The morning dawned cold and cloudy. Snow was not quite a possibility, but that would not stay true for long. Every day was a little colder than the last, in the annual buildup to the first snowfall and then subsequent freeze.
So stupid, to travel at this time of year. Astrid's opinion of the Windy Isle tribe was not high. She wouldn't have been looking forward to their arrival even if she did not have her own problems, problems they were a part of, to deal with. She would rather they not visit at all.
But they were here. Well, almost. Ships had been sighted on the horizon by the night watch, patches of light on the dark sea. She had woken, like most of the village, to Stoick's booming voice announcing a meeting in the Great Hall that morning.
So, she had gotten up, groggy and tired, and bundled up. Forget toughness, to go outside in the cold was to risk frostbite. If there was one thing no Viking ever criticized or made fun of, it was dressing to beat the cold. They all understood that, no matter how tough. Cold was one enemy they knew they could not kill, only guard against.
Her mother and father had, of course, been doing the same. Nobody prepared breakfast; they could eat at the Great Hall like everyone else.
The Great Hall was a warm, inviting place today, a stark contrast to the frigid, dark village it occupied. Torches were blazing, and there were enough people already there to warm it up with body heat alone. The thick and piping-hot oatmeal being handed out was also helping keep everyone warm and content while they waited.
She grabbed three bowls from the Vikings handing them out and brought them back to her parents, lurking near the door. It was not the best place in the Hall to be standing, a little drafty, but she personally didn't mind. She didn't want to be up near the back of the Hall. It would be far too easy to get stuck behind an uncaring crowd if everyone decided to leave at once. At least here she could be sure she would not have to wait for everyone else to leave before making her own exit.
Eventually, Stoick made his presence known. "Okay, listen up! As ye all may know, the Windy Isle tribe has been sighted approaching the village. They should be here by noon. So, it's time for a few announcements. If ye know anyone who isn't here, be sure to pass all of this on."
"And if somebody wants ta go talk ta Mildew, my condolences on yer madness," Gobber added from his place by Stoick's side, "but somebody's gotta make sure the old man doesn' mess anythin' up, so that's gotta be done."
"Right here, peg leg," Mildew sneered from the middle of the crowd. "Nice to hear how you lot talk about me when I'm not around."
"We talk like that to your face, old man," the man standing next to him remarked.
"Anyway," Stoick continued, "a few ground rules. No killing visitors."
There was a brief pause as that sunk in. Astrid thought she heard a few disgruntled complaints, which was just stupid. They were visitors, you didn't try to kill visitors.
"Unless they attack you, in which case have at it," Stoick amended after a moment. "But I'll be dealin' justice afterward, so it had better be an unprovoked attack. No insultin' contests gone sour."
"Bu' that's the best part!" someone protested.
"I want every Windy Viking alive and in fighting shape when they leave, do you understand me?" Stoick growled. "They may not be official allies, but Thunderguts and I are on good terms, and I want something out of them, so don't mess it up."
Thunderguts? If Fishlegs hadn't told her why the Windy Isle tribe was named as such already, she would probably have wondered why he was called that. As it was, she knew too much to find it an impressive name.
"Also," he added, "no discussing Astrid, or why nobody except Astrid goes into the woods, a rule that will apply to them just as thoroughly as it does you all. I want all o' that to be a surprise to knock their boots off on the third day."
Nobody objected. Viking pride would keep their mouths more or less shut, if only because they liked impressing another tribe only slightly more than gossiping. Some rumors might float around, but nothing substantial.
"What about Hiccup? What do we tell 'em as to why Snotlout is now next in line?" someone asked.
"A good question. Officially, we will say Hiccup died in dragon training, and that Astrid was disqualified due to suffering an accident right before finding out who would take the final test. Is that understood?"
Now things were getting sketchy. The odds that everyone would hold to the same cover story were low. Some people would forget, and others would embellish or outright change the details. It was a good thing they only had to keep it secret for two days, though Astrid did wonder why Stoick wouldn't just tell all of these impressive stories on the first day. There was probably some unspoken rule or old custom involved.
