Eight.

He had been right. Alva had been offended he had eaten at the Great Hall (though she had not bothered to supply him with any breakfast or lunch) and had offered only scraps at dinner. The hungry boy had willingly eaten them after a couple of hours of chores that they had forced out of him. Fetching water, chopping wood, cleaning, relaying the fires, polishing the weapons…there was little that Hiccup wasn't expected to do to pay for his meagre lodgings. The second night, he was forced to sleep in the cold corner and though he crawled to the fireside, he was dragged back to his place in the middle of the night.

His days settled into a dull rhythm: waking before Snotlout to fetch water and do chores; working at the forge; eating at the Great Hall; back for more chores and then bed after being given only what scraps were left from the family's supper. He sighed. It was better than nothing though he knew it wasn't what he had hoped-or what Stoick had implied. But Berk was slipping inexorably into winter and no traders would be coming in or boats going out until the spring so Hiccup was trapped on Berk.

He was also a little hurt that he hadn't seen Stoick since his arrival. Despite his promises, the big Chief had been busy on the other side of the village and with Chiefly duties. Hiccup had seen him across the plaza or at the far end of the Great Hall, sitting at the top table with the Elders. He had actually heard the Chief stop by the forge as he had been occupied at the back but when he had come scurrying through, the Chief was already striding away and the lad hadn't the courage or confidence to call after him. But the dismay on his face had been obvious for Gobber to see and the blacksmith had tried to reassure the boy that his friend had asked after the lad.

Nine days after the return, there was a rest day, when Hiccup was allowed not to go to the forge. Spitelout had told Snotlout that the boy should take the newcomer with him to introduce the lad to his friends. Snotlout had scowled at the order but his eyes had narrowed and Hiccup, who had suffered a few 'pranks' during his stay, began to get concerned. But Snotlout had always appeared dutiful and co-operative to his parents and he cheerfully led the smaller boy out of the house. Hiccup shivered: Alva had confiscated his fur vest, informing him it was too good for him to wear. Then he sighed. There was nothing he could do to protest.

They walked down the village to the plaza where four other teens were waiting. Hiccup glanced up with interest for he had seen them while collecting water at the well in the mornings-though none of them had made any effort to speak with him. There was a large, husky boy with fair hair, rather short legs compared to his height and a slightly timid though enthusiastic face. There were a brother and sister (twins?) who both had long blonde hair and grey-blue eyes. The girl's was in braids, the boy's free. Their clothes and helmets matched and they seemed in a constant state of argument. The fourth teen took his breath away: a slender and beautiful young woman with cool azure eyes and blonde hair in a tight braid over her left shoulder and bangs over her left eye, a leather headband and panelled leather skirt over the leggings reinforcing her impression of a serious shield-maiden-in-waiting. Her face was cool and irritated at the antics of the others and her movements precise and measured. She held an axe tightly.

"Hey guys," Snotlout greeted them. "This is Hiccup!" He gestured to the smaller boy, an inch or so shorter even than the blonde shield maiden. There was an outbreak of laughing.

"Hiccup?" the male twin scoffed. "How perfect is that?"

"You got it, Tuff!" Snotlout agreed, his eyes cruel. "Someone was mean naming him for what he is."

"You-you know that Hiccup references the runt of the litter-a mistake or error?" the large husky boy offered helpfully.

"Why no, no one has ever mentioned that to me. Ever!" Hiccup shot back sarcastically and cringed inwardly. Way to make friends! Sarcasm never fails, right? The female twin scowled.

"Someone's snarky!" she snapped.

"Yeah, Ruff-you should see him," Snotlout said with a long-suffering sigh. "Eats like a pig, falls over his feet, only good for fetching and carrying…and even then, he tends to drop stuff."

"Is he good for anything?" Tuff asked. Snotlout grinned.

"Well…" he began. Hiccup lurched forward.

"Snotlout-please," he murmured urgently. The larger boy gave a nasty smile.

"Well, the Chief bought him from a whorehouse," he said clearly. There was a silence and every eye focussed on the skinny shape, in his stained and patched clothes, fading bruises on his face and dishevelled auburn hair. Hiccup cringed and stared at the hard ground, scuffing his heel self-consciously.

