Okay, so some unexpected things happened as I was writing this, and her name is Ruffnut. But the more I think about it, the more her arguments makes sense. But please tell me your thoughts; what was Belle's plan in the Disney movie? I only know that Jack doesn't have one. As usual.
Either way. Happy holidays! Stay safe!
The longest night
Jack couldn't for the life of him understand why North only had one window in his workshop, and why it was mostly covered by grass so that all he could really see was a piece of sky. They had no direct connection to the house from here either, which Jack had never wished for until now and the mirror was still in his room. As light faded Jack grew more and more agitated with nerves.
By his workbench North sat motionless, staring into thin air, still shocked stupid by Jack's earlier outburst.
"I love him!"
The words echoed in North's mind along with the sound of Jack's heartbroken sobs, the reflection of his falling tears still blinding to the toymaker.
"You're the one who killed someone."
"Did I really?"
"What?"
North looked up. He hadn't realized he spoke aloud.
"Did I really kill someone?"
Jack froze for a second, thinking. He looked towards the door, then he took another stool and sat across the bench from North.
"Dad, tell me what happened before that. You didn't see Hiccup as soon as you walked into the castle, right?"
Before he ran into the dragon? Those memories were blurry to North, overshadowed by the roaring creature that had come running at him.
"The day after you left, Philippe came back with only a few remains of your cart, so I figure something spooked him and sent him running back home. What happened to you?" Jack pressed.
"Yes, he got spooked," North agreed with a slow nod as the fuzzy memory returned. "I dropped the lantern I carried and Philippe threw me off in fear of the flames. That's why I didn't have a light."
"And you found your way to Hiccup's castle," Jack filled in the next blank, trying to piece the string of events together. North must have met Astrid first, since he'd been carrying her around, unsurprisingly, since she spread light.
"I… I was calling into the building, asking for help, but nobody answered. Then I… I think I found the kitchen? Yes, I believe I ate food," North continued through a memory that he barely recalled at all. He did remember thinking there'd been something in the food once the furniture had started talking to him.
"You ate Hiccup's food?" Jack asked slowly, somewhat bewildered.
The toymaker opened his mouth to deny it, but closed it again. Even to him it made more sense for the food to have been prepared for the dragon rather than him, but he hadn't thought about it before now.
"I don't actually think it matters," Jackson sighed after a moment. "The people in the kitchen said Hiccup spent more time collecting food than eating it, since he's the only one who needs to eat."
North just nodded, despite the words being uncomprehensive to him. He was still trying to recall the gap between seeing the candlestick stare back at him and the dragon's attack.
"They did talk to me; the candlestick and a clock and the mug."
"You talked to Tuffnut?" Jack asked curiously. "What did you do to him? He's never the first to speak up."
At that North could just shrug helplessly. "They were uneasy," he said instead. "And the thunder didn't help."
Jack blinked. He had no recollection of any thunder. But then again he never remembered the weather unless it tied into something he was doing that was worth remembering.
"That's when the dragon attacked," North finished.
"It can't have been," Jack argued. "Ida showed me where the incident happened; on the second floor, but the kitchen is on ground level. Astrid must have been showing you to a room."
The conversation ended there. North couldn't remember anything between seeing the talking objects and turning around to see a charging dragon.
"Why would Hiccup let you eat his food and then attack you?" Jack said, throwing his hands up in surrender and stood back up to start pacing around the room again. It was almost dark now.
Why indeed, North thought. The food had been warm, so it had been newly made, and thus the dragon must have been on his way. Yes, the dragon must have heard North's calls when he entered, but had stayed away. Why?
North remembered the first glimpse he'd gotten of the dragon in the light of a flash. Black as night, the beast would have stayed hidden if it wasn't for that flash.
Had that been all? North had spotted the dragon and fear had filled him. The candlestick had tried to talk to him. Was it truly North's fault?
They both heard the hunting horn go off. Jack's blood ran cold. It was called a hunting horn, but it had only been used three times since he'd moved to Berk; when the village had been attacked by robbers, and when there was a bear with rabies too close to the village. It was a horn that was used only when every hunter was needed to track and kill. A call to arms.
With a cry Jack threw himself at the doors and started banging at them until his fists were bleeding.
"Stop!" he shouted in frustration. "Stop! You can't do this!"
