If Astrid hadn't known better, she would have assumed the village was under attack. She could hear the uproar from her room. Windy Isle Vikings were early risers, it seemed, for so many to be out in the village so early.

Not the two staying with her family, though. The little girl, Vanna, was still asleep, and as Astrid made her way out into the main room of the hut, she saw Helga was similarly occupied.

Fine by her. She didn't mind having to be quiet in preparing to go out, and she was more than happy to be practically alone. Today was a day of festivities, but for her it was also a day of waiting. She could do that alone.

She left the house without a sound, closing the door quietly behind her, and made her way to the main plaza. That would be where people were gathering. If the sound was not enough evidence, she could see other Vikings from both tribes around, most heading in the same direction.

The plaza, she saw as she reached it, was indeed quite crowded already. A throng of Vikings had formed around something, and by the sound of it there was already a fight going on. Whether or not it was for sport was unclear. She knew the reaction from everyone else would be the same either way.

She also knew that she stood no chance of being able to push her way to somewhere she could see the conflict, so she lingered at the back of the crowd, not really hoping to get a glimpse of the fight so much as not seeing a reason to leave. Today was a day of passing the time, and she could not do it in the forest. Fishlegs might come to get her at any time, and she needed to be somewhere he could find. The moment she laid hands on the saddle and tailfin, she was heading into the forest. Pulling an all-nighter would be risky, but she thought she could do it, and having a whole night to at least try and get used to operating the tailfin would be a huge deal. She was more confident in her ability to stay up two days and a night without sleep than she was of learning what was needed to fly in the time between the dawn and afternoon of the same day.

There was one final cheer from the crowd, and then people began to turn away from the spectacle. Whatever had been going on, it was over now. She didn't bother sticking around to see who had been fighting. What else was happening today?

For that matter, where was Stoick? Or the other Chief, Thunderguts? She assumed Thunderguts and his family were staying at the Chief's hut, more than close enough to the plaza to hear the festivities starting, and any Chief would see the need to be present just to deal with trouble as it arose.

Her question was abruptly answered when a Berkian began yelling. "Oy, clear a path! Clear a path! Thunderguts brought a gift for Berk, and we need to cart it through here!" He began pushing people out of the way, clearing what was actually quite a wide path through the plaza.

Astrid avoided being crushed by the now compressed crowd by standing on a barrel, something none of the heavier Vikings could risk. Doing so gave her a good view too, which was a bonus.

A gift. What would it be? Something big, no doubt, and something that needed to be brought through the plaza. It would obviously be coming from the docks, and the only places directly past the plaza were the Great Hall, some hills, the forest, and the arena.

Maybe they had brought a ballista for Berk? They could be planning to install it on the hills. That would be interesting, though she wasn't sure how much good one ballista would be against an actual raid. Still, it was a nice gesture.

She heard the rattling before she saw the first cart, but something about it sounded off. Ballistae were mainly wood, not metal. So why..?

Then it came into view. That was not a ballista, and they definitely weren't heading for the hills. Given that there was a dragon restrained and very much alive atop a metal-plated cart, they had to be heading for the arena.

The dragon would be for the next session of dragon training, and if she had to guess, this one would take the place of the Nightmare. Because this was... well, to put it bluntly, this wasn't something anyone sane would use to teach people how to fight.

She only recognized it because she had, unlike the twins, actually read the Book of Dragons. Its oddly sharp and strong wing-edges and massive wingspan named it a Timberjack, one with mottled brown scales and yellow eyes. Timberjacks were rare dragons, never seen in raids and only rarely encountered out in the wild. They were known to frequent thick forests and were also known to be extremely sharp and quick, cutting through trees with their wings.

Trees, and Vikings if any were in the way. A Timberjack was no laughing matter. Thunderguts was giving it to them, but he was also bragging in the process. A Nightmare would have been fine, but a Timberjack was almost a taunt.

Not that they wouldn't accept it, or the smaller cage containing five Terrible Terrors that was being carted behind it. They could and would use these dragons next Spring.

