Chapter 25: Plotting and Positioning

Hiccup had never felt such a rush before, and he hated it.

The hundreds of Vikings staring up at him with awestruck, hoping eyes had nearly crushed him under the pressure. Lying straight to their faces had been terrifying, and his mouth was drier than it had ever felt. His tongue felt like a fish flopping about. He could barely force air into his lungs, but despite the deep breaths that he was taking, his heartbeat kept vibrating through his ribs.

"That went well," mused Fenrir, flying next to him. "Your speech was rousing, to say the least."

"It wasn't enough, I―" Hiccup said, "I don't…some of the Vikings seemed suspicious. Or some figured it out. Dagur, or Tuffnut seemed suspicious, or m-my father, or―"

Fenrir twisted in midair to slap Hiccup with his tail, nearly knocking him off Toothless, who was flying silently and listening to their conversation. "It was enough." he said. "You made a strong first impression, and what the Vikings cannot explain, they will attribute to magic. There will be time to prepare yourself for more. For now, relax."

As much as he hated to admit it, Fenrir was right. Hiccup nodded, releasing some of the tension from his body. He kept quiet for the rest of the flight, thinking.

It was a short flight, one hidden by the now-dispersing storm clouds that Fenrir had summoned. With such a high viewpoint, Berk looked miniscule, like a grouping of insignificant clumps on a hill. The Vikings were barely visible. It was an oddly calming experience for Hiccup.

As he looked down on the town, his thoughts wandered―not for the first time―back to his friends he had lost by leaving. He hadn't seen Fishlegs or Ruffnut in the crowd, but he had seen Astrid and Tuffnut. Astrid had been seated at a table with some of the Bog-Burglars and had seemed frigidly cold as always, even towards 'Thor.' Tuffnut, on the other hand, had been seated with a group of Visithugs, a slightly more respectable tribe. He'd spoken to Hiccup directly, asking how they could be of assistance.

But there was something else that Hiccup couldn't place. When he'd stared Tuffnut down, the boy had stared back at a god, or at least what had seemed to be. There had been a cunning look on his face, one Hiccup recognized.

Had Tuffnut seen through his disguise? Hiccup's blood ran cold at the thought that he'd been revealed so soon. His peer was smart, there was no doubt about that. Was there something that could've given him away?

Hiccup looked down at himself, then almost laughed out loud at his stupidity. Everything made sense.

To the rest of the Vikings, armor made of dragon scales was a luxury, but nothing more. To one of the Thorston twins who had spent hours alongside him in the Cove, however, it was a different matter. In fact, thought Hiccup, that would explain why the Cove wasn't how I left it. Things had definitely been moved.

Another disturbing thought came to Hiccup's mind. What if, instead of figuring out who Hiccup was, Tuffnut thought that the 'Thor' who had burst into the Great Hall was an imposter? What if it wasn't Tuffnut who had found his Cove? All of his revelations were built on these assumptions, but it was just as likely that he was wrong.

By the time the three landed in the Cove, Hiccup was panicking again. He dashed into his workplace and grabbed the few things he had brought with him. "We need to leave. Someone might find us here."

"Who?" asked Fenrir unconcernedly, laying down.

"I...don't know." Hiccup said slowly. "It could be Tuffnut, but it might not be. If it's not, everything goes up in smoke. If it is him, it still might. I…" he trailed off. Fenrir scowled, standing up from the bed he had stolen from Toothless.

"Explain. Calm down and explain."

Frantically, Hiccup explained his reasoning―Tuffnut, the Cove's abnormalities, and how they could end up leading the perpetrator to the Cove. Fenrir listened, and Toothless stood nearby, unsure how to react. When Hiccup finally stopped talking, Fenrir responded curtly, "Then, what do you plan to do? You are our leader."

He caught his breath. He wasn't sure what to do, and hesitated to make a choice that could be wrong. But every second that he hadn't made a choice was a second that put him at risk for being caught. For a moment, he was silent, lost entirely in thought. Then, he made his decision.

"We need to move. It's not worth the risk of being caught by someone unknown. I think...I could trust Tuffnut, but if it really wasn't him, we'll be in trouble."

Fenrir nodded, yawning. He said, "I think you're mixing up your worries, boy. But stick by your decision. An indecisive leader does no one good." he paused. "Perhaps leave a message only your friend would understand, should it truly be him."

After a moment of contemplation, Hiccup agreed.