At first North just watched. He had his misconceptions, willing to admit at least that much, but he had also trusted Jack's judgement for a long time now. Jack was his son and he loved him. Seeing him unhappy was always a knife that twisted in his heart. And for all accounts; this was apparently about a human, not a dragon.
"Jack, stop," North ordered firmly and grabbed the teen's hands in a firm grip.
"Release me! They'll kill him!"
"I know that." The toymaker pulled his son into his arms and held him tightly. "I know that, Jack. But Thorston's daughter told us she would let us out. She said she would come one hour after the hunters have left, so you have to stay put for a while longer."
At first Jack fought the embrace, but North was unyielding and much stronger than Jack. The teen breathed harshly, but at the same time; this was still his father. They weren't at the same page right now but they were father and son. And Jack felt equally trapped and safe in the circle of North's thick arms.
He wished it was Hiccup here right now, holding and comforting him. He missed the smell of the dragon, his soothing voice and too poetic words that always made Jack want to laugh. He wanted Ida's or even Gobber's words of wisdom; Ida's actual wisdom and Gobber's morbid jokes about how much worse it could have been. How hurt and angry would Bunny and Astrid get once the hunters arrived? What about Tooth?
"I made so many friends there," Jack said into North's shoulder. "Tooth Fairy said I was cruel because I'm kind, and that it's good that I don't understand what that even meant. But I do know. It's kind of Ruffnut to lend a helping hand, but it's cruel the way she has to go about it. Tooth meant I was kind to want to help them but cruel because she believed I couldn't."
Jack fisted his hands in North's shirt.
"Hiccup said I was helping but I don't understand how when I felt like I was only ever making things worse. I forced him to kill because I was stupid. I tried to run away only to run into a bear. I don't even know why I wanted to go to the attic but Hiccup had to kill more than just Alvin, and I was the one who had to be comforted afterwards. And nobody blamed me for anything."
No one but himself.
"Ida always listened to my problems, even though she didn't see them as such and Fishlegs always kept me company. They don't deserve to die."
"Of course not," North agreed and swayed from side to side. He should have realized. It wasn't just about the dragon. North had met a group of talking objects, of course Jack had met them too and gotten to know them.
The lost people of Berk. That thought gave North the reason he needed to believe it; because Stoick, Spitlout and Thorston's daughter were all born in Berk and had lost someone ten years ago. To Stoick it was his son, to Thorston's daughter it was her twin, to Spitlout it was his son's friends and sanity.
"Okay," North decided. "I'll support you."
Jack looked up, surprised.
"Don't get me wrong; I still don't like it," the older man stressed. "But I believe in you. You're my son and I want to see you happy."
He could see it in his father's eyes; the hesitation, the fear, how reluctant he was to acknowledge Hiccup as something other than a monster. It meant more to Jack in that moment than he realized. His chest expanded with relief, he felt lightheaded as if a weight had just been dropped from his mind, he felt like crying a river's worth of tears in pure gratitude.
"Thanks dad," Jack managed.
Ruffnut watched the hunters gather outside the inn through the window of Bear Oak's house. Bear was, like her, born in Berk and his wife had disappeared along with the dragons. Unfortunately Bear Oak was one of the hunters, which made Ruffnut worried because she was sort of sure she'd heard Jack say his wife's name in his list of people he'd met during his time away.
It couldn't be helped. Though Ruffnut had spent a lot of time pranking others as a teen, she didn't have Hiccup's intuition or persuasive abilities. She wasn't clever like him, and she had never missed him as acutely as she did in that moment.
For years now Hiccup had been one of the shadows, a bodiless voice that called out to her, told her to be careful, to think, and sometimes appreciated her and Tuffnut's characters. He'd been a voice of reason every time she didn't want it and a guiding hand every time she'd needed it.
Outside Pitch suddenly stepped up on a crate and held up a familiar horn. Ruffnut's eyes widened. That horn had once hung in a watch tower that no longer stood, and been used every evening at the beginning of dragon attacks. She'd been sleepless as a really young child, fearing the sound of that horn. Even now, as Pitch blew the horn, Ruffnut's blood ran cold, adrenaline pumped through her veins and her senses reached out, searching for danger.
