes in all day given the choice.
"Did he now?" And from Gobber's tone, Hiccup knew he wouldn't be scolded further. "I take it he's awake then?"
"Yeah..." Hiccup paused before a dangling set of shields. The metal lining reflected a highly distorted likeness of his face. "What's up with that, anyway? Is he alright?"
"Och, he's fine," Gobber shrugged off. He began twisting the hammer prostatic from his forearm, eyeing Hiccup all the while. "A fair bit older than he used to be, that's all. Years have not been kind to any of us, to be fair—but I'd say he's aged the most."
Hiccup continued to watch his reflection in the hanging shields, but Gobber got the distinct impression he registered nothing in his sight. Hiccup seemed more focused on ignoring the heavy stare his former master burdened him with.
"It's good to see you," Gobber added quieter. He was pleased to see Hiccup quirk a small smile.
"You saw me yesterday," Hiccup pointed out. His feet continued to move around the forge, his hips turning around jutting anvils and workbenches as his legs remembered their placement. Nothing had changed since he left. Nothing but the height of things.
"You know what I mean, cheeky brat," Gobber returned. "It's nice to see you back in the village, that's all. Stupid. But nice. Speaking of which, have you really been walking around town?"
Hiccup sighed. "What is the big deal with that? Stoick was on my case first thing this morning. It's like he was looking for something to fight about..."
"Probably the only thing he's comfortable doing with you. He just went straight to the old fallback didn't he?" Gobber chuckled in the face of Hiccup's deadpan expression. "Ah, you know I'm only joking. Lay up on him. We saw you for the first time in years last night—that's the big deal. All we managed to do after is tell everyone you were coming in to discuss new battle strategies...there's too much that could go wrong. Tempers are high right now."
Gobber sounded exasperated in his explanation, but he kept his good humor.
Hiccup would not feel apologetic. He said as much.
"I refuse to run around, ducking behind water barrels." Not like his true first return to the village. "No one really said anything to me while I was out so...I figured it was fine."
The blond man shook his head and his uneven mustache braids swung.
"You might have actually been attacked. You know that, right?"
Hiccup made a show of looking in both direction before whispering, "I'm really fast."
Gobber rolled his eyes toward the ceiling.
"Hel slap it into yeh, you fool boy. Lost your sense out there is what happened."
Hiccup turned away again, moving passed the hearth, remembering the countless days he spent sweating over it, the laughs of sparring children floating through the window to taunt him. He hadn't been allowed to participate; he was undersized, he would have gotten hurt.
He pushed on, a slight scowl turning his features.
"Why does no one believe me when I say I can take care of myself?"
"It's not just that..." Gobber said. "Don't forget what this war's done to people. Seeing anyone on a dragon's bound to tick a number of them off. They'll be difficult just to be difficult, just to make life harder for you after what you did. Change may be less n' less likely the longer this whole thing drags on."
"I know," Hiccup said softly. "That's why I want to get this done now..."
He worried his lip, his eyes losing their focus. He needed to change the minds of the most stubborn people in the northern hemisphere. He needed to end a centuries-long enmity between two races. He needed to defeat a seemingly undefeatable beast.
Gobber watched as Hiccup moved closer to his old study area and felt compelled to keep speaking.
"Well, on the other hand there's a few of us seriously interest in hearing you out. I mean, it's obvious to everyone something needs to be done, we just need to get the damn fools to admit it."
Hiccup smiled again and, again, it was brief. He seemed more and more distracted as he made his way to his back corner.
"You didn't forge that bow, did you?"
Hiccup paused, feet away from the curtain acting as a gate.
"Don't even think about touching it," he said over his shoulder. He knew Gobber; he knew the man would want to pick apart every practical and impractical aspect of a weapon. Already, Hiccup could tell Gobber thought the designs to be superfluous and the color unnecessarily bright.
"Well I'm just curious—"
"Gobber, I'm serious."
"At least tell me who made it. Did you take on under another master?"
"I did...but that was unrelated."
"So how'd you get it?" Unknown to Hiccup, Gobber had a bad feeling in his gut. It seemed the sort of weapon one would have to sell their soul for. Or their future.
"It was a gift," Hiccup murmured distracted by the familiar feel of the old, hanging cloth, and Framherja's small vibrations warming his spine. She seemed to like being talked about. "One that I didn't have much choice in accepting."
"From?"
"Thor."
Hiccup pulled back the curtain as Gobber sucked in a breath. For a moment, neither moved. Nothing had been touched—no tacked papers taken down, no notes destroyed. Aside from the organized piles of old designs, it looked very much like how Hiccup had left it two years ago. Gobber hadn't allowed anyone in there but Fishlegs whenever the boy needed ideas. Not even Stoick was to touch anything, particularly in his initial rage, when he wanted to obliterate any evidence of his son and his treachery.
Hiccup hummed low in his throat and gave the small space a clean sweep with his eyes. Then he turned away from the room, allowing the curtain to fall closed. His face was more unreadable than Gobber had ever seen it.
"Alright?" Gobber asked. The boy looked a bit peaky in his opinion.
"Yeah," Hiccup said after a curt clearing of his throat. "Yeah, that's...I'm fine. We should go soon, yeah?"
"Aye," Gobber agreed.
He couldn't tell if Hiccup was upset that nothing had been done to the space, or touched, but it was obvious the boy felt affected in some way.
"Come on, then." Hiccup said. He started his way across the forge. This time he didn't take his time observing as he crossed the space, but his hands brushed by each tool and iron piece he passed, like he wanted to use every sense at his disposal to re-familiarize himself with the place.
Gobber decided that there was something sweet and childish about the way Hiccup seemed so affected being in the forge. The boy arrived all smiles before an unexpected power overtook his senses. Hiccup tried to act standoffish, like returning to his home meant nothing to him, but Gobber thought his actions to be far too demonstrative, and his features to betray far too much emotion, to get away with the charade.
"So you got a new master out there?" Gobber spoke out, casual. "I suppose it's fine s'long as you didn't lose your touch. Went under the guidance of a few different ones meself back in my day."
Gobber started to twist on his mug-hand. Hiccup narrowed his eyes.
"Gobber...really?"
"What?" Gobber said innocently. He remained steadfast in his winding. "The meeting's going to be in the Hall anyway."
Hiccup really smiled, showing off his teeth. His head shook.
"I saw what you did to that dragon."
The expression on Hiccup's face froze, the smile began to fall.
"What?" he hushed.
"The tail...you had a system of sorts. Thought it was breeching at first, but it was attached to the tail."
Gobber waited for Hiccup to elaborate. The boy had dropped his gaze to the ground, concentrating on something well beyond Gobber's comprehension.
Finally, Hiccup said. "Did...did anyone try and recreate the bola cannon? To knock out dragons?"
