REVIEWS:
Tim2060: You'll be happy to read this then.
atomicsub927: The film was a bit rushed, in my opinion. This feels more natural.
TheStriga: All shall be explained...
Obiben27: Every writer has to have a couple of cliffhangers at some point.
Vognar-The Legendkeep: Yeah. Sometimes I wonder how I come up with stuff.
Urbanator: Flames are so useful to me!
Forgive me for this past
We are friends!
I could never do something like that—
Hiccup—please—
That wasn't me!
I can explain—
I groaned, clutching my head. It all came down to the last three words: I can explain. I'd been pacing back and forth in the woods for hours, trying to decide what to do. I could see three options.
One, tell Dad about the flightless and injured Night Fury in the woods.
Two, pretend I'd never met Toothless and never go to see him again.
Three, go back and listen to his side of the story.
The first one wasn't something I'd ever seriously considered—I owed our friendship that much. The second and third options were the tricky ones. Which was the right one? Did he really have a good explanation? I wanted to know the explanation without having to confront Toothless. I slumped against a tree and let my forehead fall onto it. What was I going to do?
Now that his secret was out, if he really was a coldblooded killer I'd probably be given no mercy if I went back. On the other hand, he'd had plenty of chances to kill me before. And if there was a good explanation, I wanted to hear it. I wanted to go back to the way things were, if possible. But what if he didn't have a good explanation? My thoughts circled round and round in a cycle of questions without answers.
Eventually, I decided to go. The only way to find answers was to ask Toothless, even if I was dreading them. The journey passed by in a blur of second guessing and hesitation, but I finally slipped through the gap between the rocks.
"Hey… Toothless?" I couldn't see him, not at first. "I'm ready to—to listen." Stepping forward, I looked around the rapidly darkening cove. "Where are you?"
An unusual rock in the shallows of the lake caught my eye. "Is that you?" It was breathing, I could see that as I got closer. Shallow breaths, a dark ribcage lifting slightly with each one. "Toothless?"
My knees shook, suddenly weak. He was covered in hundreds of injuries, bruises and cuts still oozing blood slowly, one of his eyes puffy and swollen shut, and his shoulders unbalanced by the swelling caused by one of the Nadder's spines. I tentatively touched his tail, dismayed but not surprised when he didn't respond. I'd taken enough beatings to know this was one of the worst I'd ever seen. Half in and half out of the water, he was chilled through, as though he'd made it into the lake for the cold water but fell unconscious before he could get out. I stumbled away, rushing for Berk. He needed medical attention urgently, which meant I needed supplies as quickly as possible.
Trees were a blur again, each trunk a brown smudge against a fuzzy background of dark green leaves. I was sprinting, each breath a heaving gasp, my legs getting tired but still pumping as fast as they could. I slammed into something warm and roughly the same size as me, sending us both to the ground.
"What the Hel?!" Astrid swore, shoving me off.
"Toothless is hurt!" I felt part mad, like the legendary Berserker rush was running through my veins. "We have to help him!"
She held out her hands. "Fine. What do you want me to do?"
"Get some—" Some what? "Some antidote to Nadder spine venom, a drinking bowl, and as many blankets and cloths as you can. There are a few in my bedroom, and Dad should be out chiefing right now, but get as many others as you can."
"I'm on it," she promised and sprinted back the way she'd come. I turned around and headed to the cove, stumbling through the entrance and falling to my knees, sucking in air with huge greedy gasps. Then I was up and running again, only slowing down once I neared Toothless. Stripping off my socks and shoes, I waded into the frigid water and squatted down by his head.
"C'mon, buddy. Let's get you out of the lake." I rubbed his jaw, slow strokes from his ear downwards, and his nose twitched slightly. "That's it, you've got it. Just a little more."
Slowly, with soft murmurs and gentle touches, I coaxed him awake.
"Nearly there, you can do it." His eye flickered open and looked at me, groggy and disoriented. He warbled something quietly, and I realised our Flames were still separate. "Wait a moment."