The hunters outside greeted the call of the horn with enthusiasm. The trackers set off first as the rest of them mounted horses and ponies to follow. Ruffnut followed them with her eyes until she could no longer see the lights from their torches.
It felt like she was young again, somehow. A surreal feeling of nostalgia. Ruffnut felt like she wasn't alone in the room, like there were four other teens there with her, looking through the windows, waiting for Hiccup's signal to start…
"Ruffnut!"
The bubble popped and Ruffnut was back in reality, standing like an intruder inside Bear Oak's home. Outside her father was running down the street, spinning wildly in search of her.
Cursing silently to herself, the woman slipped through the house and out the back door, not bothering to lock it again. This was just a slight distraction. Her mind and body was still tingling, waiting, prepared.
Behind her, she thought she heard Tuffnut's footsteps follow her, trying to supress his excited giggles.
Ruffnut rounded the corner of Bear Oak's neighbour's house, some newcomer Ruffnut couldn't be bothered to remember, and walked out on the main street behind her father.
"Dad? What are you doing out?"
Her father spun around, his wild gaze landing on her standing under the light of a lantern from the house she'd just rounded. The man wasn't old exactly, Spitlout had a couple of years on him, but unlike the chief and his brother, Ruffnut's father had taken the loss of wife and son hard. His hair was all grey and so thin he was almost bald.
"Ruffnut, I heard the horn!"
The woman would have rolled her eyes at anyone else, but having lost his wife to dragons, of course he would be traumatized by the sound of the horn and what it used to mean. They both were.
"Yeah, apparently the new generation of hunters sees it as a great way to pump themselves up for the hunt. Maybe Pitch thinks it will scare the dragon away."
Her father sagged before her, clearly relieved, and then started muttering under his breath. "That Black boy, of course he'd find the sound exciting, considering who his father was. No respect."
"I'm going to follow them."
The elder Thorston jerked and stared at his daughter.
"On a distance, of course," Ruffnut elaborated. "I was a dragon rider, dad. I want to see what kind of dragon this is. If it really is Toothless like Pitch hinted."
Ten years ago, her father would have complained to Stoick about the way his disrespectful children were turning out, ten years ago Tuffnut had tried to grab his fleeing dragon and been carried off by it. But Thorston had never been about restrictions. Reckless behaviour had been encouraged amongst them, and though it hurt to admit, Ruffnut was a grown woman.
"B…be careful."
Ruffnut smiled cockily. "We're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard."
"I know that, but please come home."
"I will, right now actually. I will need Hurl for a few days, and some clothes and food."
The Overland's horse was a nervous thing for a cold-blood. Spitlout had to keep it tied up as he prepared it for travel, fastened the saddle and filled the saddle-bags with a bottle of water, some extra clothes he'd found inside the house, dried apples and biscuits. He was even kind enough to pack some oatmeal for the horse.
"Not that you deserve it, you princess," the man muttered at the animal and gave it a pat on the flank.
Tying the horse's reins around a pole outside, Spitlout was glad to see Ruffnut walk over the bridge, leading her ridiculously small Shan pony.
"You're not planning on riding that, are you?" Spitlout asked.
"Never again after I come back," Ruffnut promised.
Hurl was a tough and powerful pony, perfectly suited for manual labour. Not as much for riding, especially for someone as tall as Ruffnut. At least the pony was cool. She even trotted up to Overland's horse, twice her size, and acted like a little bitch.
Spitlout just shrugged, deciding it was none of his business and unlocked the toymaker's workshop.
Jack positively flew out.
"I'll be right back!" he shouted over his shoulder as he bolted into the house. North came out of the workshop in a more sedate pace, looking like he'd aged ten years in the five hours he'd been locked up.
Ruffnut didn't want to know, but Spitlout had a moment of connection with the other man as a fellow father.
They all heard Jack come thundering back down through the house. When he emerged into the light of Spitlout and Ruffnut's lantern, he held a mirror in his hand.
"Show me Hi… no wait, show me Tuffnut."
Ruffnut had only a second to wonder if Jack had gone crazy before the softly glowing face of the mirror was turned for her to see.
Tuffnut sat on the countertop, watching Dagur cook. None of them held any illusions that Hiccup would come down to eat any of the food, but Dagur needed something to do. Tuffnut wished he had hands again.
