Chapter 21: Training

Valka lifted herself on the heels of her palms and hopped down the rocky cliff beneath her, barely sparing her footing a second glance. Cloudjumper followed, and the two of them were standing in front of Hiccup in seconds. The wood beneath them buckled with a noise Hiccup had heard before in the broken-down houses of Berk, the sound of rotting wood and aging supports giving out. Valka moved slightly forward, as if expecting a warm welcome, but was stopped cold in her tracks by a stern look from Hiccup.

"What is this, Valka?"

The outer visage of a mother faded and was replaced by the woman who had been on her own for sixteen years. The woman frowned, all angles and sternness where it hadn't been a moment ago. She looked Hiccup in the eye with a deadly seriousness as she answered.

"The Haven protects its own. You know as well as I do that Vikings would never let us have a moment of peace if they knew of our existence, no matter how passive we were." Hiccup saw something behind her eyes that reminded him of Stoick, and in that moment, it was frightening how much the similarity struck him.

"And these?" Hiccup gestured behind him, at the twenty-something ships rotting behind him. After the past week stranded in the Haven, he'd thought nothing could surprise him―but he was shocked.

Valka shook her head. "Don't act as if you don't understand, Hiccup. To keep ourselves safe and undetected, we keep the seas around us blank on any maps. No ships can be allowed to come near and then leave. If there was a reasonable alternative, I'd take it. But would the dragons?" She shifted on her feet, then began walking along the edge of the boat, hopping to the next and gesturing for Hiccup to follow her. As he followed, she resumed, "I get what I need from the remains: clothes, tools, any occasional luxuries that happen to be on a ship. If you choose to stay in the Haven and grow stronger, as was Fenrir's requirement, you will have full leave to these ships. But this is the ugly truth of the Haven."

She stepped onto one of the few boats that seemed to be in good condition and walked along it. Once she got to the bow of the ship, she knelt down and hit a plank with the bottom of her fist. Hiccup knelt down with her, helping her open the dragon-proof hatch that most ships had; they were supposed to be hidden, but any Viking who had sailed before knew how to open them, and knew how to find them. The two climbed down into the storage bed.

From thin strands of light peeking through the boards, Hiccup saw a well-stocked hold full of Viking essentials: weapons and shields, armor and materials like scales or metal. A long-distance ship, possibly to attempt to find the dragon's nest or to attack a neighboring community. Hiccup didn't recognize the crest that was on the shields, so it couldn't be anything close to Berk. Even so, his feelings toward the situation were complicated.

Hiccup turned to his mother, then turned away; Valka, in return, watched her son with a patient eye. Hardening his emotions yet keeping his eyes on the ground, he questioned, "do you kill the Vikings yourself, or do the dragons do so by themselves?"

A tense silence grew after he stopped speaking. He kept his head down, looking everywhere but towards his mother, afraid of what he might hear.

"...I have." Hiccup's breath caught in his throat, but his mother continued. "Do not think of me as a monster. I have killed for the same reasons a Viking kills an attacker on his land. To protect the ones I love, and to defend what is mine. How is it any different?"

Without an answer, Hiccup knelt quietly, turning a knife in his hands to dispel the anxious energy that seemed to be bubbling up inside him. He couldn't disagree with what Valka had said, and that made it worse for him. Still kneeling with his back turned to his mother, he spoke tentatively: "I...don't know how I feel about it. It makes sense…" he trailed off, then shook his head to cut off any errant thoughts. "But I'll need time to sort my own thoughts out. If I leave now, I'll never get to see Toothless again. For now, that's the only reason I'm staying."

Behind him, Valka nodded with a sombre expression. Hiccup hadn't turned to see it, but nothing would've changed if he had. After some time, Valka left, leaving her son to himself in the wreckage.

Hiccup was no devout worshipper of the gods. He knew the myths and the legends, the stories of their world and the stories of the gods and goddesses. Even so, he rarely went further than burning something as an offering. On top of that, his interactions with gods previously had been altogether very poor: Nidhogg and Fenrir were directly adverse to him, while the Bewilderbeast was uncaring. The creature in the mist he had stumbled upon had seemed to be a god, but that was the only positive experience out of four.

