Chapter 4

Blades to Grind

Gobber's Smithy

Hiccup had returned to the village from his… adventure in the woods, albeit once he'd woken up and regained control of his limbs. He'd been just in time to see Stoick and Gobber exiting the Meade Hall. The former had given him nothing but a formal nod before marching off to see to the building repairs, and the latter had waved him over so they could get to work in the shop. A few hours had passed, and they'd been joined by Arachne, Snaketail, and Batwings, who'd – get this – stopped by to chat with Hiccup. The Haddock boy, who was normally abhorred by his more Viking-like peers, had been so shocked that he'd almost spilled molten steel on his boots. Gobber had smacked him over the head for the accident, but was more than happy to let the non-Berkians visit.

Right at this moment, Snaketail was gushing over the weapons that Gobber had on display. Hiccup had never seen anyone so excited to be around weaponry – and that was saying something, considering he lived amongst Vikings! He'd watched as she'd explained to Gobber that she was staying on Berk, being accepted into monster training, and needed a weapon of her own. Thoroughly amused, Gobber had waved her off and let her browse while he worked the forge. She'd been acting like a Yian Kut-Ku at a Konchu festival ever since.

But what truly surprised Hiccup was the news that Batwings brought.

"Wait, so my dad's letting you stay?" Hiccup asked in disbelief, putting down the casket of molten iron that he'd fished out of the forge.

"Yep, I was surprised too," Batwings answered, swinging his legs in a bored fashion. "Obviously not for free, and he's got about a hundred rules I have to follow. Frankly, it was a better deal than I expected."

"I can't believe Dad's being so generous," he commented, amazed. "He's not usually the type to put people at risk like – oh, shoot, that was the wrong thing to… uh, n-no offense, Batwings."

"I'm used to it," Batwings dismissed.

"HICCUP!" Gobber's booming shout came. "Iron! Mold! Now!"

Jumping at the familiar sound of his master's impatience, Hiccup grabbed the tongs and hurried the container of liquid metal over to Gobber. He poured it into the mold, careful not to spill a drop, and let Gobber heave the gigantic, spherical rock over to the anvil.

"Chin up, lad. Ye've been lookin' down e'er since yer father told ye off this mornin'," the blacksmith said with a, frankly, inappropriate amount of cheer. He cracked the rock down the middle, revealing a now solid, but still burning hot, Great Sword.

What with the whole near-death experience in the woods fresh in Hiccup's mind, he'd successfully forgotten that morning's scolding. But, in his usual tactless way, Gobber had managed to bring it back to the forefront of his mind. Hiccup let out a heavy sigh, imagining his mood plunging off a cliff.

"I really did hit one," he insisted.

"Sure ye did," Gobber answered.

"He never listens," he complained.

"It runs in the family," Gobber said by way of agreement.

Hiccup thought he heard a snort from behind him, but when he glared over his shoulder, Snaketail turned back around and continued admiring weapons.

"It's his job ta be tough on everyone!" Gobber continued, in what he probably thought was a reassuring voice. He took the red-hot Great Sword in his prosthetic tongs and dunked it in a vat of water, which hissed with steam.

"I'm not everyone!" Hiccup protested, then caught himself. He hadn't intended to lose his temper like that, so he sucked in a breath and let it out after a silent count to ten. "But… it doesn't matter. The man's impossible to please."

"He just doesn't want ta appear like he's playin' favorites," Gobber told him, carrying the sword over to the anvil.

"He's covered in that department, believe me," Hiccup drawled. "If I didn't live in the same house as him, I wouldn't even know he was my father."

"Have you told him that?" Batwings asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Wha– of course not," he shot back, and sent the Siren a dirty look for butting in. "We barely even make eye contact. And when we do, he always has this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on meat in his sandwich."

At a gesture from Gobber, he removed the tongs from Gobber's prosthetic and switched it with his blacksmithing Hammer. Immediately, Hiccup whirled around with an exaggerated swagger, doing his best imitation of an indignant Stoick the Vast.

"Excuse me, barmaid!" he complained in a thick accent. "I'm afraid you've brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side. This here, this is a talkin' fishbone!"

Arachne, who'd been silent for this whole exchange, doubled over giggling at his theatrics. Snaketail snorted again, except this time she wasn't trying to hide it and was palming the blade of a Sword and Shield. Gobber chuckled before starting to bang on the freshly-made Great Sword.