"At least Jack had the decency to come down for meals," the cup muttered.
"You sound like you've finally started to appreciate your job as a cup," Dagur retorted.
"Have not… I think? Maybe? Stop pressuring me!"
"It will be cold before you reach him, but once the food is done, want to deliver it to Hiccup?"
"Whatever."
The image faded. Ruffnut felt faint as she was staring at her own reflection.
"See, I told you," Jack said through the rush of blood that was blocking most of Ruffnut's hearing.
"What sort of witchcraft is this?" Spitlout asked, making signs of protection against evil spirits as he backed away.
"Hiccup said the Enchantress gave this to him. No, I don't know why. Let's go. Mirror, show me how far the hunters have gone."
The teen was quiet for half a minute, his face lit up by the faint light of magic from the item in his hands. He nodded at it as the light faded.
"They're moving slow. It might take them until morning to reach the castle and we must be there first. Hey, Philippe… oh, you're already… perfect. Let's go back to Hiccup. What's with this pony?"
Ruffnut shook her head. Jack was a whirlwind of words and action around them, and she needed reel him back in, groaning inside that it was even her job to do so.
"You're going to get yourself killed like that. If only one hunter sees you out and about you'll be shot on the spot, and that will be the end of your so-called rescue."
"The mirror can show me how to get around them," the teen said stubbornly, mounting his horse, but Ruffnut would have none of it. She grabbed Philippe's reins and jerked, causing the horse to whine at the pain in his mouth. She wasn't used to this; thinking for others. She was however very accustomed to pointing out the obvious.
"And what's your plan?" she demanded. "What are you going to do once you reach Hiccup?"
"Warn him," Jack said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ruffnut actually facepalmed.
"You don't know Hiccup at all, do you?"
The harsh words finally had Jack go still, so Ruffnut went on.
"All that'll happen if you tell Hiccup that someone's coming to kill him, is him going out to meet them."
He wanted to deny it, but as Jack opened his mouth, no sounds came out. But the curse said Hiccup had to live and only Hiccup could move outside the walls and Jack figured that if Hiccup fell they all would.
"The curse," he said instead. "Hiccup is under a curse and he said he needed me in order to break it. What if me coming back is what will trigger that?"
"I call it 'wistful thinking', but at least that means you are thinking… somewhat. I think? Oh, my brain hurts," Ruffnut said and mounted her own pony, which she swiftly tied to Jack's Comtois. "You're still not leaving me behind, snowflake."
"Fine," Jack said between his teeth. "Fine!"
Should he tell them?
The question had plagued Hiccup since he came back to himself. He remembered burning the garden, remembered the screams from the plants that sounded too much like Heather. He could still feel his throat burn after swallowing his own fire on a hiccup that had come out of nowhere.
Should he tell them? Tell everyone that this was their fate, that Jack had been a false hope, that he'd been working so hard to kill them all as slowly as possible.
But they already knew what their fate was. They were doomed to rot in this place, whether Jack returned or not. Berk's hunters were on their way.
Should he tell them?
Astrid might be delighted to hear she could go out fighting. Tuffnut too. Dagur would be devastated. Dagur was an oven moulded into the wall of the kitchen, connected to the chimney, and thus unable to join any fighting unless it was taken to him.
Should he tell them? Give them the chance? Berk's hunters would come either way.
Hiccup was on his knees before Toothless, forehead resting heavily against that of the stone dragon's. Toothless was dead. Stone. Forever. Hiccup might as well burn the rose and be done.
The live dragon pressed himself in under Toothless' body, frightened by how attractive the thought of destroying the rose was.
There was no comforting purr or growl from Toothless, no pressure from his body as he breathed, because Toothless was stone. He offered no protection. But Hiccup did. Hunters were coming. Coming for Toothless. Again. Hiccup had to protect Toothless, even if he was stone dead.
So he crawled out. The bed before him had been broken for years, trashed by haunting nightmares that Hiccup's flailing couldn't protect him against. On the other side lay the broken pieces of heroes, those who had chosen their own end and those Hiccup had failed to catch. Each pile of rotting wood and shards of ceramic and glass held a piece of Hiccup's heart and sanity. Here lay broken families, promises and madness. Nobody could escape.