Regardless, Hiccup prayed a short prayer to whatever gods might be listening. Blasphemous, perhaps, but he felt like it was needed, and it helped put his mind to rest.

As he finished, he wondered how he had changed since Berk. Back then, he would've barely batted an eye at killing other Vikings, even those of his own island. Now, he was upset over groups he had never met before, likely long dead before he had arrived. It was strange to him, noticing this abrupt change in behavior―was it due to Nidhogg's influence, or something else? Waving away the irrelevant thoughts, he got to work searching through the ship's supplies. Even with his regret towards the Vikings who once owned this, his drive to see Toothless again was far more pressing.


Toothless was irritated, licking his wounds and thinking dark thoughts about his mentor. Fenrir was impossibly vague about the process that gods took to integrate with their hosts, and had training that bordered on insanity.

The only constant was a fight. Every day, Toothless and Fenrir tore the skies and seas apart with a spar between the two; it was supposed to teach Toothless how to use his new, innate abilities. Aside from the newfound strength and speed that his body seemed to swell from somewhere inside of him, he felt no changes. Fenrir insisted on the fights, however, so every day they clashed. Every day as well, Toothless found himself thrown to the ground.

Fenrir's training only got worse from there.

Repetitive and unpredictable, Toothless found himself doing tasks pointless and unspecified. Fly as high as he could, then dive to the bottom of the ocean around them; collect and arrange crystals from the array of caves they lived in; without sight, scent or sound, hit a moving target with his fire. Often, Fenrir would give the same challenge multiple days in a row, and Toothless was almost convinced that it was solely to anger him. He was no doubt succeeding at his tasks, but without context of how they would help, they grated on his nerves.

Asking Fenrir directly was a dead end―he was always met with pointless questions to answer his own, like: "Did you communicate with your god?" or "Did you learn anything?" Answers that essentially gave no answer, and only proved to get under his skin.

Looking inward, as Fenrir seemed to want him to do, proved to be quiet and uninteresting. He no longer caught glimpses of strange sights or heard whispered gibberish, as he had in the first few weeks. Instead, it was like looking into a dark, clouded pool of ice that did not crack or melt. It was a centering technique that Fenrir had taught him, but it seemed to be moot. Toothless was at a loss, and the pool did nothing to prod his imagination. While he did not doubt there was something to be found within, he had all but given up finding it.

Even so, there were two reasons why he kept it up, despite the drudgery of it all: firstly, training was the only release from the dull, empty passing of time in the caverns. Infuriating, yes, but the unusual and varied tasks kept his mind moving. Secondly, it was the only way he would see Hiccup again―Fenrir had made that clear as day.

Despite his species's solitary nature, Toothless had to admit that he was attached to Hiccup. Both for his openness to going against his island's traditions, and for the dangers they had weathered. Even though his tail had healed and he no longer needed Hiccup for maintenance, he wanted to stay with his friend.

In a darker part of Toothless's mind, he was reminded of the things they had done under Nidhogg's control. They meant less to Toothless than they had to Hiccup, but even the Night Fury felt some regret for their actions. Most dragons didn't kill for sport, and there was certainly no honor to killing defenseless humans. It was a sick, restless feeling to remember it.

Toothless stood suddenly, pacing. His lightest injuries were already healing, and the rest felt numb. His impatience was nothing new, but after remembering those months the two of them were controlled, he felt his agitation renewed. Turning towards the exit, Toothless headed out towards Fenrir's chamber.

A few minutes of slinking through the caverns later, Toothless found himself in the dim light of Fenrir's room. The great Skrill, awake but resting, sat on a pedestal of stone and seemed to be listening for something, as if lost in a daydream; he didn't react until Toothless was barely three steps away.

"Lord, brother, you made me jump. Ever thought of making some noise?" Fenrir spoke in his characteristic tone, somewhere between regal and sneering. "What did you want? Are you that eager for your next training?"

"I want to fight again. I think I can do better."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, an angular smirk crept up the larger dragon's face. "How lucky. I was just thinking I hadn't had enough fun in our last spar."