"Yer thinkin' aboot this all wrong," he said conversationally. "It's not so much what'cha look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand!"

Wow, that made Hiccup feel so much better. Out loud, he muttered, "Thank you for summing that up."

Batwings gave him an almost sympathetic look. "I think what he means is that you're trying too hard to be something you aren't," he advised.

"I just want to be a Viking!" Hiccup burst out. "And I'd really appreciate it if you stayed out of this personal conversation, thanks."

The Siren shuffled his wings in discomfort, and Hiccup felt the flare of temper subside immediately. He hadn't meant to get so testy, but their conversation was drifting too close to a topic Hiccup spent most of his life despairing over. Of course he knew he was the worst at pretty much anything that wasn't blacksmithing. It would make a lot of sense if he stopped trying to kill monsters, because it always put him in danger and made trouble for the village. Gobber saying it to his face was fine; coming from a total stranger, it stung a lot more.

"Look, there's the Viking way, and then there's yer way," Gobber continued, as tactful and sensitive as ever. "And yer way makes grown men uncomfortable."

Rolling his eyes, Hiccup sent Gobber a deadpan look. "Speaking of uncomfortable, I'd like a new conversation, please."

"Alrigh', alrigh'…" Gobber conceded. He put the Hammer aside, leaned in, and said way too suggestively, "So how's it goin' with the ladies?"

"Oh yeah, way to get the mood back on track," Hiccup snarked, over the cackling of the three onlookers.

"Aww, come on," the blacksmith grinned, nudging him with a wink. "I see the way ye look at Astrid…"

Determined not to get flustered by Gobber's teasing, Hiccup crossed his arms and replied, "Astrid wouldn't come near me if she was on fire and I had the only bucket of water in town."

"Hey, can I get these sharpened?"

The sudden sound of a voice speaking from the shop entrance set Hiccup's heart to racing. Despite already knowing who the smooth tones belonged to, Hiccup was still unprepared for the sight of a goddess standing in the entryway. His face burned but he didn't even feel it; the image of her perfect form demanded one hundred percent of his attention. There she stood, flawless as always, calm and cool with a Dual Blade resting on her shoulder. Her half-lidded eyes obscured by golden bangs swept the inside of the smithy. Which included Hiccup. Oh gods, he could feel her cerulean gaze pass over him like a hot breeze. Was his hair mussed? Did he have soot on his face?

"Astrid! H-Hi, Astrid!" Hiccup blurted. The feeling of Astrid's eyes on him was so intense that it disengaged the connection between his brain and his mouth, causing him to babble like a lunatic. "Hello there, welcome, wha-what can I do for –"

One of her Dual Blades sank into a crate right in front of him, splitting the wood with a crunch loud and sharp enough to shut him up. Astrid was giving Gobber an expectant look, the other Dual Blade dangling from her waiting hand. Hiccup expected the blacksmith to just take the weapons and complete her request… but instead, Gobber paused, glancing between him and Astrid. With every awkward second that ticked by, the more Hiccup felt the panic spread. Don't do it Gobber just sharpen the blades oh gods above don't leave us alone don't leave us alone don't don't don't don't –

An exaggerated cough split the humiliating silence as Gobber, to Hiccup's utter horror, began to edge toward the exit. "Uh, my, erm… manly apprentice will, um, service all o' yer needs, lass. I have to… go… get… some… … …"

His palm met Hiccup's back and shoved, sending him flying forward with a shout. He ended up flat against the crate with Astrid staring in befuddlement. Gobber sent him a glare that screamed Just woo her you absolute dunce before marching out of the shop, whistling a tune.

Hiccup stood up and dared to face Astrid, who was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Holy Thor she was looking at him. And she was even more gorgeous up close. Her eyes were so big and her cheeks looked as soft and round as her –

FOCUS HICCUP.

"Oooookay," he chuckled nervously. "So… yep, two razor-sharp Dual Blades, coming right up."

He held out his hand, and Astrid handed her weapons over with reluctance. "Careful, they're my mother's," she warned.

Hiccup's feet moved him automatically towards the grindstone. He'd done the whole sharpening routine so many times that he could do it with his eyes closed by now. On the way, he glanced over the weapons in his hands. The handle was light enough for even him to carry it with ease, and it had five blades – the main one, which was the largest and placed where you'd expect it to be, and four smaller ones that were arranged in a line that arced back to the end of the hilt. Each blade was black and dagger-like, made from fused Nargacuga scales. He recalled Gobber naming them the "Midnight Blackwings".

