Troubled

Fishlegs, Meatlug, and the rest of the ice-cleaning shift watched anxiously as Stormfly carried a protesting Astrid off into the sky. They waited on pins and needles for a whole two minutes as she disappeared.

And then they dropped like tenpins, some snoring before they hit the ground.

Fishlegs had the uncomfortable feeling of being that one last domino that didn't fall when you made a chain of them. Him and Meatlug of course, who was looking out among the collapsed vikings with a degree of vague concern. Fishlegs sighed, realizing that he would probably be concerned too, if he didn't know that vikings were terminally lazy. He sighed again as he hit the ice with his pick again. A few scrapings landed on the ground on his feet. If Fishlegs wasn't having to actually work on it, he would find the ice fascinating-the compound from the Bewilderbeast seemed to make ice with an unnatural color and hardness, and it didn't melt easily. He was lucky, he thought wryly, striking the ice again. Meatlug shot lava, which stayed on the ice after being shot, melting a considerably larger amount than even Toothless or Stormfly. And, after the lava cooled, it formed a chunk of heavy rock that imbalanced the ice, making it easier to knock off more.

He turned around, looking for his dragon. She was supposed to be helping...there she was! What was she looking at?

Hold on. Isn't that a...?

And that was the last thought Fishlegs had before the whirlwind of claws and wings shrieked, and launched itself at his astonished face.

The original Berk Dragon Training Academy hadn't been used for almost 5 years. It was, for that reason, a bit dusty, and the old dragon pens and weapons racks damp, moldy, and bare. Usually, if one passed it on the way to the town, he would smile sadly, maybe salute in a nostalgic sort of way, but flip up the collar of his cloak and hurry on his way. It was in the center of the town, overlooking everything. Many in the village wondered why it was even there, the dark grey building in the center of hundreds of colorful ones.

To the original Dragon Riders, however, it was beautiful.

Hundreds of dragons had been researched, taught and trained (mostly) within those walls, and it was the only place where the perpetually busy riders could sit, relax, and spend time with their dearest friend—their mount.

Also, it was pretty helpful to discuss things, like the rather disturbed Night Terror on Fishlegs' face with a sheet of paper tied to its leg.

Fishlegs had managed to get the letter off, but not without many unnecessary scratches and gouges on his hand. The dragon just wouldn't sit still-eyes wide, wings moving frantically, and claws painfully clenching with every step he took. It had stayed on Fishlegs head, perched like some bizarre bird, while Meatlug flew to the academy, and he was still going strong as Fishlegs winced and tried to stay as still as possible, waiting for the riders to arrive.

Meatlug, at his signal, had called a meeting of all the Dragon Riders (except Eret, who was still training with Skullcrusher) to the arena. She had fired several lava blasts into the air, making a dazzling display in the pattern of circle. This was a signal had come up with during the Berserker war—usually reserved for emergencies, but hey: if you were the one with the half-crazed dragon on your head, your perspective on what qualified as an emergency might change just a bit.

Astrid got to the academy first. She was flushed red, and holding a bundle by the foot that looked suspiciously like…Snotlout?

"What? He was slacking. Stormy sniffed him out."

A flame-red Monstrous Nightmare flew in behind her. He growled at Snotlout before walking to one corner and going to sleep.

The twins ran in next, pursued by several boars. They had a boar pit in the back of their hut, and they often let them out to run wild. Apparently, the boars were having one of their rather common rebellions. Fishlegs was a bit worried—until one of the boars stepped on Hookfang's outstretched wing. He exhaled violently, and stood up. Monstrous Nightmares are some of the most intimidating dragon's in the Archipelago. They have an over 50 foot wingspan, and their roar sounds like a demon from Valhalla. It also doesn't hurt that they can set themselves on fire. The boars cleared the area in record time.

Hiccup arrived last. He looked bleary-eyed, like he had been crying, but he gave a small smile in Astrid's direction. Astrid returned the look, and went to stand next to him. Toothless fired a plasma blast on the ground to get the attention of the twins and the still barely-conscious Snotlout.

Hiccup cleared his throat. "So, Fishlegs, what's the emergency..." He trailed off as he gave Fishlegs a second glance and noticed that 1) he was covered in angry-red scratches, 2) there was a dragon on his head and 3) he had a note in his alarmingly cut-up hand.

"You know what? Don't answer that."

Meanwhile, the twins were busy eyeing the husky boy closely.

"Alright Fishy, out with it!" Tuff exclaimed suddenly.

"Out with what?"

"Uh, out with 'what's Peggy doing on your head?'" Ruffnut chimed. "Duh."

"Who's Peggy?"

Hiccup, Astrid, and Snotlout face-palmed.

"You know what Fishlegs, how about you just tell us what that dragon's doing on your head." Astrid said, exasperated.

"It had a message with it, and that's why I'm worried-"

"You're not worried that your face looks like Snotlout the last time Hookfang dropped him off a seastack?" Tuff broke in.

"Ugh. Yes, it hurts, but this is more important. We never trained Night Terrors as message carriers! All we did was to train them as sentries-and the twins taught them fetch. Matter of fact...Night Terrors are only found on the Edge! We haven't seen one since we left! And they are extremely territorial. We never would have even been able to carry messages with them. So, where I'm going is...why did this little guy *wince* fly all the way here *wince* for a message *wince* and will you stop doing that?" He tried to grab at the disturbed dragon, but he shied away, and only gripped harder.

After a couple of minutes, with many unnecessary scratches and nips from the hyperactive dragon, Hiccup managed to wrestle the letter from Fishlegs welt-covered hand.

He was calm, but it was underlined by a frisson of concern. The Edge was almost a full day's flight away, even for the Rider's dragons, which were decently fast. What could have scared this dragon-and it looked very frightened-into flying that far for a message? And who would write such a thing? He unrolled the note, and he frowned. He recognized Old Norse, the language used over 4 generations ago. He gazed down at the yellowed parchment, and his eyes widened. His lips traced silent words as his gaze traveled down the torn page. What? This was...

Astrid noticed Hiccup's troubled look, and immediately dropped Snotlout on the floor, making a loud clang as his helmet collided with the hard ground. "What is it Hiccup?" She asked, concerned.

Hiccup started, pulled from his thoughts. He looked at everyone in the academy in turn.

"It's a call for help."

He unrolled the page on the ground.

Locked in battle, Day and Night—

Burning scales and Freezing sight.

Shadows rule the barren ground,

While beams of light prowl all around.

Shining soul and blackened heart,

Deathly claws tear life apart...

One, alone, in too deep;

Trying to run from eternal sleep.

Nowhere to hide, nowhere to flee,

Where these two monsters cannot find me…

Yet I stay trapped, bound by my will,

Searching for a lifetime, but searching still.

Fly far, fly fast, to set me free-

Find me not by sight, but by melody.

So hasten, quickly, with all your power:

And save my world from the Twilight Hour.

A/N: Rewrite added some thoughts and better cohesion. Hope you enjoyed!