"Not all those who wander are lost." - J.R.R. Tolkien - The Fellowship of the Ring

The Road Goes On

Shadowwing flew on through the night, his heart again heavy at another forced departure on very short notice. He passed by Rorikfeld, found the main path that led out toward the ocean, and began following it.

In the silence of the night, he thought again of the people he was leaving behind and of the time he had spent with them. While it was unlikely that they would ever meet wild dragons, given how rare free dragons seemed to be in the world now, they were certain to treat any such dragons very differently in the future.

They should know enough to be able to convince a dragon to stay with them. That could help protect them against any other raiders too, I suppose. If they ever find a dragon that is. And I did tell them that other dragons do not talk like I can, so they won't try anything too stupid.

Then he turned his attention back to the road far below and grumbled at himself to remain focused on his true mission. Toothless had been taken from Rorikfeld to the sea by the orders of someone named the dragon master, whatever that title meant. This someone had an odd fascination with dragons such that he had all the arena dragons taken from Rorikfeld.

That does not sound like a pleasant person.

He followed the path from above, passing through the darkness as silently as a shadow. The first day of flight and searching along the road did not reveal anything significant. However, the second day changed everything.

The path cut up and through a mountain pass from which the distant ocean was barely visible. He dove toward the ground and landed when he noticed wreckage in the middle of the road. The wagon looked like it had lain abandoned for some time, quite possibly for weeks. The wagon had its rear torn off. Further, there were abandoned weapons as well as a pile of chains and a muzzle discarded in the road.

What happened here? It looks like there was a fight.

He bent down to the ground and the abandoned items but could not smell anything that would give away what had happened. However, there were some prints in the ground that could be marks from claws. Something else about the area also felt oddly familiar.

That has to be it. They were taking a dragon this way, and it fought its way out somehow?

He gave a questioning grumble and wandered off the trail and up toward the nearest trees to think over everything he had seen. However, he noticed something definitive and wonderful even before he lay down.

There were clear claw marks up around the tree. More than that though there was a black scale visible in the grass. It was unmistakable what dragon had been brought this way and had clearly escaped.

"Toothless! You did it! You escaped!"

He roared aloud in profound relief. All his exhaustion passed, and he bent back down to the ground. There was a very faint trail from both footprints and scent. The scent trail was so faint that he would have missed it if he did not know to look for it and if the scent were not so familiar and dear. It could not have been more than a couple weeks old, else it would certainly have been lost to the elements. It was quite remarkable that there was enough left for him to be able to follow at all.

Or maybe dragons can smell far older scents than humans can. That is probably it.

He followed the trail on the ground for the rest of the day going north along the coast. There were several times when he had to take refuge and hide while a group of people passed nearby. There were also times when he lost the path and had to guess at where it had gone or had to retrace his steps.

Something started bothering him by the end of the day. There was something he could not understand and had initially overlooked in his eagerness and sheer joy that Toothless had escaped.

Why is he only walking instead of flying? True, there would be no trail to follow in the air, but...

Maybe he is on the ground to hunt better? No, that is not right.

He paused mid-step and gave a wary growl as a terrible idea bit at his heart.

Or maybe he is on the ground because he was hurt... and cannot fly. Gods, I hope not.

The trail continued further north for many days. Some signs and smells of the path were more obvious than others, however unpleasant they were to find. Still, he was grateful to find any confirmation that he was still on the correct path.

The days again blended together into a haze of following the trail, guessing at where the trail would lead, losing the trail and retracing his steps, and suffering the always present hunger. However, he was far better practiced as a hunter by this point and was much better prepared to resolve that situation.

He spied several deer grazing in a nearby field and ducked low to the ground, deep in his planning his attack. Just a single fat deer would keep him fed for easily several weeks. The deer gradually made their way further out into the field as he crept away to take flight. Within minutes and following a dive from above the treetops, he had his dead catch firmly in his claws.

Just like the first time he had eaten a fresh catch, something felt wild and dangerous about it. There was a wild pleasure at the taste of raw, bloody meat, and a disturbing sensation of needing to fill his belly and sate his hunger. He still ate his fill without the regrets that he once had felt, left behind only bones and fur, and continued on his ordained path.

Then the path surprisingly led toward a small farm outside a city.

Why would he go here?