He set the blades down for a moment and started to get the grindstone rolling. While he did, he watched Astrid wander around the shop with bored curiosity. As he tried to keep his eyes from doing their own "wandering", Astrid suddenly caught sight of Batwings sitting in the window, who greeted her with a casual tip of an invisible hat. The Hofferson girl stared at him for a long time, her expression unreadable.

Hiccup gulped as he observed their lengthy staredown. Neither moved an inch nor said a word. Knowing Astrid, she was probably sizing Batwings up, recognizing what the wings and clawed fingers belonged to. A small, doubtful part of him worried that she was staring at the Siren because he was handsome, and Hiccup squashed it down before it could bother him too much.

Finally, Astrid responded to Batwings' gesture with a curt nod and turned away, deeming him no threat. She then ended up strolling around the anvil and running into Arachne, to whom she reacted with the tiniest of flinches. The ten-year-old grinned and waved at her, which she returned, bemused at Arachne's enthusiasm.

"Is this one of the girls my parents said we'd be looking after?" Astrid asked to no-one in particular.

"Yep!" Arachne chirped. "Nice to meetcha, I'm Arachne!"

"And I'm the other one," Snaketail added, coming out of the back room with a curved iron sword in her hand. Hiccup hadn't even realized she'd been back there. He lowered his head and flushed red; it had probably been when he was gushing over Astrid.

"Yo, Astrid!" the Grundenson girl walked up to the blonde with a toothy grin. "I heard you're one of the best warriors in the village. I'm looking forward to spending more time with you!"

Turning around, Astrid's eyes lit up in recognition. "Mom mentioned you," she commented. "She said one of our new tenants was looking to do weapons training. You interested in sparring?"

"Once I get my skills with the Sword and Shield polished up, yeah!" Snaketail enthused. "I'd love to practice with you."

"The others and I are going to be doing some drills in the woods today," Astrid replied, sounding much more interested. "You should come along. I'll introduce you to Fishlegs – he also specializes in the Sword and Shield. He'll be good for you to practice with before you think about taking me on."

Snaketail's grin turned competitive. "Think you're too much for me? I'll be ready to give you a proper fight by sundown today, I'll bet!"

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, Hiccup mused, watching the girls chat. Snaketail's interest in weapons and fighting was obvious by now. Of course Astrid would get along with her, if only because she'd now have someone to compete with. Snotlout was good, but not good enough to match Astrid Freaking Hofferson.

There was a lull in the conversation as Astrid took Snaketail's sword and examined it, twisting her arm as she observed it from different angles. Hiccup finally got the grindstone going and placed the first blade against its surface, expertly honing it to a fine edge. The silence stretched on, until it got to a point where Hiccup felt way too awkward. There were five people in the smithy, someone had to say something and get a new conversation going.

"So, I saw you guys on fire patrol last night," the Haddock boy threw the comment out there, giving a little cough. "Looked like a good time."

"Yeah," Astrid replied, handing Snaketail back her weapon. She didn't even glance at Hiccup, but he was too delighted that she was making small talk with him to care. "I didn't get burned, though. It's only fun if you get a scar out of it."

A voice from the window interjected unexpectedly. "No kidding, right?" it hissed. "Pain. Love it."

Batwings' bitter tones were a smoked eel in the middle of a plate of delicious cod. Startled at his contribution, Hiccup instinctively put Astrid's weapon down and turned toward the Hofferson girl herself, expecting her to be peeved. Indeed, she was glaring at the Siren – not in anger, but in indignation. What the Hel was that for? her eyes demanded. At first Hiccup couldn't imagine why Batwings would provoke her like that, but then he saw him tugging at his scarf.

Apparently, Batwings had taken the throwaway comment about scars personally.

An awkward silence fell once again, this time with a feeling of tension that made Hiccup's skin prickle. He wracked his body with a forced cough and resumed sharpening the Nargacuga blade in his hand.

"Yeah, I would've been out there too," he replied to Astrid's comment about the fire brigade, "but I was out downing a Gore Magala. So, yeah, pretty busy." He put emphasis on his casual remark, like his words were muscles he wanted to flex.

