Author's Note - As was promised, we now jump back to shortly after the end of the first volume to see what Hiccup has been doing.
"That sweet night: a secret/Nobody saw me/I did not see a thing/No other light, no other guide/Than the one burning in my heart." - St. John of the Cross - Dark Night of the Soul
Dark Night Of The Soul
Tall pines stretched to the heavens in all directions. The birds occasionally called out their songs through the gently swaying branches. The stream flowed down from the mountains and through the dense forest. The stream glistened in the sunlight as the babbling water sang its constant song. There was one particular bend in the stream where large rocks jutted out all throughout and the water's depth was especially shallow.
On one of these rocks perched a midnight black dragon.
He sat motionless and looked out over the flowing water all around him. His tail rested slightly in the cool water. The sun's warmth was glorious on his back.
Patience.
He kept replaying every lesson he could remember from the days long since past. By now though he was quite accomplished at this type of activity, but there was still a bit of an exciting thrill which kept him focused on the task at hand.
Plus, it was now truly a matter of life and death, of eating and starvation. His weight loss to this point was terrible, and he did not have the energy that he had back home. He had not been able to catch anything more than a few fish on the best of days.
A flash of scale and a ripple on the water's surface eventually seized his attention. His gaze immediately went to the place of the disturbance without noticeably moving his head. The wiggling figure under the water's surface was impossible to mistake.
Breathe in and out. In and out.
The large fish meandered nearer to his rock. It did not look quite like any fish that he remembered seeing before or could put a name to, but then this was new country to him and all the fish he remembered were caught in the ocean. All that mattered was that it was a fish and any fish was definitely edible to a hungry dragon.
Wait for it to get close enough.
It was several seconds later. He tensed his limbs and prepared to pounce.
Remember that it is not where it looks like it is.
That part always confused him. Of course, he could remember the old adage about having to throw a spear below where the fish seemed to be to actually spear the fish. Any hunter or fisherman knew that. Why did not matter. All that mattered was whatever would effectively help him fill his belly.
It's go time!
He lunged, throwing his jaws open and pouncing at the fish with a great splash. He guessed correctly and clenched his jaws around a large brown fish. It thrashed wildly in his mouth and went still as he bit down. He waded over to the riverbank and hauled himself out, stretching his wings to shake them of water. He stretched himself out on the rocks near the bend in the river and swallowed his catch in two bites. There was no way to properly clean any of the catches and remove the undesirable innards. It was better to get it over with and out of mind quickly. With no prospect of catching anything else, having waited here almost the entire day already, he jumped from the rock and took flight, the green forest quickly falling away beneath him.
As usual, the silence of the forest and the sky was his only company. How long had it been since he left Berk behind? How long since he set out into the unknown with nothing to go on but the faintest hope of finding his brother? How long since he left Astrid and Gobber and his fa…
The growl of anger was quickly smothered and shoved deep under the current of his thoughts.
The days had seemed to have blended together into a haze of boredom and desperation. The first days had easily been the worst. There had been a slim chance that he could have encountered the boat and found Toothless captive on it, but he had not had such luck. Tracking the coast on the distant land he eventually came to likewise did not initially show anything that would help him. There were too many places where a ship could unload cargo for transport. And it was so hard for him to search since he had to do so at night and in secret when no one else was around.
Weeks had to have passed with no progress toward his goal. The heat of the summer was already starting to die down as autumn approached.
Then he found it. The very same boat that had been moored in the harbor as long as the supposed witch had been on Berk. He had waited until everyone was gone from the docks and then snuck onboard at night. Toothless's very faint scent was definitely on the ship, but the dragon himself was naturally not there.
Following that discovery, there had been many sleepless days and nights in the forest because he wasn't sure if it was safe to fall asleep. At the same time, it was safest to travel at night when he couldn't be easily seen and did not have to expend as much energy.
The lack of food was an ever-present problem that was quickly becoming a crisis.
The worst part though was easily the loneliness. It seemed to be a tangible thing that was stalking him, slowly closing in around him and threatening his sanity. He was already having trouble remembering things about home. The only things that was still clear were Astrid, Gobber, Toothless, and his fa…
There was no one to talk to about anything. No one to tell stories with or listen to stories told by. No one to tease him about his flying technique. No one to wrestle with to resolve a disagreement or play at fighting, regardless of how hopeless he himself was at that. No one to curl up with under a beautiful night sky and feel safe next to.
So he had taken to talking to himself to pass the time. Recalling some of his best talks with Toothless, the first times that the village had seen him talk through writing, or some of the other adventures with Astrid out in the world helped to keep his spirits up. He had also started practicing his writing in the dirt as much as possible. There was no better way to spend time on the ground if he was not hunting.
He dipped through a cloud and looked out at the snow-capped mountain below. That steep slope before him held his home for now. He dove and alighted on a ledge partway up the mountain. The ledge opened up to a small crevice cut into the mountainside. It provided quite a beautiful view over the entire valley and the mountains far off on the horizon. He had needed a safe place to stay while in the area and had chosen this place because it was decently removed from most of the human villages while being hard to ambush.
