CHAPTER FOUR: THOUGHTS OF YOU

September 19th:

Astrid sat on a hilltop and spread the notebook across her knees, smoothing the pages as the early morning sunlight cast its golden rays over the seas. She took the pencil from her mouth and began to write, speaking to herself as she did.

"Now, let's see. The Picts came to the Archipelago this spring, and the first meeting we had concerning them happened in May." She paused as she recounted the number of times Hiccup had met with them and other Archipelago tribes.

"Hiccup's met with them twelve times, the most recent one at the end of August—last month—and out of the twelve, I attended four of the meetings, to make sure fights didn't break out."

She scribbled another note to herself. "First overfishing complaints happened in June."

Astrid turned to a clean page and wrote down all of the questions that came to mind, grouping them as she went, circling the biggest ones and drawing connecting lines to the questions that resulted from the larger ones.

Why did the Picts come to the Archipelago at all?

how did they know about the Archipelago in the first place?

why did they come under the guise of friendship when their actions speak conquest?

why have they been purposefully overfishing?

why raze New Berk specifically?

Are we being targeted?

If Yes:

what about New Berk makes us a target?

Is Hiccup being targeted?

what about him makes him a target?

Is there a traitor in the Archipelago?

Does anyone else other than New Berkians know about the dragons?

Is someone after the dragons?

does anyone else know where the Hidden World is?

Do the Picts know about the dragons?

If Yes:

- how did they get that knowledge?

whom did they get that knowledge from?

where did they get Deathgripper Acid?

how did they get Deathgripper Acid?

Are there Dragon goods on the Market?

is there a black market for dragon goods?

If Yes:

where?

how do you get them?

to whom do you speak in order to get them?

Astrid stopped writing. She tapped her pencil to her chin when she finished, her brow furrowed.

She wasn't used to being the one who asked all the questions, who puzzled things out. That was Hiccup's forte…but now his sole focus was the practical needs of the village…but someone needed to figure this out.

She stared at the question groupings. Three main categories stood out: why the Picts were in the Archipelago in the first place, was there outside knowledge of the dragons, and whether or not Hiccup was being targeted.

Whether or not the Picts knew about the dragons was a puzzlement. In some way they had to know about the dragons because they had gotten ahold of Deathgripper Acid and used it to raze New Berk to the ground; which meant that either they themselves knew where to find them, or they knew someone who did. But if it was someone else, then who? All of Hiccup's old enemies were dead; Viggo had been killed by a Skrill shock, Trader Johann and Grimmel had fallen to their deaths, Astrid had killed Drago herself, and Drago had killed Krogan. Who was left?

Astrid shook her head. Regardless, the Picts were involved. They had their fingers in everything, and there was nothing ordinary about that.

"We need to investigate them," Astrid said to herself, "There's too many unanswered questions." She closed the notebook, putting it and the pencil into her hip pouch. She scrambled to her feet and began walking down the cliff into New Berk.

New Berk was growing, new structure frames appearing every day, thanks to the surplus of labor the islands closest to them had sent. The ships from those islands currently slept in New Berk's harbor, rocking gently in the water.

Astrid threw up a quick prayer of thanks to Odin for sending far more help than they had expected from their fellow tribesmen. She thought back to the last meeting of the tribal chiefs she had attended with Hiccup, discussing the Picts yet again. She had noticed that many of the other chiefs had been less than pleased with Hiccup's becoming commonplace slap-on-the-wrist discipline, overhearing more than a few grumbles and comments about whether it was a good thing to be so peaceable.

She stopped short on the hill. Hiccup's not going to be pleased with this information, she thought. She sighed as she remembered the argument they'd had the night of the fire. Has it really been two weeks? How have we not talked about it?

Memories flooded her mind in answer, everyone running around New Berk, doing every job known and available to man. The days beginning with clearing rubble and debris, then shifted into building and continued in that pattern until the sun set, when the cycle would begin again the next day.

They'd been busy. Time had gotten away from them. Astrid herself had forgotten about all of the loose ends and questions until she'd read the Deathgripper entry in the Book of Dragons.

She squared her shoulders and continued walking down the hill. We have to talk sometime. Thor knows he's been preoccupied. Maybe we can make some headway. Maybe we can get to the bottom of this. It would be a relief to me if we could.

She would ask Hiccup about it later.