They were all supposed to end up here. This was what the Enchantress had planned.
Hiccup almost laughed. He'd despaired for so many years now, holding out to hope. Now that there was no hope, no salvation, it seemed hilarious how hard he had tried. He couldn't believe how shocked he'd been to find the light at the end of the tunnel he'd been chasing had turned out to be a raging fire waiting to consume them. He should have expected it, really. This was all one big joke, and they were the butt of it.
Turning away from the room, because some part of him said it was tactless to laugh at a roomful of corpses that probably didn't appreciate the joke, Hiccup strode out to the balcony. From here he could climb to the top of the main building and spy towards Berk. The world was pitch darkness in the dead of the night, without any moon or stars. If he could see any lights it meant there would barely be time to organize the others. But all around him, even with his dark vision, all he could see was the silhouettes of the trees and mountains. So there would be time. Was that for better or worse? Did it matter?
Hissing at nothing, the dragon surveyed the area. He'd done a number on the courtyard, embers still eating at the ground and trees, even the stables had caught fire and was now a glowing pile. Automatically Hiccup feared for Mulch and Bucket, but then he scoffed. They were all going to die soon. If not tonight then tomorrow.
Hiccup was just about to return inside when a distant sound of rocks hitting rocks reached his ears.
The ground. The rift. Hiccup had been worried ever since the outer wall cracked that the castle would one day fall into the abyss. Maybe he would soon find out if the rumours about the rift that circulated in Berk were true; that there was a giant dragon caught in its depth.
Today the idea was worryingly exciting.
Hiccup threw himself off the roof and glided down to the ground. He felt no satisfaction at the havoc he'd caused. Instead Hiccup was surprised to find himself hurting, almost regretting burning everything to ashes.
The garden had always been like a jealous, possessive friend he couldn't escape; sweet and welcoming to Hiccup but ready to murder anyone who made a wrong move. And Hiccup's roars didn't matter out here.
Another bad part of a sick joke. The Enchantress had really gone all out. And she was apparently dead too, which was honestly Hiccup's favourite part.
Turning his back to the glowing ashes the dragon didn't even need to motion for the door to open for him. Hiccup went to the kitchen first. Ida and Tuffnut were normally there since they had made rooms for themselves in the cupboards, using the heat from Dagur to keep themselves from cracking in the cold.
"Oh, Hiccup? I just sent Tuffnut to the west wing with your supper," Dagur greeted him.
Looking around, the dragon only found the oven and faucet, both unable to move from their positions.
"Berk's dragon hunters are coming for me," he told them and was proud of how calm he sounded to his own ears. "Tonight is the last night, and I have loved you."
Turning on his heel, the dragon didn't stay to listen to any reply. He trusted Dagur and the faucet (what was her name again? She'd never spoken to Hiccup in the past decade) would take his words in stride. It's lot like they had a choice.
So Tuffnut was on his way to the west wing. Glancing into the sitting room the dragon spotted Astrid and Ida. Tooth Fairy would be there too. Perfect. He just needed Tuffnut and Fishlegs in there as well and he could ask for their opinions and advice. If he could find Bunny and Gobber it would be even better.
The dragon was about to go look for the people he needed to talk to, when he rolled his eyes at himself.
"I want everyone who was once human to gather in the sitting room right away," he ordered the room at large and went ahead to wait, hearing the soft sounds of the furniture all around him move to follow the order.
"Hiccup? What's going on?" Astrid asked.
"I'll tell you when everyone's here."
"It's quite late," Ida pointed out, concern darkening her eyes.
The dragon just grunted and paced the length of the room. He glanced at Tooth Fairy who still couldn't meet his gaze.
Tuffnut was the first to arrive, still sitting on the cart with Hiccup's now cold supper, Mulch and Bucket short on his heels.
"I looked all over for you!" the cup complained.
"If Jack comes back, ye'll need te find somewhere fer his horse te stay because the stables are only cinders now," Mulch said, matter-of-factly, and Hiccup couldn't decide if he looked annoyed or happy.
"I almost caught fire!" Bucket exclaimed, apparently only now reacting after Hiccup's blackout moment.
"Oh, that would have made you hot, Bucket," Tuffnut joked.
"Is this about that guy who ran out the other morning?" Gobber asked when he arrived on the heels of Bunny.
