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Dawn yawned on New Berk, the bright rays of the sun snitching on the dust and the flies hovering casually over the surface of the island. Birdsong interrupted the silence over the land like a choir singing to an attentive but invisible audience, filling the undergrowth of the island with sweet music while a few of the critters perched over rooftops. The air was chilly, but the presence of the sun quickly warmed up the earth, chasing away the dew that covered the leaves and grass. There was this serenity that was ever so present; this magic that was most noticeable at the earliest hours.
The world slowly came to life; Vikings began working and completing everyday chores around the town, unflustered by a present or future threat. It was just them out here; independent of the rest of the world with a virgin island to supply them for generations to come.
The higher the sun rose, the more sounds echoed around the village. Hammering, chopping, the occasional shout as houses and other buildings got built… Laughter from children, clamouring from the casual conversations…
Life was peaceful. And it was good.
Zephyr sprinted across the town square, running from the house straight to the forge and ignoring the shouts to be more careful when she nearly ran into a few Vikings in her path.
"Hey, Gobber!" she called, panting as she entered the shop.
"Good morning, lass," greeted Gobber, hammering a red-hot piece of metal, the rhythmical clanking noise echoing all around town. "What brings you all the way out here so early? It's not like this place has a real purpose anymore. Except fix the occasional wood-chopping axe." Gobber skillfully replaced his hammer prosthetic for tongs and carefully picked up the axe head he'd been working and dipped it in a wooden bucket of water. The water sizzled and vapor climbed to the ceiling.
Zephyr watched him work with wide eyes, always amazed by the old blacksmith's skills – skills he'd acquired over many, many years. She always had so many questions about the dragons. Ever since she and her family went to visit the Hidden World's gates, she'd been fascinated by the dragons; Toothless in particular. She had so many questions about them. Gobber was an elder as well after all; he'd seen the dragons; fought them and befriended them. He'd lived through it all. She wished she could've lived to see those creatures... She wished they didn't have to go into hiding. She didn't understand why they were hiding, to begin with. She felt like there was so much more she didn't know. And she wanted to know it all.
Gobber looked down at her, letting her know she had his full attention now.
"I was wondering if I could ask you about my Dad," she said hopefully.
"Oh, well," said Gobber, chuckling lightly as if he'd just pulled out a brick of a book out of the shelves. "I've known your father since his first day, yah know. He was my blacksmith apprentice once. Not the finest helper I've had…. But he was one stubborn knuckle-head lemme tell yah. If trouble didn't find him, he'd find it himself." Gobber chuckled at the memories, spacing out for a moment as remembrance rushed back to him. It felt like a whole lifetime away. Zephyr wasn't able to read the expression featuring on his face.
"My Dad says you used to make weapons to kill dragons," she said, titling her head slightly, curiosity bright in her sapphire blue eye. "Is that true?"
"Eh, yes…" said Gobber, hesitant to confirm. He recovered his posture, clearing his throat. "But that was a very long time ago… We Berkians have come a long way. We've been at war with the dragons since Vikings first sailed into the Archipelago. Hunting them… killing them." Zephyr stared at him, mouthing the word 'wow' as Gobber dove into the story. "But that all changed one day; when some of our youngest Berkians had the guts to step up and take a stand and finally put an end to that bloodshed. Your father, Zephyr, is the one who changed our ways for the better."
"Whoa…" said Zephyr, mesmerized. She blinked, perplexed. "Dad always tells us about the dragons, but never talks about Old Berk or anything else really."
"Curious little one, I'll give you that," commented Gobber, switching his prosthetic arm once more. He turned to her, smiling. "Just like your father."
"What happened to a blacksmith like you, Gobber?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as more questions popped in her mind. She wanted to understand. "When Vikings and dragons became friends?"
"Eh, have to admit that it wasn't easy at first," said Gobber, studying the piece of metal waiting to be sharpened and matched with a wooden handle. "But your father always found a new purpose for everything. Fixing dragon teeth, building saddles, and other accessories became my new profession." There was a sense of pride in his tone.
"I still can't believe we can't bring the dragons back… it's not fair," said Zephyr, walking up to a lone stool. She hopped on it; let her legs dangle. "I'm sure they'd be much happier up here than down there."