The mood was grim, but as the rain faded to reveal a dark sky, electricity seemed to run underneath the Vikings' skin. It was an anxious, excited emotion that fizzled in the air and breath of those around. The leaders of each clan, along with the usual key figures that accompanied them, had all crammed into the smithy after the departure of Thor. Gobber had grumbled, but to no avail. After such an experience, many of the Vikings felt calmer around their weaponry, the greatest of their miniscule strength.

"―a foolish gamble, drawing its attention to you. No matter your bravery, a dead Viking is―" Stoick's voice rose above the arguing for a moment, gruff and accusatory.

"―the boy saw that Thor had no ill will, Stoick! We should be preparing for his next visit, not running about like―" Bertha yelled back, putting a hand on Tuffnut's shoulder.

For once, Dagur was silent, sitting at the edge of the room and enjoying the chaos. He wasn't the only one, although he was the only one sprawled out with a lazy smile. Tuffnut was stuck in the center of the argument. Ivar of the Meatheads and Bjorn of the Visithugs were both speaking to their men, learning what had happened. Astrid stood at the edge of the room, as expressionless as a slab of metal. Gobber had escaped to a back room, complaining about a headache.

"That's enough!" boomed Stoick, stomping hard enough to make the floor shake. "We are not here to argue over small details that have already passed. We are here to decide how to proceed in regards to Thor."

"If I may ask, are we convinced that it truly was Thor? Could he have deceived you somehow?" asked Bjorn.

"Lord Thor gave us ample proof, both in his equipment and his body. Golden blood of the gods and a hammer that neither Stoick nor I could lift. I can speak for myself, at least, when I say that a boulder would be easier to lift than that hammer." Bertha said, and Stoick nodded next to her. "I believe that we should prepare for his return, and begin amassing our strongest."

"I don't like it." said Dagur from the side. "Something's off about him."

This prompted another wave of murmurs and arguments, raising voices and eyebrows. The crowd was split; most agreed with Bertha, but more than a handful felt suspicion towards the abrupt appearance of Thor. However, no one doubted that he (or it) was immeasurable. The sliver of power he revealed in the Great Hall was enough to cause desolation throughout Berk, yet he wasted it for simply announcing his arrival.

"Did he say when he'd return?" asked Ivar, quieting most of the arguments.

Stoick shook his head. "No. Only that he would. We should prepare quickly."

"So you're just going to roll over and let him take your best men? All of you?" Dagur said incredulously. He snorted, then stood. "Vorg, stay here and let me know if anything of actual consequence is decided." His second-in-command nodded, and the rest of the Berserkers followed Dagur out.

After a moment of silence, Ivar said, "For once, I agree with the Berserkers. I have no men to give to a god for a fight we have no part in. Who is he, to demand our assistance?"

"How dare you?" hissed Bertha, stomping her way through the crowd to stand face-to-face with the man. "This is one of our gods we are speaking of! There can be no greater honor than to fight alongside him―who are you to refuse?" Shouts began breaking out around the room once again, and Stoick lifted a hand to silence the room.

"Bertha, Ivar, put aside your differences for now. If you must argue, do it after we have decided how to prepare… actually, how should we prepare?" Stoick paused and his face dropped, realizing that he wasn't sure what to do.

"Lord Thor said that he would return." Said Spitelout, Stoick's too-ambitious cousin. "Should we not simply await his next arrival and ask him for his orders then?"

"A coalition of five islands, sitting about like sheep and waiting for orders? That would be shameful. Perhaps he is giving us a test, to see the best we can bring him on short notice." said Bertha. Once she mentioned the idea of a test, the room hushed and nervous whispers began slithering about once more. "At the very least, we should show him our preparedness for war. Should we be lacking, we can then ask for his guidance."

A murmur of assent bubbled through the crowd. Bjorn, with a troubled look, interjected, "but how should we prepare? What could we give to a god?"

The leaders paused, each thinking. Conversation began to break out, no longer argumentative, but earnest, attempting to decide a path of progression. For the first time, the clans were in sync. Soon, the room was in agreement on most things―to empty a house for the god, to present him with a weapon, and to appoint a representative for the clans.

"Who should represent us?" asked Vorg, the Berserker's second-in-command. He'd stayed silent since Dagur had left, but he spoke up now with an accusatory tone. "We should choose more than one, and from different clans. That way, there'll be no cozying up to the god just for your own island."

"That's an agreement I'm willing to make." said Stoick, nodding.

"It would only be fair," said Ivar, a wry smile hidden behind his beard, "to nominate the Thorston boy. He should take responsibility for the words he said in the hall, offering our servitude." The room seemed to simultaneously turn their eyes towards Tuffnut, standing at Stoick's side.

