Chapter 6: Prisoners

Astrid floated, warm and comfortable. She blearily wondered why she had awakened, when her body clearly wanted to remain asleep. However, a childhood in a fisherman's family and long years of training had taught her to rise with the sun, despite the desires of her flesh. Letting out a soft groan, she slowly stretched out from her foetal curl.

She froze when her fingers brushed against soft, warm leather rather than her rough woolen blanket. She wrenched open her eyes only to be confronted by more darkness. Ignoring the sudden surge of panic, she forced herself to breath evenly and absorb everything she could about her environment. As she did so, she realised that her surroundings weren't entirely black; a dim purplish light permeated through the material encasing her.

Astrid slowly reached out and felt the leathery material again, then experimentally pushed on it. It resisted for a moment, then she heard a snort and the curtain lifted, spilling a shaft of sunlight onto her face. Groaning at the sudden change in illumination she threw up her arm and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. After a few seconds of discomfort she was able to remove her arm and squint through the bright light. She was lying on the ground in a stone cell, the dawn sunlight falling on her through a pair of cracked-open metal doors.

It all came back to her in a rush.

Training, blood on stone, a shaking hand stroking deadly spines, mending a torn wing, sheltering in the cell...

"Stormfly..." Astrid whispered, at last recognising the wing that had been draped over her. A soft croon answered her, and a large azure head swung into view. Astrid slowly rolled away from the Nadder's flank, Stormfly's golden eyes following her as she shakily got to her feet.

Astrid met that that shimmering reptilian gaze as realisation slowly dawned on her: She'd been all but knocking on the doors of Odin's hall when the dragon - supposedly the sworn enemy of her people - had intervened, sharing her life-giving warmth.

"You saved my life," Astrid said, holding out her hand towards Stormfly's muzzle. The Dragon sniffed at her fingers for a moment, then pressed her muzzle into Astrid's palm. "Thank you."

Stormfly hummed softly in response.

Astrid held the contact for a long moment, then slowly pulled away, her fingers lingering on the Nadder's scales. She pushed open the cage doors and stepped out into the dawn light. The storm had expended its energy while she slept, and above the arena's chains the morning sun illuminated a shining cathedral of clouds; the last remnants of the violence from the night before.

Astrid sighed as she slowly stretched her limbs, gazing eastwards across the ring. The breaking of a fresh day showed her world in a new light. The war with the dragons, that unshakeable cornerstone of Viking culture, was no longer a righteous crusade against djöfla spawned by Loki himself, it was a cruel slaughter of intelligent, compassionate creatures.

She turned and looked back through the doors of the cage. Stormfly sat in the same position she'd been when Astrid awoke, quietly watching her. Astrid looked away; she couldn't meet those sorrowful but understanding eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, pushing on the heavy iron doors. An edge of determination crept into her voice. "I'll get you out of here someday, I promise."

The cage slammed shut. Astrid leaned against the heavy door, resting her forehead on the cool metal. What in Odin's name am I doing? She asked herself. Was she really promising to betray her people and set a dragon free?

Yes, I am, she told herself firmly. Less than a day ago she had maimed the Nadder, yet when on the verge of freezing to death that night, Stormfly had helped her, rather than leaving her to die as she justly deserved. And how did Astrid repay that forgiveness? By locking the dragon back in her prison. Stormfly deserved better than that.

She looked around at the other four cage doors, seeing in her mind's eye the dragons incarcerated within. Gods, they all deserve better...

For a moment, Astrid was overcome by the scale and audacity of what she was considering - Could she, a lone Viking girl of unimportant birth - not even a woman yet - overturn seven generations of tradition? She grit her teeth in determination. Focus on what you can achieve, she thought. That means keeping Hiccup and Stormfly safe, and getting caught in the arena in the early hours of the morning won't help them.

With that, she picked up the now sodden fish basket, slipped out of the ring and set off at a brisk trot towards the slowly waking village.

Her family were already awake when Astrid stepped into her home - having already stashed the empty fish basket at the back of their firewood store.