He crept closer along the ground and noticed all the sheep and goats grazing freely in the nearby pastures.

Yeah, he definitely grabbed one to eat. I really wish he did not have to do that.

Another couple days passed of following the trail, and then the trail seemed to vanish at a river. He checked up and down along the coast on both sides into the evening but could not find any sign of the trail. The river was certainly not deep enough or fast enough to be a danger to a dragon like Toothless.

He remained there by the edge of the river, feeling completely lost and empty until the moon was high in the sky.

The trail had completely vanished with nothing left for him to follow. He moaned sadly, darted back under the cover of nearby trees, and vanished in his wings to try for some sleep.

Maybe I will think of... something.

'Closer dark wing, you are still lost...'

'You need to be shown the winds of life...'

.

'Who are you dark wing?'

He bolted awake in alarm, blinked the sleep from his eyes, and looked around. He could have sworn there was a voice nearby. It felt like there had been someone right there next to him.

Seeing nothing and no one immediately around him, he got up and quenched his thirst in the river. Then he looked to the northern aurora, now glowing a bright green in the night sky.

A wonderful realization struck him. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why the trail had vanished.

He flew away. He must have. Why now? Why only now?

He thought for several moments before the obvious answer came to mind.

He was prisoner for many months and could not fly all that time. Maybe he needed to recover his strength first and only now can fly again. Yes, that is it!

It made perfect sense.

I cannot stop now, not after everything I have already done. So what if it will be a bit harder to find him now. He is out there somewhere. He must be.

"Toothless, where would you go?"

He aimed himself for the north along the coast and took to the skies, keeping his gaze on the lands below the whole time.

The trail had vanished over a month ago, judging by the lunar cycle, with no sign of any dragons anywhere on foot or in the sky in all that time. Deeper inland he had searched and found nothing despite successfully having a peaceful meeting with a small tribe after several days of making peaceful advances toward them. They knew nothing that could help him, and he did not wait around to get to know them like he had before with the Ironfist clan. After this most recent letdown, he had returned to the coast and began searching further north.

The lands were very strange and were completely foreign even to the very old maps he vaguely remembered from many years ago.

All right, I will admit it. I am lost...

He knew from prior experience that searching the wild was not likely to help his cause, so he again sought out the nearest village. This one looked like a fishing village as it was directly by the coast and had several small boats. As opposed to his previous attempts at integrating himself into a village, he had a much better idea of how to go about making introductions this time and waited until after nightfall.

The last person finally went inside, leaving the village square empty. He waited another few minutes before making his move. He silently glided over the village and swiftly touched down in the square. A quick glance every direction confirmed that he was alone and not in any immediate danger. He then got to work scratching out his message of greeting in the dirt. Once he finished, he stood up, took a deep breath to calm himself, and howled softly.

Doors opened and shouting started almost immediately as men started flooding out. There was a brief cry of alarm and then an obvious battle cry went up as weapons were recovered.

He was gone and into the sky well before any of them could possibly threaten him.

While slowly gliding up above in the dark sky, he watched as more people spilled out into the village square and gathered roughly where had been standing.

Hopefully some of them know their runes.

There certainly seemed to be a large gathering that was busily talking about something down on the ground. He watched until the gathering began to disperse again. A few of the people remained by the runes though and seemed in animated conversation.

Don't worry, I will be back.

He came back the following day around midday exactly as he told them he would. Unsurprisingly, and a little discouragingly, a lot of weapons appeared in peoples' hands when he started calmly gliding in circles over the village. Farm animals, children, and women were ushered inside the buildings.

But there was still the clearing in the middle of the village where he could freely land. It looked like it was being intentionally kept open for him. A brief moment of wary consideration passed and then he dove, smoothly alighting on the ground where he had stood just the prior evening.

Guards swarmed around the square and formed a rough circle while keeping their distance. He nervously shifted on his feet as well and kept his wings ready to hasten his escape at a moment's notice should it prove necessary.

No one moved.

Stay calm... stay calm...

One man eventually broke through the line of defenders and slowly began to approach. He was a tall man with many years behind him, a brilliant gray beard, and decent attire for so remote a village. Best of all, he did not appear to have a weapon.

Probably an Elder.

The man stopped several lengths away.