Calming was almost impossible, but easing into my Flame became easier every time I did it. I kept up the physical contact and slowly forced my Flame through Toothless' skin and toward his. The moment we connected, the blood drained from my face and I almost fell backwards into the water. "Thor…" I could barely speak, barely think, every inch of my body throbbing cruelly and my head pounding. Every breath was a struggle, something piercing and twisting in my side every time his lungs filled or emptied.
'You—came—back?' he gasped, panting and hissing with every word. Despite the overwhelming pain, his Flame weakly clung to mine, refusing to let go.
"I had to hear both sides."
A shiver ran through him, both of us crying out as the involuntary movement made dozens of small injuries flare into agony. His claws dug into the silty bottom of the lake, stirring up clouds of mud, and he clenched his jaw against the whimpers I could feel in his Flame. I loved Rose. I loved her too much.
"Then why?"
He rested his head on his tail, only just keeping it out of the water. The Queen doesn't control everyone. She picks the best dragons: the strongest, the fastest, the best fighter, the biggest Gronckle, the Nadder with the sharpest spines, and a few more. For every situation, she chooses the best dragon—the best tool. He shuddered, flinching away from the memories.
The fastest dragon is put on guard duty. They're supposed to stop any of the ordinary dragons from leaving, and hunt down any who manage to escape.
It made terrible sense. The fastest, as a Night Fury, and probably a good fighter from what I'd seen, Toothless was ideal for the post. He was probably telling the truth when he said it wasn't his fault—but this was far worse.
I was playing with Rose, wrestling with her. She loved it, especially when I let her win—as long as it wasn't too easy for her. Her spines were just starting to harden and I liked to tease her about it. She'd pinned me by the neck and we were both laughing hysterically. It was so good to escape the Queen for a few minutes, to pretend I wasn't simply a tool, but a—a brother. Rose—Rose told me about her day. Her best friend's parents had been eaten, and she wanted to know why the Queen was so mean. The Queen took my mouth and asked if Rose would kill the Queen if she had the opportunity. Rose said—said she would, that the Queen was a bully and deserved to die—I twisted around and sank my teeth into her neck—I killed her—
He took a moment to calm down enough to speak, fighting his body to drag in deep breaths of air despite the pain.
The w—worst part is that everyone in the Nest thinks they're acting of their free will. The Queen is careful to never let anyone kn—know she's forcing dragons to obey her. Any time the controlled dragons try to tell anyone about her, their mouths lock up and they're harshly p—punished later. He was shaking now, face tight with pain, and my heart twisted in my chest.
"Thor… I didn't know—"
She has to provide special 'protection'—we're dependent on her even though we hate her. A Nightmare lost the protection, and a group of furious dragons tore him to pieces. She still controlled him to the very end—he couldn't fight back at all, he couldn't move a claw. I—I got off lightly after what I did—
Everything made sense now. What the Queen had said, what the dragons had said, even some of what Toothless had said. He'd lost the protection for defending me and Astrid. I swallowed, suddenly queasy to the pit of my stomach.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
I—I wanted to forget. I was so tired of being nothing more than a weapon. Every dragon hates me—except the Terrors, who don't care what happens to the larger dragons. Alone, day after day, barely getting enough food down without throwing it back up again, never having enough rest, being hated by my—by my family—
His voice dropped to an ashamed whisper. I'm glad you shot me down. Glad! I wanted to die, but when it came to the moment—I was scared.
"Thor, bud!" My cheeks were wet, though I couldn't remember when I'd started to cry.
Then you spared me—and I had a choice for the first time. An intelligent being under my claws, completely at my mercy. I couldn't—I couldn't kill again, even if you were a fur-stealer. I couldn't.
He let his eyes flutter shut and shivered again, crying out in pain. I scrubbed my cheeks with my sleeve, suddenly fiercely protective.
"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." Gently, I tugged at his head. "You need to get out of this cold water."
He whined, flinched away from my hands. I can't. I physically can't.
"Try? Please?"
For a moment I thought he'd refuse, then he started to stir. Slowly, painfully, he got three feet underneath him but the one with a Nadder spike in it was limp and unresponsive. I hovered nervously, wanting to help but scared of hurting him more. Standing up, he couldn't hold back his groans and whimpers, shaking and unsteady on his legs.