"Trust me, lass," said Gobber, gesturing her way with his metal arm, his tone aggravating. "A lot of Vikings on New Berk wish the same. But it's what's best for the dragons and Vikings alike."
"But I don't get that part…" she said, growing upset with the lack of explanation for the way things were. It felt like the answers were purposely kept from her and she didn't like it. The puzzle in her brain remained very much incomplete. "Why are we hiding them away?"
"It's not everyone who appreciates the dragons," explained Gobber, moving tools around while trying to make her understand. "Some people don't want peace. And dragons have long been the cause of wars."
Zephyr thought about that. She frowned, lips tightening.
"If you wanna learn more about the dragons," said Gobber, pulling her gaze from the ground back on him. "I think the Chief keeps some old stuff up here in the forge attic…"
Zephyr lit up, straightening up on the stool. "He does?"
Gobber walked over to the back of the shop next to the furnace to an accumulating pile of crates and barrels that were mainly empty. He moved some of it out of the way, revealing a ladder leading up into the attic. There was a little latch to keep the trap closed. Zephyr climbed the pile and up the ladder and pushed it open, revealing the dark interior of the attic. She popped her head inside, seeing the piles of crates, books and other mysterious objects lying around. Some of it was covered up with pale drapes. She felt like she'd just found gold.
"It's gonna be a little dusty," warned Gobber below her, a warm smile printed on his lips. "He hasn't touched that stuff in years."
"Whoa… thanks, Gobber!" she said, stars bright in her eyes.
"I'll be down here if you need anything, lass," said Gobber, giving her a wink.
Zephyr smiled back and climbed all the way up. She closed the trapdoor behind her, sealing her away from the world for her to explore privately. She turned around, straightening up from her crouching position. Her eyes wandered around, taking a moment to look at all the stuff piled up here. She'd shuffled through the attic back at the house for hours upon hours, finding old books and notes that belonged to her father when he lived on Old Berk. Her greatest discovery had been the Book of Dragons. She'd read everything that had been written down in that Manual. She hadn't left a page unread. The way dragons were described made her imagine them to be monsters. But then she met a real-life dragon, and her mind was changed forever. But she refused to believe that everything about dragons was kept in one single book. There had to be more to it. She knew there had. And now she'd found it.
Daylight penetrated through the cracks in the walls, snitching on the dust casually floating around the room. The atmosphere was almost creepy; the lack of sunlight drained the world inside of colours, turning it a cold shade of grey. She found an old lantern resting forgotten on one of the piles of crates and picked it up, lighting it up first try with her set of flint and steel she kept in her little satchel tied to her belt. The flame burnt bright, its glow bringing some life to the tight space around her.
Zephyr couldn't find the words to describe the feeling. She was swallowed up in her fascination for dragons and the times when they soared the skies. And this place… it stored all those memories. It was evidence; proof of the past when there were dragons. She was a little sad that it was kept hidden like this, but her excitement outweighed the sadness.
This was also where her father kept his old gear… She spotted it hidden in the shadows and walked over with her lamp in hand. She approached it gingerly and ran her hand over the old leather saddle set on a stand where it gathered dust. She couldn't help but picture her father on Toothless' back, flying free across the sky. And Toothless' prosthetics… there were so many of them! Different colours, different patterns… different designs and materials too; like they all had their own role.
The next hours flew by unnoticed.
She flipped through the pages of the numerous notebooks she'd found piled up and hidden away in wooden boxes, out of sight. Notes about discoveries and theories; doodles of dragons, islands, maps, fruits, artifacts, inventions, people… There was so, so much. It felt like reading a novel but only through key words and drawings. Still, Zephyr was amazed if not more then when she met Toothless for the very first time. She really wished her father would tell her his full story. Every single detail. Every island he'd visited; every dragon he'd faced; every wonder he'd discovered. She knew there was way more than he was letting on, and all these notes, these books, these artifacts of forgotten inventions and finds that once had her father's full attention confirmed there were hundreds, if not thousands, more pages to his book of life. And Zephyr wanted to know it all.
The outside world was growing dark, but Zephyr was too deep in her research to notice or care.