There was one village almost visible from his hideout though. He had glided over the area while staying far too high for them to spy him during the night several times already. The buildings certainly did not look as big as the ones built by the Nords further up north. Neither was their village designed the way a Nordic one would be set up with a main Great Hall in the center of town. They did have the same massive beards and simple fur clothing though. It looked like they were mainly farmers.
None of this meant that they were not potentially dangerous though. Especially so to a dragon.
His main interest in the village was that it was the first large settlement on what seemed to be a trading route or other path. The same path that led inland from the ocean where the witch's ship had docked. If Toothless had been taken anywhere, he would probably have been taken along that path and through the village.
The wind began to whistle around the mountain as the storm front he had seen while gliding back began drawing near. From his place up on the mountain, he was able to see the squall lines blowing across the treetops. He spared a glance up at the clouds before huddling as far back into his crevice as he could. He hid his head under a wing and curled up to rest.
This is going to be a long night. Love it.
The rain began to fall steadily outside his hollow. Sheets of rain and gusts of wind made him very glad that he did not need to be flying right now.
Flashes of light managed to reach even his sheltered eyes and the faint tremors of the rolling thunder echoed through the rock. The time between the thunderclaps and the bolts diminished steadily, indicating that the worst of the storm was coming closer.
Offspring of lightning and death indeed… I don't care for either of those.
Unfortunately, his little hollow slanted slightly inward, and the rain began to gather into a pool right where he was resting.
Oh, come on... the gods hate me...
He got to his feet and hauled himself slightly further up the slope and closer to the precipice to escape the gradual flooding. There, he was finally able to get some rest, being lulled asleep to the sounds of thunder and the constant patter of rain.
The brush parted before him as he silently crept along between the towering trees. The long grasses brushed against his tail as the smell of the warm, humid morning air filled his nostrils.
Whatever it was that grabbed his attention was just ahead in a slight clearing. Cautiously and with every sense alert, he crept out past the last stand of trees.
The clearing was filled with dragonsbane. Oddly, it had no effect on him as he walked out into its midst. In the very middle of the dell stood a figure cloaked in a black hood with its back turned to him. Something about the black robes felt wrong and made him very anxious. He could feel his heart racing as he slowly approached.
The figure slowly turned around and faced him but kept its head bowed under its hood. He and the hooded being made no other move.
Then it slowly started to lift its hood, revealing a red beard hidden under the robes.
He was frozen in fear and horror. Especially when the being pointed a small knife at him, a knife dripping with dragon blood. A sharp pain cut into his chest. His chest which now had a deep hole out of which his heart had been torn.
Then he awoke to a peal of thunder and the dying echoes of his own scream. His chest heaved as he fought for breath. The constant whistle of the wind and the drone of the rainfall helped to steadily calm his frayed nerves.
Just… just a bad dream. Just a dream.
He curled up once again and tried to quiet his unsettled mind. He did not fall back asleep for a very long time.
The storm passed later that evening just after dark. Several forks of lightning were still visible far off in the night.
But there was another light distinctly visible near the ground and it grabbed his complete attention. He rose to his stiff limbs and blinked away his exhaustion.
What?
It was also moving through the darkness just like a torchlight would. Where there was fire there must also be people. It had been too long since he had actually seen anyone from up close.
He knew that he should not do it. It was too dangerous to possibly meet someone who did not already know him.
So of course he did it.
He leaped from his lair and gently glided over the treetops toward what seemed to be the old dirt path he had observed several days earlier. His landing was smooth as usual, only with a squelch from the mud. He walked carefully toward the path and found a large bush not one of his body-lengths from the path.
It should be dark enough that they cannot see me.
His dark color certainly made it almost impossible for him to be seen at night. As long as his eyes did not give him away, he should be fine. He lay down under the shrubbery and went completely still.
A few minutes passed before the clip-clop of hooves and the glare of torchlight came nearer up the path. A horse-drawn wagon came into view with a man, reins in hand, sitting on the carriage. His face was completely hidden under a cloak and bushy beard, presumably against the bad weather.
He was entirely happy to simply look at the man, the horse, and the wagon. They were signs of civilization, something which he sorely missed.
Suddenly, the horse stopped in place and reared up, neighing frantically and beating at the air. The man began shouting in a strange voice and then hopped off the carriage to try to calm the horse by stroking its mane.
What is wrong with it? Why is it scared?
The gentle breeze ruffled one of his folded wings and gave him the answer. He was upwind from the horse.
It smells me.
Very carefully, he backed away from the place one step at a time. There was no reason to risk frightening the man, whoever he was. He stepped on a small twig which snapped underfoot. There was no way to tell whether or not it had been heard without staying around to find out.
So he turned tail and ran to the same clearing where he had landed and he took flight. Very shortly, he was back above the treetops, quietly flying back toward his mountain. He spared several glances back toward the path and saw that the torchlight had moved farther along the path since he left.
He must have calmed the horse. I wonder where he is going. Does he have any family he is going to?
A few more moments of silence passed before he sighed deeply.