"In part; yes," Hiccup allowed.
He waited a few minutes, wondering if the outcasts that were still hiding would join them. If they didn't he'd just have to go to the attic. Not that it mattered, since they had said from the beginning there was no way out of this mess.
Hiccup truly hated that they'd been right.
A table that had probably not moved in the past seven years at least arrived with Fishlegs, grunting in greeting, followed by a pair of chairs and a footstool. A sleepy, grumpy vanity table arrived on the heels of the coat hanger carrying a painting of a pretty young woman surrounded by white roses.
"This better be important," she growled.
"You think I'd call for you if it wasn't?" Hiccup snapped back. He counted them. If anyone asked how many stone dragons there, what kinds there were and how many species and subspecies, Hiccup could have answered right away. He hadn't counted the people as carefully after so many of them stopped talking to him. Or just stopped talking permanently.
The vain woman who had appropriately turned into a painting of how she herself thought she looked still talked to Hiccup, but only to tell him of every area where he fell short.
"It's not a curse," the dragon spoke after another minute passed without any new arrivals.
The room fell into an expectant silence.
"What?" Astrid said for all of them, her voice rather flat when Hiccup didn't elaborate.
"I had a visitor yesterday, besides the one who ran out."
"Are we talking about that nasty boy with the white hair?" the painting asked. "I haven't heard his annoying voice in days. So he ran out?"
"That one left to derail his dad-turned-hunter, the visitor said he worked for the Enchantress," Hiccup went on. "The new Enchantress. The one who did this to us is apparently dead."
"Really? Enchantresses can die?" Gobber exclaimed. "I thought they lived forever like… Doesn't magic beings live for a really long time?"
"Who knows?" the dragon shrugged and started pacing again. "It doesn't matter either way. The visitor explained that this isn't a curse. It's a spell. The Enchantress said 'You will return to your original state when you trust', but our original state is dust."
The room went quiet, but Hiccup had one more bomb to drop.
"And the man who ran out yesterday came looking for Jack and has probably returned to Berk to organize a dragon hunt."
Hiccup paced the length of the room twice before anyone responded.
"Why does this not shock me?" Fishlegs asked.
"Why does it make me feel better?" Gobber responded.
"That's what worries me too," Ida agreed.
A few others just sighed in resignation.
"If that is all, I will return to my room," the painting snorted and motioned for the coat hanger to take her away.
Hiccup looked at them all. "You sure took it a lot better than I did."
"I'm shocked," Mulch offered. "And singed. You really need to be more careful with your fire, Master Dragon."
"Since the beginning, it couldn't get worse," Fishlegs said with a book's version of a shrug. "Would have been nice to die a human, but I don't think any one of us expected that to happen."
A mumble of agreement followed the statement.
"Guess that's true," the dragon nodded sadly, then stood straight and regarded his friends. "So I will fight to die when the hunters come. You're free to choose your own ends."
Hiccup found his gaze seeking out Astrid. He'd loved her once. She'd been his rock once. In the beginning he'd tried to joke that she now was his light. Now it didn't even matter how much he had missed her support, her strength and love. Ten years of hopeless, hollowing devastation had ruined everything that had been between them, and Hiccup had to take a moment to grieve her and the future they had thought they would share.
"Fight to die," Astrid echoed.
"Fight to die," Ida and Gobber followed.
"Yeah!" Tuffnut shouted.
More agreements answered. Hiccup looked over at Tooth Fairy, surprised to find her staring at him.
"Yes," she said with a broken voice that still rang clear. "Fight to die."
"I was going to join Easter one way or another," Bunny muttered.
"So what's the plan?" Fishlegs asked Hiccup.
Pitch had never been a hunter, and after tonight he would never go for another hunt. After he'd killed the dragon he would decline the offer of chiefhood the same way his father once had and watch Stoick step aside for him for the rest of his life. It was thrilling; the thought of the most powerful man in the village making way for him. Truly, murdering Flynn Rider was the best thing Pitch had ever decided to do.
But the tracking part bored him to tears. It didn't help that he hadn't slept all day, which was quickly catching up with him as the hour passed midnight. His only consolation was that he wasn't the only one yawning.
The trackers had hit an obstacle early on; there weren't any tracks aside from where the attack had happened.
