Twenty Seven: I'm the Heir.
Everyone was exhausted and grimy when the dust had finally settled after the raid. Stoick had decided that he would speak to Snotlout in front of the Council for his recklessness and though Spitelout had protested, he was half-hearted, because Hobnut Thorston had already ambushed him on his way down from the catapult, swearing and threatening violence that Snotlout had completely demolished the Thorston family house, leaving the whole family homeless. And it had been witnessed by several people, not just Hiccup, that the boy had deliberately swung the catapult round towards the forge, where there were no dragons attacking at all.
Gobber had been distraught when they had finally got into the demolished forge and he had frantically begun to dig through the remains of the loft area. Uncomprehending. Hiccup had watched as he had unearthed a few more swords and axes, many the worse for their experience and he had mourned that the place he had worked, the place that had started to make him feel like home, was now destroyed-by the deliberate act of Snotlout. Then Gobber gave a relieved whoop and lifted a grimy and charred object-which turned out to be a metal-bound chest. Gobber hugged it to his chest and sighed in relief.
"These are the Bork papers," he explained as Hiccup raised an eyebrow. "He was my ancestor, yer know! And he wrote the Book of Dragons and these are his papers-including loads of things he never put into the Book. Extra notes. Personal diaries and reflections. Even some tasty recipes. I keep them as his kinsman…" he added as Hiccup looked perplexed, for many places would store such precious relics in the most secure place in the village. Hiccup sighed.
"Sorry, Gobber," he managed dispiritedly, throwing another couple of buckled swords onto the pile. "So far, I've found nine axe-heads and four hammer heads with the hafts burnt away, five bent swords, assorted bolas without the strings and what I think used to be the bench." And then he gulped and showed the Blacksmith one axe with a charred handle. "And Astrid's axe." Goober inspected the lad and sighed, peering at the weapon.
"Don't be downhearted, lad," he said, his expert eye sweeping over the weapon. "The leather binding is damaged but the wood is barely scorched and the head is intact-so all it needs is a clean and new bindings and it should be as good as new."
"Really?" The uncertainty in Hiccup's voice just enough to remind the blacksmith that his apprentice was still a young man who had lost far more than he should have and who really wanted to make sure that the girl's axe was returned, better than new. Of course Gobber hadn't had an apprentice for a long time, not since that lad from another island spent about six months on Berk…what was his name?
"Really," Gobber assured him. "We'll be up and running in no time…though the good news is that I'll be staying up with Stoick and you." Hiccup gave a small smile. He would have expected nothing less from the Chief, who would never hesitate to offer a shelter for his friend. "Now, let's get the rest of this debris moved and then we can go up to the Great Hall and see what Snotlout has to say for himself."
oOo
The Council were looking less than sympathetic as the completely unrepentant shape of Snotlout stood before the Council table with half the village in attendance. Those most affected-the Thorstons and Gobber-were most vociferous in their criticism of the Heir and not even Spitelout's rather clumsy attempts at moderation could calm them down. Even the twins were giving Snotlout the cold shoulder.
"We can understand our home being burnt down by dragons-I mean, that is kind of cool," Tuffnut pointed out. "But for our friend to wipe it all out for a joke… Not cool, Snot-so not cool!"
"You guys can stay with us," Snotlout offered brashly.
"We are already housing Alva's sister," Spitelout told him as the Heir turned to his father.
"Tell her to go away," he said harshly. "These guys are our friends and…"
"The Groenessons are family, you idiot!" Spitelout hissed. "We have to offer them shelter before anyone else. We have no room for the Thorstons!"
"And you destroyed their home and the village forge in a silly prank!" Stoick condemned him gruffly, his fists clenched on the Council Table. "Whatever possessed you? Why did you harm the village when I have taught you that your job is to serve them and protect them."
"I was protecting them!" Snotlout argued brashly. "There was a Raid and most of the fighters were off with you, Uncle. So there was no one manning the catapults. I decided to do it and fight them off."
"Even though you aren't qualified or authorised to use them?" Stoick checked.
"I know how-I've seen people use them all my life," Snotlout argued.
"Clearly you have no clue about aiming!" Fungi Thorston shouted.
"I don't know-I think he was aiming to destroy the forge-with me in it," Hiccup murmured to Astrid, who was standing alongside him. She nodded.
"It were just 'igh spirits, Stoick!" Mildew cut in, his grating voice causing everyone to stare.
"No, it was a deliberate act of someone who knew better but ignored his orders to show off and try to claim glory for himself," Phlegma announced shortly. "He has harmed the village-and shows no remorse at all."
"Thor above-you could have killed people!" Sven added.