For now, the arena and barracks needed her attention. Heather had spread the word as soon as the arena was usable that sparring matches and training would begin. Today was that day, and every warrior who had survived had approached her over the past couple days, asking for a slot to practice in.

Astrid hadn't come up with a detailed schedule yet, but todays purpose was to test anyway, to see where everyone was in terms of combat skills. She smiled. It will be a good turnout today, and once we are ready, the Picts won't know what hit them.

LATER…

Hiccup looked up from hammering newly formed nails at the sound of his name being called. He smiled as Astrid walked up to the forge.

"Good Morning, Milady." Astrid gave him a quick kiss and leaned against the front half wall of the forge, her arms resting on the top.

"What has you rising with the sun?" he continued.

"Oh, just thinking. I had a lot of thoughts buzzing around and I needed some peace and quiet to sort them out." She nodded towards him. "You've obviously been here awhile."

Hiccup nodded and wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm. "Since before dawn. Hjalmar needed extra hands during the Fourth Watch. We make extra progress this way." He glanced straight ahead, looking out into the village. "What time is it?"

"About seven."

"I'm overdue then." He stopped hammering, grabbed the nail with the tongs, and shoved it into a bucket of oil, the steam from the render hissing and billowing.

"Did Nuff come with you this time?" Astrid asked.

"He left a short time ago to help the woodsmen cut lumber," Hiccup replied as he set down the tools and removed his apron. "I swear, he gets more and more like my dad every day; just one way of showing off his physical strength isn't enough."

Astrid chuckled as Hiccup wrapped his arm around her and walked from the forge into the village. She glanced into his face as she spoke. "He has his father's need to prove himself."

Hiccup smiled and hugged her as they walked. "And his mother's need to be the best."

Astrid laughed. "I think we created a monster with that one."

"If I'd known how quickly he'd take to the lessons my dad so painstakingly tried to teach me, I would've started teaching him two years ago."

"Starting after Zephyr left was fine," Astrid said, "His head's big enough already. You were right to wait. He wasn't ready for the responsibility then."

Hiccup suddenly winced and grit his teeth as they walked uphill towards Great Hall, placing his hand over the wound Drago had given him all those years ago.

Astrid instinctively braced her arm across his back and held him up. "You okay?"

Hiccup nodded as he exhaled through his nose. "I'll be fine," he replied.

"Are you sure you should be working with Hjalmar? Your wound is the reason you had to stop smithing."

"I know, and I don't do the main hammering or work the billows because of it. That's why I keep to the last stages, where the hammering takes less strength and a lighter touch." He looked into her eyes, small flecks of resentment flickering. "I know my limitations."

Astrid sighed and squeezed his shoulder. "I know you do. Can you blame me for worrying?"

Hiccup shook his head. "Was Zephyr awake when you left?"

"No, but I checked back at the house before I came for you and she'd already left. She left a note saying she'd be down at the harbor helping repair the docks, and that she'd see us for breakfast."

Hiccup smiled. "She never could stay away from water for very long."

Astrid noticed the light in her husband's eyes fade and a cloud pass over his face. "Everything all right?"

Hiccup shook his head and sighed. "Nothing's all right. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so gloomy. I'm just…preoccupied. There's everything to get done and less and less time to get it done in. It's why I like helping out at the forge; I get to be productive with something other than worry and I get to build something positive, something that has use. Plus the monotony of the routine clears my mind. Which reminds me, did we ever look into what started the fire? The thought crossed my mind as I was working this morning."

The words were out before Astrid could process them. "You mean after we argued and you shut me down?"

They stopped walking. Astrid bit her tongue and removed her arm from her husband's shoulder. Her heart twisted at the hurt look in Hiccup's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, "It just slipped out."

"No, you're right," Hiccup replied, meeting her gaze, "I have shut you down…and I shouldn't have."

Astrid sighed. "I know you're trying to do right by us all and hold everything together, but you used to share your burdens with me." She gently ran her fingers through his hair. "Have you forgotten the strength we have together?"

Hiccup swallowed a lump in his throat and looked away from her, his eyes teary. "No…maybe…"

Astrid smoothed her hand down his face. "Just talk to me, tell me what's bothering you, what's weighing you down. I know I'm not Toothless, but I've known you longer, and we've been married three times as long as the two of you have been friends."

Hiccup chuckled lightly, then became serious once more. "I don't know what to hand over to you. There's so many things that need my attention, and then I keep hearing the people muttering and wondering about what started the fire—"

"I…have an idea…about that," Astrid interrupted, hesitation lacing her voice.

