As usual, I don't own How to Train Your Dragon.
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The Dragon Pirate.
The outer tribes of the Barbaric Archipelago were currently in a meeting, but it wasn't going anywhere. In the history of the Vikings of this unforgiving part of the world, alliances were commonplace. The tribes that lived on the furthest islands of the Archipelago were not usually affected by the dragon raids that some of the other tribes suffered, but they still endured them occasionally but the outer tribes did ally themselves with other tribes occasionally when a major crisis arrived.
And one had.
Codfish the Fury sat in one of the large throne-like chairs, shifting himself around to get comfortable. The chair was layered with layers of bear and yak fur, but it did little to settle the still present pain in his back. A few months ago his tribe had captured a Monstrous Nightmare that had been flying over his island, and his people had brought the beast down.
Unfortunately, the operation did not go off without a few snags. The first problem was the Monstrous Nightmare had been furious with the sudden attack, and it had fought long and hard to try to escape from the island where the beast probably knew it wasn't going to live long. The second problem lay in the fact the dragon had been brought down by a bunch of extremely bored and inexperienced teenagers who had needed to fire - a waste - four extremely good bolas and two ultra-strong nets, which compromised his islands security for the time being because there were still dragons out there, and any one of them could return to wreak a terrible revenge on his tribe. Granted, he hadn't heard anything about any attacks out of revenge or anger, but all the Vikings had been fighting too long against the dragons to not be cautious.
The third and most serious problem was the damage the dragon had caused. The teenagers who had snagged the dragon didn't have a clue how to properly trap and contain dragons, and while a few of them had gone through the Dragon Training course with the monsters in the Kill Ring before the arena compound had been broken into and all the dragons had been released, another crime to lay at the feet of the Dragon Pirate, none of them had gone up against a Nightmare.
Codfish still could not work out what in Thor's name they'd been thinking of, but what was worse was none of the teens had seemed to recall anything about teamwork, and they had been put out there doing chores for the island ever since they had learnt how to crawl.
The Nightmare had caused a large amount of damage to the village. Several houses had been torched at point-blank range before the Vikings who were more experienced and capable of taking on a Monstrous Nightmare even if they were a little bit out of practice, finally managed to subdue it enough to get it into the Kill Ring to prepare the teenagers for a lot of work. Unfortunately, several Vikings, including Codfish, had gotten burnt.
Codfish had managed to get away with terrific burns to his back and to his hefty large left arm, but some of the others were too badly cooked to work until they'd recovered. In spite of the pain the burns caused - the caustic, almost acidic nature of the Monstrous Nightmare's gases which were ignited were just as bad as the Nadder's went right into the skin, but where the Nadder's fire was hot enough to melt the skin all the way through like a super hot fiery spear of fire, the Nightmare's flames were not as painful, but took a while to heal - Codfish still went about his duties after he pushed the pain aside. It was more of a political choice of action in his mind; show the village that despite his injuries, which were series, but not as bad truthfully as the injuries suffered by the others, life went on.
It was the Viking way.
But Codfish really wasn't sure if he wanted to be here.
His village had been raided twice by the Dragon Pirate already, as had a few of the ships belonging to the merchants, but then he knew he and his tribe were not unique. The Dragon Pirate had personally raided the islands and the ships of various island tribes, but he had also heard rumours of the Dragon Pirate raiding a hub. Codfish wasn't too sure about that last one, even if it were possible - the Dragon Pirate was still just one traitorous kid who by all the tales about his origins, was nothing more than a splinter of a kid who had betrayed everything his own tribe had taught him, even if he had ended 300 years of pointless war with the dragon hordes, but if he did raid the hubs then he would need to do it extremely carefully since the hubs were basically large towns with three to five times the usual number of Vikings that you'd get in a small village.
But then, he thought to himself, if the pirate does raid a hub, then he would need to be careful with his plans.
In the end, Codfish filed that information away, though it would be pointless to spread it around since there was nothing the Vikings on the hub islands could do; they couldn't stop people coming and going from their islands. But truthfully the real reason he didn't bother to tell them was because, thanks to the idiotic Hairy Hooligan tribe, the tribe the boy had originally belonged too, had raised quite a bit of awareness about the boy anyway, and the chief of Nadder's Point hub had already spread the basic description around to the other tribes, and to the other hubs in advance before the boy turned to piracy. But there was still nothing they could do about it since they couldn't check every single person that came to their islands, and besides everything all came down to a few simple questions that dealt with numbers.