"That's not for you to decide, Ivar. The boy―"

"That seems like a fine way to deal with it."

"Yes, that makes sense."

Stoick began to protest, but was cut off as voices began to agree with the Meathead's Chief. With an awkward pause, he looked down at the blond teen. The teen returned the stare, then turned away.

"I would be honored to serve as Berk's representative." said Tuffnut, stepping into the center of the crowd and smiling. A cunning smile. "I doubt Lord Thor has need for many assistants, however. We should limit the amount of Vikings we nominate." Many people opened their mouths to shout out their recommendations, but Tuffnut wasn't finished. "As Chief Ivar has so generously nominated me, we should instead let the other chiefs nominate their own men―or women." he added, nodding respectfully towards the Bog-Burglar Chieftess.

Ivar's face twitched, but he simply waved his hand as if he didn't care. Vorg―and some of the chiefs, albeit under their breath―chuckled. "Now I see why Dagur likes you." said the Berserker. "We don't need a representative. Anything our chief wants to do, he'll do himself."

Tuffnut nodded and the conversations continued, with him now a focal point. He was not a chief, nor did he have the authority to order these Vikings about, but an outsider looking in would've seen that he was surely in control of the room. Like a dragon battle, or a game of chess. The chiefs each moved their pieces, and Tuffnut responded in kind. Move for move, capture for capture. Anything to maneuver himself into a better position.

Soon, the next representatives were chosen: a burly Visithug named Skarde, and a Bog-Burglar named Hilda who seemed to be friends with Astrid. The two of them seemed proud to be chosen. The two least troublesome clans, thought Tuffnut with a small smile. As long as it wasn't the Berserkers or Meatheads, he could get along with them. It was all just another piece moved across the chessboard.

Once the representatives were chosen, the meeting began to dry up. Stoick decided on a house to prepare for Thor, and Gobber was set to work creating a worthy weapon to present. There were no more arguments, only discussions and debates. Soon, the Vikings began slowly funneling out, making their ways back to their ships or houses where they had taken up residence. Astrid and the Meatheads were some of the first to leave, while the Visithugs lingered, wishing to iron out details.

As the Visithugs began to leave, Tuffnut moved to follow. At the door, however, he paused as a voice called his name.

"Tuffnut. Stay a moment."

Stoick stood in the center of the smithy, seeming far less vast than his title would suggest. His shoulders were slumped, and his beard drooped. Tuffnut turned, waiting for his chief to speak again.

"I wish to know your reason for offering our service to Thor. You are not one to do something so reckless." Stoick said heavily. His eyes were keen, even though his body was tired.

"It was...well, it was just a hunch." Tuffnut addressed Stoick casually, having grown closer to him in recent months. It was common knowledge that both he and Astrid were candidates for becoming the heir to the island, and they had both become familiar with their chief as a result. "But I got the feeling that he had no intent to threaten us."

"Hmm…" Stoick stroked his beard. "I can't say I agree. But perhaps calling his identity into question led him to regard me poorly." Tuffnut shrugged. The sound of hammering metal rang out from the next room over―Gobber had begun making the weapon to be offered. "That was not why I called you over, however. Ivar forced you into the spot of representative; I want to hear your thoughts."

Tuffnut had not been expecting this from the headstrong chief. His reputation for disregarding diplomacy and flowery words was no error, so why was he asking for Tuffnut's thoughts now? "Ah, uh, I'm proud to be chosen, certainly. I think there's more to it, however." Tuffnut responded, purposefully leaving his statement vague. "Although, if you don't mind me asking, Chief, why do you ask? You're not normally one to ask something like this." He said, mirroring Stoick's own words.

With a heavy sigh, Stoick let his hands drop to his sides. "After so long to think, I believe...I may have played a part in...Hiccup's death." He forced his son's name out as if it pained him to do so. "I judged him too harshly, gave him too little praise. Perhaps I want to make it up to him somehow. Maybe it's too late for me to change, but…" the chief grew quiet, but Tuffnut nodded.

"I understand, Chief. You hope to ask Lord Thor about Hiccup's travel to Valhalla? I will do my best to tell you what I learn." Tuffnut said, playing dumb. His suspicion about Thor's identity hadn't been confirmed yet, so he would instead play the part of a representative. Just another move in his game of chess.

Stoick sighed, but said nothing. While Tuffnut had seemed to misunderstand his intentions, the boy made a fair point. Thor was perhaps his last lifeline to learn what had happened to his son―but his duties as a chief came first. Cold as he may seem, he was a chief before he was a father. Stoick waved Tuffnut out. Once the boy left, he sat down on the nearest chair and placed his head in his hands.