"Oh there you are, Astrid," Her mother said, looking up from the pot she tended. "Orvar said you weren't in your bed this morning, where'd you run off to?" she asked good-naturedly.

"Oh, I- I woke up early, so I went for a walk." Astrid replied, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. She was suddenly aware just how disheveled her appearance was. "It helps to clear my head, youknow?"

Gunhilda hummed in acknowledgement, reaching up and unhooking a ladle from the ceiling, then scooping a portion of porridge into a bowl. "As long as you're okay my dear," she said, handing the bowl to Astrid. "I heard about you and that Nadder."

Terror suddenly shot through Astrid. How did she know? Had somebody seen her with Stormfly? "N-Nadder?" she spluttered eventually.

"I spoke to Inga Thorston yesterday," she explained. "According to her twins you froze up when facing the Nadder in training. Don't worry about it; practicing the moves in training is one thing, but facing down a bloodthirsty firebreathing monster is another thing altogether."

Astrid forced herself not to audibly sigh with relief.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" her mother continued, "I haven't always been this age, you know. Once upon a time, I was a young shieldmaiden too."

Astrid nodded, although the porridge in her mouth suddenly tasted like ash.

Hiccup stood upon a narrow rock outcropping overlooking a glowing red lake of molten rock. A black shadow rushed over his head, and he turned around to see a Night Fury stall her wings and come to a stop mid-air, before gracefully settling down on to the rock.

"Night Fury," she said.

"Er... Hello," Hiccup replied.

"The other dragons tell me you have learned to control your fire," she began. "I'm impressed; It takes hatchlings weeks to accomplish what you managed in the space of a single day." She purred, slitted obsidian pupils widening.

Hiccup felt a warm flush run from his nose to his tail-tip. He instinctively wanted to do anything to please this dragon. "Th-thank you," he stuttered.

The female fury looked down at the ground, her features adopting a sorrowful expression. "I deeply regret what was done to you," she murmured.

"It's nothing," Hiccup said instantly - those beautiful emerald eyes shouldn't be tainted by sadness.

"Your forgiveness is admirable," she replied, looking up at him - her eyes seemed to glow in the dim red light. "However, I insist on giving you a gift as compensation."

"What is it?" Hiccup asked, breathless.

"I offer you the gift of the Night Furies' dominion," she whispered, "I offer mastery over the night airs, superiority over every creature that swims, flies or crawls beneath the moon. Find me, and I shall bequeath this to you."

"How do I-"

Hiccup blinked. The Night Fury was no longer there. In her place stood a forest-green Nadder, blood dripping from a hole blasted in her chest.

"The Queen uses dark magic to control dragons" she wheezed, air rattling in and out of punctured lungs. "She makes us raid to feed her."

Hiccup backed away in horror. Hic back legs scrabbled on the edge of the outcropping. He spun around. The lake of molten rock had become an ocean of blood; his nostrils were filled with the cloying stench of it. A leviathan stirred the crimson depths.

You are mine, Night Fury.

Hiccup woke with a start. The ground in front of him exploded in a flash of blue light. His eyes closed instinctively as dirt and pebbles rained down on him.

Heart pounding in his ears, Hiccup let out a shaking breath and slowly opened his eyes. He was still in the cove, in his hollow beneath the roots of the pine. It had just been a dream; In his panic he must have instinctively used his fire.

Groaning, Hiccup crawled out of his hiding place and took a breath of the late morning air.

He could still smell blood.

A sudden scrabbling came from the entrance to the cove. Hiccup spun around, retracting his teeth, preparing to use his fire. He prayed that it wasn't anybody he knew from the village.

Astrid burst into the cove, a shortbow held tightly in her grip, arrow knocked at the ready. "Hiccup!" She gasped, "I heard a- What happened?"

Hiccup blinked at her; he wasn't used to seeing her wielding a weapon other than her axe - although it didn't surprise him that she knew how to shoot a bow.

'I'M OKAY' he wrote in the dirt, 'I HAD AN ACCIDENT WITH MY FIRE.' He looked her up and down. 'ARE YOU HURT?' He asked, 'I SMELL BLOOD'.

Astrid looked at him in confusion for a moment. "I'm fine," she explained, "I was just hunting in the forest and... One moment."

She disappeared into the crack in the cliffs and a few seconds later emerged carrying a young doe across her shoulders. Hiccup was quietly impressed by the casual display of strength. With a huff she dropped the animal in front of him. "For you," she grunted.

Hiccup nodded in appreciation and stepped forwards, examining the deer. He spotted a small red puncture mark in the creature's neck where Astrid's arrow had struck. Hiccup breathed in the doe's scent, he could smell the animal's musk, heavy with the fear of the hunt, and the salty odour of it's blood, still warm beneath the hide.

He uneasily unsheathed his teeth; could he do it? Before, with the fish basket he'd been starving, and in the grip of instinct. Now though, could he consciously bite into and consume a whole, warm carcass?

"Well, get on with it," Astrid growled.

Experimentally, Hiccup leaned down and bit into the deer's flank. His teeth easily cut through the doe's hide and warm blood filled his mouth; the taste was surprisingly pleasant. Again, his jaw and neck muscles seemed to know what to do; he tore off a strip of flesh, then tossed his head back and swallowed It in a couple of gulps.

An unconscious purr of satisfaction escaped his jaws, and he lowered his head to take another bite. It had been two days since Astrid brought him the basket of fish and his hunger had just been starting to make itself known again.

Hiccup finished the meal by cracking the doe's bones between his jaws and using his rough tongue to scrape out the marrow contained within. Dropping the last bone onto his small pile of leftovers, he turned towards where Astrid sat on a nearby rock, idly cleaning her fingernails with the point of her knife - her bow and quiver resting against the side of the stone. Her eyes widened as he approached, and she automatically switched the knife into position to strike.

Hiccup froze mid-step, realising how he must appear to her, muzzle smeared with blood and viscera. Turning tail, he quickly padded over to the lake and, clenching his teeth, dunked his head under the surface.

"So," Astrid said conversationally, coming up to stand beside him. "You can breathe fire."

Hiccup nodded, grinning. 'WATCH THIS'

Shaking off the water droplets clinging to his scales, he stepped up to the remains of the doe. He breathed in deeply, opened the source of his fire, and exhaled a jet of blue flame. A second later, he closed his jaws, leaving behind nought but a small cloud of ash.

"Huh," Astrid said, sounding somewhat underwhelmed.

Hiccup looked back at her disbelievingly - he'd just breathed fire, for odin's sake! Couldn't she be at least a little bit impressed?

"Is that all you can do?" She asked. "The other Night Fury's fire is explosive - more like a Gronckle's shot."

Hiccup narrowed his eyes and focused on a point on the cliff wall behind her, far above her head. He inhaled sharply, held it for a moment, then let loose a streak of blue fire. His shot flashed across the cove and detonated with a resounding crack!

Astrid flinched and spun around. For a moment she stared at the crater in the cliff face almost in shock. Then she turned on him, eyes flashing with azure fire. "What were you thinking!?" she hissed. "You could have hit me! Or worse, someone from the village might have heard!"

Hiccup couldn't resist. 'I'M A NIGHT FURY,' he wrote. 'I NEVER MISS.' In reality, his shot had hit a bit to the left of where he aimed, but she didn't need to know that.

Astrid sighed in exasperation.

Hiccup sat back on his haunches, watching her. She glared back at him in silence. He cleared his throat and raised a paw to write a message.

"I spent the night with the Nadder in the training ring," Astrid blurted out.

Hiccup blinked at her in shock. "What!?" he exclaimed, momentarily forgetting she couldn't understand his dragon-speech.

She let out a long exhale, running her hand through her fringe again. "In training yesterday, I threw my knife at her and slashed open her wing," she began hesitantly.

Hiccup leaned forwards, feeling his ear-flaps rising, he'd never known Astrid to be anything other than the model of absolute confidence; what on Midgard could make her nervous?

"That night," she continued, "All I could think about was the sound that she made when my blade hit, and what you said about the dragons being controlled. I... I crept into the ring and sewed up her wing."

'THE NADDER LET YOU?'

Astrid nodded. "I brought another basket of fish with me to feed her, she regurgitated one for me - I think it was some kind of ritual - I took a bite out of it and she suddenly trusted me. And then, later on in the storm, she sheltered me under her wing and kept me warm."

Hiccup stared at her for a long moment, then glanced at the muddy black stain on the ground where the green Nadder had lain. So she was telling the truth, he thought., The dragons really are just as much victims in this war as we are. A shudder went through him as he realised that, he was quite possibly the only free dragon left in the world. His gaze flicked to the cliffs enclosing him; no, his mind might be his own, but he was just as much a prisoner as the rest of them.

Hiccup turned his gaze back to Astrid. 'WHAT DO WE DO NOW?'

"Simple," she said with steely determination, "We end the war."

'AND HOW DO WE MANAGE THAT?' Hiccup wrote, 'JUST TELL MY DAD "I'M SORRY ABOUT YOUR WIFE, BUT WE HAVE TO STOP KILLING DRAGONS."- YOU'LL BE LUCKY TO KEEP YOUR HEAD'

"Your dad is still away on the Nest Hunt," she replied, "So we don't have to to worry about that yet."

An irrational shock of fear went through Hiccup. His dad had been going on nest hunts almost as almost as long as he could remember. All those times he'd never once doubted if his father would return - Stoick always came back. Now though, he knew firsthand the dangers his father faced.

"Oh gods help him," Hiccup murmured, "He has no idea what he's sailing into."

"Are you even listening to me?" Astrid asked, irritation creeping into her tone.

Hiccup blinked. He'd been so preoccupied that he'd missed whatever she'd just said. He shook his head sheepishly.

"As I was saying: We need to focus on what we can do at the moment. Which means means you need to get out of this hole in the ground."

'I'VE TRIED' Hiccup wrote with a groan. 'I CAN'T FLY, AND I CAN'T CLIMB THE WALLS'

"You have the body of a dragon, Hiccup," she said matter-of-factly, "You can fly. You just need to figure out how."

Hiccup groaned inwardly. At least the rain will have softened the ground, he thought.

"How can I help?" Astrid asked. When Hiccup gave her a blank stare, she explained "When I learned to fight I would practice my techniques until I thought they were perfect and then show them to my uncle; he would point out things that I'd have never seen by myself. So, how can I help?"

'I HAVE NO IDEA,' Hiccup wrote in response, 'JUST STAND BACK.'

Reluctantly he turned away from Astrid and clambered atop his boulder. He spread his wings to their fullest extent and took in a deep breath. A stiff breeze rustled the trees on the clifftops, and he felt it gently press against his wing membranes. He fixed his gaze on the cliff opposite him, and exhaled slowly. When his lungs were empty, he took in another breath and leapt.

And just like every time before it, he plummeted to the ground, landing in an ungainly tangle with by a wet squelch.

'SEE?' Hiccup wrote once he'd shaken off the worst of the mud. 'I CAN'T FLY'

"Have you tried just gliding?" Astrid asked. "You looked okay until you tried flapping your wings."

Hiccup shook his head and, grumbling to himself, scrambled back onto the boulder. He opened his wings, and locked them straight. He held that posture, focusing on keeping his wings straight and level, then jumped.

His flight lasted longer than any of his previous efforts. Meaning he managed almost a full second of level gliding before he drifted off to one side, attempted to correct his course, and promptly fell out of the sky.

Half an hour later they'd a dozen different variations of wing position and flapping and gliding, and hadn't managed any improvement over his first attempt.

"Come on Hiccup," Astrid encouraged, "if you want to get out of here, you have to keep trying."

Hiccup groaned wordlessly. His whole body ached, and he was covered in mud from nose to tail. On his last jump he'd managed to land on a rock half-buried in the ground and had cracked a cluster of scales on his chest.

Astrid sighed, finally taking pity on him. "Okay, you can have a break," she said, sitting down on a rock next to his head. "You're not going to attack me this time, right?" she asked, reaching for a pouch on her belt.

If he still could, Hiccup would have blushed furiously. He scrambled into a sitting position and shook his head emphatically.

Astrid opened the bag, and-

Poison, Sickness, Madness, DEATH!

Hiccup gagged and nearly brought up the deer he'd eaten earlier. His feet slipped in the mud as he scrambled to get away from the death that Astrid held - what was that!?

After putting several body-lengths between himself and Astrid, Hiccup managed to regain control of his body. He stood on all four paws, spine arched in the air and claws sunk into the loam, breathing shallowly. Whatever Astrid had in that bag stank, worse than old Mildew's tanning vats on the far side of the island, worse even than when he'd stumbled upon the decomposing body of a wild boar at the bottom of a ravine a few summers ago.

"Hiccup? Are you alright?" Astrid was crouched in a battle stance beside the rock she had been sat on a moment ago. The bag of death sat on the ground next to the stone. It slowly dawned on her that she wasn't in any immediate danger, and she cautiously stood up. "What's the matter, Hiccup?" she asked in a concerned tone.

Hiccup hissed and jerked his head towards the bag of death.

"This?" Astrid asked, picking up the bag. She reached inside and pulled out a long, thin fillet of greyish-brown meat. The stench of death increased. "It's smoked eel, Hiccup," she explained. "I was going to eat it for hádegismatur."

Hiccup narrowed his eyes, focusing on the object in her hand. Eel had never been his favourite food - only brought out when their stocks of fish and other meats had been exhausted - but he'd never had such an adverse reaction to it before.

Astrid looked at her meal for a moment, then seemingly made a decision and tossed the bag over her shoulder, where it landed and sank with a splash.

Hiccup experimentally took in a deep breath. When he didn't immediately gag, he cautiously padded towards her.

"What in Odin's name was that?" She asked.

'I HAVE NO IDEA' Hiccup wrote in reply. 'IT SMELT BAD - LIKE IT WAS ROTTEN, BUT WORSE SOMEHOW.'

"I got it out of the smokehouse myself this morning, and It definitely wasn't rotten."

A thought suddenly struck Hiccup:Why did they always have preserved eel to eat, even on years when the dragons had devoured all their other food stores? Perhaps eels are poisonous to dragons, and they all react like I just did. He thought. He raised his claw to share his idea with Astrid, only to discover that she wasn't stood in front of him.

A sharp crack of breaking wood resounded around the cove. Hiccup spun around to see Astrid slowly spinning a large stick about the length of a good-sized Ulfberht blade. Seemingly satisfied with it, she tightened her grip, and turned back towards him. "Well, if you can't fly, and won't let me eat in peace," she said, "we may as well try and do something useful."

She paused about twice the branch's length away, and leveled it at him. "Attack me."

Hiccup blinked. Surely he hadn't heard that right?

"Attack me," she repeated. When he remained stationary, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Look Hiccup, I know you don't want to hurt anyone, but if someone from the village, or worse, another dragon finds this place, you need to be able to defend yourself. At the moment, if you fight as well as you fly, you won't last a minute against someone who knows what they're doing. Now, Attack me!"

Hiccup cringed inwardly; he had a feeling Astrid wouldn't give up on this until she got what she wanted. "Fine," he said and half-heartedly swung a paw at her.

She almost casually stepped inside his swing and thrust her improvised sword at his chest. Despite his scales and the primitive nature of the weapon, the blow hurt. "Dead," she pronounced coldly.

Hiccup sighed and sat back on his haunches.

Astrid looked up and met his gaze. "I'm putting a lot on the line to help you," she said. "I stole from the village for Odin's sake! I don't want it to all be for nothing when you get yourself killed. So please, take this seriously." She paused, then continued in a softer tone. "I don't want you to die Hiccup, and this is the only way I know to help."

Woah. That brought Hiccup up short. When had she started caring about what happened to him?

Probably about the time you turned into a Night Fury.

Hiccup pushed that thought away. She was right; as much as he tried to avoid thinking about what would happen if the Berkians discovered him, he didn't want to die on the end of some Viking's blade, and Astrid was offering him a way to protect himself.

He shuffled his feet, then, without warning, lunged forwards, aiming to grab the stick between his jaws. Astrid calmly sidestepped and brought her 'sword' down on the back of his neck in an overhand blow.

"Dead," she repeated. "I saw you shift your stance before you attacked; don't give your opponent time to react."

Trying not to show what he was doing, Hiccup glanced at Astrid out the corner of his eye. She was standing just in front and to the right of him; easily within striking distance. He swung at her legs with his right forepaw. Astrid hopped backwards, avoiding the blow. Before he could recover, she darted around him and stabbed at his exposed side.

"Dead."

Hiccup backed up a couple of paces and stared her down for a couple heartbeats. Letting out what he hoped was an intimidating roar, he charged her. She sidestepped again, and scraped her stick down his flank as he passed.

"Dead."

Hiccup let out a short growl of frustration. All this is teaching me is that I'm just as useless in a fight now as I was before.

"Even the strongest warrior can be defeated if her opponent out-thinks her," Astrid said. "You brought down a Night Fury, Hiccup; you can fight smarter than this."

'YOU SAID YOU WANTED ME TO DEFEND MYSELF' Hiccup wrote. 'SO WHY AM I ATTACKING YOU?'

"I could try and teach you to block and dodge," she began, "but that's only prolonging a fight, and in an extended battle, experience always wins. If you get into a fight, your best chance of staying alive is to end it quickly."

Hiccup nodded; as much as he found the thought of hurting one of the villagers distasteful, he couldn't fault her logic. Astrid returned the gesture and raised her stick.

Rather than rushing straight into an attack, Hiccup hung back and studied her. Astrid moved around to the right and he sidestepped left, circling. How should he attack? She would expect him to make another straightforward attack; perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

Hiccup bounded forwards two paces and swung his left forepaw at her head. When Astrid made to duck under his blow, he swiped at her legs with his other paw. She saw the second strike coming at the last moment and quickly stepped back. Hiccup's paws hit the ground with a thump and he quickly scrambled back to avoid a counterattack.

"Better," she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She raised her weapon and they returned to sizing each other up. He started to consider his next move when she suddenly let out a furious battle cry and charged.

Hiccup froze in shock. A moment later her stick struck him squarely on top of his head and his legs went out from under him.

"Dead."

Hiccup looked up at her, blinking the stars out of his eyes. "What the Hel was that for?" He growled.

"In a real fight, a warrior isn't just going to stand there and wait for you to hit them," she replied calmly.

An idea occurred to Hiccup and he acted on it without thinking. Spinning around, he whipped his tail at her. He heard Astrid move, and his tail whistled through empty air. Undeterred, he followed through his motion and leapt at her. She sidestepped his jump, but before she could stab at his flank again he dropped his legs and rolled away.

"Now that's more like it," Astrid whispered.

Just as he had adapted to walking on four legs, Hiccup found that their mock fights went better if he didn't concentrate too hard on the motion of his limbs; his muscles seemed to know what to do.

As the minutes ticked by, and their bouts stretched out from short exchanges of blows to contests that lasted up to several minutes, Hiccup surprisingly began to enjoy himself. Boredom had been his only companion for most of his time in the cove, and once he found that he could trust his body to move as he directed, he devoted his mind to coming up with new ways to attack. He relished the challenge of thinking on his feet and trying to surprise Astrid.

However, with his newfound enjoyment eventually came frustration as his innate - albeit long-buried - competitiveness arose: Despite his best efforts, their duels invariably ended in his 'death'.

With a growl, he reared up on his hind legs to slash at Astrid when she suddenly darted forwards and stabbed at his underbelly. "Dead," she panted.

Hiccup wobbled, unbalanced and she quickly stepped out of the way before he crashed back down on top of her.

Astrid glanced up at the sky before she raised her stick again. "Last time," she announced.

Hiccup narrowed his eyes as they began to circle. An idea struck him. It was a dirty trick, but it might just work, and his pride demanded that he best her at least once.

Astrid began to raise her weapon, drawing in breath for a battle cry.

Now or never.

Hiccup sharply inhaled and spat a small fireball at the ground before her. Astrid gasped, stumbled back, and he leapt. His jump carried him through the cloud of dirt thrown up by his shot. He struck Astrid square-on; his momentum carrying them to the ground.

"Dead," he growled softly.

"Let's... call this one a draw," Astrid gasped.

Hiccup felt something sharp press into his armpit. He looked down. Her belt-knife had somehow found it's way into her grip, and she was holding it against the delicate skin underneath his right foreleg.

Hiccup let out a breath and awkwardly let her up.

"In a real fight, you wouldn't have caught me off guard with the fire like that," she grumbled as she tried in vain to brush the mud from her clothes.

Hiccup only half-heard her; his mind still reeling from the fact that he'd beaten Astrid in a fight.

He barely paid her any attention as she retrieved her weapons and bade him farewell - promising to return as soon as she could.

Hiccup stood there for a while after she left, replaying the events of the last hour or so in his mind. Yes, he'd taken her by surprise with his fire, and it probably wouldn't work again, but even before then, he'd been holding his own - He'd even enjoyed it! An ugly question began to circle in his head, accompanying the memories:

If he somehow eventually found a way back to being human, would he even recognise the person he'd become?

Icelandic:
djöfla - demons
hádegismatur - lunch

Ulfberht - An inscription commonly found on sword blades of the Viking period, a trademark of sorts.

Author's Notes:

Friendly Greetings!

My answer to the question "When is the next chapter coming out?" is always "When it's done", but I try to keep to a minimum of at least one chapter per month, so I apologize for the large gap between updates. As I mentioned last time, I had to plan out the rest of this story before I could start writing this chapter, which took longer than I expected, and as always, real life has an annoying habit of getting in the way of my writing. Anyway, according to the outline in it's current form (which I already had to edit when writing this chapter) I predict the final length of this story to be fourteen chapters plus the prologue and an epilogue.

Anyway, plotwise, this was a bit of a slow chapter as this point marks the transition between the first and second acts of this story, and because I made the decision to split off some scenes I had planned for the second half of this chapter into the next in the name of giving them the attention that they deserve and getting something out to you guys sooner. However, I have some exciting and hopefully long-awaited scenes planned for the next couple of chapters, including Hiccup finally getting to do something other than mope around in the cove!

It's been slightly bugging me for a while that the title 'Shadow of the Night' doesn't really relate to this story as much as it could, and while I was writing this chapter an Idea for an alternative title came to me: 'Prisoners of the Night' - as I realised that imprisonment is a major theme of this story: Hiccup is stuck in the cove, 'Toothless' is under the Queen's control, and Stormfly is physically imprisoned in the arena. I'm in two minds about this, so I'll create a poll on my profile page and put it to you guys: What should the title of this story be?

My fanfic recommendation for you this time is The Path Between The Worlds by Tavalya Ra. This story surprised me, rather than being a simple gender-swapped Hiccup and Dagur fic, Hiccup is actually Transgender - meaning that he's biologically female, but identifies as male - and the story takes a rather serious look at the emotional and social issues he faces when he's forced to reveal his nature to the village. (Although admittedly the author takes a bit of artistic license with how Vikings would have probably responded to a transgender individual in order to make the story work)

Finally, as always, thank you for reading and please let me know any thoughts you have on the story so far in a review!

~Superbun

P.S: Thank you to Noctus Fury for pointing out that, Yes, Night Fury fire in the movies is Blue not purple (as it is in the TV shows), and I'll be sticking to blue for the rest of this story.

P.P.S: The Call of the Night I referred to in my previous notes is the one by Spidermaster that I recommended back in chapter 2.