How many teenagers were in the archipelago?
How many of the teenagers were boys?
How many teenage boys had reddish hair, freckles, and green eyes?
How many of them were short?
How many of those teenage boys could work in a blacksmith shop, which was one of the most important businesses in the archipelago, since everyone needed tools and weapons to be frequently serviced?
And, why in the name of Odin was it he seemed to be the only person in the archipelago who recognised those numbers?
It was numbers, nothing but numbers, and truthfully the Hairy Hooligan tribe should have worked out that little problem a long time ago instead of letting things get out of hand.
Thinking of the Hooligans made Codfish momentarily close his eyes before he reopened them again - he didn't want to appear lost in thought here, even if the other chiefs weren't saying anything worth noting, anyway, but he needed to remain alert here. But the thought of the Hooligans, of Stoick and Gobber…
The three old Vikings were old friends, long ago, but time and distance had always pushed a wedge between them though they still often kept in touch sporadically and it did not help in the least the Things Stoick had attended were often too far away for Codfish to get too; the outer tribes lived in parts of the archipelago where dragons were not the only enemies, but there were other Vikings, humans, who caused problems, and Codfish and many of the same chiefs attending this pointless waste of time since no-one knew what the long-term plans were though everyone here was savvy enough to know there was a solution to the Dragon Pirate were aware the longer they were away, the more likely it was there would be a fresh crisis to find.
A loud banging made Codfish jump slightly, but he managed to rein in the reaction, and he looked for the source of the banging which wasn't hard to find.
"SHUT UP, ALL OF YE!" Frostbite roared, his remaining eye bright with frustration and rage as he glared around the hall, banging the armrest of his own chair to emphasise his yells, though Codfish didn't know why since he was yelling so loudly when before everyone had been speaking in low - for Viking - tones.
Once he was sure he had everyone's attention, the old Viking chief who was by far the eldest chief in this room, who had been in power of his small tribe for years and didn't plan on retiring anytime soon even if his son wished the old bastard retired or died already, spoke up in a lower voice, but it was slightly louder than all of theirs a few moments before.
"This bickering is pointless!" Frostbite growled out, glaring at everyone here and the effect seemed to be doubled thanks to his one good eye. "Th' Dragon Pirate is the enemy, and the point we are here to discuss!"
Codfish spoke up, trying to stop the boredom seeping through him. "And what should we do, Frostbite?" Codfish asked with irony and a tinge of hidden sarcasm in his voice; he had used the same argument against all of the tribal chiefs in this room, and look how that had turned out.
Frostbite, however, seemed to have been mulling this over in his mind in a way far better than Codfish had. "We cannot try to hunt down his lair," Frostbite spat as he looked scathingly around the hall, evidently still irritated by the never-ending debate where nothing was really achieved. "All we can do is to fortify our homes, put our warriors on alert."
"We're doin' that already!" One chief yelled disdainfully, making it clear he didn't think much about Frostbites' idea.
The look the far more ancient chief sent back showed Frostbite had picked up on the insult, and Codfish's paw tightened over the handle of his axe, just in case there was a fight. But Frostbite did not move. Instead, he carried on talking. "I know tha'," he replied bitingly, "but I've started ordering bales of flamin' hay to be thrown up into the skies every night ta see if tha' unholy beast and tha' traitor is there flying! See," Frostbite's tone became more mocking, "I'm not some foolish old man, am I?" he cackled.
Codfish cringed at the mockery. Traded insults, harsh language, and punches were usually an occupational hazard in Viking politics, but there was something about the way Frostbite had just mocked the younger chief which worried him, and he didn't know why.
In any case, any worries about the potential consequences about the insults were pushed aside as virtually everyone in the room marvelled at the rather simple idea.
Maybe this wasn't a bad idea, after all, Codfish mused to himself as he shifted around in his chair before he remembered the Viking politics which involved shouting a lot, and he mentally groaned.