The Timberjack was awake and conscious underneath its myriad of restraints, though it could do no more than glare through the metal muzzle it had been fitted with. Its wings in particular were covered with every type of restraint, from metal chains to complex systems of ropes. The Windy Isle Vikings had taken absolutely no chances in keeping it imprisoned, which made sense given they had transported it by boat. If it had broken free on their ship while they were traveling, it likely would have sunk the ship in the process of escaping.

As the Timberjack was pushed through the path cleared for it, Berkians began to catch on that it was bound for the arena. The crowd was humming in anticipation. Quite a few of the exclamations Astrid could make out were along the lines of envying next year's recruits, and the one who would win the right to kill a Timberjack, of all things. The talk did not die down at all when the carts were finally pushed out of sight.

Astrid hopped down from her barrel, not sure how she felt about this new development. They were going to take out the monstrosity soon, if all went well, and then there would be no reason to fight dragons unless they attacked, which she somehow didn't think would be a regular occurrence at all. Did they really need to keep up dragon training?

Well, probably. It would be stupid to stop preparing if dragons could and would show up at any time. There was no other way to deal with them that she knew of.

No other way, because she didn't think what she had with Toothless could be replicated. She had not taken the first steps with him, and she did not know what they were, if there even was a way to do it, assuming Toothless was not an exception to the rule many generations of Vikings had seen in action. Dragons always went for the kill. That Toothless presumably didn't was an anomaly, one she could not expect with any other dragon.

They would probably continue to kill dragons for the foreseeable future, even after the monstrosity was dead. Hopefully the dragons, once free to choose what they did, would learn to avoid Berk. It would be better for everyone that way.

Astrid left the plaza after lingering for a while longer, heading up to the Great Hall for breakfast. The food was bland and tasteless, which she blamed on her lingering nerves. She did not stay there long, unwilling to sit in one place when her nerves would have her always on the move.

Wandering the village today was far more pleasant than other days, because in order to keep her occupation secret, the people of Berk couldn't insult or mock her. Most didn't even glare, acutely aware that she was the one who would be showing off Berk's stubbornness tomorrow, even if it was by demonstrating something most of them would rather not exist. They had to be both resenting and envying her right now, but nothing could be said. Of course, the Windy Isle Vikings knew nothing of the tension that should exist, and paid her no mind.

Well, no more mind than would be normal. She did get stares from a few of the boys around her age. She was far too used to that to care. They would learn what Snotlout and everyone else had already, if they approached her. She had no interest in them, and would ignore or violently spurn them, depending on how annoyed she was.

Well... most of Berk had learned that. Snotlout, she noted with frustration, had not, given he was coming her way. She turned down a side street, knowing it let out almost immediately into another main street. She would not let him corner her in some hidden alleyway, broken arm or not.

Actually... was it still broken? He no longer wore the sling, and it was hard to tell. For all she knew, he was back in fighting shape, and just playing his injury to avoid work. It was entirely possible, if dishonorable.

A quick glance behind her revealed that he was still following, and with two teens she didn't know trailing along behind him, one boy and one girl. He couldn't intend to do much with two Windy Isle Vikings watching, so she wasn't worried. She turned to face them, knowing full well that they were all within view of anyone who passed the short alley. She crossed her arms, the picture of boredom and annoyance.

Snotlout spoke, breaking the uneasy silence. "My offer to dance with you is still open, babe."

"My response is still a definite no," she retorted. "There are plenty of new girls who don't know you well enough to say no if you ask. Pick one of them or just do without."

"I'm the Chief's heir, I shouldn't take any of them. They might get ideas," he complained. "I've gotta marry someone from Berk, to make sure I'm not influenced by outsiders."

"Since when? I'm pretty sure Stoick's wife wasn't from Berk," Astrid recalled. Snotlout was just making excuses now.

"Whatever." Snotlout leered at her. "You're still the prettiest girl on Berk, short hair or not."

"And you're still the ugliest manchild on Berk, status or not," she shot back, making her voice as serious as possible. "Also, what's with the silent entourage?" It bothered her that he could gain followers so quickly, even if they probably would stop following as soon as they noticed how stupid and vain he was.

"Some people see the value in being friends with a future Chief," the boy behind Snotlout remarked.

