Author's Note – This is set in chapter 72 – Peacemakers. This is the first of two bonus scenes from Hiccup and Toothless's perspectives.

Grief

Calembel, the main city of Gondor's westernmost region, was not as advanced in masonry as were Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith. Rather, Calembel was still a large city built upon a hill overlooking the river Ciril, but the city was built with far more wood instead of stone. Watchtowers lined the tall, wooden walls while a few guards paced on duty on the walls or by the main gate.

Within the city were hundreds of homes, sawmills for producing lumber, and various shops set up by merchants. A great hall stood beside several ponds in the center of the city.

None of that mattered right now.

Hiccup and Toothless were together in the main square, waiting as the audience gathered before them. They had landed before the main gates this morning, presented a royal seal signed by King Aragorn himself, and explained their purpose in being there. They were to introduce Toothless to everyone present and able at the time of their arrival. Further, they were to answer questions and attempt to reassure everyone as to the nature of the dragons.

Hiccup idly paced with his hands behind his back and his Elven robes fluttering in the morning breeze. Toothless paced alongside him, wearing only a simple saddle, his automatic tailfin, and his Lorien pendant. Moonbeam, while several months into carrying the new cub and visibly starting to show, was helping on various duties within Rohan itself.

They had already met with several smaller villages, with mixed results. The reaction of the people of Gondor appeared to depend on whether or not they or anyone in their family had come to grief at Minas Tirith because of the Mordor Night Furies. Those who didn't know anyone wounded there were more open and curious about Toothless. Those who had kin who were killed or injured were a different matter.

While it was not so important for people in random villages to be accepting of the Furies, this specific city mattered far more. Not only was it almost directly in the path their packmates had to fly to aid in the fishing in the Bay of Belfalas, but this was also the location where their packmates would pick up the regular shipments of fish and other dried meats as compensation for the work done. It was important that this city be, if not friendly toward the Furies, at least peaceful.

Grizzled men, robed women, and youngsters slowly gathered in the square. Several armored guards bearing pikes stood beside the gathered civilians, probably there to help reassure them.

Hiccup also especially noticed the handful of men who were either missing a limb or had prominent burn marks. Those were the people he was most concerned about. Though, there was no way to know if any of the gathered women or children had lost a husband, father, or any other family member.

It appeared that most of the people who were going to be here were present, so he faced Toothless and took a deep breath.

"Ready, bro?"

"Yes, we should do this," Toothless purred.

Hiccup squared his shoulders and faced the gathered audience as Toothless sat beside him.

"People of Calembel. I am Haddock of the dragon pack!"

"And I am Burning-Star!" Toothless added.

"Your King asked for us to meet with people of Gondor. Most of you have never met a good dragon before!"

All eyes not already on Toothless went to him as he held his head proudly.

"So we are here to meet you, talk to you, hear anything you have to say, and let you get to know Burning-Star. Who wants to go first?"

No one moved at first. Finally, a young man probably in his twenties, no older than himself, stepped forward.

"What do you eat?" the young man asked, addressing Toothless.

"Fish, deer, and bacon are my favorites," Toothless answered, smirking.

"And people!" an angry man shouted.

Everyone stiffened and looked to him, a middle-age man with no special characteristics.

"Why do you think that?" Toothless asked.

"Because, beast, my brother is a guard at Minas Tirith! He told me what your kind did there!"

Hiccup winced, remembering the most terrible part of that chaotic battle. He had personally killed a Mordor Night Fury after he witnessed it kill several guards and start to feed on one of their bodies. He saw the body being torn apart and shredded.

Toothless took a deep breath without hanging his head or looking away from the angry man.

"Yes, some of my kind flew for Mordor. They did bad and killed many of your kin. But I did not. None of my pack did. We flew to help you."

"Doesn't matter!" "Dragons are dragons!" "Beasts!" "Monsters!" "Dark wings of Mordor!"

Several loud and angry voices began chanting from within the gathered dozens. Most of the people present appeared curious, or at least did not glare at Toothless. But those people were silent while everyone else shouted or cursed profanities.

Toothless's ears fell slightly.

Hiccup angrily stepped forward.

"Don't judge people for what others did! The dragons that attacked got what they deserved. Most of them are dead. You probably didn't know this, but the dragon pack was living far up North, entirely alone! They wanted to stay there and not bother anyone. But they flew down here to help with the war!"

