Sorry for the wait folks, but like I said, it takes me forever to write a chapter. I appreciate ya'll hanging in there with me and being willing to read what I post, even if updates are slow.

I have a lot of time off this month before things startup again, so I'll try to get out another chapter before the new year - no promises.

Thanks to all the reviewers. I appreciate having my grammatical errors pointed out. Hopefully, I'll do better in this chapter. If not, let my sorry ass know. I also appreciate hearing your comments about the story itself. My goal is to make this an enjoyable ride for you, as well as give you a glimpse into my twisted mind (rubs hands together evilly and laughs maniacally!). Heh, that should really scare y'all.

My goal in this chapter is to lay out some background and develop some character dynamics. I'm hoping the dialog is believable and the character interactions are interesting. Unfortunately, the characters feel a bit one-dimensional to me and the dialogue feels forced and unnatural. Hopefully, I'll improved in subsequent chapters as I gain experience.

I'll be trying to pull you into the story with strong emotional hooks over the next five or so chapters. I need you invested in the characters so that the story will be more powerful when it turns darker later on.

When plotting this story, I realized it will be long. The really dark stuff doesn't come into play until after chapter ten. I'm a bit concerned that I might be too slow developing the plot, but I really want to build it slowly. If it seems slow and uninteresting, let me know.

My primary objective in this chapter is to have you feel suspense, drama, sadness, anger, and humor - I know, that's a lot of emotion in one chapter, but I'm hoping I can pull it off. If the writing is coming off as simplistic or juvenile, let me know.

Again, all criticism welcomed - the good, the bad, and the ugly. Brutally honest is always best.

Last Warning: Buckle up Buttercup... I've got the car reved up, and I'm taking you through all five speeds.

BTW, Merry Christmas!

Chapter 2
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Hiccup's eyes snapped open as he bolted upright on the floor, jarred awake by the sound of panicked and screaming voices. Searching for the source of the voices, Hiccup was met only by black smoke which hung thickly in the air surrounding his body, acting as a impenetrable visual shield. Disoriented, he began coughing and choking as acrid smoke filled his fresh lungs, the searing heat making it difficult to breathe. Rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, he frantically tried to clear his vision which had become blurred from the fresh tears generated from the stinging smoke.

Realization gradually hit as he looked around the room straining to make out features; the forge was engulfed by smoke and flames! He froze, his eyes wide with fear, his heart palpitating. Panic rose into his throat as he watched the raging fire inch its way ever closer, causing him to scoot further back into the small corner where he had been lying. Hiccup knew he had to move, had to escape, but his terrified body wouldn't respond.

Working on nothing more than instinct, the small boy willed himself to move. He threw himself forward onto his stomach, dug his fingers deeply into the wood of the floor, and slowly started to claw his way over to the open window where he could see plumes of smoke billowing into the cool night air - his only avenue of escape from the burning inferno.

The devilish fire seemed to take on a life of its own, deliberately trying to keep him from reaching his destination. It seemed to shift and turn with malevolence, blocking his every move as he dragged his tired, sweating body across the floor. Winding yet another new path around the ever changing line of flames, Hiccup desperately clambered toward the open window and freedom.

Every now and then pillars of fire shot up almost roof high, sprinkling bright red sparks of fire that would rain down around Hiccup's body, greedily engulfing all that was in sight. Fiery wooden beams crashed to the floor and glowed brightly before him as he rolled and twisted, expertly avoiding the impact of the heavy falling timber which sought to crush his small body.

The scorched air was suffocating. Hiccup felt as if his body was on fire as tongues of flames licked his clothes and closed in. The unbearable heat acted as an oppressive blanket, hindering his forward motion. He could hear the snapping and crackling of the wood beams above him, threatening to collapse at any moment as he continued to inch his way along the burning floor.

After what seemed an eternity, Hiccup reached the bottom of the wall where he could feel a light draft of cool air flow across his body. Blinded by the heat and flames, Hiccup cautiously raised his body from the floor, his hands and fingers groping and sliding upward along the super-heated wall in search of the window opening.

Just as his burnt and shaking fingers reached the bottom of the sill, an enormous piece of debris broke lose from the ceiling and crashed beside him, throwing him onto his back and blocking his priceless exit. As ash and splinters from the fallen timber rushed into his face, Hiccup threw up his arms instinctively, letting out a cry of pain as the flames hit his arms and hands.