"Also, since we don't have guest huts, some of you will have the honor of hosting them," Stoick continued, changing the subject rather abruptly. "I'll need representatives from each of the following families to meet the ships at the docks, so that I can assign guests to each home."
Here came the list, the one her family would not be on. Astrid listened carefully anyway.
"Jorgenson, Haldirson, Ingerman, Thorston, Cravidason..." Stoick began.
All expected, though she pitied Fishlegs, who was going to have to handle whoever he and his mother were stuck with. At least he would have expected and prepared for this; his family was one of the most respectable on Berk, if not the most prominent or important.
Then Stoick... kept going. And going. It sounded like half the Windy Isle tribe was coming, a far cry from the two ships most visits consisted of.
"... Bazindaon, Hofferson, Piron..."
And her family was going to be hosting one or more people anyway, despite their tarnished name. Most of Berk was, at this rate. There were a lot of visitors.
"You cleaned your room, right?" her mother whispered, almost inaudible over the murmuring of the crowd.
She nodded, glad she had done it despite not thinking they would be hosting anyone.
Stoick wrapped up the list. "As you can tell, we have a lot of visitors. That'll make more sense if all goes well. We are only planning to host them for a week, so that we can set out before the ice begins to form."
A strange thing. He had said 'we' and not 'they' as one would expect. A slip of the tongue, most likely.
"We?" several different voices echoed, clearly confused.
"It depends on whether I can convince Thunderguts to agree to something," Stoick explained with a sly smile that looked out of place on his normally... well, stoic, face. "This is also something I want to keep secret until the third day. It will make sense then."
After her demonstration, probably. Which in turn meant it either involved what she could do, or something else they were keeping-
The answer hit Astrid like a hammer blow, one aimed directly at her stomach. Suddenly, she felt cold despite the warmth in the air.
It could only be an allied strike on the nest, with the added insurance of a dragon to lead the way. They were going after the monstrosity before the ice really did set in. The timing fit, too; Stoick had to have contacted the Windy Isle tribe around the time she and Hiccup had gone missing, when his mind would have been on dragons and vengeance at all costs.
That was a problem, because unless she was missing something, even with the Windy Isle Vikings, they were going to be hilariously underpowered. The monstrosity could destroy Berk on its own; why did Stoick think doubling their numbers would be enough? She wasn't sure if ten times the number of Vikings on Berk could make a dent in that thing!
If she was right. If she was not just guessing incorrectly. It felt right, but she could not be sure.
"Other than that, go about yer lives as normal," Stoick instructed. "We'll all be meeting around the Great Hall tonight for a feast, so the cooks might need a little help if anyone wants to pitch in." With that he began moving through the crowd, a path opening before him.
Astrid ignored her mother's half-hearted suggestion that she help the cooks. She was terrible with all forms of cooking, and they both knew it. She waited until Stoick was out the doors, and followed behind, slipping into the bubble people cleared for him. "Sir."
"Astrid." He kept walking, knowing she would follow. The wind was bitterly cold, and the sun was not present, hiding behind slate-grey clouds. "Your family can host up to two extra people, right?"
"Yes, we can." Barely. One would sleep on the floor in her parents' room, or hers if it was someone near her age and female, and the other out in the main part of the hut. "I wanted to talk to you about something else."
"The demonstration is going to be good, right? We want to impress upon Thunderguts just how useful it can be when properly controlled."
"Yes. Sir, do the Windy Isle Vikings bring anything... specific... to a fight?" She was being vague, but she didn't know what she was hoping for.
"Well, they're good with ballista, which we don't use," Stoick explained. "Powerful bolts that can pierce stone. Those will be useful."
"When you go dragon hunting, to find the nest and take it," she said flatly, now judging them far enough away from the Great Hall to be at least somewhat private, walking through empty streets.
"Aye, and you'll keep quiet about that." Stoick stopped, staring at her. "How did you know?"
"I guessed. Chief, I hope these ballistae are very, very strong," she said quietly. "I know what they'll be firing at, and it's not rock. It's so much worse." If she thought he could be convinced not to do it, she would be trying, but she could tell he wouldn't listen.
He smiled reassuringly and clapped a hand to her shoulder. "Cheer up, they'll be fine. I'll get Thunderguts to demonstrate them at some point before we leave. It'll be a good morale-raising event." With that he left, heading to the docks, though it would be hours before the ships arrived.