"Yes! We fought to help Rohan at Helm's Deep! We also killed the Fellbeasts and very big Mumakil at the Minas Tirith fight!" Toothless shouted.

"What about the other dragons that were there? What about them?" someone objected.

Hiccup frowned, briefly considering what to reveal. No one needed to know that some of the Mordor dragons had once belonged to the pack, not when that knowledge could only hurt the image the people must have of the pack.

"They were not part of the pack! We want to live in peace and cooperate with all of Gondor and Rohan!"

"We'll never be safe until they're all gone!" another voice shouted.

Toothless got to his paws and calmly walked toward the person who had just objected. He stopped far enough away that the man probably felt safe enough. But he was unsure what to say to help convince this man to change his thinking.

"All gone? Look at me? How am I being a monster?"

"You are a dragon! Monsters is what you are!"

Toothless rolled his eyes and huffed.

"What if I told you that I know a dragon who lost most of her family to a bad human? She hated and feared humans, all of you, because of that bad in her past. That was not fair or good of her, but she learned and saw that she was wrong. I am not a monster because of what I am."

The man grumbled and said nothing else.

Satisfied, Toothless trotted back to Hiccup and sat down beside him.

"Anyone have more questions for us? We can also listen to you if you want to talk to us!" Hiccup asked.

A handful of young people came forward and asked about the pack, how dragons lived, where they had been, and other innocuous topics. None of those Gondor lads and lasses appeared afraid or reluctant, or showed any anger.

Then a gruff, bearded man with burn marks on his cheek approached. His eyes were tired and focused on nothing in particular, and there were carelines on his brow.

"You dragons killed my wife and son at Minas Tirith. I will never forgive you for that."

"We did not..." Toothless began.

But the man spun around and stalked off, saying nothing else and unwilling to listen to them any longer. Toothless stared after the unknown man without saying anything or moving.

Hiccup was similarly silent. He simply didn't know what to say to someone in that situation. No words of consolation he knew of could help someone who had lost all his closest family.

They remained there late into the morning, listening to stories, answering questions, and doing their best to allay fears.

Hiccup walked among the merchants' stalls, searching for someone who dealt in clothing. He had brought with him enough coin for a simple but fine dress to surprise Adney with when he got back to Edoras. Most of her clothing was very plain, which was not abnormal for most Rohirrim folk. He was a notable exception in that, while not truly one of the Rohirrim, since he had had his several Elven robes which he wore basically whenever he was not working in the smithy.

He wanted her to have fine clothing to look good in and take some pride from wearing. Not that she was at all vain in any way.

Hmm, maybe that one.

He approached a stall covered with furs and linens. The middle-age lady behind the stall was sorting through several boxes. However, he didn't need any help, since the women's dresses were easy to find and had several options in the appropriate sizes. The dress that most caught his eye was yellow and green with gold-colored inlay on the seams and sleeves.

She'll love this one. Got all the Rohan colors!

"Excuse me, how much for this one?" he asked the lady behind the table.

She turned, faced him, and stared.

"It's you. Get out of here. We don't want you here," she scowled.

"Pardon?"

She crossed her arms and frowned.

"Your dragons killed my brother!"

"I... I'm sorry for your loss. But you're wrong. The dragons in the pack didn't do that."

"Get out or I'll call the guards!" she shouted.

He winced, set the dress on the stall, and departed without saying anything else.

Her absolute, stubborn refusal to listen hurt, much as had many conversations in the morning. He had pointed out that they should not hate people who look similar to the killers of their kin or relatives, but he suspected that his advice fell on many deaf ears.

Another woman behind a stall of clothing caught his eye and waved him over.

"I saw what happened over there. You may look through my wares," she said.

"Thanks. It's nice to meet someone who doesn't hate me or the dragons," he grumbled, glancing at the piles of clothing.

"Oh, I hate the dragons. But I want your business."

He shrugged.

"Great."

Toothless could have been resting in his and Hiccup's designated tent while Hiccup was away buying new furs for Adney. Instead, he was waiting outside the tent, so as to let anyone else talk to him if they wanted to. He did not fear any of the guards standing around the tent, since they had their orders from their Alpha.

It would be nice and soul-fire warming if more of the humans wanted to talk to him. His sitting there in peace and not flaming their nest-city had to help change their thoughts about what dragons were. On the other paw, meeting the Gondor humans up close would certainly help far more.

He purred to himself as a pawful of humans cautiously approached, keeping their distance from him. The first were a group of three older male fledglings who looked like blood-kin.