Family…
Back at his ledge, he curled up so that he could look out across the countryside. The moon was out from behind the clouds. He could see the various creatures of the night, birds, bats, and some land animals besides, engaged in all their activities. The air after the rainfall felt and seemed to smell different and more refreshing.
All alone on that damp ledge, he finally admitted something to himself. Something that had been gnawing at him for days, weeks, now but had only been fully brought out by that very minimal chance encounter with a complete stranger on the road.
"I cannot do this alone, you agree right?" he sadly moaned to the otherwise empty ledge.
"Yes, you need help," he answered himself.
Wandering the wild like this was not going to get him any closer to finding Toothless. There was nothing in nature that would help him. He needed information and for that he needed to be around people.
Being around people is exactly what seemed completely impossible. How could he possibly get to someone to trust him long enough to not immediately try to kill him or run away?
It's all because they think I'm a threat. They don't know me. And farmers would never let me anywhere near the animals, which is most of their village. I cannot really blame them I guess…
How am I going to do this?
He kept asking himself the same question well into the night until he finally fell asleep.
He woke up just before dawn to an uncomfortably familiar feeling. It was not one that he had been accustomed to back on Berk in recent years.
Hunger pangs.
The three fish he had managed to catch the previous day were woefully insufficient. Resigned to his fate, he left at the crack of dawn to return to the stream and hopefully catch more fish.
He glided down and took up the same perch that he had used to some success the last few days. A quick survey of the waters around him showed no sign of any fish.
I just need to wait and be patient.
No fish appeared, no matter how long he waited. There were some minnows, but they were not worth trying to catch. All the while, the sun rose higher into the sky, burning away what remained of the morning mist and dew.
By midmorning and without having found anything to fill his belly, he was getting very frustrated and found it hard to stay still. He eventually growled in irritation at his lack of success and hopped down from the rock. He drank from the stream since he was thirsty from being in the sun all morning and then padded over to the riverbank to curl up in the shade of the trees.
I wonder if the village has fish. Maybe I could try to take some of their food tonight.
Theft was not something he wanted to be forced to resort to, especially since he was contemplating how to get the people of that village to trust him. If he had no choice but steal or starve though…
His eyes began to feel very heavy, and he nodded off to sleep shortly thereafter.
He was not sure exactly what woke him up at first. There certainly did not seem to be anything nearby, but there was a smell of something...
Cautiously, he got to his feet and crept closer to the river, dreading the very real possibility that he might not get any food today.
He froze the moment he crawled partway out onto the rock.
There was a buck quietly lapping at the water upstream from him. It was probably a couple years old from its rack on its head.
His old self could not have born the thought of attacking such a creature for sport or even for a meal. He never even enjoyed the few hunting trips that his fath... or that Gobber had taken him on many years ago.
Near-starvation has a way of changing personal sentiments on such matters. Especially when combined with vastly different dietary needs. This was no different from catching fish.
Ok, how to do this? What would Toothless do?
Patience. Position. Opportunity. These were the most important things for a hunter to remember. He was already downwind from the buck. The thick underbrush behind the buck was too thick for him to possibly maneuver in. This kill had to happen by the stream's edge.
Aerial attack, I guess.
He carefully crept away from the rock and kept low to the ground as he walked around the bend in the stream. Only then did he spread his wings and quietly take flight.
He had never been able to figure out how Toothless, or any dragon for that matter, was supposed to control the fire they could summon. It had something to do with a part of his body that he knew nothing about and had no idea how to control. His wings and tail he could see and understand how to use, but the inner organ was a mystery. He had never been able to manage even a puff of smoke in his few embarrassing attempts at summoning fire. He could, after many convulsions and awkward attempts, bring up some of the gas that dragons apparently held somewhere within, but there was never a spark to light the gas on fire.
For this catch, he would have to use claws and teeth, messy though it would certainly be.
It's go time, again...
He took one deep breath to steady himself, flexed his claws, tucked his wings, and dove while making sure to not create the infamous Night Fury scream. He had learned how to control that sound at least by adjusting his hindquarters fins.
He whipped around the tallest tree, his heart racing with excitement. This was going to be the first time he actually caught a true catch entirely on his own.
The buck lifted its head at the last moment but by then it was too late. His claws sank deeply into the buck's side as he lifted the creature from the ground with a laborious heave. He thought that he could quickly put the buck out of its misery with a quick snap of its neck. There was no reason for pointless cruelty after all.
The buck threw its head wildly in terror and one of its sharper prongs cut straight through the softer flesh under his neck.
He roared aloud in pain and dropped the buck while recoiling. It took only a moment of hovering in place before a throbbing pain forced him to the ground in a very rough landing along the stream.
For all his mistakes that he had admittedly made in both his past lives, he never had managed to get himself stabbed. He had seen plenty of people who had been and knew that such wounds had to be treated or at least cleaned very quickly.
He crawled up on some rocks to be more comfortable and was just able to maneuver a paw up to the injury. It came away sparkling with crimson blood.
Ok, don't panic… don't panic.
One pained shifting of his head to glance at the rock he was resting on did not help restore his confidence since the rock was also slowly becoming coated in red.
He started feeling dizzy in a growing panic.
'Lick hurts. Mouth-water makes hurts better and not hurt.'