"Really?" Astrid asked, sounding more curious than disbelieving. "Well, where is –"

"O-Oh, no, it… it got away…" Hiccup admitted, trailing off. He didn't mean to, but Astrid was straining to reach a weapon mounted just out of reach, giving Hiccup an incredible view of her attractive backside.

She started to turn back around, and he snapped back to his sharpening, quick as a whip. "B-But it won't be back any time soon, believe you me!" he claimed. He eased back into his work and continued, "Yeah, you know, this apprentice thing is just my, sort of, on the side… uh, I'm mostly just here to bulk up."

This was great. He'd been in the same room with the island hottie for a whole five minutes now, and she didn't even mind. In fact, she was positively chatty! He smiled to himself, swapping the finished Dual Blade with the other one. He'd never felt so relaxed around Astrid. Here in the forge where he was at home, Hiccup found that his speech was becoming more and more natural for him. He risked another look at her and almost died of happiness when he saw her stretching again.

"Lift some iron and… stuff," he continued, spellbound by the way her back arched. "Become one with the steel –"

CRRRRRRKKK!

The horrific splitting noise drew Hiccup back to his handiwork, his eyes widening in panic. Exactly one-half of Astrid's valuable Midnight Blackwings had just been granted an extra-special bonus feature – a gigantic chunk taken off its main blade.

Oh, yak dung.

Glancing left and right, Hiccup put the damaged weapon down. Thank the gods, nobody had noticed – Batwings was staring out the window, Snaketail and Arachne were doing their own thing, and Astrid was still looking around. Hiccup half tiptoed, half speed-walked toward where Gobber kept the spare weapon parts. He knew Gobber had a replacement blade for Astrid's weapon, if he could just…

He spotted something blue out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, Hiccup felt the horror of potential embarrassment spread through his system when he saw Astrid heading to the back of the shop.

He tried to protest, but his objections were in vain, as Astrid was already pulling back the curtain to reveal a smaller side room. Hiccup was all too familiar with it – it was his private workshop, after all, something Gobber had granted him in order to keep him out of trouble. He watched with increasing despair as Astrid took it all in: the table covered with blueprints, the model catapults, the sketches plastered on the walls.

Hiccup felt a tiny part of himself die inside.

"What is all this?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, uh, th-those?" Hiccup replied. While she was distracted, he snatched the replacement blade and hurried to dismantle the original. Keeping up the babble so she wouldn't hear what he was up to, he blathered, "N-Nothing. Just some stuff I'm working on. It's j-just, uh, confidential upper level development. I-I-I can't really talk about it, so…"

He heard the sounds of shuffling paper, but didn't pay them any heed while he worked frantically to get Astrid's weapon fixed before she noticed. Then her voice spoke out in a bemused tone.

"'The Mutilator'?" she questioned, a sheet of parchment in her hand.

Hiccup sighed, resigning himself to giving her an explanation. "Yes, it basically uses twin-weighted counter-levers to launch crisscrossing blades in four different directions."

He slid the replacement blade into a vise and tightened it, locking it in place. So far so good, all he needed now was a way to attach it to the handle…

"How do you hold it?" Astrid went on, still examining 'The Mutilator'.

"You don't, you shoot it," Hiccup corrected.

Thank gods. Gobber still had that high-quality thread. He attached the handle to the replacement blade and started to weave the thread in and out, slowly but surely restoring the weapon to its former glory.

"Oh," Astrid said, disappointed. "Well, I'm more of an old-fashioned 'take it down with Dual Blades and then lop its head off' kinda girl. Kind of the Viking way, right?"

"Go Vikings," he drawled.

Arachne appeared beside Hiccup, almost giving him a heart attack when he finally noticed her presence. She gave Astrid's weapon-in-progress a horrified look that she then turned on Hiccup himself. What the Hel did you do?!

Hiccup paused to shush the ten-year-old, right on time to see Astrid enter the shop again. He redoubled his pace, sweat dripping off his forehead so profusely that it was starting to form a puddle at his feet.

Fortunately, Astrid was pacing around the shop with new impatience. "Ah, I can't wait to get started tomorrow," she exclaimed. "We finally get a chance to show them what we've got. I'm so excited."

"What're you talking about?" Snaketail inquired – a huge help for Hiccup, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Astrid scanned each of them with a confused look. "What, you didn't hear?" she asked. "They're pulling men to crew the ships. They need replacements to defend the town. We start training in the morning! We'll be fighting monsters!"