"No," Gobber sighed. "Too proud."
That and he doubted many could figure out how.
"Good." Hiccup's could see his response surprised Gobber, so he elaborated. "That's how I ripped his tailfin off. It's too risky—we could end up causing more harm than good. I've thought of a different way to get them out of range..."
Gobber, mug-apparatus attached, turned and began his hobble out of the wide entryway. Now it was he who shook his head at Hiccup.
"Different...Och boy, don't tell me your thinking of compromising the safety of our village for the beasts."
Disturbingly like his mother.
"You know...you're the one who taught me how a dragon couldn't fly without their tails and wings," Hiccup point out, squinting as the sun hit his eyes. "You made me realize exactly what I did to him—to Toothless."
Gobber rubbed his temples. "Aw, bollocks. Lad, please don't tell me I'm responsible for your madness in running off with—"
"No, no," Hiccup assured him. There was a touch of laughter to his voice. "That was a madness all my own."
The subject was upon them now. Light banter and comfortable conversation couldn't hide the fact that Gobber's apprentice abandoned their village for a dragon.
Gobber eyed the boy at his side, memorizing the profile, noting the similarities and differences from his memory's stores. He was his mother's son, alright.
"Care to explain what was going through that daft head of yours?" Gobber asked.
"Not sure it's possible," Hiccup answered. He didn't sound like he wanted to elaborate either.
"Hmph. Tell you what—you outta stop by for a drink tonight or summat. You can tell me about all this. I know a few of the other fellers are interested in finding out more about you—"
"Finding out about me means finding out about dragons in a way, I can guarantee you, they'll not want to know," Hiccup informed him in a flat tone.
"Give them a chance. I think you're going into this already expecting to be rejected."
"Won't I?"
"You're also underestimating how desperate we are."
Hiccup continued to stare straight ahead and Gobber continued to observe him. His apprentice was taller, armed, and had an individual brand of confidence to augment his usual snarky nature, but he was still just a boy. He looked like a boy who took on too much without realizing until it was too late.
"Do you even know what you're doing, lad?" His question came out quiet and honest. Personal. Gobber was all too aware of the stares now that they were out in the daylight.
Hiccup smiled a closed-lipped smile that never reached his eyes.
"I was born ready," he cracked in his usual droll tone, just as he always spoke to Gobber.
And, like always, Gobber saw right through it.
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The Mead Hall felt unusually warm, even for the summer. Too many people shared the same muggy air. Nearly every resident of Berk huddled around the largest table the Hall had to offer, and the sheer number of bodies pressed together made Hiccup glad for such a wide, albeit attention-grabbing, berth acting as an empty barrier. He sat on top of his own table, arms crossed, legs crossed—quite a sight to behold, all in all. He wanted the distance, even if it meant extra attention; he wanted everyone in his sights.
Framherja felt hot against his back, but her warmth was a welcome one. It gave him the strength needed to confront faces and faces of familiar hostility.
His damned arm hurt.
He faced his father, who stood on the opposite side of the giant, rounded table, a semi-circle of Vikings crowding around his back. And it wasn't seeing Uncle Spitelout or Gobber or Phlegma on Stoick's right side, it was Fish and Astrid and Snotlout at his left, looking as authoritative as any official should be. They were...
They really had grown up.
The full reality of what Berk went through—of what his peers went through—started to settle in on him. Not that he was without his own hardships, but he couldn't go on thinking he learned more than they in his time away. No one had been left unscathed.
"Settle down! Settle down!" Stoick hollered above the din. It had the desired effect in half the time it would have taken any other man screaming at the top of his lungs to manage. The villagers continued to stare at Hiccup, so much mistrust and wariness open in their expressions.
"Righ'," Stoick commenced. "Now, to start things off, I suppose we should intr—well, re-introduce Hiccup." He raised a meaty hand towards his former son, but he barely glanced at him, as though Hiccup were nothing more than an old, family antique lacking sentimental value.
Hiccup gave a sarcastic little wave to the stony-faced crowd. It went unappreciated.
"Where's your dragon?" some disembodied voice shouted from the throng.
"He's not here today."
Hiccup shocked himself with the strength carried in his voice, but the following pride settled some of his nerves. He had worried over how he might sound to them. He wanted to speak up, never fumble with his words, because he wanted to show these people he wasn't a scared, awkward kid anymore.
He was a scared, awkward man.
"Why?"
This time, Hiccup saw who asked. Liceberg—or something to that effect—the father of Speedifist.
"Because I don't trust you," Hiccup answered. His eyes started on Liceberg, but swept across the crowd before he landed on his father. Stoick looked as though he were seeing right through him. Hiccup felt like they had already fallen into an old routine.
Then the noise met his ears. Outbursts of whispers pattered around, more frowns directed at him. At his father's side, he saw Astrid slap a hand to her head.
Maybe she just had a hangover?
"Quiet!" Gobber snapped. He too frowned at Hiccup, not reprovingly. Simply weary. They all looked weary. His father especially. "We all agreed what's best for this village beforehand, so shut your mouths and listen!"
"Not all o' us..." Someone muttered nastily, and Hiccup saw an unfortunate number of heads move in agreement.
His own tiredness struck him then; he was fighting an uphill battle from here on out. He didn't have Toothless with him and he felt just a little too overwhelmed for tact.
"Whether you agree or not, this village is going to be destroyed if you don't listen to me," he informed the naysayers tartly.
"Why should we listen to you?" another voice sneered.
"Because you're out of options."
From another direction Hiccup heard: "You say we're out of options—"
"Listen to him!" Fishlegs announced, his voice loud and deep. Hiccup's eyes snapped to the large boy and he realized that Astrid was right—Fishlegs had changed. He just spoke out against the village. "We're out of options and we've only ever seen progress at Hiccup's doing. The chief met with him, they saw him riding a dragon. Everything Hiccup's told us so far has been true whether you want to admit it or not. So let's get his diagnosis on this war and figure it out from there!"
Hiccup felt like he had accidentally stepped into the wrong village. The entire Hall had settled down at Fishlegs' words.
"Thanks Fish." He offered the blond a nod of appreciation. Fishlegs managed to return it, taking a moment to recover from the shock of receiving thanks in the first place. Or maybe it was simply having Hiccup address him.
Hiccup had the floor again. He released a deep breath, leaning one elbow on his knee as he drank in the sight of everyone he could fit in his vision.