"Can you take a step?"
One quivering foot after another, he shuffled round in a tight circle to face the shore, struggling to stay up, his legs visibly failing him. "That's it, bud. You've got this."
Hiccup, I can't—
"It's just five steps, ten at the most, bud. Please, I'll take care of you, but you need to get out of the water."
He lurched sideways, wailing in pain, and I could see the will holding him up as he righted himself. "Just a little further. Just a little more."
I walked backwards in front of him, my arms outstretched, and he took another shuddering step forwards. Limping heavily, he made a total of three more steps before grinding to a halt. Hiccup, please—
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. A few more steps, bud." He was almost clear of the water, and another two or three would take him onto the dry ground, away from the mud around the shore.
I can't—
"You have to," I begged. "I promise you can rest after this."
Another draining step, and he swayed heavily on his feet, whimpering. I took another step backwards and he followed, the end of his tail swishing the edge of the grass. I tried for another, but his legs finally gave up and he collapsed to the ground, shrieking as he landed on several nasty cuts.
'Hiccup—' Panting, he shuddered and shook, eyes closed against the dreadful pain. 'Help me—'
I fell to my knees and gathered him in, pulling his head to my chest and rocking back and forth slightly. "Easy, bud, easy. I've got you now. You'll be fine." Broken sounds scraped the back of his throat as he pushed into my embrace, wordlessly pleading to be comforted. I pushed my Flame deeper into his, evaluating and triaging his injuries. Thankfully, his belly was mostly unharmed so he could lie on it without too much additional pain. Cold and thirsty and hurting, he needed help, but I couldn't do much until Astrid arrived with the supplies.
"Is it normal for you to get this cold?"
It takes a lot of energy to heal. I don't have any to spare for keeping warm. He shivered, choking a yelp of pain into a strangled whimper. I prayed Astrid would arrive soon.
As if she'd heard my thoughts, she made her way into the cove at that very moment, laden with the things I'd asked for. "Hiccup? Where are y—"
A hissed intake of air informed me that she'd seen us. "Thor—that's—you were right."
She let the pile of blankets fall next to me and held out a flask as Toothless shivered again, choking down a whimper. "The antidote."
I plucked it from her hand and held it out to Toothless. Will this help?
He sniffed it, then nodded slightly. It won't hurt, anyway.
I pulled the cork out and poured it gently into his mouth, wincing in sympathy as he coughed and choked—Gothi's remedies were never nice. I found a drinking bowl in the mess of blankets and cloths and filled it in the lake, letting him drink to wash the taste away.
More, he begged. Water, please.
He gulped greedily, his throat parched and sore, and I ferried more water from the lake for him, bowlful after bowlful until his thirst was quenched.
You have to get the spine out, he moaned, dreading it already. Wincing, I gripped the base of the spine, still in the flesh of his shoulder, and hesitated before yanking hard. He yowled, stiffening as it slid from his body, and my entire body clenched in sympathy. Blood started pooling in the deep gash, and I hurriedly held out the bowl to him again. "Let's get some of that healing saliva on it."
Grabbing a cloth, I scrambled to the lake and dunked it in the cold water, getting it completely soaked. By the time I got back, the bowl was partially filled with dragon drool, and I picked it up. "I'm really sorry, but this is going to hurt."
He moaned miserably, burying his face in the ground. Laying a comforting hand on his shoulder, I dipped my hand in the slimy liquid and gently wiped my fingers across the wound. He whimpered, trembling, and I spread the healing saliva across his shoulder as fast as I dared. A dry cloth went on next, protecting the tender area from the cold air. There were countless other cuts and slashes that needed attention, and I had to ask him for a refill every so often.
After that, I turned to the swollen patches of bruising, sensitive and sore. At Astrid's suggestion, I laid a damp cloth over the worst places and his poor puffy eye, before asking him if anything else hurt.
What do you think? he snapped. It hurts to breathe.
"Okay, rephrase: is there anything else I can do?"
Taking a deep breath, he checked his irritation. My ribs hurt. They might be broken but I can't tell.