Toothless had given him that advice after their dueling incident. There had been several occasions when he had seen Toothless lick scrapes and cuts only for them to seem almost as if they had never happened just days later. And he himself had treated several wounded people in exactly this way during and following the Berserker attack on Berk.
There was also no other option at the moment.
He slowly lifted the same arm up to his mouth and licked his paw, trying to get as much saliva on it as possible. Then he twisted his arm and pressed his paw against the puncture as firmly as he could.
He exhaled in relief as the pain numbed in moments. The blood stopped flowing shortly thereafter. It was truly incredible how quickly that worked. Still, he remained in the same place and repeated the procedure two more times before deciding that it was safe enough to move on. Perhaps a half hour had passed by that time. The bleeding was clearly long since over, although there was still a deep gash in his throat.
I might just get a scar out of that. Wow, that would have been a dumb way to die. A great and mighty Night Fury downed by a prong... Some great dragon I am...
The current washed off as much of his blood as possible as he cleaned himself in the flowing water. The wound stung a bit, but it also felt oddly warm for being in a running stream.
He finally lifted his head and looked around. He had dropped the buck from easily several of his body-lengths. Sure enough, he spied it on a nearby slope with its neck bent at an unnatural angle.
No reason to waste it now.
He gingerly walked over to the corpse, shivered slightly at the sight of the red blood coating several inches of its sharp prong, and thought about how exactly to do this. A beast would simply tear at the flesh, consuming hair, hide, flesh, and bones. He was not a beast.
He held down the corpse with one arm while slicing through the hide with his free claws. Careful carving let him then bite and tear away chunks of the hide and cast them aside. It was messy work, and he could only imagine how horrifying it must look. Even though he knew it was fine for him to eat like this, eating raw meat was still rather disturbing.
Once he got down the first few mouthfuls though a strange sensation seemed to grow on him. The warm blood flowing over his tongue and dripping from his chin made his own blood feel hot with energy. The only thing he could think about was the pressing need to eat as much and as quickly as possible.
To fill his belly.
To feed.
He quickly spat out the bone he was crunching and froze in shock as he realized what he was doing. Most of the edible meat was gone and even the innards as well. When he looked back down at the mutilated remains before him, he felt utterly disgusted with himself. More precisely, he felt disgusted at how easy it had seemed to give in to instinct and forget everything else. To be no different from any other predator.
Just like a mere beast.
But Toothless certainly hunted like this, and he is not a monster. I... was just very hungry, that's all. I hope...
Still, something about the whole encounter left him feeling very uneasy and unsure of himself. He slowly finished the remaining good bits of meat and then dragged the remains, mostly bones and hide to the stream where he tossed them in. Finally, he took one more dip in the stream to clean off the remaining blood from his head and mouth.
One good thing about this, I won't need to catch anything else for a while now. Maybe even a couple weeks.
His belly being completely stuffed, there was only one thing left for him to do even despite it being the middle of the day.
Sleep.
His wings somehow managed to support his significantly increased weight, and he slowly glided back to his shelter. All the while, he pondered how he was going to introduce himself to the village or to whoever he first encountered.
But at least he was not going to starve to death in the meantime.
This truly gave him a new perspective on how the raids must have seemed from the other side. It was his second day of calmly gliding in long, slow circles over the village. The plan was to do this until everyone saw that he wasn't doing anything threatening to anyone. It seemed a great plan.
It was quite discouraging how empty the village quickly became whenever he was in the sky. Parents ran frantically, scooping up children from the streets and fields and rushing them indoors. Farmers nervously herded cattle into barns. Only a few burly-armed men remained visible, pikes and bows in hand. It was obvious that they were not going to give him a chance to come down into the village and introduce himself.
All I need is the time to write. How am I going to do this?
He was so lost in his thoughts that the arrow almost hit him. He started in surprise and shock and quickly winged higher. Somehow, he had drifted lower than he wanted to and got in range of one of the archers.
Well, this was stupid.
He grumbled in frustration and turned to fly back to his hideout. The few men down in the village were cheering each other on, clearly glad to have driven off the dragon once again. Several hours later back at his ledge after nightfall, he continued to mull over the problem of how to make his introduction in a peaceful way.
Maybe I just cannot meet in public or with a large group. I have to find one person to meet with first.
Then he noticed movement down below. Down through the darkness he could see a small company of men approaching his ridge. The moonlight glistened off the steel the dark shapes were holding.
He was very afraid.
They must have followed him back here and found his hideout. And now they came to kill him.
He wasted no time in jumping from his ledge. The wind whistled around his body as he fell from the ledge only to throw out his wings, arrest his fall, and glide away from the mountain.
He finally remembered to breathe and realized that his heart was racing. The only other times when he had actually feared for his life had been years ago when Mildew led his little uprising and when Alvin had held a dagger to his neck.
Well, I guess I need to find a new home now. There is no going back there.
He looked toward the east and saw only distant mountains and forests. There was no telling how far he would have to go before finding another village. And that village would be far away from where Toothless was probably taken. Nowhere else would likely have the information he needed.
It had to be this one.
I will make this work, I have to.