At the sound of Hiccup's scream, the voices outside the forge paused momentarily. Almost immediately, Hiccup could hear frantic movements outside the window; a desperation was clear from the tone of their screams. Although the fire surrounding him acted to muffle the sound, Hiccup could understand a few scant words being yelled. After a few seconds, he clearly heard a voice outside yell, "There's someone in there!"

Still on his back, his burned arms clutched protectively to his chest, Hiccup's eyes widened. "They know I'm here...", he mumbled through choked, stilted breaths. Relief flooded over him, the flaming room would not be the funeral pyre that facilitated his voyage to the realm of the dead. His sentence had been reprieved.

Before Hiccup could move again, he felt a large hand suddenly fumble over his chest, smoke obscuring his rescuer's face. The hand grabbed the front of his tunic, twisted around it, and yanked the petrified boy up and out of the burning window frame and into the cool night air.

Hiccup was thrown onto the rain-soaked ground and landed on his stomach, exhaling sharply as the wind was knocked out of him. Surrounded by fresh clean air, he began coughing and choking fiercely trying to expel the smoke from his aching lungs. He gasped as several large hands instantly began furiously beating his body, attempting to smother the flames on his burning clothes.

As he laid sprawled out and immobile on the wet and muddy ground, he panted hard trying to repeatedly fill his lungs with fresh, clean air. As his mind slowly refocused, he heard Gobber and several other men's voices yelling for more buckets of water. Suddenly Hiccup felt his shoulders and head being drenched, his body arched upward in response as the icy cold liquid shocked his small frame. A second wave hit him squarely on his lower back a few seconds later causing him to curl into a ball and moan loudly as he trembled from the cold.

For what seemed like an eternity, Hiccup laid motionless on the grass, concentrating hard to just breathe without pain. The cold night air settled on his body and chilled his water soaked clothes, making him shiver uncontrollably as water dripped from his hair onto his face, his body weak and sore from his battle with the flames, all energy reserves depleted. The effort to just breathe seemed daunting and Hiccup's eyelids drooped, the sound of the men's voices and the crackling of wood from the dying embers faded slowly into the distance as he finally lost consciousness.

Hiccup's next memory was that of being violently shaken awake, a hard slap across the face, and his head snapping back form the forceful impact. Before his sluggish body could respond, a second slap connected, violently jolting his limp head again, a red imprint of a large hand immediately beginning to form across his cheek. The slapping hand then grabbed the wet hair that clung to his face and forcibly yanked his head upward. Blinking slowly, Hiccup's eyes opened and drank in the image of the charred and wrecked remains of the forge directly behind the man whose face was immediately kneeling before him; his uncle, gazing at him with a deadly, penetrating stare.

Releasing Hiccup's hair, Spitelout suddenly grabbed hold of Hiccup's shoulders and began screaming and shaking him violently. "Fool of a boy, what were you thinking! You could have burnt down the entire village! You worthless idiot! You're a disgrace!"

Hiccup's dazed mind couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of his uncle's words, but he sensed the extreme anger. He tried to form words, but his smoke burned throat was raw, making it painful to speak. His mouth moved, forming unspoken words, but no sound emerged. Finally he managed the pathetically squeaked response, "I... I'm sorry". For what, Hiccup had no idea, but it seemed sticking with his standard assumption that he caused the disaster was wise - since from past history, it was likely, if not probable, that he had.

Spitelout's face contorted in disgust, violently he threw the small boy back to the ground before standing and stomping toward the forge, shouting orders to the other men. Hiccup raised his bruised and battered body onto his arm, his eyes locked on his uncle's back as he stormed off. In an instant, another face suddenly loomed directly before him, breaking his stare.

Hiccup found himself looking directly into Gobber's concerned eyes. "Lad, you all right?" There was a compassion and worry in his voice Hiccup hadn't heard before. "I... I'm okay." Hiccup stuttered. A small smile crossed the lips of the blacksmith as he looked into the still innocent eyes of his young friend. "Good." He sighed in relief.

Slowly peaking around the large man's body, Hiccup surveyed the scene. He could see about twenty men still throwing buckets of water on the now smoldering forge. With puzzled eyes, Hiccup turned to Gobber, "What happened?"

The man eased his body closer to the bedraggled boy before speaking. "Well, it looks like lightning hit the forge and set it on fire". Spitelout, who was located a short distance away eavesdropping let out a hissed curse. Gobber's head snapped in the direction of sound before returning his gaze to Hiccup, "Well, it seems not all of us believe lightning hit the forge." Gobber continued, "Some think," throwing a quick glance to Spitelout, "that you set it on fire with your work last night".

