The Ghost and His Shadow
Reviews: Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for your feedback! Below I will be responding to some different reviewers and then on with the story.
Arashi Uzukaze: I chose to write Toothless/Shadow's POV with the three-word descriptors because I wanted him to come across as very intelligent, but also not human, so he doesn't think in the same way that a Viking would. It's flashes of impressions that stand out to him because I wanted it to seem more in the moment and instinctual.
Juxshoa: Chapters 11 and 12 are similar and 14 and 15 are similar because I wanted to show the difference between Gobber's (the bystander's) POV on Hiccup/Ghost's new skills and what Ghost is actually thinking and doing but thank you for your reviews!
San Wolves: The Gronkle does have a name! She's Cragg. :)
Ghost didn't feel like cooking anything, and it was too late to visit Shadow by the time he was done in the forge, so he headed for the Great Hall. He had been experimenting with crushing up a few of Shadow's scales with a mortar and pestle. There must be some way that he could add a stickiness to the mixture and affix it to his own armor. Maybe he could even add some of the secreted oil from crushed Dragon Nip, just a few drops that would hopefully make his scent more appealing or relaxing to dragons. Hopefully, the paint would aid in fireproofing his leather armor, and perhaps the saddle as well – it would also be nice to blend the leather with Shadow's scales.
He was still lost in thought when he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and didn't notice when the chattering voices lowered to a murmur of excited whispers. He grabbed a bowl of stew and sat at an empty table where he could see most of the room's inhabitants. He was still startled when not only the Pack, but several fully grown Viking adults crowded around his table to begin a cacophony of demanded question. Ghost just kept his head down and ate his stew, pretending like he didn't want them all to suffer for how they had treated him.
He did notice that Astrid remained at her own table and slammed her tankard against the wood with a look of rage and frustration on her face. If she wanted this, she was welcome to it. He didn't care for fame or riches or glory. All he wanted was freedom.
While sitting in a patch of sun on a rock, Ghost was reinforcing each leather strap for the saddle and had acquired wool to stuff between the layers of the seat for extra padding and warmth in the air. He heard Shadow pouncing and making growling chirps a few yards away but ignored them as he wiggled the metal tool back and forth to pierce another hole in the leather. When the dragon smacked him with a wing as he barreled past, he winced and looked up.
A few seconds later, he stifled giggles as he noticed the dragon following the small spot of sunlight reflecting off the metal of his tool around the cove. He began to wiggle the tool in wider and more erratic patters so that Shadow would stay interested longer and jotted down the information in his notebook. He really was like a big cat sometimes.