"And some of us have thought better of it," the girl huffed, casting the boy a significant glance and leaving the way she had come, disappearing into the crowd.

"Well, I guess we know what she wanted," Astrid remarked. At least that girl had escaped a terrible fate there. Being wife of a Chief was not nearly enough benefit to outweigh the massive downside that was known as Snotlout.

"I didn't want her anyway," Snotlout blustered, now looking quite angry. Probably at one of his 'followers' so easily deserting. "You know I'll get what I want eventually."

"You know what happened last time you tried something," she threatened, keeping it vague.

"That wasn't you, that was your..." Snotlout cast a glance at the Windy Isle teen behind him before continuing with a sneer. "Your big brother. And he'll be executed for sure if he does that again."

Astrid couldn't hold in a laugh at that cover story. "Sure, my big brother. But I think he wouldn't really care about the consequences. Last time he broke... what was it, three ribs and an arm? I wonder how horribly he could maim you if he was trying. You certainly didn't put up much of a fight." Toothless very likely would care about the consequences, and so would she, but Snotlout thought they were talking about a vicious beast under her control.

Snotlout paled a little. "I was caught off-guard."

"And you will be next time. You are nothing compared to him, and we both know it," she taunted, relishing the fear he was showing. Maybe he didn't respect her anymore, but she could still make him pale, and that was enough. She knew she could still take him on her own as long as she had her new ax, and that was all that mattered.

"He won't be around to protect you next time," Snotlout threatened.

"Do I need protection from you?" she asked rhetorically, putting a hand to her ax. "Believe it or not, I'm still entirely capable of taking you apart myself if needed." She was close to crossing the lines on threatening him now, but she didn't care. He couldn't use it without explaining what he had been saying himself, which was far more suspect.

"Dance with me tonight, or else," he announced.

"Or else," she decided. "And you need to work on your negotiating skills if you want to be Chief. You're horrible at it."

"Shut up, Astrid," he shot back, his face red. "Come on, let's go," he growled, addressing the teen still standing behind him. "She'll come around. She just likes to play hard to get."

"No, I don't, and you would do well to pick better friends, influential or not," Astrid countered, speaking to the teen.

Snotlout left in a huff, and the teen trailed reluctantly behind him. Well, it seemed he wasn't taking her advice to heart... or he was just smarter than the girl had been and was waiting to slip away unnoticed so that Snotlout couldn't be sure he hadn't just gotten separated and lost. Better to not make an enemy of Snotlout even if he didn't plan to hang around him any longer.

But Snotlout would just get more cronies. That he had already picked up two did not bode well. If there was one thing he had always lacked, it was backup. The twins had been too chaotic to count. She did not like to think of what he could do if he had actually effective assistance.

She could not let that go unchecked. Something needed to be done to ensure she had an eye on that situation.

And she knew just who could help.

Finding Tuffnut had eaten up quite a bit more of her time than she expected, all in all. He was not at the Great Hall or in the village at all. She had eventually located him down at the docks, watching a competition that was for some reason taking place there.

She sat next to him, making a pretense of watching for a moment. The game, if it could be called that, was simple. Two Vikings slammed each other in the head with maces. Whoever could hit the hardest without knocking their opponent out won. It was one of the rare Viking games that rewarded brute force but punished too much of it.

"Who's winning?" she asked as a way of starting the competition.

"That guy from the Windy Isle," Tuffnut replied absently, pointing to one of the competitors currently staggering around drunkenly. "But they're all just competing to see who challenges Spitelout. He's the reigning champ."

"The hardest head of them all," she agreed. "You once said I could come to you for help in dealing with Snotlout."

"Several times if I recall correctly," Tuffnut corrected. "And yeah, I'll help. What do you need?"

"He's picking up followers from among the Windy Isle teens," she explained, tapping her ax on the dock as she spoke. "I don't like the idea of Snotlout with a gang. Could you somehow deal with that?"

"I don't know if I can stop it," Tuffnut replied, now serious. "But I can probably join it and keep tabs on what he's using them for, if you want."

"Good enough." Should she tell him about Snotlout's ultimatum? No, he would be in a position to hear about any planned 'consequences' for defying the order. She didn't need to give him any more reason to keep his ears open; that was the whole point anyway.

