Thirteen: A Viking Must Fight
Hiccup woke wearily the next morning, aching and hungry. Somehow, he had missed everything except breakfast and had experienced a far harder day than he had expected. He stretched and winced: his dreams had been disturbing, being chased through an eerie forest by Snotlout and Spitelout and rescued by the black dragon, that Night Fury that Stoick had warned him about. He shivered and got up quickly, silently climbing down the stairs to retrieve his new tunic and leggings that he had insisted on washing before bed and hanging to dry by the fire. He got the impression that Stoick was amused at his fastidiousness but the man couldn't understand the joy of having real proper clothes for the first time in almost four years and his desire to keep them as clean as he could.
The Chief was whittling by the fire and he glanced up at the scrawny shape, dressed temporarily back in his rags from the Port. They were clean but looked to be held together by a prayer. Stoick smiled. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked. Hiccup smiled, still unused to being greeted by anything other than a mouthful of abuse.
"Um…stiff," he admitted. Stoick laid the wood down and inspected the skinny shape.
"Have you really not had any training in weapons?" he asked. Hiccup flushed and stared at the floor.
"Um no…sorry…" he mumbled ashamedly. "But-but Astrid has started to teach me and I-I'm sure I'll be up to speed in-in no time…"
"Get your clothes on, son," the Chief said cheerily. "I think you need some breakfast before you head to the forge…" Hiccup nodded and sped up the stairs, returning scant moments later back in her new clothes with his fur vest on. The Chief ruffled his hair affectionately. "Can't have you getting any thinner or a puff of wind will blow you away!" he commented and Hiccup nodded with a wan smile. But the Chief was chattering cheerily, filling the boy in on what had happened during the raid and how the village was used to being ravaged by the flying parasites. Hiccup nodded, still not fully understanding how severe the raids were. He sat quietly by the Chief feeling even more unfriendly eyes on him as word got round from the wives and children from the Great Hall the previous night. He sighed and stared at his stew, eating quietly. Stoick stared at him.
"What's the matter, boy?" he asked. Hiccup vaguely waved his hand towards the others in the Hall.
"Um…I'm sure they all know…and heard what Alva said last night…" he muttered. Stoick scowled.
"What exactly did she say?" he asked suspiciously. Hiccup swallowed.
"Um…that you only hid me in the Hall so you could…use me after the raid…to relieve yourself or something…" he muttered, his cheeks scorching scarlet with shame. Stoick stared at the boy and then slowly gripped the young lad on the shoulder. Hiccup shivered and stared at the table miserably. "I-I tried to tell them that you n-never touched me l-like that…and that every night I s-spent at theirs was cold and miserable and filled with pain…" he mumbled.
"Hiccup…son…don't worry," he said calmly. "The vicious tongue of one evil woman won't turn the village against me."
"Bu-but it's already turned them against me," Hiccup whispered. Stoick gave his shoulder another squeeze and then turned back to his food. The Chief sighed.
"They'll come round," the Chief said as the boy gave a sigh.
"Yes, sir," he sighed but he was still aware of the hostile eyes as he headed down to the forge and Gobber. The old blacksmith was waiting, the clang of his hammer prosthesis already echoing through the building. Hiccup paused at the doorway, then took a breath and walked in. Gobber looked up at the soft steps as the small shape entered. His eyes crinkled in welcome but his tone was sarcastic.
"Ah, there ye are, laddie!" he commented. "I could've used ye last night in the raid!" Hiccup's eyes widened.
"Can-can I help you next time?" he asked hopefully. Gobber squinted at him.
"I should hope me apprentice would be at my side in any raid…" he said sharply. Hiccup cringed back and he blinked nervously.
"S-sorry, Gobber," he murmured hastily. "I-I didn't know…" The smith stared at the boy, who was almost trembling, his green eyes wide in a silent plea and he began to recall that Hiccup wasn't from Berk. He sighed and laid down the sword he was pounding. He turned to face Hiccup and saw the boy back up a small pace.
"Lad? What's wrong?" he asked in a gentler voice. Hiccup hung his head.
"I-I'm sorry I let you down," he sighed. Gobber lumbered over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Hiccup-no one told you what to do during a raid, did they?" he asked. There was the small shake of a head. The blacksmith sighed. "I don't think any of us could imagine what it would be like to live in a place which doesn't suffer constant dragon raids so we all know what our tasks are during a raid." Hiccup nodded ashamedly. "Lad-it's not your fault!" He stared at the slumped little shape. "Now, come on, Hiccup-let's get started on these damaged weapons from last night!" The boy raised his forest green gaze and a little more confidence seeped in. He swallowed and managed a small smile, before grabbing his leather apron and setting to work. He grabbed a very bent sword and carried over to the forge, shoving it into the fire and looking around for a hammer. Gobber watched him clear a space, line his tools up carefully and grab the leather glove, then grab the glowing sword and begin to hammer away.
