Chapter Three.

Shouting had woken him from a restless sleep in which he had haunting dreams of a headless Hookfang.

"Wake up you lazy lot, get to work!"

He could hear the guard making his way down the hall of cells, using a sword to clang their iron bars loudly, and Snotlout groggily stood. His whole body protested. He did not use the bed in the cell to sleep that night - he didn't trust the meager hide that was provided. There were sounds of gates being unlocked, and soon a pair of guards arrived to examine him behind the bars. "Don't try anything stupid," one said and jabbed a finger towards Snotlout's face threatenly.

Snotlout didn't reply and noted how the guard put the ring of keys at his belt. He was allowed to step out, and was thankful that his hands were left free for a change. Prisoners were lined down the hallway, and he saw his cell neighbor Ralof for the first time. Ralof couldn't have been more than sixteen summers old and was impossibly thin, a fatigued look to his sallow face. The two wordlessly met eyes, and Snotlout felt pity for this boy. Had he been born on Berk, he surely would have been named as a Hiccup due to his small size. They were led out of the stone fortress in a way that indicated the other prisoners were used to this routine, and Snotlout made it a point to look at his surroundings more closely. He would need to know his environment if he was to escape from inside.

The sun was beginning to climb in the early morning sky and they were led to the shipyard. The carcass of a massive war ship sat there, the size unlike anything he had seen before. Guards were barking orders, and some rode about on horses. The slaves were given a meager cup of water each, a stale piece of bread and single raw potato. Snotlout didn't even try to act restrained or indifferent to the pathetic offer of sustenance, he was absolutely starving. He could have drank water for days but soon a guard began shouting orders, pointing at the slaves with a whip from atop his horse.

"You two, move the lumber!" He gestured towards Snotlout and Ralof. "Tell this barbarian how to do his job."

Ralof moved off obediently, and Snotlout followed not far after. "What's going on?"

The younger boy sighed, and Snotlout was even amazed that this thin boy was able to stand on two feet based on appearances alone. "The uncut wood needs to be brought closer into the yard," he coughed weakly and his whole body shook, "So someone else can cut it. They probably want you because they don't want to give you a tool. And I'm not very good at using them..."

Snotlout's eyes scoured their surroundings, trying to find the smallest flaw in the perimeter where he could slip away easily. Beside him Ralof went into a coughing fit so violent he had to stop moving. "H-Hey, are you okay?"

Snotlout put a hand to the boy's shoulder, concerned. But Ralof eventually stood and wiped his mouth as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. "It's worse in the mornings is all. I was sold into the mines for awhile and the dust got in me."

Ralof was leading him to a large pile of lumber. The sentry was watchful, and Snotlout let his voice dip into a whisper. "Has anyone ever made a run for it here?"

His companion was unable to hide his nervousness about the subject. "I've seen people try. But once someone gets shot down, no one else wants to risk it. They'd rather just have you dead than try to catch you anyway. We really shouldn't be talking..."

"Well, there's so many slaves here," Snotlout hissed under breath, "Haven't you all thought about… you know, fighting back?"

Ralof bent to grab the end of a large piece of wood and nodded at the Viking to grab the other. "It would never work. They have swords and bows. And we only get hammers and saws for work."

Snotlout almost laughed at that statement. "Really? You could do a lot of damage with-"

"Stop yer yakking over there! Get to work!" A guard on a horse boomed, raising a whip towards them.

The two slaves shut their mouths and waited until the horse trotted away from earshot. Ralof bent his knees and lifted with all his might, gritting his teeth to lift the lumber, and Snotlout easily raised his end despite his healing arrow wound. The smaller boy almost fell forward unexpectedly. "Whoa!"

It was nothing to the Jorgenson. He thought to the Thawfest games he used to win in Berk. His father would have him literally rip young trees from the ground to train for the games… lifting a little bit of lumber was nothing in comparison. "Just let me do all the work," he said and tried to hide the pity from his voice. "Okay. Well… what about dragons? Do they raid, what do we have here? Any Monstrous Nightmares?"

He figured the next best bet would be to train or befriend a dragon and be able to fly away. Ralof, although appearing relieved he didn't have to do as much physical labor, tilted his head in confusion. "A monstrous what?"