Oh, double yak dung. Hiccup took his hands off the Dual Blade, staring at nothing. Had she said "we"? By "we", had she meant her and the other teens? Not him too, right? The sight of the Gore Magala's jaws rushing at him replayed automatically in his head, and he knew he was turning pale. He felt himself die inside a second time.

"Really?! YES!" Snaketail's reaction was quite the opposite of Hiccup's, complete with a little fist pump. "Okay, not gonna lie, that's a little scary but mostly exciting! You think they'll start small? I think I could take a Great Jaggi with this sword and a bit of practice…"

"Hey Astrid!"

A voice from outside cut off Hiccup's thoughts and Snaketail's exhilarated rambling. Glancing out the window, the Haddock boy saw that Snotlout, Fishlegs, and the twins were gathered outside the forge. They'd all brought their weapons along, wearing special harnesses that allowed them to clip the hefty instruments of torture to their backs.

"You coming to practice or what?" one of the teens called out – probably Snotlout, from the underlying arrogance in his tone.

Astrid didn't reply to her friends' urging, and instead marched right up to the grindstone and held out her hands in a wordless demand for her weapons back. Trying not to blush at the Hofferson girl's proximity, Hiccup obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed on the Dual Blades. She took the Nargacuga-scale swords and weighed them in her hands, a speculative look in her eye.

"This feels different," she commented. It wasn't an accusation, but it still got Hiccup's nerves prickling.

"O-Oh," he stammered. He coughed and tried to steady his voice so it didn't sound too suspicious. "Yeah, I rebalanced it. Tightened it up. Uh, finessed it. We're a full-service outfit in here."

"Huh," Astrid said by way of answer. "Thanks."

As she rushed back out of the shop, Hiccup raised a quavering hand in farewell. "U-Um, s-sure."

"Wait for me, I'm coming too!" Snaketail yelped, flinging herself after Astrid. "Later, Hiccup!"

The two girls disappeared out the doorway, and Hiccup could hear their gleeful voices fade away gradually as they and the boys left for their practice session or whatever. He let out a sigh that was equal parts wistful and disappointed. If only he could join them, feel what a proper friendship built off of shared interests and mutual respect was like.

Anyway… Hiccup shook his head to clear the thoughts away. Gobber would probably be coming back now that Astrid was gone. He still had a full day of weapon repairs ahead of him.

Village Plaza

It was refreshing to be hanging out with her friends again, Astrid decided. During the raid, it had been duty – and trying to stay alive – above all else. Then at breakfast, it was sobering to hear her parents discussing the dwindling food supplies and the coming of winter. Or rather, "devastating" winter, as she'd heard Hiccup sometimes call it in tones light with playful sarcasm.

The thought of Hiccup brought her mind back to her recent trip to Gobber's shop. She lifted her Dual Blades experimentally, enjoying how they felt as light and sharp as ever, even if there was a slight difference she couldn't put her finger on. Hiccup wasn't bad, she supposed. He was nice, if a little weird, and he seemed to be a competent blacksmith. She definitely wouldn't count him a valuable ally to have in battle, of course. Gods forbid he ever step foot in the training arena. Stoick would never allow it, and nor would any self-respecting Viking.

"Astrid, who's the new girl?" Ruffnut's gravelly tones pierced her musings. Her and her brother, Tuffnut, were competent training partners. They weren't as committed as Astrid, though, so she didn't know if she could rely on them at all. At least they could fight, especially with each other.

"Snaketail," Astrid answered. "Long story, but she's joining us for training."

"Nice to meet you all!" Snaketail grinned at all of them.

Astrid found herself smirking back, liking her newest comrade's enthusiasm. It was difficult to tell if she was serious about becoming a warrior to protect others, as Astrid was, or if she just really enjoyed fighting. Either way, Astrid found herself looking forward to seeing what Snaketail was made of. It'd be fun to have a sparring partner that wasn't Snotlout, who focused more on showing off for her instead of actually practicing.

"So, if you arrived during last night's raid, you never really got a real tour of Berk, huh?" Astrid addressed Snaketail directly, giving her a curious look.

The new girl shook her head, her long brown hair swishing against her back with the motion. Even now, Astrid noticed, Snaketail was glancing around at her surroundings as they walked across the village together: admiring the size of the plaza, watching Vikings go about their daily routines, taking in the sights. It was a shame that Snaketail's first glimpse of their home had been of it going up in flames.