She picked up the lantern and moved around to find more, eyes bright. She knelt down in front of a pile of crates covered up with a dusty white drape and set her source of light next to her before throwing the cloth off. She picked up the box on top and set it down to make its exploration easier for her. It was relatively heavy and her imagination ran wild with wonders about its content. She knelt next to it and analyzed its form, trying to figure out how to open the crate. She grabbed the corner and pulled, groaning as she tried to force the lid off. The pressure released and the lid flung open suddenly. Zephyr's momentum fired back, and she toppled over, kicking the box in the process. Its content spilled on the wooden floor and Zephyr picked herself up quickly, afraid to have damaged what was inside. She quickly picked up a piece that'd been rolling away before it disappeared in the shadows among the other crates and piles of mysterious objects and other wonderful artifacts.
"Ha, gatcha," she whispered, studying the piece of marble resting in the palm of her hands. She analyzed it curiously, humming to herself. It looked like those giant statues Vikings would build to announce entry into occupied waters, but miniature.
"Zephyr?" called her father and Zephyr snapped out of her thoughts. She straightened up and looked over to the latch where his voice was coming from. "Are you up there?"
Zephyr hurried and put the pieces back in the crate before putting the lid back on it. Her father pushed the trap open at that moment and Zephyr spun around, standing as innocently as ever. She couldn't help the awkward smile on her face. Hiccup's eyes scanned their surrounding; he was quick to notice the papers and books spread out over the wood-planked floor. He was quiet for a moment as if his mind wandered off for a few seconds. But it came back rather quickly and Hiccup blinked multiple times before meeting Zephyr's curious gaze.
"What are you doing up here?" asked Hiccup, taking another step on the ladder.
"Doing… research?" said Zephyr, joining her hands to her back and gazing over her shoulder.
Hiccup climbed all the way up, moving slowly and carefully as he stared down at all the papers covered in scribbles and drawings. His breathing was as slow as he moved, and Zephyr studied him closely. For a moment, she thought her father would be madly upset she was going through his old stuff…
Instead, he looked… sad and...nostalgic.
Hiccup crouched and traced his fingertips over the aged paper on which was drawn an island from aerial view.
"I remember this…" he said, a slight smile stretching his lips as memories rushed back to him.
Zephyr gingerly walked up to him as if rushing up to his side would disturb him out of his state.
"What is it?" she whispered, studying the island again as if she hadn't done so ten times already.
Hiccup sighed and sat cross-legged. Zephyr mimicked him, her attention fully onto him.
"When… I was a teenager, my friends and I found a map that led outside the boundaries of the Archipelago," started Hiccup, his face lighting up as the memories of the story flashed brightly before his eyes. "Oh, we discovered so many islands and dragons. This," He tapped on the island drawn on the yellowed paper. "was our outpost."
Zephyr was even more amazed by the island's drawing, knowing its story.
"Traveling back to Berk every time would be too long a travel, so, for a few years, me and my friends stayed away on our own island," said Hiccup, looking down at her, smiling. "We called it Dragon's Edge."
Hiccup told her some more about the amazing islands and dragons they'd faced, both big and small as well as all the funny misadventures they went through while exploring. He told her most of the story. All but for the bad stuff; the dark side of the story. He didn't tell her about the wars; the dangers they had to face; the nights they had to survive; the cause they all fought for and all the villains they'd encountered and the atrocities of it all; all the broken trust and betrayal… Hiccup wanted to save her from having to know there could be so much darkness in the world.
"Come on," he said, nudging her as darkness finally settled outside. He grabbed the lantern. "You've done enough browsing for today, young lady."
Zephyr complied, rubbing her eyes tiredly as Hiccup gestured at the trapdoor. He lifted the lantern to look around him one last time, looking at all the piles of crates and books; he saw his gear resting in the far corner. The wistful sentiment left him yearning to go back in the past to that time period. It washed over him like the waves crashed against the foundations of the island and Hiccup wasn't sure how to feel about it… As if to make his nostalgia worse, his eyes landed on a specific crate resting on the floor. It was different than a regular wooden crate and Hiccup immediately recognized it. He hadn't opened that crate since the day he'd closed it, and he didn't plan to open it ever again. Things would stay this way. He promised himself.
And with that, he stepped down the ladder and shut the trapdoor, plunging the room and all of its content back into the darkness of the forgotten.
I feel like you guys have no idea where I'm going with this...