"A Nightmare… you know, the big ones that light themselves on fire when they get mad?"

Ralof coughed. "Oh, you mean a Red Wyvern!"

Snotlout recognized the word from his meeting with Carlisle. It didn't make much sense at the time, but now he understood… of course there would be different terms for dragon species here. It was a completely different land with it's own language. Once again he was reminded of just how out of his element he was. He easily tossed the lumber towards a set of men who worked with saws as Ralof continued. "I've never seen one, but heard of them."

Snotlout raised an eyebrow. "What? They're all over the place on Berk. Don't you have dragons here?"

The two headed back towards the pile of wood. "I've only seen a few. Mostly when I was little, but I saw one fly by in the distance not too long ago. What do they have to do with us?"

Snotlout felt his stomach drop. His hopes of escape dwindled with every piece of information. And where were all the dragons in this place? "Well, where I come from-"

"WHAT DID I SAY?"

Suddenly galloping hooves descended upon them and Ralof cowered as the guard whipped the ground near his feet with a loud crack. "Shut yer traps," the guard was spitting. "We have work that needs to be done and all I've seen you two do is run your damn mouths! Get to work or I'll take you to the poles and you'll rot in the sun all day! Last warning!"

Snotlout narrowed his eyes and stared the guard down. Ralof had paled considerably and wordlessly went back to work. When Snotlout thought it was safe to speak again he whispered. "The poles?"

The young man said nothing in response but looked warily to something beyond them. Snotlout followed his gaze. He had noticed it before but didn't make much sense of it: two tall wooden shafts were set in the ground away from the workers. He thought he could see chains dangling from the tops, and simmering heat waves danced about the earth with the lack of shade about it. From that moment, Ralof didn't answer any more questions and kept his head low.

Hours passed. Snotlout still took it upon himself to do the greatest amount of lifting, but his energy was fading, and his attention went from assessing the fortress about him to just staying on his feet. He was still starving. Their sad excuse of a breakfast did nothing for him. But the worst part was the heat. The mild summers of Berk were nothing compared to what he was experiencing now - the sun beat down unmercifully and despite being near the shore, a breeze barely seemed to skim by. Though he wasn't even the most fair-skinned of Vikings, he felt as if he was baking and the temperature only continued to rise. Ralof was no better in his own way. Sometimes the boy would cough so hard he was brought to a knee, and his movements were slow and almost drunk.

"Water break!"

Snotlout wiped sweat from his brow, glad to hear the words. They returned to the table where 'breakfast' was provided and all grabbed their tankards. A guard went about ladling water into the mugs and it looked as if he was trying his hardest to miss the target as much as possible. Snotlout quickly downed his - the amount was hardly enough, but better than nothing. In the corner of his eye he noticed the guard ignore Ralof's extended tankard and the crushed look on the boy's face.

"Um, excuse me!" Snotlout called after the guard. His usual arrogant tone was blatant in the question.

The guard slowly turned around, incredulously looking at the Viking as if he had three heads.

"Yeah, I think you forgot someone," Snotlout gestured towards his work partner, who just stuttered an apology with wide eyes.

The guard put his hands on his hips and walked up menacingly. They had drawn the attention of others, and the man on the horse approached as well. "Do you really dare to tell me how to do my job?"

"Look at him, he's practically about to keel over," Snotlout would not relent. "Give the guy some water!"

"What's the meaning of this?"

The rider brought his horse in close, and Snotlout got a good look at him. He recognized the man as being present when Carlisle had inspected all of his new slaves. "You really are something, Viking. I'll take pleasure in beating you senseless."

Snotlout folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, really. Didn't I hear something last night, from this Master of yours," he sneered and then in a mocking voice repeated, "Keep him well fed and no scars on his face? I think your obsessed Master wouldn't be too happy with that!"

At this point everyone was staring at the altercation. The slave's mouths were hanging open in shock, and Ralof looked like he wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. The man on the horse lost his patience and snarled. "Well he isn't here right now, is he?"

He rose the whip in his arm to strike.