She took some comfort in that. He had called in Vikings already armed appropriately for this fight. They would stand a chance. How much of one depended on just how strong those ballistae were. She could imagine a large spear puncturing the rock-like hide on that monstrosity.
And she could just as easily envision that same spear bouncing off to absolutely no effect. Either was entirely possible.
Astrid helped her mother and father tidy up the rest of the hut, the hours before the Windy Isle Vikings made land slipping away. She was nervous, but she wasn't sure which part of all of this was causing it. Was it the fact that her parents would be hunting for a suitable man among the Vikings who were even now arriving on the island? Was it that the demonstration was three days away? Or was it that all of that would quickly cease to matter as both tribes sailed to what could very well be their doom soon after?
Probably all three. On the bright side, that last one could very well make the first one irrelevant. She would have to watch her parents closely, but as settling a marriage contract took a while, and her father would keep her up to date, she could be pretty sure she'd know at least a day before it was official.
The docks were just as cold as the rest of Berk, with the added problem of surf being tossed by the waves, soaking all involved. Six warships had just finished docking, their sailors clearly ready to pick up weapons and fight. If she did not know that they were here to join Berk in fighting someone else, she would worry they intended to take over the island, with this many warriors.
A large man with a massive potbelly stepped onto the dock, followed by a slim woman and a young girl who couldn't be more than ten years old. Following them was a small flood of similar families. It seemed the men of Windy Isle were, as a rule, on the fatter side. Great.
Stoick stepped forward to meet Thunderguts, and the two clasped hands to perform a greeting that would likely kill lesser men, slamming their helmets together, the resounding metallic clang that resulted echoing across the docks.
"Stoick, good to see you alive and kicking," Thunderguts exclaimed. "And I think we took an arrow for you last month. The dragons came to us."
Stoick nodded. "Aye, that would explain our good fortune. I assume you sent 'em packing?"
"We're always ready, and more time means more ballistae rebuilt between each attack," Thunderguts exclaimed loudly. "I have nine with me, ready to be assembled, our strongest yet."
"And we may very well need them," Stoick said conspiratorially. "You know I have a proposition for you. But let us not speak of that today. Rest today, party tomorrow, and negotiate the day after. We also have a demonstration planned for before the negotiations."
"Sounds like a plan," Thunderguts agreed. "Now, some of my people are really looking forward to getting somewhere warm..."
"Of course." Stoick began the somewhat lengthy process of assigning visitors to host homes. He called up a family, had them say how many they could take, and let Thunderguts decide who went to that family.
Eventually, it was their turn. "Hofferson," Stoick called.
Astrid stepped forward with her parents, her hand on her ax. It was not considered disrespectful to be at the ready; rather, to be ready to fight was considered a sign of respect. It meant she considered Thunderguts and whoever else he had brought worth consideration as potential foes.
Or something like that. She really just didn't feel entirely comfortable with the foreign Chief. He was like a version of Stoick with a little too much confidence and too little humility. He felt dangerous, and not in a good way.
"We can take two, though our home is sparse," her father announced neutrally. "Ideally, one of them will be a girl about my daughter's age or younger, so that they can share her room."
Personally, Astrid was hoping for a girl in the range of six to eight years old. Old enough to follow orders, but young enough to not be too nosy, and to still have that sense of wonder younger children all held. That would be nice.
"Sounds like Valordottir and her daughter to me," Thunderguts grunted loudly. "Get on up here, Valordottir!"
That was an oddly on-the-nose name. Astrid wondered how the family had come to be called that.
An older woman and her young daughter stepped forward, smiling nervously. The smile faltered as she surveyed Berk, as if she just wasn't all that happy to be there. Astrid didn't understand that. Surely not all of the Windy Isle had come along, so this woman had chosen to be here.
The woman with the surname Valordottir, for Astrid had not heard her first name, if Thunderguts had even said, regained her composure and stepped forward, nodding politely to Asa. "We thank you for your hospitality. I hope you do not mind?"
"Not a problem," her mother reassured the Windy Isle woman. "You and your daughter are welcome, though we do not have much."