The pair worked steadily throughout the morning, dealing with the backlog as well as the trail of Vikings bringing up mangled weapons-all of which were the most important weapon and had to repaired first. Gobber were cheerful, irreverent and-in some cases-blunt.
"No, Hoark-yer damned axe ain't me priority right now!" he growled to the man, one of Stoick's most trusted warriors. "I've got other things I need tae sort first-other warriors whose weapons are equal priority!" He paused. "I could get me apprentice…"
"NO!" Hoark growled. "Gods damn it, Gobber! If he touches it, it will probably be cursed! I'll wait!" And he stomped away. Gobber muttered and threw the axe carelessly onto the pile, turning back to Hiccup with a red face.
"Ass," he growled, seeing the look of hurt in the boy's face at the comment. Hiccup sighed and turned back to his work, hammering away quietly at the sword he was repairing. Gobber sighed and grabbed the next item in the pile. It was only when they had worked a little further down that the boy found himself facing the axe. He gulped and laid it gently aside, picking the next item below it. Gobber instantly picked him up on it.
"What're ye doing, Hiccup?" he asked grumpily: he was tired and hot and hungry. "We take the weapons in order here…" The boy's gaze flicked up, forest green eyes wide with hurt and anxiety.
"But that belongs to the man who didn't want me touching his weapon," he pointed out. "If he finds out…"
"He can break it or melt it down himself!" Gobber told him shortly. "This is my forge and I say who works on what weapon. Now I've shown you how tae make axe heads so you have a good appreciation of the stress points and will take great care not tae hit any of them when you sharpen his damned axe!" Hiccup stared up at the big blacksmith: part of him was very grateful for the vote of confidence, something he really hadn't experienced since his uncle died…but the bigger part of him was afraid that Hoark would find out he had mended his axe. Gobber could shout at the man but Hiccup…well, he had no idea what sort of man Hoark was but his experiences so far in Berk suggested a beating would be the least he'd receive.
"Okay, Gobber," he said quietly, lifting the axe reluctantly and carefully grinding the edge, then polishing and cleaning the weapon. He very cautiously placed the axe on the 'finished' pile…just as Hoark arrived.
"What's he doing near my axe?" he shouted. Hiccup backed away at top speed, slamming against the far wall, eyes wide and shoulders hunched.
"Jest putting it ready for collection for me," Gobber shouted back, straightening up and waving his hammer prosthesis. "Now do ye want tae mend yer own axe next time or will ye let me be the master in me own forge?" Hoark glared at him but saw Gobber lumbering towards him and backed off.
"Of course not, I just…" he rambled then backed off. "I…er…"
"Three coins, same as usual," Gobber said sarcastically, lifting the axe and gesturing. The warrior reluctantly handed the coins over and almost snatched his axe back, then stomped away, grumbling. Watching him go and shaking his head, Gobber turned back to see Hiccup still cowering at the back of the forge. The boy pressed his fists to his face, shaking his head in outright frustration.
"I can't do anything," he said in frustration, shaking his head. "I try, Gobber-I really do. But all that happens is Alva or one of those other Odin-cursed Jorgensens makes sure everyone is reminded what happened to me…what I was…and everyone just looks at me like-like yak dung!"
"Yer mended his axe, didn't yer?" Gobber pointed out. Hiccup nodded slowly. "Then yer not yak dung, boy. Yer a skilled smith apprentice-my apprentice-and I won't have anyone tell yer otherwise!" His big hand landed on the boy's skinny shoulder and the lad slowly looked up.
"Gobber-you know about dragons, right?' he asked suddenly. The big blacksmith puffed up his chest a look of pride filling his face.
"No one knows more here!" he said proudly. "I'm descended from Bork! I've given two limbs to fighting them-and killed more'n I can count. And I run the island's Dragon Training class!" He met the worried green gaze. "Yes, lad," he repeated, toning his enthusiasm down a notch.
"Are-are they always dangerous?" he asked softly, his voice shaking. Gobber nodded.
"Dragons are fierce, vicious animals," he told the boy darkly. "A dragon will always-always-go for the kill!" The pale face tilted to inspect Gobber, his eyes confused.
"And there is no reason why a dragon would spare a human?" he asked carefully.
"Nae, lad. They will kill the elderly, the infirm, newborns and children as well as adults. They have no mercy, no compassion…nothing but bloodlust and hatred." Hiccup stared at the floor and scuffed his foot in an embarrassed way.
"Um…I saw a dragon yesterday," he admitted in a shamed voice. "And…and it didn't kill me." Gobber walked closer, his thick blond unibrow dipping in a scowl.
"What dragon?" he asked.
"A black one with green eyes, big wings and long tail. It was kinda smooth…"
"A Night Fury!"