"Listen up! I didn't bring Toothless—you'll find out why he's named that later!—I didn't bring him because it's too soon and I'm not going to risk his safety at the hands of you—" Hiccup caught himself from saying 'jumpy idiots' just in time. He probably should not have visited Gobber beforehand, because now he had a glut of harmless insults to throw at people without the restraint to hold his tongue. "Anyway...what you need to know is that the dragons are not acting of their own free will. They're victims—"
People started whispering again, faces angry. They didn't want to hear this. They didn't want to hear a damn thing he was saying, even though he spent all night working on saving them—
"Shut up!" Hiccup barked. The sharpness and volume to his words startled everyone into silence. Hiccup kept his eyes sweeping the masses, avoiding looking directly ahead into the elite. He felt like he was just barely holding onto his head and he didn't want anyone to know how scared he felt addressing an entire population responsible for a lonely childhood.
He took a steadying breath. "There are mean ones and there are nice ones just as often as you'll run into a mean or nice human. But they are all slaves. The thing that controls them is referred to as a demon, alright? A demon that can control their minds. The demon uses them to hunt for it, and when they don't bring enough food they're eaten themselves."
No one started whispering this time. Hiccup didn't know if he'd written this to his father in a previous letter or if they truly had no idea, but something he said managed to disturb an entire Mead Hall full of Vikings into stillness.
"However...it cannot control human minds."
"What—" Hiccup's eyes snapped to his father's, and for the first time since that morning he felt like they made eye contact. "What are our chances of attacking this...thing directly?"
"Bad," Hiccup responded without any thought to it. "Aside from the fact that it's a demon, it has hundreds and hundreds of dragons at its disposal so long as they're in a range of control. You've only had to fight a portion of them because the rest are sent to neighboring villages. If you're in the nest? It's too overwhelming."
"There's been an increase in those attacking us, and an increase in th' number o' settlements suffering," Gobber mentioned. Hiccup nodded.
"I'm not surprised. The demon's power is growing. She's fed more, she grows stronger, she extends her range of control, she manages to capture more dragons...she's fed more. Do you see the cycle? It's only going to get worse, and it's going to get worse faster and faster until there will be absolutely no stopping her. This isn't going to resolve itself on its own. What you're seeing here is the beginning of the end."
His wording may have come off as a little dramatic, but Hiccup could see he was reaching them—he could feel it. Less people scowled, more had blank looks of puzzlement and contemplation. It was a hard shell to crack, but Hiccup knew some people heard him—actually heard him—which was more than he hoped for walking into the Hall.
"There's another thing," he said, addressing his father's question once more. "There's a poison surrounding the nest—it looks like a fog—" So many heads started nodding that Hiccup knew no further description was necessary. "I don't know what your encounters with it have been in the past, but I think it becomes more potent the deeper you move into it. It might have grown stronger along with the demon over the years—"
"What you know about this demon?" Another question broke out above the soft hum of murmurs.
"I only saw its head." Hiccup tried to think of a way to describe the absolute magnitude of what he experienced—or maybe the pause in thought was enough for them because a growing amount of concerned faces popped up in the crowd. "I—it's...it's like nothing you've ever seen before, I can tell you that. It can swallow plenty of dragons whole...but...from what I've seen? I would estimate its body to be about the size of this village."
A new wave of whispers broke out, but instead of denial and anger, Hiccup could only read distinct alarm.
"What do we do—?"
"There's no way—none—how could—?"
"—leave. Best thing we—"
"Quiet!" Stoick bellowed. He didn't look panicked by half-picked up whispers of leaving and despair. If anything, he appeared strengthened. Stoick turned back to Hiccup, his face grave. "Have you any solutions in mind?"
Hiccup nodded, and prepared himself for sure rejection.
"First, we'd have to whittle down its army by taking dragon after dragon out of range. Here—" Hiccup unrolled the map of the barbaric archipelagos he had resting across his lap until then. He held it flat at his stomach, revealing the charcoaled parameter of the demon's jurisdiction he'd spent the night mapping. "I marked the area of control. We were on the edge of it—" He tapped a dotted line running through the Isle of Berk. "But now it's out here," he tapped a point in the ocean, "...so waiting for them to come to us isn't prudent. They're too far in to simply knock out."
Tiredness struck at him again out of nowhere. Maybe it was because he hadn't drunk enough water, but the absolute stuffiness of the building suddenly came to his attention. The air he breathed tasted stale, overused, and his vest too heavy. He didn't want to be here.
A cool spot under Toothless' wing for a nap sounded more inviting than he'd like to admit.
Focus!
He shook his head. "What...what we need to do is fly to these farthest perimeters—"
"Wait...did he say fly?"
"...fly...?"
"I can draw out dragons, and have those trained waiting just on the outside."
"He can't be serious..."
"Trained? Is he mad?"
"We can start knocking them out, leading them to safe zones, where they can recover and hopefully have people willing to bond with—"
"We can't trust 'em once we knock 'em out—"
"—turn on us for sure—"
"Get over it!" Hiccup snapped. He had to clamp down on the urge to stand up just to emphasize how strongly he felt about this. "They're nothing like you think they are—they aren't so much different from Vikings! You can make a better team together than apart if you just try—"
More people started muttering and Hiccup itched to take his bow and shoot a bolt into the center of the table. Thor be dammed who got a splinter in their eye from the explosion.
He could do it too. The more people interrupted him, the more he felt that power boil within. It was a slow but strong build. He felt like he could blow out an entire wall with the frustration this village fed him.
"It's true."
The muttering ceased. A profound silence of incredulity settled in so thickly that the heads turning to face Astrid Hofferson seemed to move in slow motion.
"Astrid?" Snotlout questioned her name, and because no one else spoke—no one else seemed to breathe—Hiccup could hear the hurt in it.
Astrid didn't look at Snotlout. Her eyes darted around; perhaps she didn't realize it was her own voice that made the announcement.
At first, Hiccup thought she would clam up. She was about to speak out for what was right. She was about to speak out against her village. The two things she stood most strongly for were at odds for the first time in her life, and Astrid had to make a choice.
"The dragons..." she wet her lips, and all hesitancy was wiped away with that flick of her tongue. Hiccup saw her spine elongate, saw her shoulders drop and her chin tilt up. He realized, amusedly, that she just adopted the same posture she had in their final dragon-training class—that moment when she stood before the Elder, so sure she would be the Chosen One.
"The dragons are not what we think they are," she said clearly. "They're...they're slaves. They don't want to attack us, and we don't want them to attack us—not like how things have been going. So that means we have to put everything into making this work. We have to listen to Hiccup—"
"What are you saying?" Someone asked sharply among the sea of shifting bodies. Having Hiccup—who had always been strange and inappropriate—say such nonsense was one thing. To have Astrid Hofferson on the other hand...
Who would dispute one of their most prolific activists of the war?
Astrid appeared lost for another instant before covering it up. She faced her father, who had asked the question.
"I met some...some dragons. I—I accidentally ran into Hiccup the night before..." Hiccup saw Fishlegs lower his face into his hands, and, feeling almost detached watching this play out, his amusement reached an all time high. "I met Toothless."