"Ye' feeling alright, Stoick?" Gobber said, emerging from the back room, as the clanging of metal abruptly ceasing. Stoick didn't answer.

"Was it really my fault that Hiccup disappeared, Gobber?"

Gobber opened his mouth, then closed it. After a moment of thought, he responded, "Not that he disappeared, no. But other things?" Gobber wiggled his hook-hand. "Maybe."

Silently, Stoick nodded. "I know." He kept his face hidden, but no tears would come. Years of Viking pride and training made sure of that.

The two sat together, listening to the last of the rain roll off the roof.

Tuffnut left his home. He'd briefly returned after the meeting to check on Ruffnut, whose health had declined steadily in the past months. Plagued with nightmares that made her thrash about, feverish and weak, she was a pitiful sight. Not even Gothi could heal her, and not for lack of trying.

Rumors flitted about the town about the Thorston girl, but Tuffnut refused to listen to them. She was no dead weight. In every way but title, he was the leader of the Thorston clan; he'd carried the clan from the brink of destruction single-handedly. If someone tried to pry Ruffnut from his protection, they'd have to walk over his dead body.

So after the brief check on his sister, Tuffnut left. Briefly checking to confirm no one was watching him, he set off to investigate the Cove.

Quietly, he walked through the freshly wet forest. He took a path that, while difficult, would reveal anyone who attempted to follow him. Tuffnut was like a ghost―silently stalking through his lair with purpose unknown. The path he took, coupled with his caution and slow pace, took a little over an hour. Finally, he arrived at the Cove.

But three or four steps from the edge, just far enough away that he couldn't see down into the giant pit of stone, Tuffnut stopped. He'd climbed his way to the top of Berk through his clever mind and brilliant strategies, but he trusted his gut more. In truth, his instinct was what guided nearly every clever move he made.

Tuffnut had a nearly supernatural sense of danger, a seemingly harmless trait that he had sharpened into his strongest weapon. Fighting against dragons, conversations with his fellow Berkians, and even debates against opposing clans. To Tuffnut, it was like a game of chess, and every move he made protected him from the potential dangers he felt.

And where he stood, three steps from the edge, his gut twisted with more intensity than he had ever felt.

Freezing in place, Tuffnut slowly turned to look about him. The forest was not still, it shifted and swayed with the wind and the fresh influence of the rain. But there was no one nearby; nothing but the creaking, dripping sound of nature that was diffused throughout the forest. No dragons, no Vikings, nothing.

Staying rooted into the ground, he slowly removed a Zippleback-bone knife from his pack. While it would pose no danger to most dragons, a weapon in his hand was worth triple in a surprise attack. With clenched teeth and held breath, Tuffnut stepped up to the edge. Gut still painfully clenched, he looked down.

The Cove was just as empty as he remembered it, although it was waterlogged from the recent downpour. Small trickles of water poured over the high edges and splashed into the lake, which was bloated and swelling. There seemed to be no trace of anything alive in the giant pit, however―God, dragon, or otherwise. Staying alert for the source throwing his instincts into disarray, Tuffnut climbed down the Cove's wall.

As he reached the bottom, the knot in his stomach lessened a bit; it wasn't enough to put him fully at ease, but it likely meant that he had made the correct decision. Slowly, Tuffnut walked across the marshy floor and breathed in the smell of his surroundings. Despite the pain in his gut, the Cove was where he allowed himself to relax. Months ago, he'd come more often, searching for clues about Hiccup's disappearance. Nowadays, with his duties in the town and in his clan, he rarely had the chance.

Tuffnut walked quietly towards the small cave where the twins had spent hours with Hiccup. He remembered with a touch of regret that he'd left it rather cluttered, the last time he'd been looking through his friend's books and blueprints. He'd clean that up, at least.

Stepping up to the cave's entrance, Tuffnut squinted, reaching for where a candle should've been, but finding nothing. He grunted in annoyance. Suddenly, from a dark corner of the cave, a figure moved, and Tuffnut jumped in surprise. The figure marched forward swiftly, and the Thorston barely had the chance to react before he was grabbed by the front of his vest.

"Hicc, uh…" Tuffnut began, but paused, seeing a face he recognized in the faint moonlight. "Astrid? Wha...what are you doing here?"

With barely a grunt of recognition, Astrid let go of him and turned away, walking back into the cave and once again rifling through Hiccup's tools and scraps. Tuffnut idly wondered how she could even see in the darkness. Finally, he found the candle and lit it.

