Chapter 19: Hofferson's Bane

Hiccup's POV

The first time I regained consciousness I thought I was dead.

I was certain someone had given my left leg to a dragon to chew on. My fevered mind wondered offhandedly if Toothless had decided to pay me back for ruining his tail.

I groaned weakly and heard a voice call out my name. The voice was distinctly feminine, but sounded muddled as if my head was dunked in a barrel of water.

A damp cloth was placed on my forehead before I was returned to the bliss of obliviousness.

The second time I woke up I was certain I was dreaming.

There was still a distinct, stabbing pain in my left leg, but I managed to blearily open my eyes. On my left was a blurry blonde with blue spots, on my right was a black blot with acid green drops. I tried to speak, but the only sound that came out of my mouth was a harsh breath, quickly followed by a fit of coughs. A cup was placed near my mouth and I drank greedily, soothing my dry throat. My head fell back, my eyelids slid closed, and I once again slipped into unconsciousness.

The third time I was roused from the darkness, I was convinced I was hallucinating.

My eyes opened, and though my vision was still a bit hazy, I could clearly see Dad scratching Toothless' jaw and placing a basket of fish in front of him.

The sight was so alien it didn't fully register for a few seconds, and then the pain in my leg hit me like a Gronkle to the head and I was knocked back into the realm of dreamless sleep.

The fourth time I regained awareness, I remained conscious long enough to have a short conversation.

My left leg still felt as if it had been used as a war hammer, but it wasn't overwhelming my entire being this time. I moaned and opened my eyes.

I was lying on my bed, but the view above me was different from what I usually woke up to; I quickly realized Dad had moved my bed downstairs to the main level. I glanced to my right and discovered an empty fish basket turned on its side; probably food for Toothless. Said dragon was nowhere in the vicinity, but on my left sat a familiar giant of a man with a red beard almost bigger than me.

"Dad?" I croaked.

Stoick jumped and turned towards me. "Hiccup?! Yer awake!"

He raised his arms as if to hug me, then dropped them and cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, erm, h-how are ya doing?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows slightly. "Well, I'm alive," I replied hoarsely, "How long have I been down?"

Dad took a breath before responding. "Two weeks."

My breath hitched. "Wh- why was I out so long?" I asked nervously.

The chief raised his oversized hand and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, one of the few traits we shared. It must have been horrible to talk about because he answered my question with another question; "What do ye remember?"

I frowned, concentrating. "I was in the ring facing the Nightmare," I started, "and then Toothless-" I stopped, realizing said Night Fury wasn't around. I started to panic. "Wait, where's Toothless?"

My dad put a hand on my shoulder to calm me down. "Relax, son," he said, "the dragon's with Astrid." I sighed in relief, letting my head fall back onto my pillow.

I wanted to talk more, but all the activity quickly wore out my exhausted body and I slipped into sleep once more.

"It's okay, Toothless, Stoick said he woke up earlier."

A moaning warble from my right answered the feminine voice, and I opened my eyes to see Toothless' big, round eyes staring at me with concern.

"Hey bud," I whispered hoarsely.

Toothless' ears flew straight up as he looked at me in surprise before barking joyfully and licking my face with his rough, slimy tongue, drenching my head in Night Fury saliva.

"Gah, Toothless!" I exclaimed, pushing the dragon away while wiping my face with my free hand. "Ugh, this will never wash out…"

Someone off to my left snorted, and I looked over to find Astrid sitting on the stool my Dad had occupied earlier, covering her mouth with her hand. She held up a cloth with her free hand, obviously trying to hold in a laugh. Something told me this wasn't the first time Toothless had decided to bathe me himself, and I had a feeling it wouldn't be the last time either.

I mumbled thanks as I grabbed the cloth and wiped my face off while Toothless jumped around, barking happily. The overenthusiastic dragon tripped over his own tail, falling towards me on the bed with a yelp. As soon as the dragon landed on my legs, pain shot up my left shin, causing black spots to appear in my vision. Someone yelled; it was probably me.

When my vision cleared and the stabbing pains reduced to sharp throbs, I gasped as I tried to catch my breath. My forehead was covered in sweat. Toothless whined and nudged my arm apologetically.

Astrid was on her feet next to me, looking alarmed. "Hiccup?" she whispered shakily.

I groaned and sat up, propping myself against the wall with my pillow behind me. "Wh-why does it hurt s-so much?" I gasped.

Astrid bit her lip as she glanced at the covers. I followed her gaze to my left foot…or, the flat space where my left foot should be. My heart pounded as I threw my furs off to find my left shin half as long as my right, ending in a swollen stump.

I stared at the shortened appendage in shock. Vikings lost limbs all the time; it's an occupational hazard. But, most Vikings don't even entertain the thought of gloriously losing a limb until they've gone through several dragon raids.

There I was, fourteen winters old, and I had a permanent reminder of the horrible beast that nearly destroyed the majority of the population of Berk.

"Well," I croaked, "It's only fun if you get a scar out of it, right?"

Astrid stared at me as if I'd lost my mind. Then she punched me in the arm…hard.

"Ow! Why would you do that?!" I protested, rubbing my arm.

"That's for almost dying," Astrid growled. I opened my mouth to argue that I hadn't planned on almost dying or losing a limb, but before I could, the door to the house swung open, Dad stepping in and closing it behind him.

"Ah, Hiccup, you're awake again," he said, grabbing another stool and walking towards us, "Astrid, good, we have things to discuss."

I glanced at Astrid, confused. She took a breath and avoided my gaze. I turned back to Dad. "What's going on?"

Stoick sighed, taking his helmet off his head and placing it on the table nearby while setting the stool on the floor and seating himself. "The day we returned from the nest, Halvar Hofferson came up to me and asked for a word in private." he began.

Uh oh, I thought, tenderly rubbing the area above my sore stump.

Dad must have guessed what I was thinking, because he shook his head and chuckled. "I followed Halvar to his home and allowed him to speak. He wants to end the blood feud."

My eyes widened in surprise. I looked at Astrid, but she was still staring at the floor, her face unreadable. I turned back to Dad and asked, "How?"

"That's the tricky part," he sighed, massaging his temple, "Halvar saw how well you trained the Night Fury" -Toothless perked up a bit, and I scratched him behind his ear flap, earning a small purr of pleasure- "and is hoping that you could do the same with the Flightmare."

"Oh," I muttered, "Is that all?" Then another thought occurred to me. "Wait, what does Mrs. Hofferson think about all this?"

Stoick glanced at Astrid, who held out a crumpled ball of parchment. I took it and unraveled the note, reading it quickly. I winced, handed the note back to Astrid, and turned to Dad. "Why is she so determined to get rid of me? I thought Mr. Hofferson would have more of a grudge; she's not even from Berk originally."

"That's just it," Astrid grumbled, "According to Dad, the night they got married Mom's village was raided by dragons, completely destroying the island. She and Dad barely made it out alive, and they were the only ones to escape."

I frowned as the dots started connecting in my head. "So, between her village, Finn, and Gunnar, I'm guessing your mother really hates dragons, and since I've ended the war against them, she's taking her anger out on me."

Dad nodded. "Aye, and Halvar has tried arguing with her but, well, Ragnhild's about as stubborn as they come."

I took a deep breath. "Okay, how long until the Flightmare returns?"

"Well, it should be sometime in the spring," Stoick answered, "So anywhere from two to six months."

I glanced down at my leg, or what was left of it. "Let's hope it's closer to six," I muttered.

"Gobber's been working on a prosthetic for you," Astrid said, noticing the gloomy look on my face, "He said he'd be finished with it soon, but you probably won't be able to put it on until the swelling goes down."

I nodded absentmindedly, running through everything I'd just learned in my head. There were still some things that just didn't add up. "From what I understand, Astrid's mom hates me, but I still don't get why Mr. Hofferson is acting so neutral. He lost both his older brother and his son to dragons; why doesn't he hold a grudge?"

Astrid shook her head sadly. "Dad was upset after Finn died, but he was able to distract himself from the pain by training Gunnar. Then Gunnar's accident happened, and Dad changed. Mom took over my training, and Dad just sort of faded to the background. Since I'm the only remaining Hofferson child, the family name ends with me. I think Dad just wants the Hoffersons to be remembered as honorable as possible before he leaves for Valhalla."

It made sense in a depressing sort of way. Astrid was literally the clans last chance at redemption, and if she failed, the Hofferson name would be tarnished in Berk's history forever.

Few families in the village were able to have more than one child survive past his or her first winter. Even fewer were the families that didn't lose a child during a dragon raid. Berk's population had been slowly dwindling over the years as dragon attacks became more frequent. Many villagers had been prepared for the dragons to completely destroy the island in their lifetime.

Until I came along and discovered the truth.

I took a deep breath, settling my resolve. "Okay, let's train ourselves a Flightmare."

I apologize for taking so long once again. I was really hoping to have this story finished before it turns a year old next month, but I'm not certain it'll happen that way. Life got kinda crazy the last little bit; my grandfather passed away and I was more concerned with spending time with family than writing. I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter went, but I figured something was better than nothing. And for those that play the game, this chapters title was inspired by the Flightmare in Rise of Berk of the same name.

I really hope the additions to the previous chapters help clear some things up. I'm still trying to figure out this whole storytelling thing, and I'm writing each chapter as I go. Thank you to everyone that's stuck around so long. It's been a crazy year, but we're picking up steam now.

My thoughts are with anyone affected by the virus sweeping across the world. I'm super lucky to have an "essential" job that keeps me occupied and fed. Stay strong, we'll get through this eventually.