"Wait-bought? As in…slave?" the husky boy asked, his eyes round with shock.

"Whoa, dude-whorehouse?" Tuff butted in, his eyes calculating. "As in…whores?" Snotlout nodded, enjoying the smaller boy's deep blush of embarrassment.

"Does that mean you've done it?" Ruff asked directly, her eyes inspecting the skinny shape closely. Hiccup cringed further.

"Oh, yeah," Snotlout announced loudly. "He's taken a good number of men up his…"

"SNOTLOUT!" Hiccup snapped. The conversation wasn't about to help him, to introduce him to anyone and achieve anything except confirming his place as an outsider. The larger boy rounded on him, his eyes glittering and expression ugly.

"You are a slave and you are a prostitute and they deserve to know that!" he hissed at Hiccup, the hatred in his expression causing the smaller boy to freeze. His emerald eyes darkened with hurt at the words-true but brutal. "And I bet my Uncle only brought you back so that he could bend you over and ride your scrawny little ass!"

Hiccup leapt for him, his low centre of gravity and anger carrying Snotlout to the ground. The smaller boy sat on his chest and rained punches on his head and neck-not powerful but enough to split a lip and cause Snotlout to call out in shock and anger. And then the twins moved, leaping forward and grabbing Hiccup's skinny arms to drag him off the surprised and enraged Snotlout. He struggled fiercely, his legs kicking desperately and arms pulling against the stronger twins. Snotlout rose, rubbed his chin and inspected the blood on his fingers. He jerked his head and the boy was dragged away from the plaza and into an alley between two buildings. Hiccup stared up into the vengeful blue eyes.

"You-you shouldn't have spoken against the Chief like that!" he panted, breathing hard now from fear rather than anger.

"Stay out of this!" Snotlout called to the husky boy and the blonde goddess and they stared for a second as if contemplating helping, then walked away, leaving the pinioned Hiccup at the mercy of the others. "You…should not have done that."

"Does p-poor Snottykins need this friends to-to fight his battles for him?" Hiccup taunted him, knowing he was facing a beating. At least he would have more of a chance if the twins let him go! But their grips tightened fiercely and he whimpered.

"You can't speak properly. You keep falling over. You have no strength, no family, no friends. You're just…Useless!" he shot back.

"Coward!" Hiccup challenged him.

The fist that smashed into his face snapped his head back and he felt blood erupt from his mouth. He struggled as Snotlout's fists flew again, slamming into his chest and gut, slamming the breath from his body and crushing his defiant words. It wasn't long before the twins were just holding him up and when they dropped him, kicks started jabbing into his back and guts. Finally, they walked away, laughing and Hiccup just curled up, his face buried in the crook of his elbow and sobs wracking his battered shape with pain.

He lay on the dirt for a long time, hidden from view, his small shape curled up in an effort to hug away the pain. Finally, he pushed himself up to sit on his haunches and wonder just what he had done that was so wrong. Snotlout had just started to make fun of him and hadn't introduced him to any of the others: he wasn't sure what any of their names were. Sure, he had been sarcastic when the big boy had made the usual crack about his name but what else could he say? No one had said anything welcoming to the stranger or asked him anything about himself…and then Snotlout had revealed where he had come from. The slur on the Chief, who had saved him, was the last straw.

He slowly levered himself to his feet. He had taken far worse beatings for far less worthy reasons. He owed Stoick everything and he regretted nothing. And then he stood and his head spun and he felt a flutter of fear. He had jumped Snotlout. Oh gods. The boy whose room he shared. The boy whose parents barely tolerated his existence. The boy who could beat or kill him at will as he slept. He stole a longing glance up the hill: but Stoick had asked him to stay with them. He had to obey the man he owed so much to. So he squared his shoulders, wrapped his arms around his cold shape and limped slowly down the hill to Snotlout's home.