Snotlout, his muscles always reacting before his brain could, was faster and closed the distance in just a second. He leapt forward and used the pommel of the saddle to hoist himself up. His fist connected, a strong right hook, and the guard went down.

Sentry immediately descended on him, pulling him away and hitting, but he still managed a smirk - his target was now almost comically hanging upside down and appeared to be seeing stars, foot stuck in a stirrup as the horse pranced about nervously. He could even hear the other prisoners trying not to snicker as the man had to be pulled down. Men were shouting for order, and Snotlout was being held back.

The guard suddenly leapt up with an enraged roar, trying to hide his disoriented swaying as he stormed to Snotlout like a raging bull, spit flying. "I'd have your head if the master wasn't so sure of your price! Men, take him to the pole!"

He was restrained and dragged away, and saw the poles getting closer. Someone began ripping the ragged shirt he wore off. It was when they forced him in between the two pillars to shackle his wrists he realized what they were for. He was forced to kneel in the dirt and could barely keep his knees to the ground stretched out as he was, with his arms pulled to either side and above him, exposing his back. Snotlout could feel his heart beginning to thud in his chest, any humor of the situation quickly dissipating. He was completely defenseless of what was to come. He heard the guard give his whip a testing crack. "I want all of you to take a good look," he heard the still enraged man booming behind him. "This is what ye get when you forget your place! Don't ye forget it!"

And then in a low voice so only Snotlout could hear, "And I'm going to enjoy this."

He didn't even make a sound at the first lash, just a raking gasp and his whole body spasmed. Even he could hear the sickening tear as skin split, and blood immediately seeped from the laceration. The guard began an unrelenting set of lashes across his back, tearing into the exposed flesh and flicking blood into the dust about them as he screamed in pain. Just when he thought it was over, the whip would crack again, violently ripping and stinging. Blood flowed down his back and he was sweating and trembling all over, a pathetic and continuous groan escaping him. After several sets he was too weak to even twist his body under the incoming whip, only hanging from his chains, shaking.

He was half-conscious when the man approached him and kneeled down with an all too pleasant look on his face. "Poor little Viking, are those tears that I see? You will learn to watch your tongue now, won't you."

With the sounds of his tormentor's footsteps retreating, he closed his eyes and finally let himself slip away.

He awoke to hot, searing pain as someone threw ocean water upon him, salt burning the wounds slashed across his back.

Snotlout gave out a short yell, body contorting before going silent again. When the shackles were released, he slumped and fell face-forward into the dirt, his whole body limp. He could have been dismissed as a dead man were it not for the short and shaky breaths that stirred dust about his mouth. Unceremoniously he was dragged by his feet past the other slaves beginning to start their day of work - surely so they could take a good look. He was left out all day and night. His mind was in a daze and he barely recalled being returned to his cell, but soon he found himself lying face down on its cold stone floor.

Hours passed. He was pathetic, Snotlout thought dreamily through the haze of pain, and he finally dared to move. Pushing himself off of the floor, he couldn't help but groan and shake. The wounds on his back were caked in dried blood, making his skin taut and inflexible. Hours in the sun had him burnt and blistered. Imagine what the other riders would think of you right now, he thought and stared at the wall blankly with half-lidded eyes. What would your father think. Can't even take a beating like a man.

Gingerly and gently, just as he did with his arrow wound, he tried to roll his shoulders with held breath. Tears began to sting at the corners of his eyes and he bit his lip. Dried wounds split open and beads of hot blood rolled down his back. But, he thought bitterly, the guard kept his word and kept his face untouched. He sat like this for several more hours, just slowly working his back and flexing in wider motions in a haze of pain, all the while thinking back to Berk and Hookfang... feeling sick as he missed his friends and family more than ever. He took in a deep shuddering breath: but he didn't have friends anymore. That was made clear when no one came for him, and the only one who might have was a dead dragon.

Astrid made it clear enough that she did not care much for him… constantly voicing exactly how much a mutton-head she thought him to be, belittling his very character, and using him as a punching bag. But Snotlout knew that he had brought it upon himself. He thought that he was doing better in recent years, but his overbearing flirting and chauvinism had left its mark.