Hiccup had relocated. After finding so much in the ships that he could never cart it all to the small cave he had been calling home, he decided to bring home to the ships. There wasn't much to bring: the chains bound to him, the glowing crystal from Fenrir's trial, a strip of Yggdrasil root, and a few outfits his mother had given him. All of these had been moved to a hidden compartment in one of the ships.

He no longer had a 'home' as much as an area of his own. All of his time was spent in the wreckage of the boats. Most were rotted on the outside, but even the most rotted of the bunch had some salvageable items. Most were weapons, but the valuables came from the less war-ready ships. One ship in particular was filled with boxes of books in many languages and clothes brightly colored and all sorts of unusual things. It reminded him of Trader Johann's ship, although he knew it wasn't. He wondered how the nervous little man was doing.

Collection moved slowly but surely. Aside from eating, sleeping, and the occasional visit from his mother, Hiccup kept himself busy collecting and organizing and accumulating a great wealth of Viking essentials. Most were weapons―swords and spears with rotted handles, blunted axes and heavy maces. Their disrepair was no issue to him; Hiccup only wanted the raw materials. Aside from the weapons, Hiccup had piled large sections of armor, made of hard leather and scratched metal. More than anything else, these would be the first vital step for him.

An inventor was one thing, but Hiccup was a smith by training; how would he get the necessary tools? Hammers and multiple types of tongs, not to mention a forge and anvil. He puzzled over this for days as he stockpiled, and only with a stroke of genius (and a stroke of luck) did he find his answer.

To Hiccup's good fortune, the ship filled with books and clothes had other objects, one of which was a large, flat piece of metal. With Valka and Cloudjumper's assistance, Hiccup lifted it onto a short, mostly flat piece outcropping of stone and braced it underneath a handy ledge. This would serve as an anvil, but how would he heat the metal?

The genius was brought about as Hiccup watched a Nadder and a dragon with long horns tussle, blowing fire and throwing each other in ways that wouldn't cause too much damage to each other or their surroundings. Staring at the orange glow left behind in their trails, the stroke of brilliance struck. While away from Toothless, he had no intention of taming another dragon―but what about calming them enough to work with him? Clearly, his mother hadn't trained every dragon in the Haven, but they flew alongside her and did as she needed. He would do the same.

It was an arduous process. He no longer feared or felt apprehension towards the creatures, but getting them to follow him to his workspace was difficult. Gesturing for them to breathe fire didn't work, and since they couldn't understand him he often had to pantomime the action. It worked...occasionally.

Getting a hammer and tongs would have to wait. It was a backwards process: Hiccup had to rebuild his right arm, which would allow him to make better tools, which would help him re-rebuild his arm to full capacity. More than full capacity, if he was to make himself stronger―it was originally built for climbing, for gripping onto ledges and into crevices. Now, he would make it battle-ready.

Time passed quickly for Hiccup, although his days were long and tireless. It took a full week to finish his arm, another half for maintenance. The mechanics were basic, and it was made with the intention of refining it later. His leg as well would need to be reforged, but a peg leg could only go through so much refining. Recreating a hand was a much more delicate process.

Once he had finished his hand, he began his second project: a new dragonskin armor. His first was lost in Nidhogg's caverns, ripped to pieces and useless to him now. Thankfully, he was in the land of plenty for dragon materials. Hiccup spent some time searching, and found a small scattering of mismatched scales.

It was time to visit his mother.

A less joyous occasion than you might expect. While Valka was as loving as the next mother, she was stern and unyielding; not to mention how they had disagreed over the Viking's ships. Hiccup took a day off to visit her, and to his luck, caught her as she returned from a flight out of the Haven.

Seated behind his mother on Cloudjumper, an uncomfortable silence lagged as the wind whistled in their ears. Hiccup opened his mouth to talk, but Valka spoke first: "I visited Fenrir today. He was interested in your progress." It was not what he had expected to hear, but it wasn't unwelcome, either.

"Why? Is Toothless almost finished with his?"

In return, Valka snorted, "Hiccup, do you think it's that quick to finish merging? Toothless will need another two seasons at least. No, Fenrir was curious to know if you had grown at all close to his requirements."