"And who cares if I got a few dragons?" Snotlout asked brashly. Everyone stared at him in shock.
"WHAT?" Spitelout yelled. "You muttonhead!"
"I'm so glad your Dad is here seeing the calibre of potential son-in-law he decided against!" Hiccup hissed to Astrid and she nodded.
"You okay?" she checked and he nodded.
"You axe was a bit scorched but it will be top priority when we get up and running…" he revealed and she sighed.
"It can be all repaired," she sighed. "But people can't. And that is what makes Snotlout's crimes so heinous. He acted without any thought for the safety of the village. So many people in Berk have been injured, maimed and killed by dragons-and for Snotlout to risk that for some stupid showing off stunt is appalling!"
"Sometimes, I don't know what goes through that mind of yours," Spitelout commented, shaking his head.
"Usually nothing," Astrid added quietly. Snotlout glanced over her and glared.
"You missed your shot, Astrid-now you're not gonna be my Princess," he sneered. "I'll ask Uncle Stoick to arrange me a marriage with an Heiress and you are gonna regret not marrying me for the rest of your life."
"In your dreams!" Astrid snapped.
"ENOUGH!" Stoick bellowed, glaring round the room.
"Yeah-when are we going to discuss the real matter-what happened when we were in Helheim's Gate?" Mildew piped up. "I mean, we would not have been there but fer yer obsession, Stoick-and yer know it!"
"We were close-I could feel it!" the Chief snapped.
"And we were attacked by dragons…" Mulch added.
"Led by that Night Fury!" Mildew sneered, stirring trouble once more. Hiccup grimaced.
"Really? It looked like the Night Fury was fighting the dragons off us," Phlegma commented.
"It was commanding them!" Mildew insisted. "And it had a Rider! That traitor was controlling the dragons and leading the attack!" Stoick cast a look at the old man and shook his head.
"Didn't look like that to me," Spitelout added. "The dragons were fighting between themselves. Would've eaten us when they decided who won…"
"Though sinking us wouldn't have really provided a meal," Mulch commented.
"So are we going to declare that Rider a traitor or are you going to let another dragon lover get away with it?" Mildew challenged the Chief. Stoick growled in his throat.
"You want to be the Chief-you fight me, Mildew!" he snapped. "Stop changing the subject. We are here to decide what to do with Snotlout after this latest insanity!"
"He just needs a little hard work to keep his mind on the job," Spitelout suggested but Snotlout looked outraged.
"Why? I heroically defended the village because the Chief was off on his obsession!" he sneered.
"Oh, he did not just say that," Tuff murmured, drifting to Astrid's side. "What a muttonhead. I can't believe we did everything for him." She shrugged.
"Your stupidity," she snarked back as Stoick rose.
"You will be put to work helping to repair the damage that you caused and I hear you have been thrown out of Dragon Training-which I agree with!" he announced. "Snotlout, I am very disturbed and disappointed by your behaviour, your recklessness and the contempt you seem to hold your fellow Hooligans in. In fact, I think I need to seriously think about whether to reconsider my choice of Heir."
There was an audible gasp as Snotlout lurched forward.
"But you can't do that!" he protested. "I am your only blood heir! Your son died fifteen years ago-and anyone else will break the line of Chiefs. I won't let you down, Uncle Stoick! I will make you proud of me…" But Stoick shook his head, his cool gaze sweeping the assembled villagers, lingering on the skinny shape of Hiccup, much to Snotlout's fury.
"I have to think what is best for Berk-and unless you can prove that you are capable of doing that, then you will never be Chief!" he said.
oOo
Stoick was staring at the Council table as he watched the villagers drift away, after Spitelout had led his son out by the ear, still protesting and arguing in equal measure. The Chief could see there was no real remorse in the young man and the tales of his arrogance and selfishness, which had reached the Chief over many months, were giving him serious cause for concern. Traditionally, Chiefs of Berk were protectors of their Tribe, ruling benignly with the consent and support of their people. To Stoick's mind, there was precious little chance of Snotlout following that mould and the Chief shuddered at the thought of his beloved village ruled by a man who would endanger his people for fun and shrug off the thought that his actions could personally kill some of his fellow Hooligan as irrelevant.
