Seven.

Berk appeared above them, precipitous and isolated, swathed in freezing fog and the lightest of snow flurries. The docks were busy with Vikings awaiting their Chief's return and the goods they brought. The docks were connected via a zigzag ramp up to the tops of the grey cliffs and the village clustered above. Stoick and Gobber bounced onto the docks and the ship rapidly emptied. Hiccup stared up until Snotlout grabbed his arms and hauled him off.

"Come on, Hiccup," he sneered and forced the boy onwards.

"Shouldn't I…I mean…" he protested but the larger boy dragged him away from the crowd.

"The Chief is busy and he's got far more important things to deal with than a slave!" he sneered.

"Not a slave," Hiccup said stubbornly as they made the first palisade and turned up to the next level. Snotlout shoved him forward and tripped him.

"Oops! Tripped over your own feet!" Snotlout taunted him.

"Why-why would you do that?" Hiccup protested, picking himself up. Snotlout elbowed him cruelly in the ribs and he yelped.

"Because I felt like it!" the larger boy said simply. "Now come on. You need to get settled in. My Mom is gonna freak at having to deal with you."

Deal with him and you're find out how much trouble that little bastard is!

The auburn-haired boy followed resignedly, his head bowed as he followed Snotlout. The larger boy cheerfully made up for any silence on Hiccup's part by talking about himself non-stop. Ego, ego, ego… Hiccup found himself thinking uncharitably. But the truth was that he was dependent on their largesse, their willingness to take in an unknown who was a slave. And he had promised the Chief that he would do his best. Stoick meant it for the best, after all.

He was less certain as they arrived at the Jorgensen house. It was a fine building, not far below the level of the Chief's House and well stocked with weapons. Spitelout was out with Stoick but a large, fierce-looking woman with very dark brown hair, piercing blue-grey eyes and sharp, cold features opened the door. She scowled as the two boys walked in, then opened her arms and hugged her son: Snotlout gave a minimal attempt at resistance before enjoying her embrace.

"Aw, Mom-I haven't been gone that long!" he said in a voice betraying he enjoyed the attention.

"I always miss my son," she scolded him gently, then turned to the stranger. "And what is this?" Her tone had grown as cold as the weather and Hiccup unconsciously hunched his shoulders. Snotlout looked up and his face was unfriendly.

"Uncle Stoick bought him," he explained.

"Bought?"

"Yeah-from the local whorehouse," Snotlout explained clearly, making sure she was fully aware of his past situation. "He wanted us to give him a roof over his head and look after him."

"He's a slave?"

"Not sure, Mom," Snotlout admitted. "He was bought by Uncle Stoick but he wants him to be treated like a member of the Tribe."

"But he isn't." The words were incontrovertible. Hiccup felt his inners shrink. "I will check with your father." She looked at the boy. "In the meantime, you can work for your keep, Boy!"

"My name is Hiccup," the boy said, introducing himself and forcing his anxious green eyes to meet the polar blue-grey gaze. She stared at him as if he had spat in her floor.

"Snotty, make sure he fetches enough water and chops sufficient wood for the evening and next morning. Winter is setting in and we don't want to be going out if we get storms tonight!" Then she spun on her heel and stalked to the kitchen area and the pot, bubbling over the fire pit. The aroma smelled amazing and Hiccup found his mouth watering-but Snotlout advanced on him and shoved him to the door.

"I'll show you the well!" he offered.

oOo

His shoulders were burning and his head spinning with weariness after he had lugged the fifth large bucket of water to the house. Then Snotlout had supervised him chopping logs into kindling while chewing on a large hunk of bread and yaks milk cheese. Hiccup stared up resentfully as he put a new log on the stump. His stomach was growling so loud he was surprised that the Chief hadn't heard it-but Alva Jorgensen hadn't bothered to offer him any food. Wearily, he brought the axe round and split it in two. Then he sagged, breathing hard: he needed a break.

"We're not done," Snotlout told him as he laid the axe down.

"Please-I've been at this for hours!" Hiccup begged him. His arms felt like they would fall off completely.

"And we're not done!" the Heir told him roughly. Hiccup backed off a step.

"P-please…" he begged. "Just give me a few minutes…" Snotlout sneered at him.