Hiccup looked at her, curious. "You do? What?"

Astrid paused before responding. "It's Deathgripper Acid."

"Deathgripper Acid?" Hiccup repeated, incredulous, "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"From The Book of Dragons. I was flipping through it the night we moved in. I caught a whiff of the same sour scent and turned to the Deathgripper entry. The acid they spew creates the same fire that razed not just New Berk, but Old Berk too."

Hiccup shook his head. "But…that's impossible. The Deathgrippers Toothless didn't kill disappeared at the same time our dragons left…"

"Do you remember the question I asked the night of the fire? Do you think there could still be dragon goods on the market?"

"What are you suggesting? That we look into this?"

"I don't think it would hurt."

The breakfast bell from outside Great Hall rang, signaling everyone to gather. Hiccup sighed.

"I'll think about it."

THAT AFTERNOON…

Nuffink grunted as he hefted a freshly hewn log into the pile to be taken down into the village. He smirked to himself as he cracked his neck and knuckles.

Gods, I love throwing heavy stuff around!

If he continued to do heavy lifting type work every day, he'd be ripped by the time winter rolled around.

Of course, helping Dad out in the forge hadn't hurt either. While he usually worked the billows, his favorite part was slamming the hammers onto the fresh-from-the-kiln ingots. The early mornings were a bit of a bear, but once he got working and into a rhythm, it lasted all day until he turned in for the night. The one upshot of New Berk being razed to the ground was that there was always something physical for him to do, whether it was helping out at the forge, felling trees, or rebuilding houses, something required his natural physical strength—provided he didn't trip over himself…or run into anything…or accidentally knock something over.

"Haddock!"

Nuff turned to see Uncle Snot glaring at him from the hill crest.

"Quit peacocking and get down to the arena! Your mom needs your help."

Nuff dusted off his hands and walked towards him. "Yes, Uncle Snot," he replied. That was his other favorite thing: handling the different types of weapons and practicing with them. While he had the tendency to be a bit of a klutz when it came to everyday things, it disappeared whenever he practiced combat. The way his body moved when it practiced felt like a fish in water, unstoppable. He glanced at his biceps, toned and powerful despite their leanness. Oh yeah. I'm going to be the strongest warrior New Berk's ever seen.

As Uncle Snot walked away, Kirk Thorsten tackled Nuff to the ground.

"Gotcha now, Nuffink! Feel the fear of my lightning quick reflexes!"

Nuff shoved him off. "Get off me, Kirk!" He brushed dirt and gravel from his clothes as he glared at his peer. "Do I look like an unsuspecting chicken to you?"

Kirk gasped in mock offense and pointed at him. "Hey, respect the Chicken, man! That's our family mascot!"

Nuff shook his head and rolled his eyes. Only a Thorsten would have a chicken as a family mascot. "I swear, your family gets more berserk every day."

Kirk grinned mischievously and clapped Nuff on the shoulder. "That's the Thorsten way, my friend." He nodded down the steep hill into the village. "Race you to the arena?"

Nuff squared his shoulders. "A future chief does not race down steep hills at the mere mention of a challenge."

Kirk shrugged his shoulders. "Then I guess you are an unsuspecting chicken!" He sped off down the hill, calling, "Last one down eats twenty rotten eggs!"

Nuff chased after him, keeping his pace as even as possible so he wouldn't trip. "Kirk! You son of a half troll!"

Kirk laughed, his shoulder length dreadlocks whipping behind him. "You gotta do better than that, Nuffie!"

Nuff felt his cheeks burn. He grit his teeth and ran faster until he was dead even with Kirk. He glanced back and forth from Kirk to the ever nearing eighth-built village.

"Don't call me Nuffie, you rat eating munge bucket! Are you asking for trouble?!"

"Thorsten's live on the edge and walk on the wild side, Haddock! You're either game or not!"

Nuff yelped as they continued to run, weaving through half built houses, people, and business stalls as they neared the arena.

He smiled deviously as an unused pile of tent supplies appeared to the left. "How's this for game?" he called as he shoved Kirk towards the pile.

Nuff tripped over his own feet. He yelped as both he and Kirk tumbled into the tent supplies pile just outside the arena, landing with an oof! the wooden tent poles clattering to the ground.

Both boys burst into laughter.