"Because dragons fly," the older hunters had patiently tried to explain.
The young trackers had objected at first, saying they couldn't hunt this creature since they couldn't track it.
"We know where the lair is," Pitch had growled as his patience ran thin. "We just need to find Iduna's Outpost."
Normally, trackers and hunters were equally important. For them not to be created tension where the youngsters tried to assert themselves. They weren't used to rely in the experiences of their elders, and throughout the night there had been several hisses of "do you want to die? Lower your voice".
Pitch was quickly developing a love-hate for the situation. With the youngsters who tried to argue with him Pitch could fall back on stories of the state of dragon victims and be left alone, which delighted him. But the tension was taking a toll on him.
And Snotlout was the heart of it.
The madman was a bundle of nerves and the elder hunters took turns restraining his madness. Snotlout's scarf had been turned into something akin to a muzzle that muffled his irregular outburst of screaming panic where he kept banging his axe against his shield. The axe had been exchanged for a wooden hammer with a glove on it that barely made any sound.
"The noise is too loud for you to hear it, but most affective against dragons," Bear Oak had explained when Snotlout thew the padded hammer away and tried to bang his shield against a rock.
At least they only had to bother with Snotlout, because his shadow Dogsbreath would just mirror everything that Snotlout did. While that was annoying, Dogsbreath was unfortunately quite strong, and had no barriers that controlled that strength. Restraining Snotlout, who was a lot more impressionable, was the safest route.
Pitch promised himself to find a way to get rid of Snotlout, and spent the hours toying with ideas.
It was early morning, still hours before the sun would rise, when the first scent of ashes, burnt wood and soil started to cause an air of alertness amongst all of them. The trackers quickly set off, and they weren't gone long.
"The good news are that Iduna's Outpost is just ahead," Kamikatzi reported.
"The bad ones are that we might be dealing with a nest."
"Impossible," Pitch hissed, then hurried to cover up. "If there was a nest there's no way Berk would be safe."
"We'll show you," the trackers said and started leading the way.
When North and Jack had passed this place before they had only seen the sign, but that wasn't what had given this place its name. The eldest hunter stepped past the sign with a torch, illuminating the statue of the old troll Iduna holding a compass in her hands. Pitch had never seen her, but had heard plenty of stories of this old troll. She had been real, apparently.
The trackers took off towards the right with Pitch close behind. The rest of the men started to spread out in formation, using smaller lanterns now as they suspected they were getting closer to their target.
At first there was nothing but the smell of fire in the air that indicated there was any. But as the minutes ticked by Pitch started to see red light ahead. The path led them up a low hill.
To be honest, Pitch had thought it would be a lot worse. He'd imagined the entire forest burnt down, the earth turned to ashes and soot covering the mountainsides.
"This is all it takes for you to believe we're dealing with a nest?" Bear Oak asked the young trackers.
"Too fast," Snotlout's voice sounded through his scarf. "The fire was too fast. Too hot. It couldn't spread."
The hunters glanced at the young man, surprised at his understanding, but the youngsters passed his words as his normal ramblings and concentrated on the elders.
"What about this total devastation makes you think there isn't a nest?"
"One; the fire hasn't spread. Two; check out the marks in the ground," Pitch said and pointed at one only a few feet ahead of them on the trail. "Dragon nests typically consists of several different types of dragons. Small and big dragons coexist because they make food for each other, if I remember correctly. But like Snotlout pointed out; the fire here was fast and hot."
"You're not making any sense!" a teenage tracker growled.
"Different dragons; different fires," Bear Oak said. "There are also several dragon types that sprout water. Again; coexisting."
The young people grumbled, Pitch glaring at Kamikatzi who mumbled to her companion that they were starting to make things up.
"I'm not the only one who sees that, right?"
Everyone turned. One of the younger hunters was pointing his torch towards a shape that Pitch had originally thought was another mountain. But as he stared more carefully, he wasn't so sure. There was a faint light near the base, but it was yellow like the light of a candle.
"I believe Flynn told me the toymaker had been screaming about a castle," Hoffersson said carefully.
Bear Oak took command. "Let's get closer. Put out the touches and light the covered lanterns."
All and any weariness left Pitch's body and his face morphed into a mad grin. Soon. Before daylight arrived he would have killed the dragon!