Had he looked up the hill again, he would have seen the huge, flame-haired shape that stopped as it saw his hunched shape, wandering slowly to his lodgings. Stoick almost shouted out but the boy seemed deep in thought as he returned to his new home. The Chief sighed. He felt guilty that he hadn't seen the lad as he had promised but the village had been so busy and he had genuinely meant to drop by. He had stopped once at the forge but as he had been asking about the boy, news of more yak-tipping had reached him and he had steamed off in search of the culprits. And that had been…over a week ago. The boy must have felt abandoned. He resolved to do something about the problem that day.

Hiccup pushed the door open quietly and tried to slip into the house but he was met by the stony faces of Alva and Spitelout, with Snotlout sitting quietly behind them, a nasty smile on his face. Hiccup pushed the door closed and faced them.

"What?" he asked slowly. Spitelout scowled.

"You attacked Snotlout!" Hiccup gaped.

"He insulted me and…er…someone else who wasn't there to defend himself," he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He didn't want to bring Stoick into the whole thing: he knew it wouldn't end well for someone…probably Hiccup.

"And you attacked him!"

"Um…what kind of Viking runs back to whine to his Mommy?" Hiccup asked them directly. "Or gets two people to hold his smaller opponent helpless as he beats them up? Shouldn't…say…the Heir to Berk be a bit more decent? Honourable? Brave? Able to sort his own problems?" Spitelout slapped him and the unexpected blow knocked him to the floor. He sat, looking up in shock, his left hand clamped to his stinging cheek.

"A Chief has his protectors!"

"And he's supposed to the best of his village!" Hiccup shot back. Spitelout dragged him up only to slap him so hard he went down again.

"My son is no coward!" Hiccup stared up, breathing hard at the patently untrue claim.

"And yet he came to get you to speak to me instead of dealing with me," Hiccup accused, his sarcasm obvious. "Oh, wait…look at these bruises! He already dealt with me…yet he still wants Mommy and Daddy to sort me out as well. Yeah-I think that's pretty much a coward!" Alva hissed in rage at his accusation.

"I don't think a nameless slave and man-whore should start slinging insults because there are so many more we can attach to you!" she shouted, lurching towards the small shape. "Weak, lazy, stupid, disobedient, greedy, ungrateful, ugly, friendless, despised, outcast…scum!" Hiccup flinched: he couldn't help it but the tirade was filled with such vitriol the words broke over him like a blow. He had done everything they asked of him: slaving away at chores, sleeping in the coldest corner, denied food and warmth and the merest word of welcome and friendship. His eyes shone with hurt. Then Spitelout dragged him up and hauled him to the table, slamming the boy forward over the board.

He screamed, the memories it provoked so intense and so painful that he couldn't resist. The feel of Sundby, pushing him down, tearing into his resisting body. and savouring his screams and pleas for clemency The nameless Viking, pounding into his beaten shape. The men in the old town, pawing and feeling every inch of his body, threatening so much more…He struggled pitifully but Spitelout pressed his head so hard against the wood that he couldn't move. He whimpered and his mouth almost moved in a plea but Spitelout had already unfastened his belt and wrapped one end around his fist.

"You're not my type, boy!" he snarled. "Now learn not to disobey me!" And he slashed the belt across the skinny, writhing body, hearing the scream of pain and fear. Alva watched with a cruel smile on her face and Snotlout remained still, grateful his father hadn't credited his cowardly actions and turned on him. Spitelout was a very powerful man and the beating was swift, brutal and effective. Only a dozen blows, but more than enough to reduce Hiccup to a weeping mess, a little curled shape sobbing incoherently on the floor after he had been released. When he was ordered down to his bed-without food or water-he silently obeyed, his face bruised from the slaps and eyes red from weeping. He curled up miserably in his cold corner, wrapped himself in the thin blanket and wished he was somewhere else.

Gobber noticed the change in his apprentice in the forge. He had wanted to ask if the boy had enjoyed his rest day but it was patently obvious the lad had anything but. The bruises on his face, the split lip, the way he moved showing he had endured some harsh treatment…all told the blacksmith that someone had treated the boy badly. Hiccup-who had been developing a suitably informal relationship with his boss and was relaxing in his presence-was stiff as a board, scared to say anything and timid.