"You may be future chief, Nuff, but you're still a klutz," Kirk said as he playfully shoved him.

Nuff shoved him back. "And you're still a troublemaking prankster."

Both boys rose to their feet and dusted themselves off, checking the supplies they had fallen into to make sure nothing was broken. When all was clear, they stepped out of the pile, apologizing to the villagers nearby who had been setting them up before walking to the arena.

Nuff and Kirk turned their heads at the sound of raised voices from inside the arena. Suddenly, his dad burst through the new doors into the arena and stormed off down the street, walking right past the two teen boys.

"Dad..?" Nuff called, but Hiccup didn't hear. He just kept walking. Nuff looked back and forth from the arena door to the direction his dad had walked in, his brows knit together in worry. Were they fighting again?

He absentmindedly waved Kirk off as he headed towards the door. "I'll see you later, Kirk, I gotta go help my mom…"

Nuffink carefully slunk through the arena door and shut it behind him. His mom walked through the arena, picking up scattered spears from the ground and tossing them into a pile against the armory door wall.

"Of all the stubborn, insecure, knuckle headed—"

"Mom?" Nuff called.

She looked at him, startled. "Nuff! There you are!" She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ears. "I didn't see you come in."

Nuff gestured behind him with his thumb. "I saw Dad walk out. Did you guys fight again?"

Astrid sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. "We argued," she looked at him. "How much did you hear?"

"Just raised voices," he glanced away and looked at the dirt floor of the arena, "This time."

Astrid put her arm down and looked at him. "Have you been eavesdropping on me and your father?"

Nuff felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment, but he straightened, determined to be honest. "The loft floors aren't that thick, Mom. I know it's about the Picts…" he swallowed before voicing, "You're not gonna get divorced, are you?" He'd heard their arguments more often than he wanted to admit. Where they had usually managed to talk things out, now tension set in, leaving long silences in between words when there previously were none.

Astrid sighed, walked up to him and placed her free hand on his shoulders. "No, Nuff, we're not. We've been together too long for that. We know each other too well."

Nuff backed away. "Then why are you so tense around each other? Did you think I didn't notice? You've been "arguing" since spring and it's only gotten worse." He felt his emotions rising, threatening to turn into tears. I won't cry, he thought, I'm not ten anymore. "I don't understand what's happening between you," he quickly swiped his hand across the corner of his eye, "It scares me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Your father and I just…disagree on how to tackle everything that's going on."

"Well, it sounds pretty simple to me. You want to go to war and dad doesn't. Isn't there a middle ground?"

Astrid sighed. "I'm trying to convince your father that there is…we'd just have to stretch our already limited supplies further, and your dad's not sure we should."

"Because of winter coming?"

"That's one reason. But even with the aid we've received we're still very low on food."

"Is more coming from the farther islands?"

"Yes; your father received word from them yesterday, but food is still going to be hard to come by. Even if every tribe helps us out, we still may not have enough to last the winter, and that's a big concern."

"Are more of us going to die over the winter?"

"It's…very possible."

"Are the Picts to blame?"

"I think so."

"But Dad doesn't?"

"He's just trying to do what's best for everyone."

"But you said the Picts were overfishing. Doesn't he believe you?"

Nuff watched as his mother turned away and continued picking up the weapons from the sparring matches from the ground. She didn't answer. Does that mean Dad doesn't believe her? Why wouldn't he believe her?

"Don't worry about it, Nuffink," she said, "Your father and I are working on it." She unbuckled the armory key from her belt and tossed it to him. "Put the piled weapons back in the armory please."

Nuffink made a puzzled face as he walked over to the the armory door. It's because Dad can't take the physical stuff. From what he had heard from the other villagers, Dad hadn't done the best job keeping the peace either.

"If he weren't such a weakling he would've figured it out by now," he muttered as he put the key in the lock.

"NUFFINK HADDOCK!" Astrid scolded, "Turn around and look at me."

Nuff turned around, fear tingling through him. Mom never scolded him unless he went too far. She stood straight, hand on her hips. She jabbed her finger at him.

"Don't you ever insult your father again! Do you hear me? You insult him, you insult me, and I will not accept that from anyone, especially my own son. Apologize at once."

Nuff swallowed back the emotion rising in his throat. "I'm sorry, but—"

"No 'buts', Nuffink. Your father works twice as hard as everyone in this village."