"They're already past Iduna's Outpost! Why are you holding onto that damn pony?!"
Ruffnut headbutted the back of Jack's head. "You're too focused on the goal. There is always an after, dumbass," she hissed at him. "Don't forget Hurl is carrying all our supplies now."
It had taken Jack a total of two minutes of travelling for him to convince Ruffnut to ride on Philippe instead and let the pony carry the bags. Hurl was definitely happier with the new arrangement and trotted beside Philippe with her head and tail held proudly high. Philippe was no fan of the pony after one too many nips at his belly when he moved too fast for her to keep up, and he couldn't escape because she was still tied to him.
"We can find her later!" Jack argued hotly.
"Yeah, like, after we return wet and starving to Berk. Horses always go home, you idiot."
Since Berk's hunters had stayed to the road, Jack and Ruffnut had taken the detour to the rift and were now following it north. But Jack really wished the woman hadn't come along. He felt like she was holding him down, keeping him from reaching Hiccup on time. For his inner eye he could only see Hiccup as helpless, bleeding and (though he tried not to think about it) dead at Pitch's feet.
"Why are you even here!" the teen yelled over his shoulder at last. "If it weren't for you and your stupid pony I could have already been at the castle!"
"Sure. How would you have gotten out of the house?"
Jack tried to elbow the woman behind him off the horse as the frustration overwhelmed him, but instead felt her grip around his upper arm and opposite knee, and then he landed on the ground. Ruffnut smoothly moved into the saddle, pulled Philippe to a stop and turned him around. A lantern tied around the horse's neck illuminated the angry boy in the mud.
"You actually think Hiccup needs your help, don't you," Ruffnut said.
"He does!" Jack argued! "He doesn't know Pitch is coming! He's all alone against all of Berk!"
Ruffnut had the gall to roll her eyes. "He managed just fine without you for the past ten years. Hiccup's wicked smart, I think he's fully aware Pitch is coming."
That gave Jack pause. "How?"
"Are you thinking at all? Flynn!"
"Flynn? What's he got to do with anything? Hiccup didn't kill him, I told you!"
"But he went in search of you. He must have found something if he was coming back. And like I said; Hiccup can figure stuff out."
Biting his lip, Jack took a deep breath. He knew Hiccup was intelligent. He knew that. But was it enough? If Flynn had found him, how could Hiccup know where he came from? He'd given the mirror to Jack.
"Get back on the horse now, Jack. We'll get to Hiccup faster if we actually move."
"I really hate you right now," the teen confessed as he got up behind Ruffnut.
"Whatever makes you happy. Give me the mirror."
"No."
"Then ask it to show you Hiccup. You might see something interesting."
They moved on in a steady pace for about two minutes before Jack calmed down enough to realize Ruffnut had a point. He'd been so focused on the hunters all night and how much distance Jack and Ruffnut still had to cover.
"Show me Hiccup."
"Seems you were right when you said all of Berk was coming for you," Astrid said from the window from where she could see several torches go out.
"You saw the face of the one who ran out. I'd love to hear what story he made up. Think they will be surprised to find I'm not twenty feet tall?"
"I'd like to know who leads the hunt," Gobber said. "If it's someone we know we could predict their plan of attack."
"There's only one way to enter the courtyard," Fishlegs pointed out. "And with the garden… gone, they won't meet any resistance until they enter the castle."
"Are the surviving rakes and shovels in position?" the dragon asked.
"Last I saw them," Gobber answered. "They won't attack since there's too little left of them to do more than fall over."
"And the front door is open a crack," Astrid nodded.
"Good. Let's have some fun."
As the image faded, Jack was unsure if he was relieved or disappointed. He couldn't even understand what had happened between the image of hopelessness from last time he'd checked in on his friend to now.
Maybe they weren't in as great a hurry as he'd thought.
Ruffnut didn't speak, but kept up the steady pace she'd set. She wasn't about to gloat about being right. Especially when she was starting to doubt that she was. She couldn't hear any excitement in the voices that came from the mirror. Astrid's voice was too flat, the pitch she identified as Fishlegs lacked the hysteria that always crept into his voice when facing violence.
Maybe they really were in a hurry.
Several miles west, people looked up as stars seemed to explode in a line across the sky.