Gods damn it-someone has shot his confidence to Hel! Gobber realised angrily and, on a hunch, jostled the boy as he walked past, sending him against the wall. As his back impacted, the boy screamed and collapsed to his knees, huddled up and struggling to control his pain. The blacksmith hauled him up, took him to the back and quietly untied his apron, then flipped up the tattered tunic. The scarlet welts were obvious across the scored skin. As was the fact that Hiccup was grimy, even skinnier and dressed in the same blood-stained and filthy clothes he had left the port in. He huddled up and tried to make himself as small as he could.

"Laddie, what's wrong?" Gobber asked him softly. The boy lifted his face and there was misery on his expression.

"It…it's not fair," he mumbled. "I-I do something actually right and next thing I know I'm getting beaten up by Snotlout then beaten by his Dad because he's such an Odin-damned coward!" Gobber frowned.

"But…but why would Snotlout beat you up?" he asked.

"Because…I punched him," Hiccup admitted. Gobber gaped and stared at the small boy harder. Hiccup was really skinny and everything the blacksmith had seen about the boy had indicated that he was very cautious and wary, preferring to avoid conflict…except his sarcastic sense of humour, which only emerged once he was sure he was safe…or as a last defiant gesture when he was lost.

"Yer must have had a good reason…" he prompted. Hiccup pulled this tunic down and sighed.

"I did," he admitted. Gobber glared at him. The boy also tended to be stubborn and a bit defiant and that wasn't what he sought. He leaned closer.

"And that was…?" he growled. The boy stiffened and he sagged in defeat.

"He insulted the Chief," he said in a small voice. Gobber gaped. "He said he only freed me from that…place…so he could have sex with me." Gobber's jaw dropped. That was a bad insult to lay against the Chief. "So I knocked him down and hit him. And then two of his friends dragged me off and held me still as he beat me to a pulp. And then, when I finally picked myself up and got home, he had whined to his parents so his father belted me." The description was matter-of-fact enough to have the blacksmith frowning: the boy had just accepted the cruel treatment.

"You did the right thing in protecting the Chief's honour," Gobber said. Hiccup nodded.

"That's why I'm with them, isn't it?" he said baldly. "Not because he wanted me to have a family…I'm certain there are a hundred better families to put me with…but because he was told his reputation would be ruined having a bed slave he's just bought staying in his home. But why did he have to put me with them?" The last words were a frustrated cry against the world.

"Spitelout is his brother…well, half-brother," he admitted. "He's also father to Stoick's heir because his wife and son died in the birth and he never remarried. Gossips say now it's because he doesn't seek women…" Hiccup inspected the ground closely, lifting the hem of his tunic and seeing fresh spots of blood there.

"He…came in when I was being…you know…" he said after a long and awkward pause. "I was screaming and terrified. Everything hurt. Everything. I was helpless and lost. And he came in and pulled him off me and saved me!" He looked up and his emerald eyes were shimmering with tears. "After that, I would lie outside his front door in the frost if he asked me. I wouldn't mind being alone most of the time-or almost all of it-if I could see him just occasionally. I would be happy to cook and clean and serve him. I would do anything he asked…even…that, if he asked…" His voice had grown small and ashamed. "But I couldn't let Snotlout malign him so badly when he had done so much for me."

"Has he spoken to you since you returned?" Gobber asked gently, wrapping his arm around the boy and hugging him against him. Hiccup shook his head, not resisting the embrace.

"Have-have I done something wrong?" he asked quietly. His eyes were pleading.

"Not that I know, lad," Gobber told him, cursing his friend's inability to prioritise anything personal over the village. "I guess he's just been busy, preparing for the winter. Work does tend to pile up if you're away for any length of time-and we were gone for hard on three weeks!" Hiccup leaned against him for a long moment and then he sighed: it was very feasible. So he forced himself to brighten up a little and slowly levered himself to his feet.

"Those axes won't make themselves," he said quietly. "And I need to perfect that way of making edges you showed me, Gobber. And maybe…could I have lunch with you?" The plea was there again and Gobber guessed-correctly-that the boy had forfeited his dinner and breakfast as part of his 'punishment'. Sometimes, his friend really did make poor choices and he smiled to reassure the boy, already plotting to get Hiccup away from the Jorgensons.