Astrid got a flash of inspiration. "Well, uh, this is Berk," she said by way of introduction. "It's located five days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing To Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. But it's our village. In a word… eh, sturdy. It's existed for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets.

"The only problems," she finished with a sigh, "are the pests."

"Yeah, I saw firsthand," Snaketail grimaced. She fiddled with the shield she'd taken from the forge and added, thoughtfully, "That's part of the reason I'm so excited to be joining you in training, I guess."

The reflective remark piqued Astrid's curiosity. "How's that?"

After taking a second to think about it, Snaketail gave a shrug. "Well, I guess… it gives me a good feeling knowing that I'll be helping you out, you know?"

"Ugh, goody two-boots," Tuffnut grumbled.

In the brief lull in the conversation, Astrid saw Fishlegs attempting to get Snaketail's attention. As far as Astrid was concerned, the pudgy Ingerman boy had a problem or two. He spent a lot of time studying monsters, which had intrigued her when he'd first started doing it. But his methods were beyond her comprehension, involving a lot of random numbers being thrown around, and when it came to actual combat, he was always too tentative and nervous. Astrid didn't get why he'd spend so much time analyzing monsters' strengths and weaknesses when he wasn't committed to actually fighting them. In Astrid's opinion, he only hung out with them because the only other option was Hiccup.

"Um… hey," Fishlegs trembled when Snaketail finally turned to him. "I, uh, j-just w-wanted to ask… is that Jaggi skin you're wearing?"

Jaggi skin? Astrid perked up in interest at those words.

"Oh, I'm surprised you noticed," the Grundenson girl said, plucking at her skirt. "It's nothing really impressive, it's just something my parents gave me to wear."

"Still cool," Fishlegs gushed.

Snaketail wore monster hide? Of course she did – how could Astrid not have noticed? That pinkish-red, leather-like material that made up Snaketail's ensemble was scaly and tough upon close inspection, functioning as light armor. Astrid felt a pang of jealousy, but it soon faded – she was going to get her own monster skin to wear after she completed monster training and became a real warrior.

"Come on," Astrid beckoned, with the barest hint of a challenging smirk. "We'll show you the best spot on Berk to do combat practice. Let's see what you can do with that Sword and Shield, and we'll get you up to standard in time for training tomorrow."

She couldn't deny that Snaketail's ear-to-ear grin was infectious, and Astrid found herself grinning in response. This was going to be exciting.

Haddock Residence, Evening

When Hiccup came back to the house after a long day of toiling in the forge, he realized that he really didn't want to have to face his father.

There was the incident from earlier this morning, of course, which Hiccup could acknowledge was pretty bad compared to his usual mess-ups. But after learning from Astrid about the other teens starting monster training, he had even less reason to provoke an interaction with his father. What if he was thrown into the ring, too? Yesterday, that would've been a dream come true. But after today's events…

He shuddered as he pulled the door open, only to freeze in the doorway. Stoick was already home, hunched over the fireplace and poking at its coals. Holding his breath, Hiccup shut the door as noiselessly as possible and then tiptoed past his father. He'd made it about halfway up the stairs to his room when…

"Hey, roommate."

The unexpected voice made Hiccup freeze and turn his head in the direction it had come from. Batwings, of all people, was reclining up in the rafters and giving Hiccup a lazy wave.

"Busy day?" he asked conversationally.

"Wha– you're staying here?!" Hiccup spluttered in disbelief.

Their exchange caused Stoick to move with a start, as though just waking up. When he spotted Hiccup standing on the staircase, he showed visible surprise, not having expected his son to have snuck into the house without him noticing.

"Hiccup?" he said, incredulous. Then, he composed himself, trying to pretend that moment of weakness had never happened. "I never heard you come in."

"Dad…" Hiccup replied, hesitant. There was no escaping it now. "Uh, I need to talk with you, Dad."

Clapping his hands together, Stoick admitted, "I need to speak with you too, son."

The two Haddocks paused to gather their thoughts, then opened their mouths at the same time.

"I think it's time you learn to fight monsters."

"I don't think I want to fight monsters."

"What?" they asked in unison, sharing a confused glance.

Stoick was the first to recover. "Uh, you first," he offered.