"Um…that was what the Chief said as well," he admitted.
"The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself!" Gobber breathed, his eyes popping. Hiccup stared at him and frowned.
"You-you guys have never seen one, have you?" he realised. Gobber shook his head, his eyes thoughtful.
"Only as a shadow against the stars, blasting our defences. It ne'er misses! What did it do? How did it act?" The big man's voice was interested, eager and Hiccup felt a strong sense that he didn't want to disappoint Gobber…but he didn't want to tell everything as well because he didn't understand it all himself…and a perverse sense of loyalty meant he didn't want to betray anything that could put the dragon in danger. He stared at the floor and scuffed the shabby toe of his boot on the floor.
"Um…it was sitting behind me," he admitted. "It looked at me…then sniffed me…then it put its nose against me…and then it suddenly looked up and flew away," he reported. He stared at the floor. "Um…you know how it kills everything? maybe…even it didn't think I was worth the effort." Gobber stared at him and realised his worries: rejected by his home tribe, enslaved and now partially ostracised by the Tribe that had offered him shelter, Hiccup was almost totally lacking in confidence. He could understand why the boy would imagine such a horrible reason for his fortune.
"Nay, laddie-it was yer lucky day!" Gobber assured him. "Thor must've been watching over yer! There was a raid last night-so mebbe the dragon was called away tae attack us!"
Called away? By what? Hiccup wondered silently, but kept his peace. He didn't want to anger an expert like Gobber with his stupid questions, especially when Gobber was so staunch in his defence of his generally despised apprentice.
"Anyway, laddie-I think we've earned our lunch," Gobber interrupted him brightly, laying a heavy arm across the boy's narrow shoulders. "Hang yer apron up and we can see what's up in the Great Hall!" Offering a little smile, Hiccup hastened to comply and walked up to the Hall a little happier.
Following lunch, Astrid came to the forge and asked if she could steal Hiccup for some weapons training: Gobber was happy to release him with with a broad and very suggestive wink-which had the boy's cheeks burning-and an old sword to practice with. Rubbing the back of his neck as they walked silently up the village to the little space on the edge of the forest, Hiccup sighed.
"Um…sorry," he murmured. Astrid inspected him, her blue gaze cool.
"For what?" she asked, wondering if he was ever going to stand up like a Viking.
"Um, Gobber," he said quietly. "He's…very inappropriate…and I hope you don't think I said anything because I didn't…oh, Thor…" She stopped and stared at him: head down, eyes downcast, face bruised and she folded her arms.
"Hiccup-I know you haven't been saying anything…though others have been…" Her voice was sharp and he guessed Snotlout had been making further unwanted advances. "I know Gobber and frankly, I never pay any attention to what he says! Now…show me how you grip the sword!"
It was another depressing session, his clumsiness and unfamiliarity with the form and technique meaning he was disarmed rapidly and repeatedly by Astrid as she put him through his paces. Undaunted by the size of the task facing her, she decided to switch from direct combat to exercises. It was too easy disarming Hiccup and she could tell the boy was losing his hope that he would ever master the weapon. Astrid knew she would be more determined than ever to be the best and conquer the challenge but she could tell that Hiccup was a very different person to her-and he had be raised in a very different way. She knew little about the Peaceable Islands, except the Hooligans, Meatheads, Lavalouts, Berserkers, UgliThugs, Bog Burglers and the other traditional violent tribes really didn't consider them to be proper Vikings. And there was no way she could deny he was small, skinny and clumsy…but he was also bright, a quick learner and sarcastic. There was something about him, a little spark of determination under the horrible submissive facade that made her want to persevere, want to bring out the true Hiccup, the boy he was meant to be before years of slavery and abuse had all but crushed his spirit.
He stiffened when she walked to his side and took his hand, readjusting his grip on the hilt. "Here…and here…" she said firmly and he winced: her hand had been very strong. He tried to repeat the move she had demonstrated and failed spectacularly, the sword flying from his hand. With a sigh and slump of the shoulders, he walked over, picked the sword up, switched it to his right hand and tried to resume the grip. And then he threw the sword to the ground.
"I don't know why you bother!" he said suddenly, his fists clenched. "I am the most useless person ever!" He stared at the floor. "I-I mean…you're amazing. You move like a Valkyrie and you know exactly what to do and…"
"Hiccup!" Her tone was stern and he stiffened. "Hiccup," she repeated more gently, "I have been training with my axe since I was five years old. I have gone through full formal weapons training since I was ten. I have put in countless hours in achieving the level of skill I have. This is your second lesson, for Thor's sake! Just think…if you put me in the forge, trying to mend or make a sword like you can, the best I would manage would be a blob of metal!" Green eyes peeked from under his messy bangs.
"So I'm a blob?" he asked dryly and her mouth quirked in a small smile.