Then he blinked. His relentless need to search for the Nest endangered his fellow Hooligans just as efficiently, though his motives were much more altruistic…weren't they? He only took volunteers and every man on the crew was fully aware of the dangers, embracing them willingly. But there was no arguing that his actions had caused some deaths as expedition after expedition had failed…and every time they sailed to Helheim's Gate, they left the village very lightly protected against the dragons…and the Outcasts. He sighed. As if it wasn't bad enough with ravening beasts plundering the village, those accursed criminals-men thrown out of their own Tribes for crimes beyond forgiving-intermittently raided the village and took whatever they could. Food, weapons, livestock, even villagers to act as slaves or women for…relief. Stoick shook his head. There were mercifully few for the Tribe were good at protecting their own people but they had ransomed members back, using funds the village could ill afford to sure. But the Chief would never accept any of his people left in the clutches of the Outcasts and would do whatever was needed to rescue them. Especially since he and the Outcast leader had a long and harsh history.
"Chief?" The female voice was brisk and he looked up to meet the cool brown eyes of Phlegma the Fierce, one of the best female warriors on the island. She was solid, non-nonsense and could out arm-wrestle most of the men on the island but she was loyal. "I asked around as you asked-and so did Mulch and Sven. There was a Marte on the island until fifteen years ago-she lived on North Point Farm and had trained as Gothi's helper, trained as a midwife."
"Marte Alverson?" Stoick murmured with a frown, his brow creasing. There had been many comings and goings, births and deaths over the last fifteen years and he confessed that he had not recalled the name. To stay sane, you had to push aside the memories of many of those lost because otherwise, a man might just want to curl up and surrender.
"Alkmund," Phlegma confirmed. "She has an old aunt, Ragnehilde, on the leaward side of the village. She lives with Goatface the Flatulent. I had a talk to her and she confirmed that she helped Gothi look after…Chieftess Valka at the end." She paused and lowered her head. "She believes the experience traumatised her. The next day she and the young man she met at the Summer Meeting on Hysteria, the one who came here and married her a month or two earlier…they upped and sailed off the next day. Her aunt was surprised for she had expected them to stay another month or two. Apparently they moved to one of the Peaceable Islands…Nott or something…to get away from the memories."
"Stoick!" Gobber called, panting up. The Chief looked alarmed.
"What is it, Gobber?" he asked with concern. "It it Hiccup? Is he alright?" The smith nodded.
"I've left him doing some sharpening. I remembered the name of that lad who was my apprentice for a few months." Stoick frowned.
"I don't see how this…" he began but Gobber was grinning proudly.
"It was Dag. Dag Ullisen. That lad from Hysteria who came here and married old Rotfoot's daughter Marte-the one who used to help Gothi. I knew it would come back to me. He had a nice deft touch-just like Hiccup has. That's how it came to me…"
Stoick got to his feet and nodded to Phlegma.
"Gobber-thank you," he said firmly. "That is just the information I needed. Phlegma-come with me. We need to speak to Ragnehilde immediately!" Gobber paused and stared as the Chief and the female warrior swiftly vanished out of the door and he frowned.
"Was it something I said?"
oOo
The crash and roar from outside woke Hiccup and his green eyes snapped open in shock. There were yells and the sounds of flames and he knew that something bad was going down. Instinctively, he scrambled from bed and raced downstairs, wondering if it was another dragon attack. But as he hit the ground floor, Stoick had already gone and the boy stared down onto the village. The Berkians were racing around, waving axes and weapons and strangers were running up from the harbour, roaring in fury. Berk was under attack.
Unsure what to do, Hiccup timidly emerged and stared down the hill. Stoick was down leading the defence with Gobber, Spitelout and other ferocious warriors. Hiccup wondered where he was meant to go and hunkered down, watching the battle. The leader of the invaders was a huge man with black hair and beard and an evil, scarred face. His axe swung at Stoick as the other invaders fought the Hooligans. Hiccup watched the battle swing back and forth and then, the unthinkable happened: Stoick was struck a sneak blow on the head and he went down. The leader of the invaders gave a sneering laugh but before he could strike, Hiccup had run forward, snatching up Stoick's dropped sword and holding it up with inexpert but determined hands to try to protect the Chief.
"'Ere-what's this?" the invader sneered, eyeing the skinny boy, holding the sword up in trembling hands, his eyes wide with fear but also determination. "A brave little defender?"
"Get away from him!" Hiccup shouted. "Get away from the Chief!" The invader swung his axe and the blow clanged through the sword, sending shock all up his arms. Hiccup staggered and stumbled back into place. He was blinking hard.
"Oh, Berk must be in worse shape than I thought if they're relyin' on little runts to protect the place!" the invader snarled and swung again. This time, the blow knocked Hiccup aside but he scrambled up, his head ringing as he staggered back into place, between the invader and the Chief.