"So... other than that..." Tuffnut glanced up at the competition, probably reasoning that all of the competitors were either too involved or too concussed to hear him. "How's preparation with the scaly music critic going?"

"Great." She wasn't sure what she could tell him other than that, partly because she still had yet to decide how she was going to act during the demonstration. There were two options. She could either make it look like nothing had changed since last time, calling out commands that both she and Toothless would know were just for show while they worked, or she could not hide any of it. Let it all be known, or at least not disguised. Her reputation could not sink any further anyway.

Or maybe it could. But she didn't care. Ruffnut had advised her to use her failing reputation to have fun, and this was along the same line of reasoning. She might as well.

"The demonstration will be… Interesting," Astrid belatedly added, deciding to stick with what was true either way. "Things are a lot easier when it comes to working with him, not trying to control him."

"More elaborate commands?" Tuffnut guessed. "Fancy tricks? Flying stunts?"

"We don't actually use commands at all now," Astrid said vaguely, practicing walking the thin line between revealing too much and too little. She would have to do as much with Vikings less understanding than Tuffnut in the near future. "I found something better."

"So, my singing was for nothing?" Tuffnut asked, offended.

"Pretty much. And now he'll probably blast you rather than let you open your mouth," she admitted with a grin. "But hey, it was helpful at the time."

"And hopefully," Tuffnut said, standing as he spoke, "this will be helpful too. I'm off to find Snotlout."

That was abrupt. "Why now?"

"Mostly because I see Ruffnut coming, and I know she'll leave if I'm still here. She might as well get to watch the contest," he explained, pointing to a distant figure coming down the ramps that led to the docks.

"She's still mad?" Astrid asked.

"Yes. Who knows when she'll get over it, if ever." His eyes were downcast. "I didn't want to make her hate me, I just wanted some space between us. But if we can't have one without the other..."

"You'll work it out eventually," she asserted, feeling bad for him even if it was technically his doing. "Just keep trying."

"Of course. What else would I do, give up?" He left with a wry smile, taking another way back to the village to avoid his sister. So much for trying.

Astrid left soon after, choosing to go up the ramps instead of following him. He was headed to Snotlout, so she would rather not follow along. It was noon, or close to it. The clouds made it hard to tell. Fishlegs still hadn't come for her.

Time was growing short, but all she could do was wait.

Several hours of loitering in the village later, and it was time for everyone to go to the Great Hall, or to crowd around outside it, depending on how quick they were to get there. Astrid made it inside, if barely. The place was packed, though there was an open space in the center, one cleared of tables. That would be for dancing later. She planned to not participate at all, just to avoid Snotlout.

Food was everywhere, and in Viking fashion, meant for anyone who managed to take it. She snagged a full salmon that was only lightly charred, ignoring the more exotic dishes floating around. Those had to have been made by the Windy Isle people, and she didn't eat food made by people she didn't know. Besides, her stomach felt both light and full at the same time, which was probably nerves. No matter how much she tried to ignore the time, every hour that passed made it a little worse. Fishlegs had better show up soon. He and Gobber were cutting it far too close.

Though... she didn't see him or Gobber here, at the very least. She might have lost it if they were partying instead of finishing the tail. She wouldn't be here if she had it.

To be fair, she wouldn't be here if she had anything better to do than wait. She didn't really care for parties, not like this. Small gatherings, sure, but massive throngs just made her feel exposed and in danger. Anyone could sneak up behind her.

She turned, half-convinced Snotlout was right behind her, but there was just a somewhat weedy old man from the Windy Isle tribe, talking to the woman to his right.

This kind of thing made her paranoid. She would be glad when it was over.

A small hubbub broke out at the front of the open space. Someone stepped forward-

Snotlout. He was everywhere today, it felt like. She could see Tuffnut lurking in the background, alongside several other teens, mostly boys. She was glad she had him to keep track of that.

But what was Snotlout doing? He cleared his throat, attracting the attention of absolutely nobody. There was a familiar parchment in his hand...