Gobber the Belch sighed as finished his rounds of tending to the village, and returning the orders of the villagers them. Stoick had been called away for some important meeting of the tribes, and he had left with Spitelout taking command of the village in his absence. Gobber's heart ached for his old friend, especially since Hiccup had been driven too far to become a pirate riding a dragon.
The story of how Hiccup had become the Dragon Pirate wasn't that surprising, and Gobber cursed Alvin the Treacherous for injuring his former apprentice so brutally Hiccup was now lashing out at all the Vikings in the archipelago.
Unsurprisingly given Hiccup's history and the stories filtering from Berk since the final battle at the Dragon's Nest, everyone was now blaming the Hairy Hooligan tribe for what their former heir was doing, completely ignoring the fact Hiccup had actually struck Berk six times already, each time worse than the last before Hiccup had decided enough was enough, and now he was giving Berk a wide berth. The fact Hiccup had struck Berk so many times wouldn't be surprising to those who knew him - Thuggory, Camicazi, or Dagur, given how those other heirs knew Hiccup actually hated Berk and his position on it, but the fact he had struck more times than he usually did was telling.
Thinking about the subject of heirs made him cringe for a moment. The Council were putting a lot of pressure on Stoick, as if he didn't have enough troubles on his plate thanks to Alvin driving Hiccup over the edge, and making him become a pirate who flew on the back of a dragon, raiding other villages and ships out there until only the very brave ventured out because everyone was afraid of the Night Fury Hiccup flew on, to find someone to succeed him.
Gobber knew Stoick was hoping to find Hiccup, but the blacksmith wasn't sure if it was possible. Did he really think the rest of the tribe would allow a traitor as they saw Hiccup to ascend to becoming a chief? Astrid was one of the biggest extremists, but she wasn't the only one; there were dozens of other villagers who probably wanted nothing better than to capture and kill Hiccup before Stoick would be able to do anything. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, never mind to his longtime friend, Gobber could understand their problems.
The tribe and the other Vikings out in the archipelago either wanted Hiccup dead for daring to fly a Night Fury, Astrid was selfish because she wanted to become a Viking warrior who lived a glorious life but those opportunities were now gone because she thought Hiccup had snatched them away from her without realising there were still many things she could do with her life. The end of the dragon war was not an end, but a beginning. What would it take for the teenager to see it?
But Stoick… Gobber had thought his friend was incredibly desperate to find Hiccup but did he really think getting Hiccup to take over the running of Berk was going to work since no-one would accept him?
Gobber didn't know. Nor did he know how the other heirs were taking the fact Hiccup was out there riding a dragon, raiding villages, plundering ships, but he hoped they kept out of it. Alvin had made things worse than they already were, the last thing the archipelago needed was for one of those teens to make some stupid mistake, and Thor only knew how far Hiccup could be pushed.
Gobber looked out to sea as if hoping to see his old apprentice and tell him to stop. He had heard rumours from passing traders who now only came to Berk simply because they needed supplies and money for their wares otherwise they wouldn't have bothered given their tangled history with the Dragon Pirate that many tribes were taking matters into their own hands and were trying to find Hiccup.
It was the dragon war all over again, he thought to himself though he'd had the thought in mind ever since he'd heard the news even before Hiccup had lost it. The tribes would become frustrated and fed up with the attacks, and they would get so riled up they would begin hunting down the culprit and then kill it before it could do more damage.
But Gobber knew it wasn't going to be that easy; looking back now, he was able to see clearly for the first time that the dragons during the war hadn't really needed to worry about any ship approaching; with the mists shrouding their island, and with some of their number patrolling nearby, they had the perfect defence.
Hiccup….
His former apprentice may only involve himself and that dragon, but Hiccup was not stupid. But what Gobber had problems working out was why Hiccup was still doing in the archipelago, assuming he was still here and hadn't left yet, which was one of the reasons he had probably left Berk after the way Stoick had disowned him.
Hiccup had a dragon, so why was he still here?
Gobber sighed and decided to go on with his work at the forge - the place was still empty, and he hadn't yet found an apprentice who was suitable enough to take Hiccup's place, but he hoped he found someone soon. The workload was increasing - and without extra help, there was only a certain amount Gobber could take.
The old blacksmith shook the thought off and looked out to sea, thankful he wasn't the only one who had problems, nasty as it seemed to think that.