"That is fine, we are used to living sparsely," the woman remarked. "My daughter is weary."
That certainly seemed true enough. The young girl was following along with drooping eyes, holding her mother's hand and almost nodding off even as she walked. She had blond hair, which was common enough, and Astrid couldn't see the color of her eyes. She looked to be about four, so younger than Astrid had hoped.
They walked in near silence back to the Hofferson hut, the woman not seeming to want to talk much.
Once they were home, Astrid's mother immediately nodded to Astrid's room. "Your daughter can sleep there. There is a bed. Astrid, if you would?"
Sure, that was fine. Really, she was already planning to sleep on the floor herself. No reason to make the little girl rough it. "Right this way." She led their two guests to her room, thankful she had put her most important things out of reach already, and quickly put the rest of her assorted sharp objects up on the same ledge the drawings occupied.
The mother quickly laid her daughter down on the bed, getting her ready for sleep. Astrid left them to it.
Out in the main room of the hut, her mother nodded approvingly. They could not speak unless they intended the woman to hear, given how thin the inner walls were, but gestures would be private enough.
Astrid smiled inwardly at that thought. She was very, very good with hand gestures now, not that it mattered. It was kind of funny that this would be the perfect time for them if her parents had known any. Ironic, in a way.
The woman emerged from Astrid's room a few moments later, looking far more relaxed. "Thank you, Vanna got no sleep last night. She was too excited."
"I understand that, though it has been a while," Asa said comfortingly. "I am surprised you came along, really, though it seems many did."
"My husband was in the Chief's inner circle when he died, and the Chief likes to honor that by treating me as if he was still alive and serving," the woman explained sadly. "That includes going on these trips, along with quite a few more everyday benefits. I cannot refuse. He is far kinder than he has to be."
So, she was a widow, one who had lost her husband... fairly recently, if Astrid had to guess. At least now her reason for not wanting to be here was obvious; she only came because she didn't want to offend the one supporting her and her daughter.
"Oh... how long?" Asa asked carefully. "If you would be willing to say."
"Three years ago, to fever," the woman said sadly. "He did not die fighting, but that was not anyone's fault."
"Sometimes things happen," Sighvat agreed. "But I think we should not be interrogating a guest."
The woman laughed at that. "Oh, that is fine. I am used to new people asking questions. We were the new ones on Windy Isle only a few years before that. We moved around a lot."
Astrid saw a significant glance pass between her parents. She understood that; the same could very well be said of them, given they were even now planning to move on from Berk, and had left somewhere else for Berk in the first place.
"Regardless, we are being nosy," her father joked. "If you wish to look around Berk, I'm pretty sure Asa would love to take you. One of us can stay here to be sure your daughter is not left alone."
"Perfect," the woman agreed. "Oh, you know her name, but not mine. I am Helga."
Astrid couldn't say she was surprised; that was pretty much the most common female name in the archipelago, mostly because people were expected to pick a normal adult name at age twenty, and Vikings had very little originality when naming themselves. Some stuck with their horrible name from childhood, and the rest went with generic ones like 'Lars' or 'Sven' or Helga, as in this case.
Astrid knew what name she would take. Her own. 'Astrid' was perfectly good as it was, probably because her parents didn't care about stupid naming traditions.
"Well, Helga, your daughter is safe here... assuming my daughter put away her weapons," Asa reassured leading her to the door.
"I did," Astrid supplied, quite unnecessarily. The two women were out the door before she finished speaking.
"She seems nice enough," her father remarked. "A little shy, which is different."
"For a Viking, definitely. I wonder what she does for a living." Probably not any sort of fighting or physical activity; she was slender and looked as if she would blow over in a strong wind.
"Don't ask like that," Sighvat warned sternly. "Let me or your mother ask about her life. We can be more tactful."
Astrid resented him implying that she could not be subtle; she could if she wanted to. And she was getting plenty of practice with situations that required careful thought or finesse, thanks to carefully concealing the true nature of Toothless and how she was training him. Not that he would know about that.