And then Ruffnut, he thought and grimaced, she probably knew what was happening when he shifted his romantic interests towards her. Maybe he wasn't as charming as he thought he was, and she probably was aware that it only started when Hiccup and Astrid became an item. He did think of Ruffnut as a good friend, and she was pretty to him in her own unhinged way… but maybe she could tell that he was afraid his options on Berk were running low and he just wanted to find someone. Why would she want anything to do with him knowing that?

He had gotten along with Tuffnut the most of all the Riders, and reflecting on that, it said quite a lot. Though he and Tuffnut got along well enough in the fact they were both destructive and often overlooked by their leader Hiccup, how often did Snotlout put his friend down? A day did not go by where he didn't make some sort of mocking comment - what kind of friend was he to say the things that he did.

Fishlegs... he always made fun of this Rider for putting value into written word and knowledge rather than a brandished weapon. He made it clear he thought that Fishlegs was too soft and weak, a sad excuse for a Viking, and even went as far as insulting his dragon Meatlug for being slow and fat, just to upset him.

And Hiccup - need he even reflect on that? All of the merciless taunting throughout their childhood, and the defiance as Hiccup grew into a leader… but Snotlout really had thought that he had been doing better. He honestly thought that he could call these people his friends, but he was wrong all along. The damage was already done, and no one was coming to help him in his time of need. He could imagine them looking upon him now. They might say this whipping was a well deserved one, and this is what Snotlout told himself as he was lost in his misery.

When night time arrived the slaves were led back to their cells, some barely able to stand from their long day. Snotlout kept his eyes to the ground until the guards left for their quarters. Several moments passed, and then he heard from the cell to his left, "How are you sitting up right now?"

Snotlout just sighed and didn't say anything. He was humiliated by what the others saw. "I never asked you," he heard Ralof say, "What your name -cough- was yesterday."

"Snotlout," he croaked in reply, barely above a whisper. His voice was hoarse from screaming. He could hear the palpable silence as if Ralof was confused and then added, "I know, it's weird. It's a Viking thing…"

Then a small hand appeared outside of his barred door. It was Ralof reaching out a mug from his cell. "Here, take it. It's water from today. If you can, pour it on your back."

Though it couldn't be seen, Snotlout weakly shook his head 'no'. He couldn't take water from a sickly kid. "N-no… I'm not gonna make you do that."

The water was set on the ground where Snotlout could reach it, and another appeared. "No, take it! It's from all of us."

Soon he realized that all of the other caged men in the hall must have been passing their drinks down between the bars, for cups began to collect outside of his cell. Speechless, Snotlout scooted forward with a wince and reached for it. The voice went on, "That's one of the worst lashings I've seen yet, and I don't know how you're even sitting upright right now. Really, take it. We would all spare another drink to see that guard get a taste of his own medicine again."

And then he heard an amused chuckle from other cells. Snotlout summoned all of his energy, and with a pained moan pulled himself on to his feet, vision swimming. It was agonizing, and he shook all over as he all too slowly took each tankard and spilled the water down his back after downing a few. Despite all of the pain, it truly did help immensely as sticky saltwater was washed from his wounds. Ralof's hand appeared to begin plucking up the tankards and passing them back down to the other men. "Oh, and thanks for trying to stick up for me. I just wouldn't do it again -cough- if I were you."

Snotlout, shaking from exertion, ignored his previous disgust with his makeshift bed and fell face forward into it in pure exhaustion. It only took moments for him to slip into sleep.

A/N: Hopefully the editing of chapters went smoothly and the index will make a bit more sense now. In other news, I finally gave myself an actual profile and bio that was more than a single sentence, so if you want to check that out, I'll include info on update schedules for this story and whatnot.

Because of the nature of the story, there will be several OC's of mine scattered throughout. Some may be in passing, some you may see later. For those dedicated to the fandom it will be very obvious which ones belong to me so I won't be making any disclaimers with each chapter, but you know the drill... if you're thinking of using any just contact me first :}

I realize this story is probably creeping along at a very slow rate, so I thank those who are taking to the time to read. I promise things will pick up soon. And I realize that this is an incredibly short chapter, so that will not be the norm in the future. As always, reviews always keep me motivated and I love to hear from you all, so if you can take a moment to tell me what you think it would be appreciated.