The word Toothless passed between lips as villagers mumbled among themselves about the meaning behind this particular word.
"My Night Fury," Hiccup supplied, and the mass confusion directly turned to unease.
"We can fly on them," Astrid rushed louder. She leaned forward, away from the chief and his counsel, over the table with such intensity in her voice and her face that even Hiccup felt compelled to believe whatever she said. "Attack from them. Outside of this war, it's an advantage no one would ever suspect. And when we free them, we can have their loyalty. Think about this—"
What? Hiccup reeled.
Heads were turning, faces obviously contemplating, and he hated it. This was not how he wanted to get their cooperation.
"That's not why we would help them!" He said this staring directly at Astrid. Her face stayed strong but, had he wanted to see it, Hiccup would have found the apology in her gaze. He turned back to his audience, making sure to address the council as well.
"We don't want to help them," Hoark announced to several's belated agreement.
"Then do it to help yourselves!" Hiccup retorted angrily. "But don't do it with the intent of taking advantage of them. It's time to stop trying to hurt each other for what's happened in the past and start thinking about the future. You—and your children—are all going to die if you don't start listening to me!"
He had their attention, but he knew Astrid's words still rang in their mind. He threw her a contemptuous look, though it went unnoticed; her concentration seemed focused on her own father, and her position now quite subdued.
Hiccup forced himself to keep talking. "You need to bond with them first—this is a process that there are advantages to. It will give us access to the demon and better protection against its defenses. It will be the start of surviving, and when you really learn about them...then maybe we can find a way to defeat the demon itself."
A voice emerged. "You can't defeat it now?"
Where you not listening to me? Hiccup wanted to ask. Instead he said, flatly, "No. I can't."
"Not alone," Astrid added. Hiccup felt torn between gratitude and chagrin with her right now.
However, Hiccup did see nods. Just a couple; the first area his eyes were drawn recognized the Thorston twins—both still with long blond hair and hard features. They looked positively excited. A man stood next to Ruffnut—the one courting her, Hiccup had to assume. The man wasn't nodding; he was looking at his bride-to-be as though she were volunteering to be put in the stocks.
"Yes," Hiccup reluctantly agreed. "Hopefully not alone. Because every dragon will attack me before I can get to the demon, whether I know what to do with it or not. That's why we need to take out its army a bit, give the dragons themselves a better defense against her. I thoroughly believe that, united, this demon can be defeated. I also believe it is our only saving grace."
No one had any proof to say otherwise. Not with Stoick's allowances. Not with Astrid's support.
"Did they attack you last time?"
Stoick's question came out so softly, just barely catching Hiccup's attention, that Hiccup rather thought he meant it for a more private conversation.
Hiccup shrugged, and gave his father the first smile in years—dry, but still a smile. "Perk of riding a Night Fury. No one can catch us."
His father didn't smile back. He looked more troubled than before.
Gobber smiled, however. Some people even laughed, and it heartened Hiccup. It was faint, and maybe it was sheer exhaustion messing with his senses, but he could feel some sort of rapport with just a fraction of the village. It was a start.
"I'll bring Toothless by tomorrow, we're staying near the forest. He is not to be harmed, and no one will be hurt in return," he announced briskly. "I'll take a couple volunteers to the island. You can get there by boat, where the dragons I've freed so far are residing. It's just to introduce you—and only volunteers," Hiccup assured when he saw some of the frowns returning. He didn't want to lose that minute understanding just yet. "Those dragons are free to move about as they please, they can leave whenever they want but they've chosen to stay by me. They are outside of the control, but they are still dragons. If you do anything stupid, I will help them kill you."
And there went that rapport.
########
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Hiccup slipped from the Mead Hall amazingly well for someone with a glowing bow at his back and a status of an outlaw hanging over him like a personal raincloud.
His father immediately began to conference with those closest to him and Hiccup could not ignore the opportunity to break away for a time. He knew he had to speak with his father again—there was so much planning to be done (and so much arguing, on his part)—but the movement of the crowd when the meeting released suddenly had Hiccup feeling smothered. He couldn't pick out individual actions anymore—there were too many, it got too loud, he felt too trapped.
He really just needed to see Toothless for a moment...then he would return when his father was a bit more isolated. It would be safer—
"Hiccup!"
"Ah—" He spun, having just made it outside the Mead Hall doors, and immediately stepped to the side to allow people to pass. It took him a moment to figure out who called to him—everyone who shuffled by stared at him but only one person seemed willing to make such bold eye contact.
She came at him so fast that Hiccup feared she might hug him. He took an acute step backwards, and made sure to give off enough signals to stop her from doing so. While being hugged by Ruffnut Thorston would be weird at best, accidentally zapping her in a village that didn't trust him wouldn't be good either.
Thankfully she stopped just beyond his personal boundaries, her wide smile looking largely out of place among the many black looks bobbing by.
Hiccup leaned back, positively bewildered.
"Hey...Ruff."
"Dude!"
"...And Tuff."
"Dude—" Tuffnut said again, stealing around his sister. He raised a hand and, for a moment, it looked like as though he were about to clap Hiccup on the shoulder. He quickly thought the better of it. "That was—"
"Okay," Ruffnut cut over him, "can I just be the first to say—"
"—Wow!" Both Thorston twins finished at the same time.
"I hate it when you guys do that."
Hiccup's head jerked away from the two eager faces to a new, and rather drained, voice. Fishlegs towered over the pair—and considering how tall Tuffnut was, that said a lot. Beneath his helmet, much of Fishlegs' hair had been pulled back into a short braid, and he sported a beard Hiccup had to envy.
So long as he was bound to Toothless, he'd probably never feel the weight of a full one on his jaw.
Tuffnut reached up and slapped the broad-shouldered man on the back.
"Nice job Fish."
Fishlegs gave his fellow blond a weak smile.
"I'll never get used to it, I swear, I never will." There was a relief to his voice that told Hiccup the passive Fishlegs of old was still in there.
"Thank you," Hiccup said. "For backing me up in there."
Fishlegs' smile strengthened quite a bit. "Well it's all true—everything you've told us since you first left has checked out."
Hiccup grinned back. "I can't believe you were up there, right with the counsel. What are you? The village tactician?"
Fishlegs shrugged in modesty.
"Anything that requires charting, calculation or analysis, I suppose. Actually, I really have you to thank," he admitted, and he rubbed the back of his neck in a habit Hiccup could barely dredge up from memories of their childhood together.
"Me?"
Fishlegs nodded. "Yeah. I mean, you really helped the village...and you found a way to do it that was so you. I figured...if you could do it, so could I. That and..." Fishlegs glanced at the twins, contemplating if he should keep talking. He did, but his voice lowered a touch. "That and I wanted to help you. Give you some credibility here. A way back into the village, or something. I—I guess I wanted to make up for, you know, being a-a bad friend."