Hiccup's eyes widened, a frantic look fell across his face. "B... But... I didn't!" Hiccup desperately sputtered out. Tensing and digging his hands into the mud and grass beneath him.

"Everything was put away and the pit fire was out when I went to sleep. I... I swear to the Gods! Please, you have to believe me!" he continued in a panicked voice. His eyes darted between each of the men staring down at him disapprovingly, desperately searching their faces for some kind of affirmation.

Hiccup's pleading face had little effect assuaging his uncle's anger as Spitelout crossed his arms and spat, "Liar!" Turning on his heel the man stormed off, leaving Hiccup breathless on the ground with glassy eyes, his face a mix of worry and desperation. He needed someone to believe him, anyone...

Almost immediately a large hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. Hiccup raised his head toward the blacksmith who was still kneeling beside him, the young boy's green eyes beseeching him.

"I believe ya lad. Don't you worry." The large man spoke in surprisingly soft and kind tones as he looked into the child's petrified face.

"Only the back of the forge burned. If ya had forgotten to put out the fire, the area by the pit would have burned first." Hiccup released a breath he didn't realize he was holding, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Thank you."

"Now, let's see what's broken, burnt, or generally out of whack". Large and gentle hands started roaming over Hiccup's hair, over his face and neck, down his back, and over his chest and arms. Hiccup tensed unconsciously and flinched at Gobber's touch. He wasn't used to being touched - well, unless someone was beating, shoving, biting, or abusing him in some fashion. Pain always followed touching. However, this touch felt foreign, it felt kind, it felt gentle, it felt concerned, it felt like he mattered.

Sensing the boy's apprehension, Gobber soothed, "It's okay lad, just relax," while large hands continued their exploration over his small frame, searching for wounds.

Hiccup winced and whimpered when Gobber's hands finally landed on his forearms and palms. The sleeves of his tunic, burnt and shredded from his savage experience in the forge, concealed raw, red skin underneath that had begun to blister.

"Aye. I know it hurts lad. You're a little cooked, but you'll survive." Suddenly a rough hand ruffled Hiccup's hair. With a wry smile, the blacksmith grabbed his apprentice under the arms and lifted him quickly to his feet. "Now, let's go get you, and your room fixed up". Placing his strong hand firmly on Hiccup's back, he pushed the shivering boy forward toward the door of the forge.

Protectively hugging his scorched and burned arms criss-cross style across his chest, Hiccup entered the forge, closely followed by his smithing mentor. Gobber directed the staggering boy to the fire pit where he gestured for him to sit. Upon reaching the pit, Hiccup collapsed into a nearby chair.

The large man knelt down to match the boy's height, surveying the damage to Hiccup's face. Reaching forward, a rough, calloused hand gently took hold of the young boy's chin, while another lifted and pushed his bangs off his forehead. Cautiously, the man's right hand guided Hiccup's face up and down, left and right, as he examined the burns. Luckily, there were only a few - above the left eye, on the left cheek, and on the right side of his chin - and only one was severe.

"Yeah, the one on your chin might leave a nice scar. Your first, I see!" his voice full of humor as he gave Hiccup a wink. "Good thing burns are my specialty. I have something that will fix you up straight away".

Gobber rose and headed toward a cabinet on the far wall. After several minutes of fumbling through multiple jars containing weird looking liquids, his hand fell upon one that contained a particularly nasty looking thick, brownish paste. Smiling to himself, he grabbed a roll of clean linen and returned to the small Viking. Throwing his medical supplies onto a small nearby table, he took a seat opposite the boy who's eyes were downcast as he sat slumped in the chair, arms in his lap, palms facing upward.

As Gobber carefully extended Hiccup's arms, the boy jerked his head upward, flinched and pulled back in pain, re-clutching his arms to his chest. Gobber breathed slowly, stared into the boy's scared eyes, and tried to soothe the frightened child, "Easy, lad. It's okay. I have to rub this on the burns." Reluctantly, Hiccup allowed his arms to be pulled from his chest, hissing through clenched teeth as they were extend onto the table that held the medical supplies.

As Hiccup's arms laid on the table, Gobber grabbed his sleeves and hesitated before speaking, "Now this is going to hurt a wee bit." Hiccup's eyes widened and before he could speak in protest, his sleeves were ripped up to the elbow, exposing the raw and blistered flesh underneath. Hiccup screamed as the fabric, which had burned onto his skin, was torn away. While Hiccup grimaced and squirmed, adjusting to the pain shooting through his arms, Gobber's lips pulled tight, his eyes narrowing as they befell finger shaped bruises peaking out from the ripped tunic that hung loosely on Hiccup's upper arms.