Hello

The man looked down at the words that he had just seen scratched into the ground by the dragon standing before him. The man stared for several moments and then looked back up in evident amazement and confusion.

"Loki's armpits, I do not believe it."

Shadowwing laughed at that despite the otherwise precarious situation.

I have not heard that one before.

"Impossible. It laughed. The dragon just laughed."

Surprising, I know

"How is this possible?"

I learned how to write

I understand everything you say

The entire audience of guards and even a few women and children had gotten slightly closer. There was much whispering and pointing taking place.

My name is Shadowwing

Your name is?

"Felldir. I am the Elder of the Fireforge Clan."

He bowed to the Elder in full view of everyone. A collective gasp went through the entire audience.

"What do you want with us... Shadowwing?" Felldir recovered himself.

I need your help

"Help? What?"

My brother is missing

"Your brother?"

He might have come this way

Have you seen any other dragons like me?

Felldir raised a hand to his gray beard and rubbed it in thought.

"I don't think so. We almost never see dragons anymore."

The Elder then addressed everyone gathered nearby.

"Has anyone seen any other dragons like this one?"

Heads shook and everyone responded with some variant of 'no'.

"None of us have seen any other dragons like you."

He sadly nodded at Felldir, grateful for the answers though they were not what he had hoped to hear.

Is there anything you know that might help?

"We almost never see dragons now. I remember that the few that we have seen over the years have all flown out to sea."

To sea? What?

Where?

"Toward the Jotun's horn."

Where is that?

Felldir waved a hand up toward the western sky.

"Seven bright stars that make a horn in the sky. It is said that a giant will blow the horn in the end times."

Hmm, I can look for that later this evening.

Thank you

I will look for it tonight

"Are you... going to leave us in peace?"

He stared evenly back at the Elder and gave him a nod.

Of course I will

Dragons are not monsters

Despite what you may think

Felldir slowly nodded back to him.

"After this, I am not so sure about the old stories anymore."

He gave Felldir a happy rumble and then bowed again to him. Then he jumped for the sky and left the village behind to find somewhere safe and quiet to rest for a few hours until the stars made their appearance.

He stood alone in the long grasses inland from the coastline and stared out to the rolling, crashing sea. Specifically, he gazed toward the constellation that Felldir had described. Seven bright stars together made the shape of a horn with the middle star being the brightest. It was readily visible on this clear night.

What is out there? I do not remember there being much. Maybe the extremely distant islands very far north and east of Berk. We never got around to filling in the maps that far away.

"Where are you, Toothless?"

He again considered for a moment the possibility that Toothless might have wanted to fly back to Berk. Something did not feel right about that though. Toothless would not want to be anywhere around Stoick, not after how he had been betrayed. Toothless was easily smart enough to figure out more or less what had happened. He also had not felt like he fit in on Berk.

Perhaps most significantly though, Toothless had mentioned on several occasions his desire to go find more of his own kind.

More of their own kind.

He lay his head down in the swaying grass and closed his eyes in thought, completely torn on what to do. Stay here on the mainland and keep searching the wild in this way while hoping for a random encounter, or follow the path that the other dragons apparently flew on the chance that Toothless may have done so as well.

It was a crossroads, and he had no idea how to make such a choice.

Exhaustion gradually caught up to him. His cares and thoughts began to fade to the oblivion of rest.

A song drifted on the westerly wind.

A song of safety, of summoning, and of protection.

A song of nesting, of warmth, and of food.

Caves and mountains of ice...

Flashes of color spiraling freely on the wind...

A mountain of glimmering white...

Two brilliant, massive blue eyes...

...staring back into his soul.

He woke up from having nodded off and shook himself awake. Again, he looked around in alarm and saw no one nearby despite being certain that someone was just out of sight. It felt like someone or something was watching him.

I am definitely going crazy. Too much time out here alone.

A very deep sigh followed.

There must be a reason why the dragons are going out there. It is not much to go on, but I don't have anything else at this point.

He considered the danger of setting out to sea toward an uncharted destination based on nothing but the report of a stranger who had just met his first friendly dragon, an ethereal song that seemed to have echoed on the wind, and the chance that Toothless may have flown the same flight.

Sounds good enough for me.

He arose, stretched his limbs and wings, and took to the sky, his flight set for the unknown as he left the mainland behind.