For a moment, Hiccup could only stare at the large man, as though trying to make sense of an explanation-turned-apology.
"Fish, uh..."
Fishlegs went back to rubbing the back of his neck, feeling much too exposed under such scrutiny.
"Look, Hiccup, for what it's worth—I'm sorry."
Hiccup started to shake his head; he could feel the power of a suppressed laugh lighten his chest.
"Fish, it's alright. You've done enough with getting them to start listening to me—"
"I'm sorry too," Ruffnut spoke out, bewildering both men with her sudden admission.
Hiccup struggled with his voice for a moment.
"Um—"
"Sorry I didn't realize how awesome you are!" She finished, doing a little fist pump.
"I don't—"
"Man—you didn't pull any punches!" Tuffnut crowed loudly. A couple of passersby gave them more dark looks. Hiccup felt like he was somehow tainting the others simply by speaking to them.
Ruffnut started to reminisce. "When you told Liceberg you didn't trust him—"
"That was actually meant for everybod—"
"When you told everyone to shut up." Tuffnut added. "At a Thing! Who does that?"
"And you know I'm on the volunteer list right?" Ruffnut asked. "Because I'm totally going to ride a dragon. It's going to happen."
"Oh!" Tuffnut looked like he just recalled the entire purpose of the meeting. "Me too, me too."
Hiccup looked to Fishlegs, wordlessly asking how to turn them off.
"If you couldn't tell, they're really excited about you shaking things up," Fishlegs explained, slightly apologetic. "And the manner in which you're going about it is probably approved only by them. Is it true you were wandering, unescorted, around the island today?"
Hiccup sighed for the umpteenth time.
"What is with that?"
"Hey, guys!"
Astrid emerged from the crowd next, elbowing a couple people out of her way in typical, Viking fashion. Hiccup frowned at her.
"I know what you're going to say," she began just as he opened his mouth. "But I figured it would at least help people listen to you."
Hiccup closed his mouth. Then he closed his eyes.
"I understand, and appreciate what you were trying to do," he said slowly. "But I don't think starting any relationship between two formerly warring races under false pretenses—"
"Hypocrite," she immediately inserted. Her lips had pursed.
"I don't want them trying to take advantage of the dragons," Hiccup restated.
"There you go, thinking only of the dragons—"
"Guys!" Fishlegs interrupted. It worked in silencing the twins as well, who were half listening, half countering each other's delusions of dragon riding. "Come on, how did you ever get anywhere yesterday?"
"Yeah, Astrid, I can't believe you lied to us and went after Hiccup," Ruffnut said, appearing rather displeased as the fact weighed in on her.
"It wasn't pretty." Hiccup groaned under his breath to Fishlegs. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn't think he'd be able to get much done tonight dragon-wise. His head pounded already.
Astrid observed his behavior, and took note of the sallow quality to his cheeks and eyes she hadn't noticed the night before.
"Did you sleep at all?" she asked, remembering how he mentioned spending the night charting the entire perimeter of the dragon. It had already been late when they parted...
"No," he responded shortly. "Did you?"
She snorted. "Yes. Sleeping is all I'm allowed to do. My father's furious with me for coming in late."
"Why were you late?" Snotlout asked. He strode up to their group, one of the last to leave the Mead Hall. He stopped by Tuffnut's side, he looked at Astrid, and he didn't acknowledge Hiccup's presence.
"Yeah," Tuffnut piped up. "Why were you late?"
His eyebrows waggled up and down until Astrid knocked him in the shoulder.
"He was convincing me not to kill him," she answered. "It took all night."
She looked at Hiccup, who nodded, bearing a straight face.
"All night," he confirmed.
They grinned at his admission, and it dawned on Hiccup that everyone he wanted to impress and hang out with as a boy now spoke to him in welcoming tones. Everyone but Snotlout, that is.
"So you met one—you really met a Night Fury?" Fishlegs directed at Astrid, unable to keep the envy from his voice.
"It was the Timberjack that was interested in her," Hiccup tossed out as an offhand comment.
"Timberjack!" Fishlegs looked about ready to start dancing on the spot. "How many do you have on that island?"
"Just me, Toothless, the Jack and a Nightmare. I was hoping to see if I could get a couple more tonight, but I'm not sure its going to happen..."
The twins exchanged bewildered looks. Fishlegs rocked back on his heels. Snotlout eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and reserve.
"And you just...what? Hang out with them?" Ruffnut pressed.
Hiccup felt like he missed out on something big with how his casual reference to dragon life was received. He knew spending any time with dragons outside of killing them was typically objected to in these parts, but he couldn't quite comprehend what justified the—in his opinion—exaggerated reactions.
"I visit them, sleep there." He shrugged. "They're both very friendly, and very grateful for me freeing them—the Jack and Nightmare, I mean. Toothless is just needy." Toothless. Hiccup felt something twist in his stomach and the unreal need to make sure Toothless was okay overcame him. What if someone didn't go to the meeting, went to the cove instead and...and got eaten by a Night Fury? How would they spin that? "Look, that's not what's important here. The dragons want to help free the others, but as soon as they cross over into the Demon's range, they'll be lost. However, if they bond with a human they'll be able to fight—"
"Why humans?" Fishlegs cut in.
"Ah-mph," Hiccup blew some of his hair out of his eyes. "Well, there's...there's something about our minds that protect us...I can't really explain it..."
"Our minds?" Snotlout snorted, lamely. "Are you saying we need to battle this thing with maths and..."
"No," Hiccup said shortly, too tired to get into it with his cousin's boorishness. The only one he could possibly use as a logic translator was... He turned to Fishlegs. "Fish, what are a human's greatest physical defenses?"
The large man immediately went into his standard recollection pose. "Well, upper body strength can be pretty good, though leg tone can mean—"
"No, no, I mean against a dragon. Or even a bear. How do we compare?"
Fishlegs immediately made light of the correlation. "We can't actually. Comparatively, our bodies are rather weak—our skin is thin, we tend to rely on outside sources for heat, like clothes," he listed for the benefit of the twins. "Our nails are weak, bodies smaller—"
"Exactly." Hiccup cut him off, because, if memory served him right, Fishlegs could and would go on forever with facts. "So how is it that we've survived so well?"
"Weapons..." Fishlegs struggled to figure out what Hiccup so obviously wanted him too. The outcast continued to stare at him. "Which...we come up with, with our minds!"
"Exactly," Hiccup smiled widely. "Humans are smart and it's what sets us apart from every other creature. We can create! Our intelligence has kept us alive against all odds. From what I've experienced, there's something about the human mind that's powerful enough to keep her out of it. And by bonding with a dragon we extend that—"
"Woah, woah!" Tuffnut broke in, hands splayed out in front of him. "This demon is a girl?"