Hadn't he said he was writing a speech? This must be it. She was a little surprised Snotlout could read, let alone write. His idea of a speech was not going to be very eloquent; this was Snotlout, after all. She had been mildly surprised to know he could read and write.

"Friends and visitors," Snotlout yelled at the top of his lungs. That got him some attention, if only because it was a weird thing for anyone to yell. "I have, as heir, been asked to give a speech."

At least he sounded somewhat formal. That had to be either Spitelout or Stoick's doing.

"Get on wid it then!" an old woman yelled right back.

"I am!" He took a moment to calm down. "Today is a day of remaking old ties and forging new ones."

She didn't like the wording of that. If he proposed marriage to her, she was going to break his ego and then face, even if she knew for sure her parents would refuse it.

But he didn't continue in that direction. "And I know I am not who some of you may have been expecting. My cousin died in a tragic accident, and I have been raised to the position of heir. It is my hope that our... uhh..."

How in the world was he faltering there, of all places?

"Right." He laughed confidently. "It is my hope that our comradery will continue through the years to come, as long as I am Chief. Long may both Berk and the Windy Isle prosper and die glorious deaths in battle!"

That got the applause he was probably hoping for. Everyone cheered for death in battle, if nothing else. All in all, it was a speech befitting Snotlout. Short, blunt, self-centered, and pretty simple. He hadn't done that badly, but she was pretty sure nobody would be able to remember more than the general idea as soon as tomorrow morning. It was forgettable.

After a moment, Snotlout slipped back into the crowd. Soon afterward, music began to be audible over the crowd, probably coming from a few Vikings in a corner somewhere, playing whatever instruments they knew. It was time to dance, if anyone wanted to.

There were plenty of takers. The area in the middle soon filled with dancing Vikings. Some of them looked pretty ridiculous, but nobody cared. There were also a few dreamy-eyed couples, young and old, dancing slowly despite the upbeat music.

Snotlout probably thought she would be doing the same with him. As if she would ever let that happen. Now seemed like a good time to leave. Fishlegs could find her at her hut. If he wasn't already looking for her...

She spent a few minutes slowly making her way around the Great Hall. No, he wasn't somehow already in here. He could still be-

A hand grabbed her arm. "Time to dance."

She did not hesitate in breaking Snotlout's grip and slipping away, making use of a small opening between two portly men who were far too drunk to notice. There were too many people in close quarters for her to strike at Snotlout without hitting someone else in the process, so she had to settle for getting away.

He was getting bolder and bolder with every failed attempt. Had there been a time in which she had questioned the possibility of him being this vile? She felt naive for ever underestimating him. At least he didn't seem to be using his cronies to catch her in the crowd. There were too many people around for that to go unnoticed.

She made her way to the exit, slipping out into the just-as-crowded area in front of the Great Hall, where everyone who couldn't fit inside was partying. At least out here there was a little more space to move.

She stuck to her plan and checked this crowd as well, looking for Fishlegs' distinctive combination of bulk and no will to use it. He would be a constantly apologizing still spot in the always-moving throng, clearly visible from a distance.

But he was not here, either. Could he and Gobber still be working, even now? It was long after sunset. Maybe they would be the ones pulling an all-nighter.

Or maybe Fishlegs was out looking for her even now, and she had missed him. Maybe the saddle and tailfin were done. She made her way into the darkened and empty village, intent on checking that possibility. If they were still working, she would have to just go home, get some rest, and break down the door to the forge in the morning.

The village really was empty right now. She was not used to there being so few people about. Aside from the night watchmen, Berk had quite a few night-adapted warriors, men and women who slept until noon every day and did not go to bed until after midnight. Years of raids had taught those warriors that it was best to be alert and awake in the early night hours, and it was a good defensive tactic. Those Vikings would usually be lingering around the village, on the lookout for trouble of any kind, like an unofficial guard force. But tonight, they were all up at the Great Hall. The actual guards felt sparse without their unofficial counterparts.

Then again, everyone was at the Great Hall, which presumably included troublemakers and drunks, meaning the night watch only had the very unlikely scenario of a raid occurring to watch for.