Waiting for Hiccup to relax and calm, the man's his eyes moved back to the boy's face, a smile crossing his lips, "Ready?"

Without waiting for a reply, the foul smelling contents of the jar were gingerly and softly rubbed onto Hiccup's burns. Every touch caused pain to echo through Hiccup's body eliciting moans. For what seemed like an eternity, Hiccup sat pliant, eyes closed, breathing heavily, trying to ignore the pain which rang through his body as the large man's hands traveled over the damaged areas, continually adjusting the position of his arms to reach all the burns.

The pressure from careful fingers on his body finally disappeared. Hiccup roused to the sound of tearing and the site of various sized strips of linen lying on the table. With surprisingly nimble fingers, Gobber wrapped Hiccup's hands and arms tightly with the clean cloth. Hiccup could feel the pain ebbing away as the ointment worked its magic. A sigh of relief crossed his face as his tensely held shoulders finally relaxed.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" chuckled Gobber, garnering a an incredulous look from Hiccup which clearly conveyed, 'Yeah. Yeah, it was!'

Grateful that his torture session with the sadistic smithy was finally over, Hiccup began to stand. Before he could fully raise to his feet, a strong hand landed on his shoulder, forcing him back into his seat.

Puzzled and surprised, Hiccup rolled his eyes and quipped "What, now?"

"We aren't done yet, my boy. Still got more work to do on ya. Don't want any nasty burns wrecking that pretty face of yours, do ya? The lassies would never forgive me!" Laughing jovially, Gobber dug his fingers into the dark, stinky goo and smeared it over the scrunched up face of his now very embarrassed and insulted patient.

As the unctuous goo was being slathered onto the annoyed teen, Hiccup huffed out a breath, crossed his bandaged arms, pouted and grumbled, "Vikings don't have pretty faces." His young friend's wounded ego only added to the hairy caretaker's amusement.

After Hiccup was thoroughly humiliated, the large Berkian rose from his seat, wiped his greasy hands on his tunic, grabbed a broom, and thrust it into Hiccup's pained hands. "Better get busy cleaning your work room." he said with a tone bordering on a command.

Reluctantly Hiccup took the broom and mumbled sarcastically, "Well, I guess two minutes is sufficient recovery time." Holding the broom warily in mummified hands, the small boy stood and made his way over to the blacked doorway which led into his ramshackled invention room. As the youth began sweeping the rubble and charred debris across the floor, he remarked to himself that the damage didn't appear extensive. "A week tops..." he mumble aloud, working out the repair schedule in his head.

While mindlessly pushing the broom and daydreaming about the improvements he'd make to his new invention room, he suddenly made contact with a fairly large blackened object. Bending down, Hiccup lifted the charred and burnt remains of his notebook. Using his tunic as a cloth, he cleaned off the ash which covered the surface. Hiccup rolled the book over in his hands, surprised that it survived the fire. As he opened the book and flipped through the pages, he noticed that there was only some minor burns on the cover, and only one of the lower corners had damage. 'Kind of like me.' he thought, with a half-smile breaking across his face. He tucked his precious treasure into his tunic and continued cleaning.

As dawn broke, Hiccup realized he had been cleaning for hours. Tired, sore, his hands and arms aching from the exertion, he finally made his way back into the forge where Gobber was silently working, stoking the pit fire he had re-ignited. Collapsing back into his seat by the pit, Hiccup exhaled exhaustively, "All finished".

At the sound of Hiccup's voice, the blacksmith turned and made his way to where the boy was seated. Pulling up a chair, the older male looked pointedly into the boy's eyes and asked, "So, tell me, what were you doing in here so late last night?.

The man's intense stare unnerved Hiccup causing him to fidget in his seat. Dropping his eyes to the floor, the teen moved his bandaged hand to the back of his neck and rubbed absentmindedly. "Well... I was ... trying to clear my mind and come up with an idea for a gift, you know, for the festival." Almost on cue, his mind flashed to his previous vision, and his stomach erupted with an exceptionally large rumble causing Hiccup to look away embarrassed.

Upon hearing the stomach rumble, a stern and accusatory look formed on Gobber's face. "How long this time?". "Only a couple days, I swear," Hiccup responded with a sheepish look on his face.