"As long as I get to hear," she said, thinking that knowledge about the Windy Isle would be useful. At best, she could twist something Helga said into a very good reason not to try and marry into their tribe, and at worst she wouldn't be going in blind when the time came. She could find out how they treated the women of the tribe, or whether there would be anywhere like Berk's forests to hide Toothless, or…
"Actually…" she said slowly, trying to think through what had just occurred to her. Something about Toothless, and maybe marrying into the Windy Isle tribe, and how she didn't want to do that at all, and how she could use the former to stall on the latter.
"Yes?"
"About the plan… I think it would be best if you not start looking until after the third day," she explained. "It might be a waste of time before then."
"Or it might be best to seal a contract before they find out you trained a dragon, even if we're leaving it here," her father corrected with a sly smile. "But I see your point. You want whoever it is to know what they're marrying."
"More or less," she mumbled, ashamed of her own deception, but still sure it was the right path to take. After the third day, Stoick would have announced the plan to attack the nest, and everyone would be too busy preparing for war to do anything about marriage, her parents included. And after attacking the nest... well, if they all survived that, then she would have to deal with it, because there'd be plenty of time to arrange marriages then and no way for her to get out of it.
"I'll look around of course, but it should not be hard to wait that long before making any overtures," he agreed.
There. One more attempt to sidestep her future. Hopefully, this one would work.
She forced herself to put all of that out of her mind. She had done her best to avoid it for now, and she had no other ideas, so there was nothing more she could do. "So, should I stay here, or will you?" Someone needed to stay home with the sleeping girl in her room.
"Go out and mingle," her father advised. "Or, if you need to, go work in some last-minute preparation for the demonstration. Tomorrow is going to be busy, so I think this is your last chance."
It was, at that. "I'll do that," she decided. She didn't need to train Toothless or go over any last-minute instructions. They had already worked it all out and practiced that which could be practiced. But she wouldn't pass up a chance to spend time with him in the forest instead of babysit a child.
Actually... "I need to go to the forge." They had to have finished the tailfin and saddle by now. She needed both for the demonstration. Fishlegs hadn't come to tell her they were done, but they were probably close enough. She needed that tailfin, even if she had to pitch in and help them finish it. This was more than cutting it close.
"We're working on it!" Fishlegs squealed frantically, blocking her view of the interior of the forge. "Now get out of here! Gobber is making something else, and he doesn't want you to see it yet!"
That was news to Astrid, but she took it in stride. "If this other thing is making the important parts late, I need Gobber to forget it, because I need time to know what I'm doing," Astrid gritted. "So, let me in."
"That stuff is pretty much done," Fishlegs revealed. "But the..."
He leaned in, looking around furtively to be sure he would not be overheard. "The tail is really hard to make. Gobber's busted three already. He's just getting some more thread and oil from the storehouse right now. It's all we're working on, and you'll have it the moment it's done."
"All you're working on," she repeated.
"Seriously, there are piles of broken weapons to the ceiling, but we're ignoring them for now," Fishlegs groaned. "You all get to celebrate, but the two of us are going to be at work all day tomorrow and the day after. I'm only allowed to see your demonstration because Gobber is going-"
"And I'm only goin' because this thing is drivin' me batty, and I'm gonna see it done in time or die tryin'," Gobber announced, startling both of them. "Astrid, it will be done before the end o' tomorrow. Your demonstration, accordin' to Stoick, is in the afternoon of the next day, so ye'll have the morning to get used to it."
That would have to be enough. She really should have set this task in motion sooner than she had. "I understand, Gobber, but that's going to be tight." If she did not already know basically how it worked, along with having seen flight before from behind Hiccup, she would not think it possible.
That, and she was confident Toothless could walk her through whatever was needed for gliding, which was all their plan required. Actually flying was likely going to have to be learned after the demonstration, and learned well, because if they were really going to the nest, she was going to need to be good in the saddle. Very good, just to not hinder Toothless. She had no idea how they might be needed in the fight, but that was their only weak point at the moment. Flight, or the lack thereof.
She left the forge, not wanting to slow Fishlegs and Gobber- who, to their credit, almost ran back into the forge, locking the door and leaving the window shuttered. They really were dedicated. She was just glad she did not have to make it herself.