"Okay-take the finished logs in and once that's done, then you can finish the pile!" he snapped. Hiccup stared at him and then stole a glimpse up at the house Snotlout had boasted he would live in when he was Chief. He sighed and tossed the split logs in a basket, then manhandled it into the house. He was struggling with the third basket as Spitelout returned and the family immediately sat down to the table. Hiccup looked up and Alva pointed out at the waiting log pile. With a shrug, the boy slunk out and the sounds of chopping echoed into the main room. Alva turned to her husband.

"Why?" she demanded. Spitelout chewed his bread and dunked it in the gloriously meaty yak stew.

"Stoick asked," he said grimly.

"And the boy?"

"He was a slave," Spitelout confirmed. "Stoick found him in a whorehouse, servicing men!" The woman shuddered and cast a hateful glance at the door.

"And he expected us to associate with that…creature?" she sneered. "Is he trying to dishonour us? His Heir?" Spitelout shook his head.

"I think he really felt sorry for the boy," he admitted.

"But…"

"A favour to the Chief is always valuable, Alva," he reminded her. "You can see what we can get out of him. He can sleep on the floor, eat leftovers, work his wretched hands to the bone. He works during the day with Gobber in the forge so he won't be in your way."

"And if he disobeys?" Her eyes were narrow now.

"We punish him like any lad in this family!" Spitelout said. She nodded curtly.

"Good," she said grimly. "He can sleep in Snotty's room-on the floor, of course-and then at least he will get to know what it is like to have a slave."

And then the door opened and an exhausted Hiccup entered, dragging the last basket of logs in. His arms barely felt as if they belonged to him any more and his stomach was grumbling from hunger. He meekly stowed the logs then looked hopefully at the family. Alva scowled at the presumption and he backed up a pace, his face falling, but then she sighed and picked a small bowl which she ladled a single portion in. He gratefully accepted the offering, much smaller than the rest of the family had enjoyed, and stared in perplexity: he wasn't sure if he should sit at the table or eat sitting on the floor. She pointed to a small stool at the end of the table and he scooted into place, urgently shovelling the stew into his mouth before he could have it taken from him. Snotlout watched him with a smirk.

He looked up as his spoon hit the bottom of the bowl and suddenly saw the eyes inspecting him like an unwelcome insect. He flushed and tried to eat the last spoonful of his stew in a more civilised manner but all he could hear was the sniggers of Snotlout.

"Th-thank you," he muttered, his face scarlet with embarrassment. The woman gestured.

"Bowl's over there. Heat some water and wash up the plates," she ordered him. He sighed, exhausted, then rose and dutifully collected the bowls. The Jorgensons watched him heat the water and wash up the plates, then silently stow them where indicated. He dragged his exhausted shape forward. Alva gestured:

"Bed time!" she ordered. Snotlout rose and kissed his mother then nodded to his father while Hiccup hung back, unsure what he was to do.

"Erm…" he began nervously. Alva gestured brusquely.

"You are to sleep in my son's room," she said coldly and she pointed to the stairs leading down to Snotlout's basement room. Hiccup nodded, mumbled his thanks and scrambled down the ladder. Predictably, he missed his footing and fell.

Snotlout's head snapped up from his bed, where he was polishing his sword. He saw what had happened and burst out laughing. Hiccup groaned and picked himself up, rubbing his left arm, which he had landed on.

"Odin-you can't even climb down a ladder without falling flat on your face!" he scoffed.

"Thank you for your sympathy," Hiccup shot back. Snotlout's laughter snapped off and his blue eyes glinted dangerously.

"Don't be smart-slave!" he snapped. Hiccup sighed. There was no point arguing now.

"Where am I supposed to sleep?" he asked directly. He was tired and hurting. Snotlout pointed to a corner.

"Where you belong!" he sneered. Hiccup sighed.

"Do I get any sort of blanket or fur?" he asked and Snotlout grabbed one from his bed and tossed it at the boy. Hiccup walked slowly forward and picked it up, then quietly dragged himself to the corner he had been assigned. Snotlout made a great show of snuggling down in his fur-laden bed while the smaller boy curled up in the corner: the walls radiated cold and he tried to scooch a little further into the room. There was a small fire and the boy longed to curl by it-so, when Snotlout had fallen asleep, he crawled to lie by the fire and finally fell asleep.

The next morning, he was shaken roughly awake and he started, his eyes popping wide open and he instinctively cringed as Alva snatched his blanket from him.

"You were told to sleep in the corner!" she hissed and cuffed at his head. He winced and ducked his head in submission.