Adalwulf, son of Fenrir, hated tending the chickens. It was just terribly boring! True, he was only eleven years of age, hardly a man yet, and was given what his parents told him was supposed to be a great responsibility except that he was smart enough to see through that trick.
He would rather be running around the village, practicing with a sword, or with the tribal Chief and learning to read. Or even pushing over his little brother, Alden. That would be more fun than making sure these dumb birds didn't wander off.
His was only a farming family. His father was no great warrior anymore and his mother, Hilde, was a prize from some raid in the south many years ago. It was his lot to tend the farm and do the dirty work that was beneath the real men.
He kicked at a small pebble in frustration, sending one of the chickens clucking into the trees after it got spooked.
"Hey, get back here!"
He dropped his stick and ran after the chicken into the forest, only managing to scare it deeper though. He had been warned against going into the forest by stories of wolves and bears and ghosts, but none of those creatures came near the village during the day.
The chicken was pecking at the ground under a large pine.
"There you are."
He walked over and picked up the chicken, much to its annoyance from how it squawked and flapped its wings. He turned to head back to the chicken coop when he saw something very strange. Two green orbs were visible near the thickest underbrush.
He froze upon seeing the eyes. Where there were glowing eyes, there must also be a creature. A big creature.
He blinked, and the eyes were gone.
"Huh?"
He wasn't sure why he did it, but he tiptoed toward where the eyes were just moments before. He was sure that it was no wolf or bear.
Surprisingly, there was nothing there when he got to where the eyes had been. He looked around the bushes in confusion.
"Hmm, must have been a ghost."
The chicken began squirming madly in his arms. He heard a twig snap and gasped at realizing that there was something right behind him, right between him and the safety of the village. He slowly turned around to face his doom.
Just a few paces from him stood a black dragon. The same black dragon that everyone had seen hovering over the village and that had then disappeared for several days. Even sitting on its rear, it was several heads taller than him.
He had never been more afraid in all his life. The dragon would surely pounce and kill him any moment now.
For some reason though he couldn't tear his gaze from the dragon. Its deep green eyes bored into his soul. But the hate and hunger that he expected to see there were completely missing. Its jaws hung slightly open revealing a mouth without any teeth. Its wings were folded away. It was not raising any of its claws to tear at his belly.
It was only sitting there, as if it was doing everything possible to be as nonthreatening as possible. Just sitting there and looking at him. But this was impossible. Every story he had ever heard about dragons had been about how they sit on hordes of gold, carry off and devour maidens and youths, and drink the blood of warriors.
This one was being peaceful.
"Nnnnnice dddrragggonn," he whispered as he took a single step to the side.
The dragon whimpered at his step and then began to slowly walk toward him. He dropped the chicken, which ran off clucking wildly, hoping that the beast would chase the bird instead of him. It did not even spare the bird a glance. The fear which had dissipated somewhat returned in full, and he closed his eyes while huddling next to the bush where he had been standing. He didn't want to see it happen.
It made him very sad to see how scared this little boy was of him. The boy was curled up into a little ball on the ground and was crying. He wasn't sure what more he could do to show the boy that he was not going to hurt him.
He stopped walking right in front of the boy and sat down.
"It's ok, I won't hurt you," he whispered before gently nudging the boy with his nose.
The boy whimpered but did not otherwise react. He heard the boy whispering 'No' over and over.
Well, I guess I have to do this after all. Here goes nothing. Consider yourself warned, it does not wash out by the way...
He stuck out his tongue and licked the boy right on the cheek before sitting back on his haunches. He waited as he saw the boy settle down and stop sobbing. Gradually, the boy sat upright and looked at him. The boy raised a hand to his cheek and wiped off the slobber.
"Did you… lick me?"
He nodded.
"So… you are not going to eat me?"
He blanched and let his tongue hang out while groaning.
"Good. I didn't know dragons were nice."
He nodded vigorously and nuzzled the boy again while humming happily. The boy hesitantly reached out a hand and began to pet his nose.
"Wow, you are amazing."
And he was painfully reminded of another time someone had said essentially the same thing the first time they were introduced to a Night Fury.
"I'm Adal. Wow! This is so cool!"
Adal saw the dragon nod again, clearly very happy about something. Then it looked around at the ground.
"What are you looking for?"
There was nothing but grass and a patch of dirt. Apparently, it wanted the patch of dirt because it got up and trotted over to the dirt. Then it looked back at him and beckoned him over with what looked like a wave. He was too curious to not oblige the creature.
The dragon reached out with one of its paws and began to write in the dirt! It knew how to do something that most men did not know how to do! There was just one problem.
"I don't know how to read."
The dragon blinked at him and rumbled sadly.
"I want to learn, but they say I don't need to."
The dragon slowly walked over to him and reached out a paw toward his face. He felt a twinge of fear at seeing the very sharp claws on its short digits so near to his face. But something told him that the dragon was not going to hurt him.
It rested a claw-tip on his lips and then withdrew it. Then it began rumbling and growling very strangely while looking at him. Then it put the same claw-tip to its own lips and then touched the scratches it made on the ground.
"Uhm, so you talk by writing?"