"What did you tell him?" asked Hiccup apprehensively. His view of the Skrill-god was poor at best, but it would be better for Fenrir to have a positive view of him, or at least for him to approve of his training methods.

"I told him everything you've done, from survive in the wilds of the Haven to recreating your arm. I know you plan to make yourself a suit as well, so I told him-"

"Actually," Hiccup cut in, "I needed to ask you where I could find some shed skins, or scales for-"

"That sounds like an excellent chance to make a trade. Fenrir insisted I train you in fighting. I am not much of a fighter myself, but I have confidence that you will not find me an easy opponent." Valka leaned forward and pointed downwards at Hiccup's new residence, which they were passing over. Cloudjumper landed, and the two Haddocks slid off. "Find yourself a weapon, Hiccup, and we'll begin your training."


If Toothless had been irritated before, then the past few days had been infuriating. Fenrir had been slacking off, forgetting to give him tasks every day. Most days, Toothless spent more than enough time resting, then going to confront his lazy mentor. The types of tasks he was given didn't change, but that only added to their angering nature.

A few days ago, Fenrir had left the caves without any notice, and returned late in the day. He had met with Hiccup's mother (Toothless made a note to ask about this later) and spoken at length about how to train their respective students. Apparently, to Fenrir, this meant lazing around all day with no regard for training his student. Toothless doubted an immortal god could lose memories so easily, but with the way Fenrir acted, he wasn't so sure.

Fenrir lazed about nearly every day. Other than leaving for food, or when Toothless came to remind him of his mentorship, the Skrill was mostly immobile. He spent his days sleeping and slinking around his cave grouchily when he was woken. Despite all this, Toothless couldn't beat him down in their spars. He was like a force of nature―although if he really thought about it, so were most gods.

And so, Toothless trained on his own. Honing his skills and his body was sheer repetition of movements until they became instinct. He relearned how to use his echolocation, more skill rather than instinct, and practiced using it in every condition he could think to use it―even underwater. Even with the hours he spent like this, however, the time dragged on.

Something strange was happening inside his mind, however.

Until now, the aforementioned 'looking inwards' had revealed nothing, like a clouded patch of icy emptiness. Now, it was like a murky lake, full of mystery and still just as secretive. Toothless stared into it, and it was like staring down Nidhogg, or Fenrir; an undeniable pressure crushed down on him whenever he tried to look into it. He didn't know how, but he was connecting with his patron.

He still couldn't tell of any difference in his abilities. No magical powers manifested, just the uninteresting drone of time passing relentlessly. But he knew something was changing.

Heartened, Toothless redoubled his efforts to get Fenrir to train him. Every moment he was resting, he knew, was a moment Hiccup would be getting ahead.


Hiccup stood above the prone forms of his mother and Cloudjumper, although the dragon was already stirring. They had sparred, and Hiccup had won handily; neither his mother nor Cloudjumper were weak by any standards, but Hiccup was simply too well trained. All the time he had spent training in the cove was not wasted, had not left him since he had left Berk. He'd won even without using the shadowy, unknown state that took away his pain and sharpened his reflexes―he hadn't thought about it in ages, and was hesitant to use it, knowing now that it connected him to Nidhogg directly.

The giant four-winged dragon stood on shaky legs, giving Hiccup a look a few steps short of anger, closer to a peeved glare. It picked up Valka in a tender claw and bent down for the boy to climb onto his back before lifting off. A short flight later, Hiccup slid off, landing soundly on a ship's rotting carcass and nodding his thanks to Cloudjumper.

After a short rest, Valka woke up. Honoring their agreement, she told Hiccup where he could find shed scales; they talked briefly, then she left on Cloudjumper. She seemed both proud of her son's strength and upset at her own inability to fight him, but that meant the future was uncertain. Who else could train him?

Hopefully, it wouldn't matter―or even better, he would be left to his own training, focusing on his smithing and inventing. For now, at least, he would be left to his own devices. After a quick meal, Hiccup went to collect the necessary scales for his armor. It was a slow process, but by the end of the day, he had two buckets worth of multicolored scales, most darkly shaded.

Question: is it possible to melt dragon scales? The short answer is no.