"I-I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I was just so cold…" She cuffed him again.

"Ungrateful boy!" she hissed. "Get up and fetch the water!" He sighed then nodded, wearily scrambling up and beginning to clamber up the ladder. Behind him, Alva gently tucked her own boy in tighter and gave a proud smile. She would protect her own son against any intruder and ensure the smaller boy remained in his place.

Hiccup was certainly warmer once he had finished hauling the water up, though his hands and face were very cold and his breath was coming in white clouds as he panted up the hill. He saw other teens, performing the same duty and he offered them a shy smile, though they eyed him suspiciously and refused to speak with him. With a sigh, he waited his turn at the well and dragged his load up wearily. Once he was done, he wasn't offered breakfast and was told to report to the forge. With a murmur of acknowledgement, he left, wrapped his hands around his hungry shape and heading down the hill towards the sound of loud and really off-key singing:

"Weeeell…I've got my axe and I've got my mace and I've got my wife with the ugly face…I'm a Viking through and through…"

Hiccup winced. He could imagine small children crying and dogs howling in response to the awful racket but Gobber was oblivious and really going for it. Warily, the boy approached and poked his head round the corner.

"Er…hello, Gobber?" he chanced. The big blacksmith looked up from the anvil and cracked a grin.

"Laddie! I wondered when you'd pop up!" he commented. Hiccup slowly inched into the forge.

"Um…sorry? I wasn't told a start time so…"

"Well, you're here now!" Gobber cut him off and gestured with his prosthetic, which had been swapped for a heavy hammer. "Fetch yourself an apron, lad and we'll see how you do with some hot metal!"

Hiccup deftly fastened the apron and frowned as Gobber handed him a bent and twisted sword. The old blacksmith didn't say anything and the boy inclined his head, then dipped the sword into the fire and grasped the bellows. Because he was small and slight, he had to jump with his full bodyweight to work the pump and warm the fire. After a short time, the sword was glowing red and the boy carefully lifted it to the anvil, chose a hammer and began to reshape the metal. He went back and forth between the fire and the anvil, checking his work until he was happy with the shape. Finally, he quenched the metal and turned-to see Gobber standing at his shoulder, watching his technique.

"Yer really got some moves!" he complimented the boy. Hiccup inspected the work and shrugged.

"It wasn't too hard," he admitted self-consciously. Gobber clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well, no other boy in Berk could do what you just did," he told Hiccup plainly. "You've fixed that sword as well as I could. I think I have certainly found the right apprentice!" The boy gave a shy grin and then his stomach growled. Gobber peered up into the sky and squinted. "Is it that time already?" he muttered. The boy stared at the floor. Gobber elbowed him. "Yer fancy lunch?" he asked. Hiccup sighed.

"I-I didn't bring anything…" he muttered. Gobber stared at him.

"Didn't they tell ye?" he asked in surprise. "Here in Berk, there is food in the Great Hall morning noon and evening. With dragon attacks and the loss of men and homes, it is the best way for the village to keep fed. You can always eat in the Hall." Hiccup blinked and looked up.

"Do I qualify as well?" he asked warily. "They…don't seem to think I am worthy. They treat me like a servant…" Gobber's eyes narrowed and he stared at the boy. "Not that I'm not grateful for a roof and food…of course…" he said quickly. "And-and I am not afraid of hard work…" The blacksmith clapped the boy on the shoulder and he almost fell over.

"I can see that, Hiccup," the boy said gently. "Let's go and have a break!" The old blacksmith draped a kind arm around the boy's shoulders and led him all the way up to the Hall, a huge space carved out of the mountain that formed the upper village. The long stair had both of them puffing as they reached the hall and Gobber led them in and showed the lad how to help himself to the meal. They had just sat down when the boy groaned as he heard Snotlout's unmistakeable tones as he sneered at the smaller boy.

"What's he doing here?"

"Pay him no mind!" Gobber advised, tucking into a leg of mutton. Hiccup stared up and saw Snotlout glaring at him, his eyes calculating. He guessed the boy's parents would hear of his trip to the Hall and adjust his rations accordingly. He sighed. One small bowl of stew the previous day, a single meal today…He wasn't going to grow out of being small anytime soon! With a small hint of defiance, he walked up and helped himself to seconds. If he was going to have to endure lodgings with the Jorgensons, he might as well fill his belly: he doubted they would feed him again today.