The dragon nodded and smiled an obviously happy but still strange smile since it did not seem to have any teeth.
"I didn't know that dragons have no teeth."
Adal blinked and his mouth hung open in amazement when he saw a row of dangerously-sharp teeth appear in the dragon's mouth and then disappear a moment later.
"Ok, so you are not toothless. Wow! I wish I knew what you were saying."
The dragon looked in the direction of the village and gave a rumble that could only be described as questioning. Was there anyone in the village who could read?
None of the warriors. Definitely the Chief, but he will not listen to me.
"Our Chief can read, but I'm just a kid. No one ever listens to me. They won't believe me if I tell them that I met a friendly, toothless dragon."
There was no mistaking the sad look on the dragon's face.
"What if I brought my parents to meet you?"
The dragon rumbled to itself in thought for several moments before nodding sharply.
"Where do want me to bring them?"
The dragon looked around the clearing before running over behind some bushes and settling down. He could just barely see it only because he knew where to look.
"Ok, I'll bring them here. Just don't run away, dragon."
Adal turned away from the place and ran back to the village. It was amazing! He made a dragon-friend! Now he just had to figure out how to get his parents and the Chief to like the dragon too. He ran past the chicken coop and spied his mother hanging up laundry after washing them in the river.
"Mother, where is father?"
"Probably milking the cows right now. Aren't you supposed to be watching the chickens?"
"I am. There is something you and father need to see."
He ran off without waiting to hear her reply. He was too excited. Some of his fellow tribesmen grumbled at seeing him run through the village, but he did not stop until he got to the stables.
His father was nowhere to be found.
Where did he go?
He searched for several minutes but could not find his father anywhere tending the farm animals.
Maybe he went home.
He ran to his home hut and drew back the cloth across the door.
"Father!"
"What, Adal? Another rabbit scare you?" his little brother Alden teased him.
"Shut up! That was one time when I was little! And I was making a dragon friend!"
"Ha! That is silly. Everyone knows that you should run and hope dragons don't find you or else they eat you. Warriors can fight them and kill them, but you are little."
The idea of his dragon being killed was very scary and made him wonder if it was a good idea to tell his parents after all.
"Where is dad?"
"I saw him go to check on you."
Uh oh…
Adal turned and ran from the hut.
"Are you in trouble? You are in trouble, aren't you?"
He ignored his brother and ran to the chicken coop. There was indeed someone waiting for him.
"Son!"
He walked up to his father, his head hung glumly.
"What were you doing? The chickens were running everywhere!"
"I'm sorry. I was in the forest and…"
"What!"
"One of them ran in there, and I had to go get it."
"And why didn't you come back here to do as you were told?"
"There was something I wanted to show you."
"What? What could possibly be important enough to let the chickens loose?"
Adal mumbled.
"What? Speak up!" his father demanded.
"A dragon…"
His father gasped.
"Dragon, what dragon?"
"The… small black one."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, father."
"Where was it?"
He almost pointed toward the clearing, but he paused. He knew now from his father's expression that it would not be good for the dragon if he told his father where to find it.
He pointed into the woods past the field where the cattle grazed; just far enough away that the dragon should be safe, but close enough that it was possible that he could have stumbled there while chasing a chicken.
"Ok, go home. The gods were watching over you."
"What are you going to do, father?"
"I'm going to get some men to go after the dragon and scare it off again or kill it. Now go back son, we wouldn't want the dragon to get you."
Adal glumly followed his father back to the family hut. His father then ran off to alert the guards. Adal paused at the door and looked in the direction of the small clearing.
He already missed his dragon friend. This was not going well.
He was beyond impatient and had to keep his tail from twitching anxiously. It had already been a very long time and there was no sign of the boy or the boy's parents.
He wasn't sure how such a meeting was supposed to happen and end well for everyone. The more he thought about it the worse of an idea it seemed.
It has to have been a couple hours now. Maybe he is not coming.
He got to his feet and began to pace, deep in thought.
Maybe they didn't believe him just like he said. Maybe I have to go in the village after all.
He slowly began to walk closer to the village, one cautious step following the next and every sense straining for any hint of a trap or of people nearby. Finally, he was close enough to look out from through a bush at the clearing in which the huts and tents were assembled.
It was not an especially comfortable looking place. There was mud everywhere as well as pelts, tanning leather, and pens filled with farm animals.
Ok, do I do this? Let them know I am here?
He almost stepped out and into the light of day. Something held him back though. There were people beginning to walk about the village, some taking pitchforks, bows, and shields. He tensed and prepared to run.
But they did not start walking toward him. Instead, they set out for the deep woods on the other side of the village.
He told them I was over there? Must have.
There was no chance to meet in the village. He just had to be patient. He already made one friend and just needed to wait for opportunity.
He turned from the village and walked back toward his clearing. It was either keep waiting here or leave to go sleep somewhere else. Considering that there were armed men walking around the woods, it was not a difficult decision.
He kept on walking farther into the woods, eventually coming to a grove of large oaks. He launched himself into the air and flew to the place in the trees where the interlocking branches almost formed a cradle. They easily held his weight. It was easy to wrap himself in his wings and wedge himself into the nook.