"Burning-Star?"

"That is me!" he purred, sitting upright.

One of them pointed a paw at his Lorien pendant.

"Do all of you dragons have... jewelry?" the fledgling asked.

"No, I am special. I got this as a gift, and I like it," he explained.

"Do you have a hoard?"

He rolled his eyes and nudged his pendant with a paw.

"Yes, this is my hoard. I need nothing else. My packmates do not have hoards. I have seen a dragon with a hoard though."

"Really?" "Tell us." "Where is it?"

Were they planning to go fight that dragon for its treasure? It was possible. Humans, like true Middle-earth dragons, had a fascination with hoards, treasure, and fighting for gain.

"It is far north beyond Rohan, Erebor, and the distant mountains. The dragon has ice-breath and is so big that it could crush your house-dens. You do not want to go fight it."

The fledglings grumbled, put their paws in their furs, and appeared discouraged, which was probably for the best. They, and likely any number of humans, were no match for a dragon as big and dangerous as Vorunturth.

He was pleased that the fledglings slightly bowed their heads to him before departing. Their respect was a good sign that he had made an impression on them.

The next two to approach were an adult female and a young female cub maybe no more than five winters old. The adult held the cub's paw and appeared very cold toward him. She also repeatedly glanced at the guards, as if to assure herself that they were there.

She was clearly afraid of him.

"Hello, what is your name?" he purred.

"Doesn't matter. My daughter has a question for you, dragon," she coldly answered.

He lowered himself to look the cub in her eyes while she held tightly to her dam's leg.

"Hello, little one. Do you have a question for me?"

The cub, still holding tightly to her dam, stared at his paws and spoke very softly.

"Why did you kill my papy?"

He blinked, unsure what to say. Papy was probably a young cub word for sire, but he was not sure about that. Whatever the cub's name was, his soul-fire went out to her. She was probably much like Tail-Hunter, in that both of them had lost their sire at a young age.

"Little one, I did not. None of my pack did."

"But you are dwagons. You are bad and mean."

Great skies, where is Hiccup when I need him for this?

He purred very softly to not scare her.

"I am sorry that your... papy died in fighting."

She sniffled and looked away. He was not sure what else he could say to her. At least her dam did not have thought-problems like Dreamcatcher did.

Hiccup, carrying a bag with clothing he'd finally picked out for Adney, returned to where Toothless was waiting in a clearing where he was under protection of several guards.

Toothless was curled tightly in on himself, his head hidden under a wing when he arrived.

"Bro, what's wrong?"

Toothless huffed, got to his paws, and appeared very tired or upset.

"More people came to talk with me when you were away. Two of them were a dam and a female cub. The cub asked me why I killed her papy, her sire."

"Oh, sorry about that."

Toothless took a deep breath and glanced at his bag.

"Did you get the furs?"

"Yeah, I found something she'll like. You ready to head out? I am."

Toothless stretched his wings and limbs.

"Yes, I want to leave here."

He stowed his supplies in the saddlebag, got in the saddle, and Toothless took flight, gliding over Calembel before turning their flight for the north. They briefly saw many people looking skyward and pointing fingers at them. Then they were out over the forest as Calembel receded into the distance.

"That went well," Hiccup groaned.

"Most of them were not very cold to us," Toothless cheerfully pointed out.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, though he also saw Toothless's point. Most of the people they had spoken with had been either ambivalent, suspicious but fair, or curious about Toothless and the story they had to tell. The Calembel leadership had, as far as he could tell, understood and accepted the orders sent from Dol Amroth with regard to the shipments of food to be regularly picked up by packmates.

Among the aggrieved, most of them understood the distinction between the Mordor dragons and the Furies of the pack in Rohan. There were even a couple burn victims or people otherwise wounded by the dragon attack who thanked him and Toothless for the help the pack had given.

But it was the handful of angry and bitter survivors, mostly widows and orphans, that stuck in his thoughts and pained his heart. Grief made people believe and do unreasonable things.

Changing the world for the better was not as simple as just telling people the truth. Some people did not want to hear the truth or could not hear the truth.

As the White Mountains came into view on the northern horizon, he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He didn't whether those were from the biting and chill wind, or the echoes of others' grief he had seen and felt. But getting home to their families would help immensely.

"True. You flying straight home or stopping somewhere?"

"I can fly without stopping, unless you need to stop."

"Let's get home."

Toothless roared and raced onward toward the distant mountains.