As softly as I could, I ran my hands over his sides and felt each bone up and down for breaks. I couldn't feel anything, but broken ribs were hard to identify. Can I ask Astrid?
He wasn't happy about the idea, but relented eventually. Fine.
"Hey, Astrid?"
She looked over from her spot by the lake, staring blankly into the water and swirling it with a long stick.
"Can I have your opinion?"
She walked over and crouched beside me. "What is it?"
"Do you think he's got a broken rib?"
She performed her own examination, hesitantly running her hands along his side. Stiff and cautious, Toothless watched every move. Eventually, she stood up. "I can't find one."
"Good," I sighed, relaxing a fraction. He shivered again, gasping and hissing against the pain, and I picked up a blanket.
"Could you stand up?"
He gazed up at me, pain in his eyes, silently asking why I was asking so much of him. I took a deep breath and hardened my heart. "It'll be warmer to lie on blankets."
He whined, kneading the ground with his claws. I laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling sadly. "Please?"
With a whimper, he coaxed tired muscles into moving and staggered to his feet. I hurriedly spread one, two, three blankets underneath him, and he sank back onto them with a groaning sigh of relief, legs still shaking.
"Well done," I whispered, shaking out a fourth blanket to cover him with. Grateful for the warmth, he snuggled under it and I reached for some more, spreading each one over him. There were plenty, and for a moment I wondered where Astrid had found them, then decided it didn't matter. The sun had set hours ago, and I turned around at one point to see she was gone. It didn't really matter, of course, but it would've been nice if she'd told me she was leaving.
"Feeling better?"
'A little,' he crooned weakly. 'I'll be fine in a week or so.'
"I'll stay right here with you, buddy. I'm not going anywhere."
'Thank you…'
I crawled under the blankets and lay under his wing, pressing myself against the small hollow of uninjured skin. Despite his brave words I could still feel the pain like an ever-present pressure against my skin, just as bad as when I arrived, but covered and tended slightly. He trembled a little, hardly noticeable except when I was pressed right up against his side, but I feared he wouldn't find it easy to get the rest he desperately needed.
Slowly, I eased into my Flame and concentrated until the headache that always accompanied Flame-vision was well established. I couldn't ask Toothless, because based on his previous responses, he didn't want to teach me how to take someone else's pain. I'd have to figure it out on my own, because no way was I going to let him bear this alone.
A little exploration revealed that, like he'd said, different parts of the Flame were connected to different thoughts and feelings. More in-depth experimentation let me discover which specific parts of his Flame were aching with his various injuries. I gently coaxed them together in one place, surrounding them with my Flame as best as I could. Then I squeezed slowly, like I was trying to extract juice from a fruit. Gradually, they oozed something black and sticky that reminded me of her mutilated Flame. I scooped up some of the substance, absorbing it into my Flame, and winced as the various injuries over his body made their presence known on mine. It didn't like me, that was for sure, and kept trying to go back to Toothless but I wouldn't let it. You're mine now, I told it. Leave him alone and I'll carry you for as long as he needs. It seemed to calm a little, settling more permanently into my bones.
What the—?Toothless said groggily. What are you doing?
I withdrew, about a third of the black gloop still held away from his precious Flame, and his good eye widened. You didn't!
"I did," I moaned, wanting to curl up and cry by his side. It felt so much more permanent than before, like I'd still hurt even if our Flames disconnected. Every breath sent stabbing pain through my ribs, I could barely open my eyes, and even lying on the floor made every inch of me ache in one way or another.
You shouldn't have done that.
"You know I had to," I reminded him, pressing closer to his comforting presence. "I can't let you bear this alone any more than you could when I was hurt."
But you don't deserve this!
"What, and you do?"
He whimpered. I killed so many times. My claws, my fire, my teeth—
"Her intent." I nuzzled him. "Her fault. Not yours."
You don't understand—
"Then make me. I want to help."
He was silent for a moment, and I waited patiently. Occasionally, one of us would hiss or whimper, and the other would press closer and comfort them. Eventually, he started to speak.