Astrid made it to the forge without incident only to see that it was very much still active, light shining under the door. She could hear two sets of tired yet frantic voices. Gobber and Fishlegs were still working.

So much for that. She made her way home, resigned to only having the morning to prepare. It was a good thing all they needed to learn was gliding, and maybe flying up to get some height for said gliding. Anything more would be an impossible task with so little practice.

She had expected to be the only one home. Her mother and father would not leave the festivities early, and were likely enjoying the less disrespectful treatment keeping things secret was affording them.

But in retrospect, she should have expected Helga and Vanna to already be back. Younger children would not find much to do in the Great Hall, and people were only going to get rowdier and drunker as time wore on. It was not a place for little kids.

Both Helga and Vanna were in her room, presumably putting Vanna to bed. Astrid went about her own business without interacting with them, not wanting them to feel like they were imposing. Helga might not like her, but she did not want to be rude.

Eventually, Vanna was settled in. Helga lifted the girl's coat, looking around for somewhere to put it.

"You can put it up there," Astrid offered, pointing to the shelf set into the wall... the one littered with her various weapons deemed too dangerous to keep within reach of a child. "I'll clear a space."

She shifted the weapons to one side, but that put some of them on top of the drawings, and she didn't want to damage those. She pulled the drawings down, holding them in one hand while she moved the weapons with the other. "Here."

Helga set Vanna's coat down in the empty space. "Thank you."

All of that did leave Astrid with the issue of where to put the drawings. She did not want to leave the fragile parchment within reach of a young child. That was asking to have it chewed up, torn, or otherwise ruined. But she only had the one shelf, and the chest with the rest of Hiccup's parchments was covered in other things, meaning it would be a huge hassle to get to it and put the drawings inside.

She had no idea where else to put them. Maybe she could stick them up on top of one of the cabinets in the main room-

"What are those of?" Helga asked, getting a good look at one of the drawings. "They are very, very good."

Well, she could tell the truth here. She passed the one of Toothless sleeping to Helga. "They are good, but I didn't draw them."

"This is a dragon?" Helga asked skeptically. "It does not look much like any I know."

"I guess," Astrid responded noncommittally. "Hiccup drew a lot of strange things. It could just be from his imagination." or it could be a real thing. Speaking in hypotheticals made this easy.

"The... dead heir?" It seemed Helga recognized the name. "Why did he give you these, then?"

"He didn't. I needed something from his things, and I took these too." It wasn't really stealing, given what they were depicting, but it kind of was at the same time. She didn't care; nobody would ever miss them if only she and Hiccup knew they existed. Well, now Helga too.

"Odd," Helga summarized, handing the picture back. "Were you and the Chief's son close? I know a little of disapproving parents, so I will not tell anyone if you were."

Astrid felt her face heat up. "No, not at all. But we had something in common, and I think he would have wanted me to have these." She needed to end this conversation before it went somewhere she could not weasel her way out of without arousing suspicion. She did not want to be the one to fail to keep her own secret.

"Well... he was a good artist." Helga seemed as uncomfortable as she was with the conversation. "My condolences." With that, she slipped out of the room.

Why would any of this make Helga nervous? Another question with no answer. Hopefully her parents were going to get those answers soon.

Astrid settled down on her makeshift bed of furs in the corner, sticking the picture under a loose floorboard. The hut was dry, and she knew they would be safe there for the time being. Tomorrow she could put them back on the shelf.

Tomorrow she was storming the forge at dawn, because she couldn't wait any longer for that tailfin.

Author's Note: Tomorrow for her, a week for all of you. Also, as to why I brought in a Timberjack... well, possible plot and/or symbolic reasons aside, I like the species, and it gets almost no mention. I envision them as loners who range the world (those long wings look good for gliding, and thus long-range flights), seeking new forests to inhabit, and trimming overgrowth in the process, maybe even intentionally burning certain parts of forests. Like natural wildfire-preventers, burning overgrown places in a controlled fashion. The 'why' is a little fuzzy, but if I ever need to explain it in a story, it shouldn't be hard. I don't think I'll get a chance to explore any of that this story.

Also, thanks for the reviewer who pointed out how uninspired the first title this chapter had was, and offering a superior alternative.