Lifting the candle, Tuffnut looked farther in. The once orderly shelves and boxes had been quite literally torn apart, and the blueprints and books laid scattered and torn. Astrid was tearing through a box of Hiccup's blacksmithing tools, looking increasingly irritated. She looked up at Tuffnut, who had walked farther into the cave, and her eyes reflected the candle's light with a strangely vacant expression, almost like a sleepwalker.

"Astrid, what are you doing here? Did you do all this?" Tuffnut gestured to the destruction around with the candle, throwing shadowy shapes across the wall.

"Why are you here, Tuffnut?" It was spoken like a statement. Astrid's face was flat, inexpressive.

He paused, unsure how to answer. His gut still ached, but he could tell that Astrid wasn't what his instincts were screaming about. In fact, he felt nothing from her―which worried him even more. Even when she'd grabbed him, his instincts hadn't reacted. Astrid was an enigma; she slipped right past his defences.

"Well, I come here occasionally. It's where I can relax. Why did you wreck my books? It took a long time to collect them," he bluffed.

"Did you come here when Hiccup was here?"

"Yes―wait, you knew that this was Hiccup's spot? Why are you here, then?" Tuffnut tripped over his words. Losing the use of his instincts made him feel blind, although his gut still sent spikes of pain through his body regularly.

"Have you come here recently? No, you've spent too much time in town for that." Astrid asked, then answered herself.

"Uh," Tuffnut said, "No, no. I've been here occasionally. It's been, um, a few days." It was a feeble lie, but he had the feeling that Astrid would've seen through him no matter how good the lie. "You haven't answered me yet. Why are you here?"

Astrid shrugged. "Looking around." Tuffnut gritted his teeth at the stubborn, obvious lie of an answer. It was clear to anyone with eyes that she was looking for something. He just didn't know what.

"Tuffnut." Astrid said. "I think that you should be wary of Thor. I don't think he can be trusted."

Nodding to placate her, Tuffnut looked about, hoping something would catch his eye. The interior was torn to pieces, however. The only things left in one piece were some half-made mechanics, the crooked furniture Hiccup had made himself years ago, and a chess board.

A chess board?

He turned to look at the board, trying to remember whether it had been there during his last visit to the Cove. On it, a half-played game had been created, with neither side showing a clear advantage. Somehow, it hadn't been destroyed by Astrid's search.

"Are you listening to me, Tuffnut?"

"Do you know much about chess, Astrid?"

Now it was Astrid's turn to be confused. "No. Why?" She turned her attention to the board.

"There's a mate in two."

"So?" Astrid was getting impatient.

"So," said Tuffnut, "I think that I'll make my own decisions. But thank you for looking out for me." He moved a rook, taking a vital piece. As he did so, the painful knot of instinct untwisted from his stomach, and he breathed a breath of relief. One more move was all it took for his suspicions to be confirmed. Hiccup, and likely Toothless, were near. If they were not the ones pretending to be Thor, they were certainly involved.

Astrid was silent. Tuffnut turned to look at her, then stepped back in shock. Her face, which had kept the same dull expression through the entire conversation, now twisted in anger; the signature cold glare that she normally wore throughout the village was warm in comparison. She stared at him, silently, barely breathing.

"Um, Astrid. Is everything ok?"

The silence continued. The girl's fingers drummed methodically at her sides, but she showed no intent to move. She simply stared at Tuffnut, searching for something. She nodded slowly, mumbling to herself. Tuffnut had the feeling she wasn't responding to his question.

"It would be safer to leave him for now. If he gets close to them, they will stay. Luring them away will be easy with the right bait. Fenrir...he will regret…" Astrid paused, blinking as if surprised to see Tuffnut still in front of her. She smiled at him. Somehow, it was an expression more frightening than her cold glare.

"I apologize, Tuffnut. It's not my place to throw suspicion on Lord Thor. Congratulations on being appointed as a representative for him." For a moment, Astrid's gaze seemed to freeze Tuffnut down to his bones. Astrid's eyes were dark and soulless.

"Ah...thank you...Astrid." stammered Tuffnut. Without another word or even acknowledgement of his thanks, the girl walked out of the cave. She walked to the wall of the Cove and scaled it. In a minute, she was gone, headed back to Berk.

Behind her, she left a bewildered Tuffnut and years of work destroyed.

Unbeknownst to both of the Vikings, a silent, pure-black dragon opened his wings above the Cove. With a leap, he soared into the black sky, disappearing.

The next chapter is complete! This one is a bit shorter, but the next chapter will probably be a long one. No new mythology, unfortunately, mostly just setup for things to come in the next few chapters. As always, let me know how you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading!