Four.
Once the cold air hit him, Stoick slowed his pace and shifted the boy in his arms. Hiccup was squirming and the man realised he was trying to adjust his clothing again. The boy stopped fidgeting as he managed a measure of success and the Chief stared into the bright green eyes. Hiccup was breathing fast and his damp face was scared.
"Thank you," he whispered. He was still trembling hard though wracked with shame at being traded like a piece of meat. The Chief began striding down the incline towards the docks again.
"Do you have somewhere to go?" he asked the boy gruffly. Hiccup's face panicked. Surely he couldn't be so cruel as to abandon him to starvation and death-or recapture?
"N-no!" he stammered. "That's why-why I ended there…" His scrawny shape tensed.
"Anyone?"
"N-no…" The boy felt the arms tighten around him. He grabbed his courage and took a quick breath. "Can-can I come with you?" Stoick stared ahead as they jogged down the hill. Then he nodded.
"Of course," he said gruffly. The boy stared up into the big face.
"You-you never said you were the Chief," he murmured. Stoick give a wry grin.
"You never asked," he told the boy. Hiccup grimaced.
"No, sorry," he murmured. "I was scared that if I asked you anything, you would tell me something that would ruin the illusion." Stoick stared into the green eyes.
"What illusion?" he asked suspiciously. The boy's eyes were candid.
"That you might for a moment care for me," he said softly. "That you asked for me because you wanted to see me, not because you might want to…want to hurt me…" The Chief stopped and stared at the scrawny shape in his arms.
"I will never hurt you," he promised the boy. The boy looked up and cuffed the tears from his face. He nodded.
"Thank you, sir," he said softly. Then he grimaced as he shifted his battered shape.
"Are you alright?" he asked and the boy closed his eyes. He shook his head as they weaved through the sailors on the docks.
"I'll survive," he said quietly. "Thanks to you, sir. " The Chief walked straight ahead and the way parted to let him through. The boy felt himself shifted slightly in the big man's arms as the Chief approached a mooring and stepped easily onto a sturdy boat. Hiccup shivered as he was lowered to his feet.
"STOICK!" The shout was loud and over-familiar and the boy saw a large shape with high horned helmet, blue eyes and long blond braided moustache. The man had a right peg-leg and a hook for a left hand. The man looked unabashedly at the skinny boy and then up at the Chief. "Hmm, so you couldn't leave alone," he added. He stared closer. "See what you mean, though," he added. Hiccup felt his cheeks scorch with embarrassment at the close inspection.
"The boy is coming with us, Gobber," the Chief said clearly. The blacksmith frowned.
"He's a slave, isn't he?" he asked thoughtfully, his eyes lingering on the chains on his legs. Hiccup dropped his eyes and stared furiously at the deck. "You know what they'll say?"
"I had to get him out of there," Stoick told him gruffly. "He was in danger." The blacksmith stared at the hunched little shape, his head down and cheeks wet. He frowned. There were bloodstains on the back of his tunic and the blacksmith realised that the boy had been whipped recently. And he was trembling hard. There was blood on his leggings as well and Gobber, though brash and largely insensitive, could see what the young man had suffered. He cast a glance at his friend: the boy did bear a strong resemblance to Stoick's dead wife Valka and he knew his friend would want to protect the boy for that reason. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. Unfortunately, Stoick hadn't thought the thing through.
"Wow, Uncle-you shouldn't have!" The brash voice belonged to Snotlout, the heir to Berk. The boy topped Hiccup almost by a head and was twice his width. His bulging muscles matched the Viking ideal though his clear blue eyes and black hair were the opposite to his Uncle. The boy grinned and walked round the bowed boy. He grinned and it wasn't an especially charitable grin. "A slave! Oh, I'm gonna have fun with this!" His father followed him and his icy blue eyes were even less charitable.
"It's a toothpick!" he sneered. Hiccup flinched.
"Not that I'm ungrateful but I didn't think we even kept slaves!" Snotlout added, grasping the boy's skinny arm and pulling a disparaging face.
"We don't!" Stoick snapped and folded his arms. "The boy is being set free and is coming back to Berk-as my guest!" Spitelout looked at his brother as if he had gone mad. He grasped the Chief's arm and leaned close to him as Snotlout poked and prodded the hunched shape.
"Stoick, that boy is clearly a slave and whatever has been done to him-and I think it's pretty obvious-has sullied him beyond any decent company," he said in a low voice. "Are you sure he isn't tricking you, brother? You risk your honour by associating with this…slave. Men will talk that you bring him for…unspeakable purposes." Stoick stared at the skinny shape, the hunched shoulders and rapid breaths. He recalled the terrified look in the boy's face and shook his head.
"I believe he is what he appears," he growled. "A boy who needs a break. I have given him my protection. Gobber-please see to the chains!" The big blacksmith hobbled to the boy's side and nudged his shoulder.
"Come with me, boy," he said and Hiccup stole a glance at the Chief but the man was talking rapidly with his brother and heir and he realised the man was far too important to bother with his concerns or anxieties. He should just be grateful that Stoick had gotten him out of Sundby's clutches. So he lifted his chin and warily followed the big Viking. Gobber was still quick on his peg leg but Hiccup's shackled ankles reduced the boy to an ungainly shuffle that ground to a halt as the man vanished down the steep ladder to the hold. Hiccup paused and stared after the man. He didn't want to make the man angry so he grasped the side and took a clumsy hop onto the first step. He couldn't move his legs enough to step down to the next step so he had to bounce down. He managed three stairs before he tripped over his own feet then pitched forward and fell hard to the deck below.
Gobber spun in shock at the thud and saw the boy curl up, raising his hands to cradle his head, which had taken a heavy bang against the wood. He was breathing heavily and the blacksmith rapidly limped back to bend down over the boy. Hiccup lifted his head slightly and then curled up again, tensing for a blow as he saw the man leaning over him.
"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I-I'll t-try not t-to do it again…" The blacksmith stared at him in shock and laid a hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched and curled up tighter.
"Are you alright?" Gobber asked him quietly. The boy shuddered and gave an urgent nod.
"Y-yes," he murmured quickly. "I-I didn't mean to…"
"I shoulda thought," the blacksmith said, hauling the boy up by his collar. "Let's see. Hmm-yer'll have a fine lump there…to match yer other ones, if I'm any judge." Hiccup winced and took a limping step forward.
"I-I'm fine, sir," he said. Gobber frowned but calmly walked forward and ended at a trunk which he opened. The boy hung back, peering around him and seeing a selection of blacksmithing tools. He frowned as the man turned, grabbed him and plonked him on another trunk.
"Easy, laddie," the blacksmith said, grasping a large saw. "We'll have these off in a moment." Hiccup stiffened and peered past him. Having a one-handed man near his ankles with a saw that could slice through a tree trunk wasn't filling him with confidence. He took a quick breath.
"W-wouldn't the long-nosed pliers be a bit…" his eyes lingered on Gobber's peg leg, "…safer?" The blacksmith gave a dismissive gesture.
"Nah, they'll just twist the chains from the shackles while this…" and he waved the saw eagerly, "…will cut right through!"
"My ankle as well," Hiccup muttered. The blacksmith glanced up sharply.
"You've got a smart mouth, boy," he commented.
"Like having two feet as well," Hiccup replied. "How 'bout the chisel? At least its more precise." Gobber frowned and stared at the boy.
"You don't have confidence in me?" he asked sharply. Hiccup sighed and bowed his head.
"No, I am very grateful," he said defeatedly. "I just don't want to lose a leg…" Gobber brandished his hook irritably.
"Never lost a limb yet!" he pronounced brashly. Hiccup couldn't help raising an eyebrow. "In the forge," he added after a pregnant moment. The boy gave a wan smile. Then the blacksmith stared at him. "Did you say 'long-nosed pliers'?" Hiccup nodded.
"Erm, yes," he admitted. He pointed. "We used to use them…" Gobber put the saw down.
"You used these?" he asked, brandishing the tool. Hiccup nodded.
"My uncle ran the forge," he admitted. "I helped him from when I was six or seven." He gave a slight smile. "My aunt used to have kittens over the burns! They thought if I had a trade, then when they passed, I would have a place, a use to the tribe." Then his face fell and he stared at the floor. "Didn't work out," he admitted softly. "When we were attacked, I was the first one they handed over to the slavers." Gobber stared into the bruised face, seeing the hurt in the forest green eyes.
"Yer worked in a forge?" he repeated. Hiccup nodded. "Oh, yer perfect!" the blacksmith added. Hiccup frowned and scooched back a little from the big man.
"Erm…what-what do you mean?" he asked nervously. Gobber saw the flare of fear and sighed.
"Easy, lad-I'm not about to throw you down and ravish you!" he told the lad testily. Hiccup shuddered and the man realised his jibe had hit far too close to the mark. He stilled and stared at the skinny shape, seeing the trembling in his hands. The blacksmith felt his stomach sink at the realisation and forced his voice to be calm and softer than his usual brash delivery. "What happened to you?" he asked. Hiccup shook his head.
"I ran out of options," he admitted ashamedly. "Options, luck, food, friends, home and finally the right to call myself a free man." He paused and stared at the floor. "Well, I suppose starving or freezing to death are technically options but not really very appetising ones. And I never asked for any of it." His eyes flicked up. "Please-I'm not trying to trick anyone, no matter what that man says. I just-just wanted to get out of there before they hurt me any more."
More. They had already hurt you, hadn't they, Gobber realised and sighed. The lad would need careful handling and it would take some consideration. So he deftly wrenched the chains from the shackles then paused and grabbed a leg, lifting it to inspect the workmanship. He sniffed.
"Pretty poor," he grumbled, ignoring the panic in the boy's eyes at the uninvited contact. "I can snap the hinge to get them away..." Hiccup very slowly pulled his leg away.
"If you give me the tools, I-I'll handle it, sir," Hiccup said warily. He had visions of losing his foot if this madman started prising away at his shackles.
"Name's Gobber the Belch," the blacksmith introduced himself. The boy took a resigned breath.
"Hiccup," he replied and waited. Gobber eyed him thoughtfully.
"Aye, you are at that," he commented dryly. The boy looked up as the man handed him the pliers. "Knock yourself out, boy. "
He nodded and limped away, towards the steps. Hiccup stared at the pliers for a long moment, then slowly, cautiously scooted across the trunk and painfully levered himself to his feet. He was limping but he leaned forward and carefully located a chisel and a small mallet. Shifting the tools so he could hold the hammer in his left hand, he lined up the chisel with the hinge, cocked his head and adjusted the position once-then dealt a single, deft blow and smashed the lock. The shackle fell away. He repeated the act with the other shackle and finally, he was unfettered. Carefully, he placed the tools back in the trunk, including the pliers and then gently closed the top. He turned round-to find Gobber a mere yard away.
"Yer've got some moves and a nice touch," Gobber noted quietly. The boy stared into his face and his green eyes lit with a small touch of pride.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "Those are nice tools." Gobber nodded in acknowledgement at the compliment. He was beginning to like the boy.
"So…six years before yer uncle died," he mused. Hiccup nodded though his eyes shadowed with memory.
"I enjoyed working with metal," he admitted. "I could create something…with my own Hiccup twist sometimes…" And he gave a brief, shy smile but then he sighed. "No one credited a skinny boy with any skills. I did what I could. But in the end, it didn't seem to be enough." Gobber clapped him on the shoulder and he hissed in pain at the pressure on his whip wounds. Oblivious, the blacksmith repeated the action.
"Yer know, I've been thinking about getting an apprentice," he mused. "Interested?" Hiccup stared up into the face and saw kindness and a genuine offer in there. He nodded and managed a small smile.
"If Chief Stoick allows, I would like nothing more," he admitted. Gobber wrapped a hand around his shoulder and steered the boy back to the steps.
"Stoick will want you to have something you want to do," he said cheerfully, "and if you help me, all the better! I'm his right hook man!" He paused and leaned closer. "Though yer probably better not say that too loud. He doesn't take too kindly to…being reminded." He tapped the side of his nose. "Know what I mean?" Hiccup gave an uncomprehending nod as they reached the steps and the boy had to scramble up on his hands and feet before staggering onto the deck. Stoick was nowhere to be seen and Gobber clapped the boy on the shoulder once more and ambled off towards the dock. The boy glanced around and wearily made his way to the furthest corner of the ship and settled down.
No one was paying him any attention and though he felt vulnerable, he hunkered down further. He wrapped his arms around his aching body. It was late and he was cold and hungry-but it was infinitely better than being back in the whorehouse. He closed his eyes. He couldn't tell Stoick that he had spent the day after his recapture and the savage whipping that had followed curled in the little room, fearing the turn of the key in the lock and the arrival of Sundby who had raped him again. He flung his arms across his face. He would do anything for the man who saved him. Even if he kept Hiccup as a slave, he would not run: he owed Stoick too much to betray him. He would work his hands to the bone if he asked. He blinked. He had hugged him.
He stared up at the mast, the sail furled. He could recall the symbol of Berk was a dragon impaled on a sword, for the island was at more or less constant war with dragons who incessantly raided it. The people were tough: the Berserkers had been disparaging about them but Hiccup realised that they suffered and died in the raids. His aunt had told him a lot about Berk: she had been fond of the place which had been her home. Then he shivered. Anywhere was better than the port.
The sounds of steps caused him to look up and the black-haired boy, Snotlout, and his father approached him, standing over the huddled shape. Hiccup glanced up, his green eyes wary at the cold glances raining down on him. Uncomfortable, he got to his feet with a wince. They looked hostile and he felt himself grow anxious.
"Can-can I help you?" he asked hesitantly. The man scowled, his blue eyes remote.
"You know you can't stay, don't you?" he said. Hiccup felt fear freeze his heart.
"Wh-what?" he murmured. Spitelout leaned closer.
"You know he is Chief of Berk?" he hissed. Hiccup nodded stupidly.
"He-he said when he paid for me," he stuttered.
"Oh gods, it can't even talk properly!" Snotlout scoffed.
"Bet he told you he lost his son, too," Spitelout sneered. The boy hesitated.
You remind me of someone I lost. My dead son would be around your age had he lived.
"Y-yes…" he said hesitantly. "But-but he only told me after he had come to see me. I-I never knew before, if that's what you're thinking…"
"It's happened before," Spitelout said accusingly. Hiccup felt his heart sink into his boots.
"Oh, gods," he breathed. He shook his head. "No-no, I-I didn't." He began to shiver. "Please-you-you can't think that I-I would…" His breaths started hitching and he felt his throat too thick to talk. What they were implying was horrible and he knew then that they wouldn't want him.
"You know you're a bed slave, boy," the man told him accusingly. "A whore in all but name. And him bringing you back…harms him. He's a good man. He doesn't deserve to be exploited by you. To be harmed by you." Hiccup shook his head.
"I-I just wanted to get out of there," he protested desperately. Spitelout grabbed the boy and slapped his hand over his mouth. He nodded to another man.
"Get his arms, Ack! We should take him back to the whorehouse. Maybe we can get Stoick's money back as well!" Hiccup struggled with all his might but his battered and scrawny body was no match for the warriors and despite using every ounce of his strength he soon found himself dragged back through the front door of the whorehouse and into the main room. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Sundby, speaking to a customer until he caught sight of the struggling boy. The man's face twisted into a very nasty smile, the bruise dark on his cheek.
"I knew you'd be back, boy-and this time you'll never leave!" he menaced. Hiccup just trembled, his eyes wide with terror and tears starting in his gaze. He was lost.