I was five winters old when she first picked me…
It was warm under the blankets, but the tale Toothless told me chilled me all the way through. He remembered everything, every gruesome and painful detail, every heartbreaking emotion. His best friend, his family, his other friends—they'd either been killed or disowned him. I whimpered and cried, dragged along in his awful past, and was relieved when he talked about a new friend who'd rescued him, given him a second chance and cared for him. He talked about feeling properly free again for the first time in years when he went flying with them, and how they gave him a second chance when no one else had ever bothered to listen to his side. It was only once the story was over and he'd slipped into sleep that I realised he'd been talking about me.
I rubbed my hands over his skin, imagining I could feel the years of neglect and bitterness contained inside him. Yet he'd tried so hard, building a new life and identity as Toothless, not Prince or Betrayer. I'd tried too, abandoning Hiccup the Useless and picking up Hiccup the Dragon Rider. Together, we weren't useless or hated. Together, we were two friends, nothing more. I hugged as much of him as I could reach, breathing in his dragony smell, strange but not unpleasant, and relaxed enough to finally fall asleep.
oOoOo
We slept well into the afternoon the next day, and I woke up first. Wriggling out of Toothless' grip to get a drink, I was both pleasantly and unpleasantly surprised to find I was still in possession of his pain. It was hard to walk more than a few paces at a time, limping heavily, and I grew tired rapidly. The cold water revived me a little, but not much, and I winced at how Toothless would feel once he woke up.
"You look awful."
I yelped and spun around, jumping when Astrid was somehow in the cove again, sitting on her rock.
"I told the Chief you were out practising on wild dragons. He asked why you couldn't do it with Gobber, and I implied you insulted Gobber's stealth. You'll be fine out here for a few days."
"Uh—thanks?" That was one problem I wouldn't have to worry about, anyway.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
I winced. "I'd rather not."
She glared. "Tell me."
"He defended me from a group of wild dragons." That much was true, even if it implied something else, and I managed not to stutter while saying it.
"How many?"
"One Nightmare, two Gronckles, and a Nadder."
"And you got out alive?!"
"He saved my life."
"I brought you some stuff, and I'll try to come again tomorrow, but I can't disappear for too long. Unlike some people, I have chores to do."
She punched my arm on her way past, leaving me swaying slightly by the edge of the lake. "Ow!" It really hurt, shaking the pain already there into a frenzy, and I instinctively clutched the spot her fist had targeted. I crawled back under Toothless' wing and settled back against his side. It was dark, quiet and warm under there and I wanted to stay forever, but he started to stir.
"Welcome to the land of the living," I joked half heartedly, reluctantly wriggling out again. "How're you doing?"
'I feel like I've been hit by the Queen herself,' he groaned. 'Maybe by her tail, with all the spikes.'
"But better than yesterday," I noted. He nodded, eyes still closed.
"Astrid was here this morning. She brought some stuff, apparently." I forced my head up and looked around, trying to locate it.
'It's by the fireplace,' he told me. 'I can smell it.'
Pushing down my reluctance, I stood up and limped to the pile. "How on Midgard did she carry all this?"
There was a spare tunic and pair of pants for me, which she must have collected last night along with the blankets, a larger bucket for carrying water, and a basket of fish, not unlike what I'd brought for Toothless while he was downed.
"Hungry?"
He nodded, moving as little as possible. 'I could eat a—actually, that saying isn't very appropriate anymore.'
"What?" My curiosity was piqued, and it would be good to get his mind off his injuries for a while.
'No, I'm not saying.'
"Please?"
He forced a chuckle. 'Well, I warned you.'
"Just tell me!"
'I could eat a fur-stealer nest.'
"Hey!"
'I did warn you!'
I laughed, glad he was well enough to enjoy little jokes.
"Oh yeah? Then I'm hungry enough to eat your tail."
'The metal one? You must be some sort of Gronckle.'
I started dragging the items back towards him. "It runs in the family. Dad can crack rocks with his head and I can eat leather and metal."
'No wonder you're so crazy. That can't be good for you.'
I set the things down with a small gasp of relief. They weren't light, even when I had all of my meagre strength, and carrying some of Toothless' pain was more draining than I'd anticipated.
"Water or food first?"
'Water, please.'