The silence of the forest, only broken by an occasional bird call, was a grating, imposing quiet compared to the noise and activity of the village.
Perhaps everything would change tomorrow.
There was already a warm feeling in his chest, and that feeling had not been there in a very long time. He had peacefully interacted with another person and had even apparently gotten the boy's trust.
It was not much, but it was a start.
The moon was high in the sky, and the entire village had gone silent. But he could not sleep and kept tossing and turning in his sheets. He rolled up against his brother and pushed him away in frustration.
Was it still waiting for him? Had the warriors found it? That would be very bad.
He was afraid for it.
"Psst, are you asleep?" Alden asked.
"Idiot, if I were asleep I could not say yes."
"Stop kicking me…"
"I miss my friend."
"What friend?"
"My dragon friend."
"You aren't serious, are you?"
"I really did meet it. It is friendly."
"I don't believe you."
"Fine, I will show you, tomorrow. I will take you to the dragon and show you myself. Deal?"
"Deal."
.
"Stop kicking me…"
He had never worked as eagerly in his life as he did that morning. The faster his chores were finished, the sooner he was free to do what he wanted. He and his brother finally found time to sneak off together after lunch.
Alden crossed his arms with a frown.
"So, where is it?"
"Let's go."
Alden paused when they reached the forest's edge.
"Father said not to go in there."
"The dragon is in there."
Alden looked around suspiciously, as if looking for his father or anyone else who might be observing them. Seeing no one, he grinned mischievously.
"Ok, let's go in."
They were trudging through bushes and shrubbery a moment later. It helped that both of them liked to forge trails in the brush when they had the chance to explore in secret.
Adal paused when he and his brother stepped out into the familiar but apparently empty clearing.
"So? Where is it?"
"This is where I found it."
Alden put his hands on his hips and groaned.
"Wow, Adal, very amazing. A very scary dragon."
Adal rounded on his brother in anger.
"He is here! I mean it!"
Alden then froze and pointed over his head.
"What!"
"D… D…Dr…"
"What, did you step in cow sh…"
Something very big huffed behind him and rustled his hair. He quickly spun around with a grin and looked into a pair of familiar green eyes.
"It's you!"
He reached up to hug his dragon.
And Alden screamed at the top of his lungs.
"No… stop!"
His little brother had already turned away and started running toward the village, shrieking all the way. He ran after him but fell behind his much faster little brother.
"He is not dangerous!"
It was too late. His brother had reached the village and had already been surrounded by guards.
"What is it? What happened?" they were all demanding.
Please don't…
He saw Alden raise a single trembling finger and point into the woods.
"Dragon!"
"Let's go!"
A full dozen men sporting daggers and pikes charged into the forest. Only this time they were headed straight for where his dragon was hiding.
He fidgeted nervously. It was not good that the little boy had run away screaming. That was almost certain to draw the attention of the guards. Sure enough, something started crashing through the brush. That something was several men charging at him. Several arrows also flew past him.
There was no time to waste.
He turned tail and started bounding through the woods as the men started yelling behind him. His heart was racing, and he was more than a little afraid. He dashed into the first clearing that was large enough and threw his wings wide. Within moments, he found himself aloft and beyond the reach of the hunters.
And he almost screamed in frustration when he noticed something that felt wrong. He glanced down and noticed an arrow sticking out of his chest.
Gods… really?
At least it was not buried deeply and was not bleeding heavily. Neither of which changed the fact that he had just been shot though.
He flew off into the east until there was absolutely no sign of civilization and then landed next to a pond. The length of the arrow was easy enough to break off, but doing so left the arrowhead buried.
Pain, love it...
He dug a claw around the wound despite the searing hot pain doing so caused. After a few excruciating minutes of whimpering and hissing and a bloody mess later, the barbed arrowhead was removed. He licked the injury and limped into the trees, overcome with frustration and sadness. Then he curled up into as small a ball as possible and trembled.
"Why? Why…" he moaned.
His mother would not stop hugging him.
"I'm fine, mom."
"It almost killed you. Stupid, stupid boy!"
She hugged him again and did not stop until the door to the hut opened. The village Chief stepped through the door along with several warriors and his own father.
"We need to talk to my son," Fenrir told her.
"Son, answer the Chief's questions," she commanded.
"Yes, mother."
The Chief was an impressive figure in person with his wild hair, long beard, bone necklace, and fierce eyes.
"Adalwulf, what happened to you? Why didn't the dragon kill you?" the Chief asked him.
"Because he is not bad."
Everyone started murmuring among themselves.
"I mean it, he is not bad."
"Don't be silly, son, everyone knows dragons are monsters. They eat little children and steal gold and women," Fenrir growled.
"Not this one dad. It's…"
"This is not a game, son!"
"Fenrir, quiet," the Chief demanded.
He then took Adal by the chin and stared into the boy's eyes.
"Why should we listen to you?" the Chief finally asked.
Adal had no idea what to say. He was so nervous around the Chief anyway and the Chief was asking him questions. Was there any way he could prove that the dragon was good?
The idea came to him in a flash.