Gobber slapped his massive mitt over his eyes and ran it down his face, clearly irritated. "And the time before it was only a week. You were practically passing out at the forge every five minutes until you fessed up."

"And don't even get me started about the time before that...!" Gobber scolded, "You were gone for over a month troll hunting. When I finally tracked you down and hauled your scrawny butt back to the village, you were nothin' but skin and bones. Well, more skin and bones than usual... and that's sayin' something! You looked like a toothpick with hair and eyes! You couldn't even stand up without passing out. Thor knows how long you were without food then!" The large man's arms flew up over his head in exasperation.

Hiccup crossed his arms across his chest and furrowed his brow, hurriedly defending his honor, "Well... real Vikings don't need to eat, they just need to conquer, kill and destroy. Besides, I was only a dumb young kid when I went on my quest for trolls, so I think you're exaggerating a bit here." correcting his mentor curtly. His voice dripping with righteous indignation, displaying obvious annoyance with the smithy's clear, and unflattering, recollection of the events.

Gobber huffed out a laugh, "Dumb, I'll give ya. But a young kid? Lad, that happened only this past spring which was just six months ago!"

The old smithy's eyes flew open in disbelief at the absurdity of the young man's claims, "Exaggerating, am I? Ugh! You didn't see yourself. You were laid up in a bed for a two weeks tryin' to get your strength back. You were knocking on death's door."

"Aye... Sometimes I just don't know what I'm going to do with ya..." his voice trailing off as he shook his head side-to-side in frustration.

"You're good at destruction, I'll give ya that. Unfortunately, its always focused on the village or yourself."

Furrowing his brow, he spoke with great sympathy in his voice, "As for killin', lad... Well, you've never killed anything in your wee life. I just don't think ya have that in ya. Not even if it meant savin' your own skin."

With an sympathetic sigh, Gobber pulled the chair containing Hiccup over to the table, and pointed directly at Hiccup's face with his index finger. "Stay. Put. There. You know what I mean." And with those orders the blacksmith disappeared out the forge door only to return a few minutes later with a half loaf of bread and some cheese in his hands. He set the meal in front of Hiccup and barked, "Eat. You're only skin and bones. If you want to grow into a proper Viking you have to bulk up."

Looking down at the feast in front of him, Hiccup felt a pang of guilt. He really wasn't honest with Gobber as to why it had been days since he'd eaten. He kept that shameful part to himself; the part about avoiding, yes, basically hiding from a gang of blood thirsty teens to avoid a thorough thrashing. As the shame and guilt flooded over him he thought, 'I'll never be a proper Viking. Vikings aren't afraid. They aren't cowards. They aren't weak. ' Hiccup sat motionless, just looking at the food, too ashamed to eat.

After a few minutes under Gobber's watchful gaze, the man spoke again, obvious annoyance in his voice mixed with an undertone of amusement, "Well, what are you waiting for? You gonna eat it, or just... stare... at it?" Hiccup looked up through his bangs and into Gobber's face, trying to shake his feelings, wondering if the man knew he was hiding a secret. With hunger in his eyes, the frail boy reached out a shaking hand and ripped a small piece of bread from the loaf, slowly putting into his mouth, the guilt in his heart robbing all taste from his meal.

As Hiccup sat quietly eating, he couldn't help wonder why the lightning strike hadn't woken him. "Gobber? Did you see the lightning hit, is that how you knew about the fire?" Gobber looked at the lad confused, "No lad. I was already up. We were at the Great Hall, doing a little pre-festival celebration, if you know what I mean..," giving Hiccup a little elbow nudge and wink, "... when we saw the blaze."

"So, nobody heard a thunder clap, or saw the strike..." Hiccup mumbled the statement more to himself than anyone, as his mind tried to logically formulate the implications, his fingers mindlessly fiddling with his food. "Like last time..." he finished quietly after a pause.

Gobber shrugged, "Nope. The thunder and rain stopped a couple hours before." With a comforting look on his face he leaned toward Hiccup and lifted the boy's chin with his hand, making eye contact. "Now, there ya go. Thinkin' too much again. Listen, you're a good lad. Don't let what Spitelout said get to ya. It was a freak of nature. Nothing more. Let it go, boy."

Gobber scooted his chair closer to the table, leaned on one elbow, and looked conspiratorially into the young boy's eyes. With a voice full of mischief he spoke, "Now, let's talk about that gift of yours..."