I pulled the wooden bucket over to the lake and sloppily scooped up some water. Carrying it back made the ache in my arms even worse, but I was determined not to complain. I had no right to grumble about something I did willingly, especially when Toothless was going through worse. I dumped the bucket under his chin, trying not to spill water on the blanket, and he drained it quickly. Faced with another trip to the lake, I held back a groan and dutifully bent to pick the bucket up again. He nudged my hand slightly. 'Thank you. I know you're hurting too.' Simple and sincere, he knew what I was doing and appreciated it. No Viking would be that honest because it would imply they'd needed help, and that was a weakness.
"It's nothing," I said, suddenly feeling better. It was nice to be thanked.
'It's not nothing,' he insisted. 'I appreciate it.'
"Okay, it's nothing I wouldn't do again. Happy?" I plonked the newly filled bucket down, and he gulped about half of it before pulling his head out.
'If you are.'
"Yeah, I'm happy. Except for, you know, the constant pain."
'They already think I'm a—' there was a momentary pause, so small I almost didn't notice it, '—monster, and I didn't want to make it worse.'
"That's reasonable." I settled back against his good shoulder, wincing as it put pressure on some of the bruises on my back.
'If I'd known you were going to recklessly take my pain, maybe I would have acted differently.'
"Don't worry about me. The first day's always the worst, anyway." I grasped the edge of the basket and tugged, slowly dragging it toward me. "Let's see what Astrid brought." He didn't reply. "Bud?" I twisted around, to see him looking at me strangely. "What?"
'You said the first day is always the worst.'
"Yeah?" What was so confusing or shocking about that?
'You've been hurt like this before?'
Oh. I hadn't told him yet; it must have slipped my mind. I shrugged awkwardly. "Remember that night I came to you after meeting Snotlout in the woods?"
'You threw up blood. How could I forget?'
"That… isn't exactly uncommon."
'What?' His voice was dangerously calm, a faint growl starting to vibrate in his throat. 'Explain.'
"I've had," I winced, "…incidents with him before."
'Just scorching tell me about it!'
There wasn't any getting out of it. I looked down and quickly mumbled, "Uh, it happens about once a month?" A nervous laugh slipped from my mouth.
He heard me, unfortunately. 'I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.'
"What happened to no violence?"
'I only attack if I have a good reason,' he growled, flashing very sharp teeth. 'This is an excellent reason.'
"If all goes well, you and Snotlout will never meet," I told him.
'Pity.'
I pulled a fish out of the basket and held it out to him, pretending to be stern. "No killing my cousin."
'He deserves it.'
"Not really. Uncle Spitelout isn't the best role model." I slapped his nose gently with the fish. "Promise you won't kill anyone without my permission?"
'Fine.'
"Well done," I teased, easing the fish into his surprised mouth. "Now you may eat."
He spluttered slightly, but ate it. I fed him the entire basket by hand, and despite his protests that he wasn't a hatchling, he didn't refuse them. There was a large package of food in the bottom of the bag, clumsily wrapped in paper. There was a note attached, which I pulled out and read.
"This is from the Great Hall. I don't know what you like, so I got some of everything."
I apprehensively unwrapped the package, and a Gobber-sized portion of various foods fell out. "I'll never eat that much."
'Well, you have to eat something.'
I shrugged, and picked up a lump of chicken. It was standard fare, nothing special and nothing too bad either. When my stomach was full, I passed the remainder to Toothless. "Take what you want, I'm done."
'You barely ate.'
"I had more than normal." I'd never needed much food, and I felt quite content.
'No wonder you're so small.'
"Easier to fly this way."
'I suppose.'
"I just don't need to eat as much as other people."
'Are you sure?'
"I can go days on a single meal if I have to. This is better than normal."
He bent down and nosed through the food. 'This is what fur-stealers eat? It's awfully dry.'
"Trust me, it can be far drier."
He tentatively nibbled a yak chop and tried a chicken wing. 'I prefer fish.'
"Okay."
I leaned back against his side, drained and tired. The rest of the day passed in naps of varying lengths.
Yay! I'm on time for once!
~JustAnotherRandomPoster