The long answer, to Hiccup's dismay, was a resounding no, tested over the following two days. He got different types of dragon's fires, different forging techniques to soften them, and different types of scales. He even got Valka to assist him in getting a Changewing's acid, only to come out of the encounter with a disappointing pile of ash that was at one point, Hiccup's precious scales. Finally, he conceded, and set to work sewing and embedding the scales into his suit―less effective, but undoubtedly the only method for him.

After another week or so (Hiccup's grasp on time was weak, immersing himself wholly into his work), the dragonskin suit was complete. A skintight suit of scales was first on his body, and on top of that was a typically polished leather with highlights of iron. Atypically, however, it was also covered in darkly colored scales―less functional, but a more aesthetic look. That being said, they had their uses as well: they would not only add to its defense, but along Toothless, they would be a terrifying duo.

Only three areas on his body were not covered by the armor, and two of them were his prosthetics. Hopefully, he would be able to meld them into his armor, make it impossible to tell where the armor ended and the prosthetic began. Gobber always joked that "Ye can't feel pain in your hand if it's a hook," and Hiccup planned to take that to heart. The only other vulnerability was his face: it was masked, but there were spaces for him to breathe and see.

But aside from these exceptions, the suit was impenetrable, and undoubtedly better than his previous two suits. There was no doubt in his mind that this would be a huge step towards Fenrir's ultimatum.

Two more steps. Hiccup planned to mold the abnormally hard chains into a weapon of some sort, and he planned to remake his arm and leg, this time into something elegant and strong. After that, if he wasn't at the level Fenrir wanted, he'd have to stretch himself further.

Hiccup began sketching his ideas, weapons and machinery alike.


Toothless had finally gotten a glimpse of his own power, and he was lucky he still existed. Not in the way one might expect, however.

It all started when he was resting in the dark recesses of the cavern, once again trying to communicate with his deity through the murky pool in his mind. Rather than a legitimate pool, the centering technique was a state of mind that was perfectly calm. It was often unnerving and reminded him of Nidhogg's method of brainwashing at times, but according to Fenrir, "gods rarely have the ability or the chance to appear physically. The only way is through your mind."

That being the case, Toothless sat at the edge of the pool and stared into it. Whenever he wasn't training or bothering Fenrir, he tried to see through it, deeper into the water.

One day, he did.

The water began to clear. Still murky, still unleashing that godlike pressure, it began to clear itself. Toothless jerked in surprise―he had been staring into it, but that didn't mean it had ever reacted or responded. He inched closer, reaching out to touch its surface.

The pool had once been icy and clouded. Once it became liquid, however, it seemed harder than the solid surface of ice, even harder to see into. The pool itself had never acted like water, however, more like oil or blood. It was thick and solid as stone.

Toothless touched the water, and found himself breaking the surface. He pressed his claws farther in, and with some effort, he was able to submerge his whole leg. It was warm, surprisingly. The pressure was tight, but not enough to be uncomfortable. There was something at the bottom of the pool, Toothless could tell, although he wasn't able to make it out. If he could just get closer…

As all of this went on his mind, Toothless's real body was sitting on the ground in his personal cave―it was bare and dark, barely lit by any of the crystals normally found in the caverns. Even if it had been, he preferred the dark. He felt at peace in darkness, especially with his echolocation as instinctual as it was. Errant sounds revealed the room to him, and the picture built in his mind updated itself constantly with them. Rather than seeing color and objects, he saw the outlines of everything as it existed in the moment. As his mind crept deeper into the pool, some dust or bug found its way into his nose, and he sneezed; the noise creating a crystal clear image of the room in his mind's eye.

Toothless froze halfway submerged in the pool. The image of the room he sat in was missing something vital, so vital that it might be laughable to think it wasn't there.

He couldn't sense himself.

Rather, he seemed to forget that he existed physically, and his outline in the mental picture seemed thin and blurred, almost transparent. He certainly had not moved, but something was wrong. It frightened him enough to rethink his actions, and he backed out of the pool.