"Then why isn't he listening to you?" he blurted, "He always listens to you."

"Not always," she countered, "Contrary to what you might think, your father and I don't always agree on how to handle certain situations."

"But you never argue about it like you have been."

"We've had arguments in that past, Nuff, you just haven't seen them."

"Well, I've seen plenty lately; and telling me to drop it isn't helping. I'm not a kid anymore."

"I know you're not, and while I appreciate your concern for your father and I, this is something he and I need to work out for ourselves."

Nuff sighed in defeat, turned around, unlocked the armory door and pushed it open. He grabbed an armful of the spears piled by the door and brought them in, placing them in their barrels.

Frigga, he prayed, Please make them work it out…

MEANWHILE…

Hiccup slammed the front door to the house shut and walked into his and Astrid's bedroom.

He stared at his desk, covered with papers and reports. Frustrated, he shoved them off, their dry rattle pricking as they hit the floor. He sank into the desk chair, laid his elbows on his knees and sank his head into his hands.

How much control have I lost?

He thought back to the third meeting over the summer with the Picts and other tribes in the islands, each taking their turn complaining about there not being enough fish in the waters to go around.

He remembered speaking with Wulf, the chief of the Picts, telling him to ease up on fishing, that the other tribes, including New Berk, would be more than willing to trade with them for goods they needed, provided that they played fair in return, not overfishing and being reasonable in their prices of what they did catch, should they sell it.

While Hiccup and Wulf had shaken hands, he remembered detecting a glint of deception in Wulf's eye as he'd turned away.

But was it really deception? Was he just being smug that he'd gotten what he wanted?…Or was I too easy to push around?

He had tried to pursue ulterior motives in the Picts since their arrival to the Archipelago during the spring, but other things had always distracted him: civil squabbles between other tribes, keeping up with his own people and settling disputes amongst them, teaching Nuffink the beginnings of what it took to be a chief…

There were also the meetings between just Wulf and him, the ones he had kept secret…well, half of them, anyway.

Thoughts of Astrid rolled through his mind.

Why is she so determined to start a war?

Has she forgotten how hard I've worked to sustain the peace we have?

I'm the Peacemaker of the entire Archipelago! Does that mean nothing to her?

And now she had supposedly found the culprit of the fire?

Deathgripper Acid?

It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't. The dragons were gone. And yet…

He saw the Book of Dragons leaning against the right leg of his desk. He bent over and grabbed it, flipping furiously through it until he came to the Deathgripper entry, recognizing his hastily written runes. He sniffed his fingers as he lifted them from the page. Sure enough, the sour scent of the fire touched his nose.

Hiccup slammed the book shut and tossed it onto his desk. Astrid was right. Again. And if she was right about this, then she could be right about everything.

Resentment and self-criticism flared. He should've been the one to make the connection. He got up from the chair and began picking up the papers from the floor.

Dad would have known exactly what to do, exactly how to handle this. He wouldn't have let the Picts overfish in the first place. I'm the Chief. I should've been the one to figure this out.

He sighed as he plopped the papers back onto his desk, sank onto the bed and placed his head in his hands. "Oh gods, what am I supposed to do?"

He felt fifteen again—too much.

Shame twisted. He was weak.

Hiccup kicked the desk chair hard. He hissed in pain and held a hand to the wound from Drago, pain like small streaks of lightning shooting through him. When the pain had subsided, he exhaled. I can't fight, he thought, angry, I'd be helpless the second I tried to block a blow…

Memories of the battle with Drago swirled in his head. He'd almost lost his life, then. His dad had lost his. He'd managed to fight off Grimmel the following year without too much pain, but ever since then, the best he'd been able to do in combat was sparring. It was why he'd appointed Astrid as general over all the warriors—because he couldn't do it.

I can't protect them that way.

But Astrid could.

Would letting her train the warriors really be that bad?

"I should talk to her," he said to himself, "She's only trying to help."

And that's the problem. The thought flit through his mind and settled before he hand a chance to challenge it.

To his wife, the threat to their lives was staring them in the face: their new neighbors, the Picts. It all made sense to her. Everything lined up. Clear cut. Black and white. And the answer was simple:

Strike back. Show force. Put the fear of the gods into them.

Hiccup exhaled through his nose, resentment hot.

I have to keep control. I've worked too hard for this peace for it to fall apart now. I will do everything in my power to keep control, keep the peace…whatever the cost.