"No, you go first," Hiccup counter-offered, and descended the staircase so he could speak with his father on equal footing.

"Alright…" Stoick replied, and took a deep breath. "You get your wish. Monster training. You start in the morning."

Monster training. Morning. Once again, Hiccup had a split-second flashback to the Gore Magala lunging at him, shuddering as he recalled how paralyzed with fear he'd been afterwards.

"Oh man, I should've gone first!" he exclaimed in panic, and began to babble an excuse. "'Cause, I was thinking, you know, we have a surplus of monster-fighting Vikings. But do we have enough bread-making Vikings? Or maybe small home-repair Vik–"

His blathering was cut off by an enormous weight being dropped into his arms. It took the form of two items – an iron spear and matching shield. Hiccup was just barely able to keep the Lance steady, balancing it across his elbows. From up in the rafters, he could hear Batwings' quiet laughter.

"You'll need this," Stoick informed him.

Subtlety and rambling wasn't working, so Hiccup changed tactics and told it to him straight. "I don't wanna fight monsters," he quavered.

"Ah, come on," his father chuckled, waving him off like a joke being told over mead. "Yes, you do!"

"Rephrase," he added. He tried again, quashing the fear and making his voice as serious and firm as possible. "Dad, I just can't kill monsters!"

"But you will kill monsters!" Stoick assured him.

"No, I'm really, very, extra-sure that I won't!" Hiccup protested, his voice rising with panic. "Do you not hear me?!"

In the background, Batwings was no longer laughing. Stoick had stopped laughing as well, his expression turning stern. He approached his son, towering over him with all the authority of a Viking Chief. Somehow, Hiccup felt even smaller than was normal for a conversation with his mountain of a father.

"Hiccup, it's time," Stoick stated. "This is serious, son. When you carry this Lance, you carry all of us with you. That means you walk like us, talk like us… and think like us. No more of this," he finished, with a vague motion at Hiccup and slight abhorrence in his voice.

"You just gestured to all of me," Hiccup complained.

Stoick ignored that. "Deal?"

His grip slackening on the Lance, Hiccup gave his father a resentful look and replied, "This conversation is feeling very one-sided…"

"Deal?!" Stoick repeated.

There would be no changing his mind on this, Hiccup realized. Vikings had stubbornness issues and Stoick was no exception. Hiccup was going to be thrown into monster training, and there was nothing he could do about it. This entire situation felt like a cruel trick of Loki's – he'd spent all his life wanting to kill a monster, and just when he'd learned that he didn't have the spine, he was being forced to learn anyway. The gods really did hate him, and it was this realization that drained the last of Hiccup's defiance.

"… Deal," he answered in a tiny voice.

Stoick stepped away, satisfaction unclouding his expression. "Good," he approved, and snatched up a basket and his helmet on his way out the door. "Train hard… and I'll be back. Probably."

He left the house without giving Hiccup a chance to answer. The door shut with a final click, leaving Hiccup standing next to the weapon he didn't have the strength to hold, feeling even smaller than when he'd been at the Gore Magala's mercy.

"And I'll be here," he murmured to the door. "… Maybe."

A fluttering, scraping sound drew Hiccup's forlorn gaze over to the other side of the room, where Batwings was climbing down from the rafters. Without regarding the Haddock boy at all, the Siren strode around the fireplace and stood beside him, giving the door a speculative look. Several seconds passed before Batwings acknowledged Hiccup.

"I heard him talking to Gobber earlier today," Batwings said, nodding towards the door. "I think he's trying to protect you. He believes that this will help you."

All Hiccup could muster upon hearing that was a resigned sigh. "Whether I like it or not," he lamented, and shuffled towards the stairs. "Night, Batwings."

Despite how much had happened that day, Hiccup was going to have a long and restless night.

I included a scrapped scene from the first movie, "An Axe to Grind". Hadn't seen it until recently, after my friend ReptileGirl497 told me about it. I thought it was hilarious and that Hiccup and Astrid were adorable.

I based Snaketail's outfit off the Jaggi armor set from Monster Hunter Tri onwards. There's no Sharq armor set, so I imagine Batwings' clothes to just be made of a thin, grey material, not including his scarf. And, while I'm on the subject of Monster Hunter-inspired clothing, that's also where I got the idea for the Berkians to strap their weapons to their backs when not in use.

And that's all I can think of to talk about, so I'll see you for the next chapter. Please review!