"I will never let you harm him!" the boy swore as Gobber, Spitelout and the teens arrived. The invader sliced his blade at Hiccup but the boy swung the sword round, parrying the blow and launched a clumsy but heartfelt attack. Astrid watched, her heart in her mouth as she saw him use every trick she had taught him and use every ounce of strength to drive Alvin back a pace. A surge of pride at his bravery and skill warmed her chest that abruptly vanished in favour of fear as Alvin finally slammed the boy aside viciously and pressed a foot on his throat as his axe rested against Stoick's throat.
"No-you will watch me kill him!" he sneered.
"ALVIN!" Gobber shouted. "You're surrounded!"
"And so are you!" Alvin the Treacherous growled. "We appear to be at an impasse." He looked down. "So drop your weapons or your Chief dies." Gobber lurched forward and lifted his axe-hand but Snotlout stood forward.
"Maybe we could solve this with a hostage," he suggested. Alvin turned to look at him and his thick brows dipped.
"And yer wants to be that 'ostage, eh, Snotlout?" he guessed mockingly.
"No," Snotlout said simply. "I'm the Heir." There were gasps. The boy was content to take the prestige and the honour of the role but none of the risk. Yet the Chief lay there in peril. The stocky boy looked up and his blue eyes glittered with malice. "And you want someone whose imprisonment would hurt Stoick."
"From what I 'eard, boy, yer 'is Heir and 'is nephew," Alvin mused, his eyes inspecting the boy closely. "Won't yer being me 'ostage 'urt Stoick?" Snotlout gave a calculating shake of the head.
"Him!" he said, his finger stabbing at the struggling Hiccup, his hands clawing at the boot on his neck. Alvin laughed out loud.
"This runt?" he scoffed. Snotlout grinned.
"The Chief bought that from the mainland," he sneered. "A whorehouse, to be precise. He's a bed slave. Lives with Stoick." Alvin swung his cruel gaze down to the boy who had frozen at the words, the completely erroneous implications they carried. His forest green eyes widened in fear at the way the big man was eyeing him. He tried to shake his head but he was totally pinned.
"Hmm, I never thought Stoick…" he mused, then swooped down and grabbed the boy by the throat. Hiccup gasped in fear. The cold, dark eyes pierced into his terrified green gaze, sweeping calculatingly over the pale face with the little scattering of freckles, the dishevelled auburn hair, the slender pale neck, the thin arms and legs and scrawny body. On a whim, he grabbed the tunic and snatched it up, inspecting the skinny body, the freckles on his toast-rack chest and the ugly scarred brand on his skin.
"Well, bless my britches and call me 'Elga! He is a slave!" Hiccup shivered but shook his head.
"'m not a slave," he murmured defiantly. Alvin roughly stroked the brand.
"And if yer a slave, boy, then yer a whore as well!" he realised. Hiccup shook his head desperately. "Still, I could make a whore very welcome." Hiccup stared up into the cold face and then snatched a glance down at the unconscious Chief. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would burst and his breaths were hitching with threatened sobs but he knew what he had to do. Stoick had saved him and been kind to him. He owed Stoick everything…and if it kept his friends safe, then he had no choice.
"If…if I c-come with you, you will leave him and the village s-safe?" he asked in a tiny voice. Gobber narrowed his eyes at the fear in the boy's voice. He knew how much the boy feared his time in the whorehouse. Alvin looked at him, then at the villagers. Truth be told, Alvin wasn't in a hurry to die and getting badly injured or killed as he inevitably would if he killed Stoick would not suit his plans. The hostage idea was far more fun-and if Alvin got a free slut out of it, all the better.
"Deal-if the rest of you idiots agree?" His tone was scornful. Gobber opened his mouth to protest but Spitelout looked across at the other Elders, then nodded.
"Agreed!" Alvin said, stepping back from Stoick and holding Hiccup close to his body. The boy lifted his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears and he looked at Gobber. His face was white and he was shivering in terror. But he tried to look brave.
"G-Gobber-p-please could you t-tell him…thanks," he stammered and then Alvin hauled him away, the grip on the boy ferocious. The villagers watched as his ship pulled away, taking the boy from Berk. Gobber turned to Spitelout.
"What was that?" he hissed.
"Getting rid of a worthless slave!" he hissed. Gobber froze as the other teens closed.
"I suggest you say that in Stoick's hearing," he replied icily. "He loves the boy as the son he never had. The boy ran to his protection and probably kept him alive long enough for us to arrive. Your son could have gone as the Heir-and retained the last shred of honour-but it is clear he has none. Snotlout would be treated well. Hiccup…won't. Especially not after what he said." Astrid glared at Snotlout and turned away, marching off with Fishlegs and the twins. The others helped bear Stoick back up to his now-empty house and sent for Gothi. Gobber stared at the ship as it vanished into the night.
"I have no idea what I can say to him when he wakes," he murmured.