Going into the forest was a challenge this time around, because she did not want to be seen by any of the visitors, who were all over the village. They would ask questions about why she was allowed to go when nobody else was, and she had little faith in the Vikings of Berk to effectively improvise an answer to that difficult question. So, she put some of her recent practice in sneaking to good use.
Then she loitered by the edge of the village, waiting for nobody to be within view. The moment she got an opening, she bolted for the forest edge, crossing the field as fast as possible.
It was a good thing the Windy Isle Vikings were only going to be in the dark for two more days. She hated having to hide this after so long not hiding it and just dealing with the disdain.
There was a thought, one she pondered on her way to Toothless's den. What would have happened if Stoick had let her train Toothless, but only in secret, keeping the village out of the forest for some made-up reason?
Well, assuming there were no public demonstrations, she'd have been sneaking into the forest from the start. She would still be respected in the village, though people would start asking questions about why she had no job, and what she did all day instead of said nonexistent occupation. Maybe Stoick would have made her a dedicated warrior to forestall the first question, but that would have come with its own set of problems.
Problematic, all in all. She couldn't see a way to prevent questions, and eventually the discovery that she went into the woods. Then Stoick would be forced to punish her for treason, or to reveal he was letting her go in, which in turn would force the revelation of the dragon and what she was doing. Really, there was no way for her to do it in secret for long.
Hiccup had only gotten away with it because nobody questioned his oddness. Nobody cared if he disappeared every afternoon, and he already had a job. One Gobber had seemed okay with him skipping half the time, to boot. His life was perfectly set up to do what she would not be able to, and to do it easily enough.
Perfectly set up to be ignored. She did not envy him that, not even now. At least derision was recognition, and she knew what she did was right.
She made it to Toothless's den quickly enough, following his ideal paths, as always now. He was not around, so she sat in the clearing and waited. He would show up soon enough.
It took less than five minutes this time around. Toothless bounded out from the trees, three...
Rabbits. Three partially eviscerated rabbits were dangling from his mouth, bloody and very much dead.
"Oh, Toothless," she sighed. "Couldn't find anything better?"
He groaned, dropping two of the rabbits and swallowing the third whole. The remaining two were set in the cave and left alone. He was storing them for later. He was that sure he'd need them later. Prey must be getting very, very scarce.
She scratched under his chin in a way she knew he liked, feeling sorry for him. "Don't worry, soon it won't be a problem." She didn't want to tell him about the saddle and tailfin until she had them with her, for fear he'd venture into the village in search of them. "I'll bring you a whole fish next time I come out here, okay?"
He purred approvingly at that, settling down to sit by her, curled into a tight circle quite like in one of the three drawings she had sitting up on her shelf back home.
She moved over to lean against him, savoring the heat his entire body radiated. "Just a few more days. Then we can get the demonstration out of the way, and... I have no idea after that." The future was too uncertain to say much. She knew she would strive to stay on Berk and unmarried, or at least to keep Toothless with her. He was a friend, and one she felt responsible for. He would be happier with her, wherever that was. And she definitely would be happier to have him around, no matter what changed. He might end up being the one bright spot in her new married life if things played out that way.
Too much was uncertain for her to know more than that. They might go after the monstrosity she wanted to kill...
She touched the place on her arm where the shell still rested, held there by arm wrappings and now actual sleeves on top, taken out and then put back whenever she changed her clothing. She had planned to hold that promise, to return and end the horror that commanded the enemy, but she had not thought to do it so soon. If the Windy Isle Vikings really had ballistae strong enough, it could be done.
Things were coming to a head, in one way or another. In the coming days she might touch the sky, become betrothed to someone she did not know, or die at the nest. Or maybe she would be run off Berk by a mob of suddenly enraged Vikings chasing Toothless. Or maybe their visitor would stab her in her sleep. Anything could happen, but whatever did happen, it was going to happen soon. So soon.
Author's Note: The next few chapters are going to be... interesting. This story is technically not even two-thirds done yet, but the timeline slows considerably from here on out. Chapters covered weeks in some cases prior to now, but the next few cover single days, or even only a part of a single day. That's how intense things are going to get.
If one looks at the timeline, we are close to the end. It's the getting there that will take another eleven chapters or so.