As he backed out, he realized how deeply he really had submerged himself: entirely down to his torso. It had been so natural that he had completely focused on what was at the bottom of the pool. Peering back into it, there was still something at the bottom, just out of sight like a shadow in the moon's light. However, now it seemed far more dangerous than some simple curiosity.

As Toothless opened his eyes (his real, physical eyes), he took a deep breath. That was like nothing he had ever experienced, and it terrified him. He was nearly as frightened as when Nidhogg had controlled him, but now he understood it better. Shaking off the last of the jitters, he set off to tell Fenrir the news.

Finally, he was making headway with his god.


Shielding his eyes from the blinding light, Hiccup watched through his fingers as a multitude of dragons blasted their hottest flames at a single point. With a heavy apron of scales, he was able to get mere feet away as they all converged to superheat the chains Hiccup had found in the caverns. With a gesture from Valka the dragons stopped, and Hiccup rushed in with his tools, pounding with all his might. After a minute of this, he stepped away and let the dragons resume their barrage.

The resistance was impressive, but slowly the chains were being hammered down, shaped and solidified once again. The four lengths of chain that he had were rationed out in his sketches: one would go as parts for his leg, another for his arm―it would be hard to find better raw materials for them; the other two would be combined for the weapon.

Although unclear on what type of weapon he wanted to make, Hiccup knew it had to be one-of-a-kind. He had a weak connection to the chains, but that was just surface level. He didn't even know how to manipulate magic, and the fact that it had worked was frankly shocking to him. But since it had, he planned to exploit it to the best of his abilities. So far, he'd found that he could influence the chains to weakly magnetize together, that he could always sense where they were (albeit vaguely), and that they sparked when touching other metals, although whether that was due to their own properties or their relation to Fenrir was unknown to Hiccup.

The streams of flame cut off, and he moved in again, hammering at the now-misshapen metal. These would, once broken down, be mechanics and vital parts of the prosthetic arm. His sketches depicted a slim, elegant arm that would be unrecognizable as a fake, provided it was covered by a glove or something similar. To top it off, he planned on fitting some small, emergency weapons inside, like a one-shot crossbow or a slim blade. He'd be able to fit more in his leg, but unpreparedness was the downfall of the foolish.

Hiccup snorted, knowing how contradictory the Berkian saying was―the only thing Vikings were constantly prepared for was battle, and only battle.

By the end of the day, Hiccup was soaked in sweat and aching in his bones, but satisfied with his progress. Broken down and hammered into the vague pieces he needed, he had all the needed components for his arm. Now that the pieces were smaller, he could brute-force them into many shapes: gears, coggs, and strips. All the necessary pieces in his blueprint.

The blueprints were excessive, to say the least. He had spent days and nights on them. After a while, he'd run out of spare paper, so he carved them into stone, or scratched them into wood. The end result, however, would be worth it.

Days passed, and Hiccup finished his arm. He moved onto the leg, and finished it in less time than the arm. It was more complicated than a peg leg, but not by much. It had hollow spaces for weapons, it had a foot-shaped bottom and a calf-shaped leg section. It was only complex in Viking standards, and would be considered basic machinery anywhere else. Regardless, it was completed.

While he was testing his new prosthetics out, Valka swooped down above him. He smiled, but seeing her face, his smile faded. She looked grim and slightly anxious, and hovered in the air with Cloudjumper. She leaned down, then spoke in a dark tone, "Hiccup, a ship has approached the island. I know your thoughts on this, and I won't force you, but will you come with me to remove it? I'd like to prove to you that it's only a necessity for our survival."

Hiccup's stomach dropped and the remnant of a smile faded. Moving to climb onto Cloudjumper's back, he hoped he could find some way to intervene, to find a middle ground. He doubted it would be possible, but any attempt would be worth a try.


Hope everyone's doing well in the midst of the covid-19 pandemic! It's a terrible time for lots of people.

Sorry about the terrible update times, I tend to overload myself with school (although not anymore this semester, I guess). Also, I feel like I haven't acknowledged in forever that VigoGrimborne is still my beta reader. Thanks for putting up with me Vigo :) Anyway, training arc! Lots of necessary things are happening in this chapter, but mostly the buildup to the eventual strength that Hiccup and Toothless will train up to. Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, let me know your opinions!