"He knows how to write!"
Even the Chief looked dumbfounded.
"That is absurd! Loki has taken him!" one of the soldiers exclaimed.
"I can show you! He wrote already to me, but I don't know what it says."
"It can write? How?"
"In the dirt."
"In the dirt? Can you show me where this writing is?" demanded the Chief.
"Yes, I know where it is."
"Take me there."
The entire group got up and left for the woods with Adal leading them toward the clearing. He finally reached the clearing where he had first met the dragon and looked for the dirt patch.
"There!" he pointed.
The Chief walked over to the dirt and put his hands on his hips while staring down at the scratches. No one said anything as the seconds passed.
"Fenrir, can your son write?"
"No, Chief."
"What does it say?" Adal meekly ventured.
The Chief turned to face him, his expression thoroughly inscrutable.
"Where is the dragon?" the Chief asked the guards.
"We shot at it, and it ran off."
"Let me know if it comes back."
"But it will attack us!"
"Has it done anything aggressive to us? Has it taken any animals or attacked anyone?"
"It attacked my son!" Fenrir declared.
"No, father. It licked me and was nice."
"Just let me know if it does come back and do not try to kill it unless it attacks you first. And keep a watch out for the raiders. They are about due to try something," the Chief commanded.
He followed his father's steps through the brush, crushing twigs underfoot. Neither of them were saying anything to each other. Everywhere he looked he saw nothing but bushes, tall pine trees, and small game trails.
"What were you thinking!"
"I…"
"You have no idea how dangerous those monsters are!"
"Not this one…"
"Don't you interrupt me! They killed my brother, and I will not lose you to them!"
Adal did not dare say anything after that. His father had a hot temper which he did not want to tempt. Especially when he needed to get his father to like his dragon.
But it was nowhere to be found. They eventually reached the place where he had last seen his dragon; where the archers had shot at it and chased it away after he brought his brother to meet it. His father knelt down and inspected the footprints which led deeper into the forest.
"Just look at those claws, so sharp. Could easy tear a man's skin off."
But it wouldn't do that.
"Look at how wide the stride is even for a smaller one."
Then his father stopped walking and reached down to touch the ground. He lifted a finger up to his nose.
"What is it, father?"
Fenrir turned around with a grin and showed his son the crimson liquid.
"It was hit."
Adal froze and stared in horror at the blood.
"No!"
He turned around and ran straight home in tears. Horrible visions of his friendly dragon pierced with arrows assailed him all the way.
"Stop!"
He obeyed and waited for his father to catch up.
"What is your problem?"
"They hurt him! They hurt my friend!"
"It. Is. A. Dragon. It is not your friend! I will not hear any more of this nonsense, or else you will feel it for weeks! Do you understand?"
"Yes, father..."
Fenrir clapped his son on the back.
"Good, run along now. I will tell the Chief that we did not find the beast and that it was shot. Maybe we will find it dead tomorrow."
Adal shuffled along back to the family hut. His heart was torn in half; half of him wanted his father's approval and knew that he had to be a dutiful son and obey, but the other half knew that his father was wrong. The dragon was not bad and certainly did not want to hurt him. It had enough of a chance to kill him or eat him if it had wanted to do so.
He climbed into his bed and hid under the blankets. Introducing his little brother to his friend had only gotten his dragon hurt or worse. There was no doubt what his father would do if he found the dragon. The Chief's intentions were unknown.
"I'm sorry. I hope you are ok."
He woke up late at night and found bugs crawling all over him. That sent him flying to his feet and hopping around stupidly in an attempt to get the crawlers off. He finally hopped into the pond and completely submerged himself. That finally brought relief, though it left him dripping wet and a bit cold.
It was in times like these that he deeply wished he knew how to summon the narrow stream of flames that Toothless could in order to warm up his bed or to burn off ticks and other critters that affixed themselves to his skin or tried to burrow under his scales.
Instead, he spread his wings and went for a short flight. It was a cloudless night. Far, far off in the west he could see a distant gleam of torches from the village as he slowly drifted closer.
The small cavity in his chest was still completely raw and stung in the cool night air. Regular licking had definitely helped to numb the pain though. And he could not even be angry at the men who had shot him. They were only doing what made sense to them. It was terribly unfortunate that they did not even give him a chance to prove himself.
Maybe I need to kidnap one of them. If I take one of them and then give them back, they have to see that I don't mean any harm.
Wait, what am I thinking... That is a terrible idea.
Then another possibility eventually came to him. It was something that he had been thinking about doing for a while now. They were not giving him a chance to write to them in person, so what he had to do was take another opportunity to write. He knew from his midnight flights over the village that there were only a few guards out at night, and they tended to be on the outskirts anyway. There was almost never anyone in the village square.
He set out for the village once again with haste. The plan was simple enough. Land in the square, write out a clear message that no human could have made, and then get out. Come back the next day after word had spread and then see what happened.
The village itself finally came into view but something was different about it.
Strange, what are they all doing awake right now?
He strained his eyes and gasped when he realized why it looked so different. Then he abandoned his gentle flight and flew as fast as he could.
Part of the village was burning.