Hiccup blinked, trying to think if he accidentally alluded to such a thing. Or why it was important.
"Uh, I don't know. But they refer to it as a female from time to time so I guess that's its assumed gender."
"What?" Tuffnut chimed in again. "How can they "refer" to anything when they can't—?"
"Shut up, dunderhead." Ruffnut cuffed her brother over the head.
"He just understands them, okay?" Astrid broke in waspishly. She turned back to Hiccup and nodded for him to continue. Hiccup hadn't realized how closely she'd been paying attention until she started to speak again. He felt her unwavering focus as a slight distraction at his side.
"Right. So, back to my original point—if they have a human rider, one they've spent time with and trust..."
"They can return to her control but keep their minds," Fishlegs finished. "Have you proven this?"
"He said he went to the nest," Astrid responded instead. She looked to Hiccup for confirmation. "Right? With Toothless?"
"Yeah," he said, though didn't want to get into that subject yet. "It works, and it should work for others too. They protect you from the dragons; we protect them from the demon. It's the only way to get close. I just need people to stick to the outer stuff—knock dragons out of control, get creative. I can go in and lure them to the edge—"
"Why do you get to?" Snotlout asked. He couldn't picture himself on a dragon, not ever, but he was still to be chief one day. Why should Hiccup get to play the hero?
"Because I'm the only one who knows what he's doing," Hiccup responded blandly. He hardly spared Snotlout a glance.
"I'm in!" Ruffnut hollered loudly, shooting her hand in the air. Tuffnut pushed her to the side.
"Sign me up!"
"Absolutely," Fishlegs grinned. "How do we choose?"
"You don't choose," Hiccup said, heartened by their enthusiasm. "You may build a rapport with one and from there it just kind of happens."
Snotlout took a step back, just barely keeping his face disapproving to cover up a wavering scowl. "I think I'm going to sit this one out."
Hiccup gave him a small smile anyway, trying to keep things neutral between them for as long as he could.
"That's fine," He assured Snotlout. Honestly, Hiccup was surprised 'Lout hadn't punched him in the face yet with the obvious animosity he felt from his cousin. He turned back to the others, "Well...you four are more than I could have hoped for. Astrid, we'll have to start with you since the Timberjack obviously likes you. I'll take you guys to the island tomorrow. Maybe the Nightmare will take a liking to one of you."
"Others will want to join," Astrid assured him.
Hiccup raised both eyebrows. "You think?"
"You kind of came off as a pretentious bastard for a while," Tuffnut shrugged. "So...probably more than you'd expect."
"Yeah man, you were mean," Ruffnut added. She was grinning at him like she expected to be thanked for such a generous compliment.
Hiccup blinked. Had he been mean? He sort of pretended he was just dealing with Halvdan and the Væringjar. To get anywhere with those guys he had to be frank, harsh with truths, and assertive...
Perhaps he had been a little mean. Toothless would have been proud—
"You definitely left that meeting with a much higher approval rating than when you started," Fishlegs quipped. "Plus five, for sure."
Hiccup squinted. "What...?"
Everyone stared at him like blemish on their village—out of place and unwanted. After he lost his temper a couple times during the meeting, Hiccup had avoided making eye contact with too many people.
Look again, a voice told him. He allowed his gaze to rove over the housed slopes of Berk. Plenty of people milled around the fields and roads, and nearly all of them continuously glanced in his direction. Perhaps waiting to see what he'd do next. If he'd attack someone, if he'd leave.
Hiccup still saw those mistrustful looks in the lines of their mouths and press of their brows, but something had certainly changed. Not a single person looked at him with disappointment, and that was an expression he'd recognize anywhere. So much intrigue, so much reservation.
By Thor, people were taking him seriously.
Him. The scared, awkward man.
"Astrid!"
Hiccup identified Aksel Hofferson as one of the aggravating question callers during the meeting. The man did not look happy—not at anyone in their group.
"I gotta go," Astrid grimaced. Hiccup felt a little bad for her, having known exactly what it felt like to deal with an angry father.
"I take it you're in trouble?" He questioned lowly when she lingered by him for a moment longer.
"More than I was last night, for sure," she responded. But she smiled; she sounded genuinely happy.
"Thank you," Hiccup looked her in the eyes, all too conscious of Snotlout's heated stare. "For, you know—"
"I know," she grinned.
Fishlegs, too, looked at him oddly, but Hiccup couldn't read anything off of the look given to him.
"Astrid!" Aksel barked again.
Hiccup realized the Mead Hall must have emptied by now. He saw his dad standing just outside the door, speaking in undertones with Spitelout. He knew Stoick would want to speak with him soon, but Hiccup suddenly felt like he needed Toothless. He had been exposed to too much...Berk. He'd been alone for too long. Not even the support of his peers could quell his deep need for companionship.
"Hey!" Astrid called from halfway down the stairs. It caught more than just Hiccup's attention. "Can I see...that dragon, later, maybe?"
Unprepared, Hiccup was only spurred into answering when he felt his face slacken.
"Ah...ayuh-yeah. Yeah, sure. I'll...I'll be there tonight—before náttmál—if that's okay?"
"Astrid!" Aksel sounded more impatient than before.
Astrid jumped and ran down the rest of the steps. Hiccup took the waving hand over her shoulder as a 'yes'.
Tuffnut whistled, "Man, what happened with you two—?"
"Nothing..."
"She hated you—"
"Tuff!" Ruffnut hissed, and she punched him in the side.
Hiccup exhaled shortly and he turned to the rest of the group.
"Look...tomorrow I'm going to take you guys to the island if you're still up to it. I'll meet with my dad in the morning and then after your chores or whatever you do, just meet me by the west bridge."
"Why can't we do it now?" Ruffnut pouted.
Hiccup's eyes darted over Snotlout's shoulder, and just happened to make eye contact with Stoick. His stomach felt heavy; something told him he wouldn't get to see Toothless for a while longer.
"Because I think I have to talk with the chief..."
"Yeah," Fishlegs confirmed. "At sun's peak he wants to conference about those maps you showed us. I'd like to see them as well, actually—"
"Sun's peak?" Hiccup murmured, glancing at the sun. "That gives me a little while..."
He might just get to check in with Toothless after all.
"Then why can't we do it after you meet with the chief," Ruffnut continued to push.
Hiccup wasn't about to start explaining his sleeping schedule. Not to mentions he was to see Astrid before náttmál, and Gobber late into the night. Who knows what he'd accomplish afterwards.
"It has to be tomorrow," Tuffnut informed his sister. He took on a sultry tone. "...Because tonight he'll be busy with—"
This time it was Fishlegs who struck Tuffnut in the head.