"More like a splat at present," she told him gently. "But you're better than I was on my first lesson!"
"Um…this is my second…" he reminded her. She lifted the sword and handed it to him.
"Same thing," she assured him and he grasped the sword, taking a breath and lifting his chin.
"Okay…so how does that move go again…?" he asked.
They had been practising for about an hour when the thud of steps sounded and they looked up-to see Snotlout and the twins approach, a selection of unpleasant expressions on their faces. Hiccup parried Astrid's stroke and then stiffened as the familiar voice snarked a comment.
"Well, if it isn't the bed-slave!" he sneered. Astrid's stroke slammed the sword from Hiccup's suddenly loose grip and she glared at him…and then at the new arrivals.
"Go away, Snotlout!" she growled through gritted teeth. "This is private lesson!"
"Hello, Princess!" the young man said in a possessive voice. "If you need to give private lessons, I'm here for you, every day of the week! What are you doing with this piece of yak shit?" She lowered her sword and glared, her eyes flashing in anger at the insinuation in his lewd tone.
"Weapons training!" she sneered.
"Waste of time!" he scoffed. "All he needs to learn is how to bend over and…"
"SNOTLOUT!" she snapped. "Leave him alone! He's done nothing to you-why do you feel you have to keep tormenting him at every opportunity?" The change was dramatic: his face folded to an ugly scowl and he lurched forward a long pace to get in her face.
"I don't like my future wife associating with this trash!" he sneered.
"I'm not your future wife!" she snapped.
"That's not for you to say!" he menaced her. "It's for my Dad to say when he offers the price for your contract, Princess. I'm gonna be Chief and if I want you, I'll have you. So I don't want you tainted by dealing with this slave!"
"You don't get to tell me who I can talk to!" Astrid shouted at him, enraged. In a flash, he grabbed her arm painfully.
"You like him so much, maybe we'll have him as a house slave when we're married," he suggested nastily.
"I am NEVER marrying you!" she hissed.
"You are if I say you are!" he snarled, tightening his grip on her arm.
"Snotlout...let her go," Hiccup said quietly. There was a moment of silence and Snotlout's meaty fist clenched menacingly.
"Push off, slave!" he breathed.
"Astrid…" Hiccup said, stepping forward, his gentle voice reminding her that he was still there.
"It's okay," she said tightly, her fists balled ready to fight her way free.
"No, it's not," the outsider said quietly. His stomach was jumping with fear at seeing Snotlout here with his cronies but Astrid had showed him a lot of patience and he hated seeing her manhandled. "Snotlout, d'you want me to tell your friends why you went into the forest yesterday? D'you think your future wife would be impressed at what you were going to do? Or the rest of the village?" He was trembling from head to toe but he had realised, from the attitude of the villagers towards him, that there was precious little tolerance of anything that defied strict Viking tradition, no matter the circumstances. And Snotlout had a lot more to lose while Hiccup had nothing.
There was a long pause and Snotlout turned bright red, his eyes bulging as he swung his head round to glare at the boy.
"What?" he snapped. Forcing himself to smile, the smaller boy walked forward.
"Do you want the Chief to know?" he breathed. Snotlout stared, all expression falling from his face. His fingers loosened and Astrid pulled free, her sword rising to point directly at his heart.
"You better watch out!" he menaced, backing away. "My Dad hears and you're gonna regret being born!" Trembling, Hiccup watched them leave and then he heard Astrid snort behind him. He turned, forest green eyes suddenly wary.
"What was that about?" she asked him sharply. Taking a deep breath, he guessed he had angered her.
"Sorry…" he began.
"Hiccup…" Her tone was warning. He sagged.
"Look, I saw him in the forest doing…planning…something really inappropriate that I'm sure he doesn't want others to know about…" he suggested. "He's not bright enough to think it through and come up with any response in a hurry so I guessed he would back off…but I guess he'll come and kick the crap outta me later…"
"That's not the Viking way," she explained to him. "A Viking fights…" He sighed.
"Um...not really good at that. Sorry," he said again but she grabbed his hand and forced him to meet her eye.
"And thanks," she said gently. "That was…sweet. You know I don't need protecting…" He nodded, expecting the hit, but she just stared into his face. "But I guess what you were threatening him with was something painful and shameful for you as well, wasn't it?" He nodded.
"You've been so kind and patient," he said wretchedly. "So I would accept whatever they said and did if it made him let you go!"
"I don't think he'll ever let me go," Astrid sighed. "Look-take care, okay? I know he ambushed you yesterday after our lesson and I don't want you hurt on my account." Fiddling with his belt, he shrugged.
"Don't worry-I'll get hurt on mine," he admitted and she swatted his shoulder-not hard, just enough to make him flinch.
"If you need a friend, if you need help…call me!" she said, smiling and then she ran off down the hill.