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Hiccup continued to test the borders of the village's tolerance of him. He was back on the wall, back in the pre-dawn hours. Those early risers stared at him again, this time knowing who he was. Perhaps knowing made them even more conscious of him.
It was weird...some people obviously wanted nothing more than to club him in the head and continue fighting this war as their forefather's fought, even if it meant certain death.
And others surprised him, just as Gobber said they would.
He spent the latest hours in Berk last night sharing a couple of drinks in the Mead Hall with some of the older fellows—Gobber, Ack, Stikibuns...his uncle even made an appearance near the end. It hadn't been anything serious either—mostly him telling some of his more ridiculous tales—Arnulf of Flanders, the dryad, the pirates...
They had been impressed, if not skeptical. Some had even been spurred into sharing tales of their own, youthful exploits. They drank and reminisced. For a while, Hiccup felt like he was back in Miklagard, back at that Væringjar-favored tavern.
Unbeknownst to the Vikings, Toothless had been lurking on the roof. Just in case.
It had been fun, in the end, and Hiccup did not regret going. Gobber insisted they do it again tonight, and this time he would bring a few more Vikings who were on the fence about him. Hiccup assented, knowing it gave him the favor with the older crowd he sorely lacked. He even agreed to bring some of the drinks he'd acquired on his travels.
The chief hadn't been around. According to Spitelout, Stoick had been settling down for the night earlier and earlier.
Hiccup glanced behind him to the silent home. The wait this morning felt even longer this time around. Perhaps it was because he didn't have tea to keep him occupied.
He exhaled, his heels childishly bouncing against the stone hedge. He got more looks from the early crowd.
Astrid had done wonderfully the night before. She still had moments where she clung to him in flight, but overall her behavior had relaxed greatly in the art of flying. The Timberjack had wiggled his rear-end when he saw her and bounded over almost as soon as she had gotten off Toothless. It took Toothless yelling at the Jack to keep him from bowling her over. It took a little while longer to convince Astrid the dragon hadn't been trying to attack her. While she hadn't gotten on the Timberjack, the young woman seemed to enjoy simply spending time with the sharp creature.
Hiccup grinned in memory—watching Astrid loosen up over the evening had been a treat. They hadn't drunk anything, which made the experience a bit more awkward that time around, but there had been a certain progress in their alliance. Their conversation was slow but easygoing; they bounced around from subject to subject as Astrid learned the best spots to scratch the Jack or how to tease the young dragon with reflection spots using the falling sun.
Hiccup barely got her home in time for náttmál.
Unfortunately, Astrid wouldn't be joining them today when he showed Fishlegs and the twins how to sail to the Safe Island, as he called it; Astrid warned him that she was on thin ice with her father and she'd have to find a way to placate his feelings about her in close quarters with dragons.
Hiccup understood this; he learned of her mother's death, something they could both talk to each other about once the subject came up—and Hiccup knew Aksel to be a fair and sensible man, one that probably clung to the last of his family. He tried to appear patient when he nodded at Astrid's admission, but he desperately needed help knocking dragons out. If he were lucky, Astrid would start flying soon and the Nightmare would choose one of the Vikings he brought to the island.
If he were extra lucky, he'd find more and more volunteers to ride the dragons they knocked out—provided they could bond with dragons enough to counteract the demon's control.
But before any of this could take place today, Hiccup had another meeting—the word started to carry a negative connotation—and this time with the council only. They'd try some real strategies, where he and Fishlegs would be expected to cooperate with the expertise of their veterans and come up with some suitable battle plans.
Hiccup already had a list of small details to smooth out in his head—saddle designs for different breeds to different human bodies, cooperation of other villages...
He needed to find a way to deal with the poison, especially if he were to even think of bringing more people in there...
A presence materialized at Hiccup's side—so much smaller than his father's, yet somehow just as powerful.
Hiccup jerked at the movement, at the shadow, and quickly twisted to face the village Gothi, draped in all her furs, carrying her imposing staff.
"Ah—" Her sudden appearance left him bewildered, and wondering how she got there without him realizing.
She didn't greet him at first. She silently settled herself down on the stone hedge by his side, close enough to indicate they were more than the acquaintances he recalled them as.
Then she turned her head to face him.
Something crushed inside his chest—some twisted mixture of familiarity and remembrance and surrealism—because he knew her. He knew her in another life.
He knew those clear, grey eyes that time and mortality could never change.
"Gudrid," he spoke quietly. It was funny—the name passed his lips before the connection fully transpired within his mind. As soon as the word registered in his ears he felt the shock of it all strike him.
The Elder smiled. A face he knew, covered in wrinkles and memories.
"Hello, Hiccup."
That was her voice! He knew it for certain—he recognized it underneath the waver of age and time; he knew it finally reached his ears from outside his mind. Hiccup's heart wrenched in two different directions, because as excited as he felt about actually meeting her in reality, this was...she was...
She continued to smile at his speechless reaction, caught somewhere between rue and mirth.
"I waited for you," she said.
"You..." He didn't know what to say, how to act. What would be appropriate? He felt no disgust or confliction about her age—they knew each other while she was in her youth, he only kissed her when she was smooth and young.
He simply...missed out on everything in between. It broke his heart.
"You waited for me?" he asked softly. He wanted to touch her hand like he used to but he was afraid. He was afraid of making this a reality because he couldn't quite accept this. Not yet. He'd wondered too much about meeting her in real life, he knew they must have lived in different times, but he never—not with all his imagination—thought they'd overlap like this.
It was almost cruel.
"I never really knew if you were real, you know," she said lightly. "So I waited."
"You waited here," he whispered, looking around at the village. She had been in Berk this whole time. They lived in Berk at the same time; they just couldn't recognize each other.
Wait...
"We were here together," he said, out loud, and he felt the first spark of anger in that moment. "You knew...you knew who I was...you..."
She could have warned him. She could have prevented him from... from taking Toothless' flight. From being captured in Miklagard.
"You chose me," he whispered. She chose him over Astrid, that day. The choice that spurred him into deciding to leave...
It all came back to her.
She nodded. "Everything had a purpose, Hiccup. I acted on what I knew to be destined."
Hiccup had to close his eyes. Gods, the way she said his name, the way she looked at him, the way she could somehow follow his thought pattern, know exactly what to say to him...
"Are you...are you still my vördr?" He strangled that last word.
"Oh yes." Her smile was audible in her voice. He looked at her again, at the way she folded her hands in her lap like she used to. Or, always had. A habit that followed her through her life. "Our souls are bound. Even in death, I will follow you. Guide you."
Hiccup winced, and looked away. "Don't say that."
"I think I've only lived as long as I have because I had to know," she said. "I suppose... I suppose I just wanted to see you, one last time."
"But you did see me," he reminded her. He still felt spiteful about it—about her tricking him. It couldn't overrule his fondness for her, his muted exhilaration of seeing her.
Gudrid shook her head. She still had the same cheekbones, still wore her hair the same—now silver instead of brown. The longer he stared at her, the more he saw her.
"No," She tapped his knee with her cane. "I wanted to see this man. You never existed before you left, Hiccup."
Hiccup looked down at himself. Then back at her.
"I didn't think it was possible, but you have gotten more confusing with age."
She chuckled.
"It's called sagacity," she countered.
"Not just a woman thing?" he said, teasing.
Her smile softened, and so did her features. She regarded him quietly for a moment, her head cocked to the side, her eyes warming enough to bring out the blue in them. Hiccup remembered the countless times she'd looked at him like that before, and he felt his face heat despite himself.
"The man you are today did not exist in Berk before," she clarified. "I could not be sure if you would return, if you would follow the choices I foresaw even with my role played. Everything that happened to you shaped who you are. There is no comparison."
Hiccup bit his lip, still a little red in the face, and tried to think of what to say to that, knowing it was meant as a compliment. Before he could, Gudrid placed a hand to her cheek, appearing as a shy girl.
"And yet...I never wanted you to see me like this."
A laughed escaped his lips. "You're still beautiful."
She made a rather pinched face. "And you're still full of it."
He coughed out another laugh—that attitude was something she must have picked up long after he knew her.
"Amma!"
Hiccup turned away from Gudrid to see a little girl sprinting towards them.
"Ah, best get this old body up," Gudrid sighed at the task. Hiccup jumped to his feet, taking her by the arm and gently guiding her to her feet. She felt so frail in his arms. He swore she was shorter than he remembered. Thinner.
"Well it seems your manners have improved since I last saw you," she said, glancing up at him through heavy eyelids. He could still sense that hint of shame in the tweak of those crow's feet.
Hiccup felt compelled to ask when, exactly, she last saw him, but the girl had reached them by that point.
"There you are!" the child puffed. Her thick, wild braids rolled over her shoulders as she came to a hasty stop. "Amma, mother's..."
She trailed, her eyes widening when they fell on Hiccup. The boisterous little girl suddenly grew very shy when his eyes turned to her.
Gudrid lifted a hand, inviting the girl to run into her side so she could watch Hiccup while in the safety of her Amma's arms.
"I don't suppose you remember my granddaughter, Thyra?" Gudrid asked.
Hardly. Hiccup spent too much time yearning about joining the other kids his age or working in the forge.
"A little," he smiled at the girl, and she tucked herself further into Gudrid's furs. "Hi Thyra. I'm—"
"Hiccup! I know who you are," Thyra piped up unexpectedly.
Gudrid rubbed Thyra's back reassuringly. A part of Hiccup still had trouble accepting that the Elder was Gudrid. Her mannerisms were so...grandmotherly, and yet...
"My Granddaughter's had dreams of you as well," Gudrid informed him.
"Ammaaa," Thyra hissed. She seemed to melt into Gudrid's side even more until only her eye and one, hanging braid were visible.
Gudrid chortled and patted the slender back. "Nothing to be ashamed of child."
"Wait..." Hiccup held up a hand. This was too much for him. "So you've both been following my...my life?"
"I have not dreamed of you in years," Gudrid said sadly. "My granddaughter is to be the village's next soothsayer, as she's inherited my gift of sight. She has only had a few dreams—more of the larger events in your life, I'd say. And possibly only as they happen. Though it is yet to be revealed what her connected to you will be. To dream of someone repeatedly indicates a deeper purpose, after all."
She spoke the last part to Thyra, who appeared as perplexed as Hiccup.
"You married?" Hiccup inquired. It just occurred to him that to have grandchildren meant having children. Gudrid seemed prepared for such a question.
"Yes. I married, and he was a wonderful man to me."
"You had a good life?" He had to ask; he had missed it.
"I did."
"I'm glad," Hiccup said, and he meant it.
"I am still uncertain if that was the reason I had not seen you until today," Gudrid mentioned quietly. "I had a good husband, and good children, and wonderful grandchildren," she looked down at Thyra, who smiled brightly back, and then returned her gaze to Hiccup. "But I never forgot my first love."
Hiccup blushed and, while Gudrid smiled at him, there was something melancholy added to it.
She reached out, took his hand in her own, and patted the back of it as a grandmother would. He looked at those hands, spotted and gnarled, and remembered when they held his face and drew him in for his first kiss.
"It is what it is," she sighed. "Never meant to be, but no less real."
His eyes lifted back to hers—grey, and lined—and he felt like he was back in Hugrvöllr.
"I am glad I got to see you again," Gudrid continued to smile, continued to keep her lips pressed together, like she was fighting down laughter or tears. "I just needed to see you, to know you were real."
"I'm real," he assured her, his voice sounded far away to his own ears.
Thyra started to pull Gudrid away—Gudrid who still smiled at him, who gave him a sense of direction when his only friend in the world was a dragon. Gudrid, who gave him his first memories of true affection, who gave him Framherja.
Gudrid's hand slipped from his; Hiccup watched it fall away from him. He watched as the child and grandmother moved farther and farther from him with linked arms, one supporting the other. He watched as distance shaded their forms, blurred them until he swore he could see Gudrid as a girl again.
I never forgot my first love.
Hiccup still couldn't figure out if the love he felt was his own, or projections of her love for him in Hugrvöllr. Either way, he knew that he too would never forget her. She was real, after all.
They had found each other.
That night, the Elder passed in her sleep.
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Limb-stiffies = arthritis
I feel like Tuffnut ACTUALLY said 'dude' in the movie. They said a lot of things in the movie that wouldn't pass as Historically accurate, but then, that's half the fun of mixing reality and movie!verse :)
If you didn't get it, Krankr is the twins' paternal grandfather. The twins mother is Kernalla…kernel...nut...get it? Get it? Hurk hurk hurk
Hey it was that or Nutella.
Aksel is a real Viking name. Also spelled 'Axel' in other languages. It's a family of axes! 8D
Too happy right now. Too happy.
Anyway, thanks for putting up with the wait (even though it turned into another loooong one). It was a chapter full of Berk interaction, so I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to throw your sentiments at me. Hopefully in a coherent and humane fashion. None of that U kant rite ppl crap because that just pointlessly spams my wall with nonsense.
I am so dehydrated right now. 8D
Also, I saw Pirates 4 the other day...and the mermaids, man. THE MERMAIDS! EXACTLY how I imagined them! It put me in a huge mermaidy mood. :D
Thanks to Sir Nickfor making sure I didn't send out absolute crap (hope you had fun on your vacation!), and thank you all for your feedback. I can't tell you how much fun it is drawing out discussions on really thoughtful replies. Even if they happen at week-long intervals.
Also thanks for anhedral for giving this another grammar and error sweep!