Chapter 6

The Feast

Hiccup hastened to finish smoothing Toothless's scales. If she finished quickly, she could get into the air with Kiefer. He didn't have his Night Fury with him, so he'd have to ride with her. She knew Toothless could take the weight since she'd ridden double with Fishlegs. And if Kiefer rode with her, he could get a good look. At… At her flying, that is. Just a quick flight. They could be back before the feast.

"I'm glad you two are getting along!"

She jumped as her dad's voice boomed behind her. She was so close to finishing! Just a few more sweeps on his tail! But she turned around and her dad clapped his hands together while grinning at Kiefer.

"The feast is just about ready. Some of my Thingmenn are eager to meet you. The feast should be ready before introductions are finished."

So much for flying. She took a step toward the men and her leg caught on the fabric of her dress; she managed to catch herself with a stumble. It was just as well they weren't going flying, could she even ride with this leg trap wrapped around her?

Once she reached Kiefer she took off the scale smoother and held it out to him. He smiled and put his hand on hers, its warmth spreading up her arm and tingling gooseflesh, but he didn't take it.

"Keep it," he said. "I have a spare in Claudia's saddlepack."

She smiled back at him and gripped the smoother tighter. She would look it over later — she wanted to understand it and make her own.

"Thank you. Your Night Fury's name is Claudia? Is she female?"

"Yes." He let go of her hand and motioned for her to lead him to the Great Hall. "We picked each other when we were young. I must have been five when I bonded with her."

Five? They bonded with their dragons at such a young age? Was that common? Or simply because he was a lord?

The more she heard the more amazed she was. She wanted to ask him about it, but her dad had already started talking to him about the upcoming introductions, warning him about how unreasonable Spitelout could be, topics Tarstone would jump on, and more. He listened intently, allowing her father to fill him in without interruption.

They reached the Great Hall in a few moments, but she had to stop at the entrance. Toothless tried to follow her. She held up her hands to stop him.

"You're not allowed in here, bud. You know that."

No dragons were allowed in the Great Hall anymore, not since Hookfang apparently trashed the place a few months back. She knew that he didn't do any such thing — it was Mildew, the cabbage farmer up the hill. He used fake dragon claws to frame the dragons for all sorts of mischief. But she had no evidence of that, so Chief Stoick — her own father — didn't believe her, and the dragons now had to stay out of public buildings.

She took a step toward the Hall and Toothless once again pushed his head forward to follow.

"Oh come on, bud!" She groaned. "I know you want to go with me, but there's too many people in there. You'll trip someone! Just wait out here and I'll be back in no time, ok?"

He crooned sadly and slumped off to one side.

Her heart sank. "It'll just be for a little bit."

He curled around himself and laid down, not looking at her. She sighed and climbed the stone steps to the giant doors into the Hall. They stood wide open, as were the windows. Dozens, hundreds of people crowded in. Broad shoulders jostled against thick chests in a forest of people. She glimpsed the sandy blonde hair of Astrid through a gap between Mulch and Rockboil and made her way over there.

" — but when're you going to bring out Bork's dagger?" A shaky, elderly voice demanded. Hiccup groaned. What was Mildew doing down here?

He was talking to Gobber, who was scowling back at him flanked by Astrid and Fishlegs. The bent and elderly Mildew only had his sheep beside him.

"They'll be out when they're out," Gobber said, his hand and hook on his hips. "I still have a week."

"Bah!" Mildew swung his dragon-bone cane in emphasis, barely missing Fishlegs. Mildew's sheep baaed in agreement. "Be proud of your ancestor! He killed a great many dragons."

"Bork only killed dragons in self defense!" Fishlegs interrupted. "He studied dragons!"

"I don't know if we should even have the dagger on display," Astrid added with a look at Gobber. "The archives, sure. But the dagger?"

"You young'uns don't appreciate what that dagger means to Bork's legacy!"

Another emphatic swing that Fishlegs dodged. The sheep added its baa.

"Mildew's right, actually." Hiccup stepped forward, and all four faces turned in surprise. "The dagger is an important part of our history. We can't forget where we came from."

"Hm. Yeah. Well." Mildew grumbled. He looked back at Gobber. "Anyway. When's it going to be on display?"

"Alright, alright, you miserable codger." Gobber shook his head. "I'll have it out tomorrow, okay?"

"That's all I ask!" Mildew said in an almost deferential tone. He swept his cane forward, the immaculate, hanging dragon-teeth clattering against its top. "Come along, Fungus."

He stroked the sheep's wool as the two of them ambled on out of the Hall.

"Wretched old bat." Gobber grumbled as he turned and hobbled further into the hall on his peg leg. It wasn't hard to see where he was going — her father stood taller than any other viking, his red-brown hair standing out like a flag.

"Hey." Astrid sidled up to her. Hiccup now noticed that she had cleaned up, too, washing her face and changing into a white linen shirt that was much finer than her usual knitted wool. She looked rather strange without her spaulders — and did she put something on her hair? It looked shinier than usual.

Astrid took her hand. "What took you so long?"

"Oh." She smirked. "I guess I got caught up cleaning Toothless."

Astrid raised an eyebrow and Hiccup glanced away, admitting, "Kiefer may have helped."

"Ah." Astrid nodded. "Learn anything good from the new arrivals?"

They made their way over to the grand table as she started to answer, but several men and women quickly approached the table carrying stone platters covered in mounds of meat. She stood back and enjoyed the delicious scent as they settled the meals on the table. "I'll tell everyone when we meet tomorrow."

Once they had finished and returned to the back of the Hall, she sat on the bench in front of some yak steak. Across the hall, she caught one last glimpse of Mildew as he disappeared through the main doors. Her chin fell into her hand and she groaned. "You know what would make Bork Week perfect?"

Astrid straddled the bench, then swung her other leg over and answered without looking. "Mildew staying on his farm?"

"Aw." Hiccup laughed. "You guessed it."

With a teasing smirk, Astrid said, "I know you too well."

The crowd parted a moment later her dad and Kiefer approached. Her dad sat across from them with a heavy thud that shook the benches. Kiefer sat beside him and ended up directly across from her. He smiled and nodded, and her face burned as she smiled back. He next nodded at Astrid, his eyes lingering on her for a few moments before venturing on to the stone platters covered in mounds of well cooked red meat.

"What's this?" He smelled the air and shifted away subtly, his smile falling slightly. "It doesn't smell like beef."

"It's yak," Astrid said. "We usually have fish mainly, but for a feast…"

Was he trying to hide his disgust? Oh no. She looked around at the other dishes — potato and cabbage casserole, byaslag cheese… Ooh!

"How about the chicken?" She lifted the plate and held it up for him. "Rockboil does some amazing things with juniper and garlic."

His smile brightened again. "Thank you, Hiccup."

He took a leg, then looked around and added some casserole. Her dad and Astrid were already taking their portions of the yak, and she quickly stabbed a sirloin for herself.

Kiefer cut off a slice of the chicken and took a bite. He nodded his satisfaction. "Quite good."

He looked across the table at the sandy blonde girl beside her. "Astrid, I have heard from several of the villagers that you are one of the most skilled warriors on the island, better than most of the militia. Tell me, what do you think is your best weapon?"

Hiccup glared sidelong at her friend. Astrid paused at his attention before finishing a bite of yak.

"Battle axes. Generally. They, uh." She mimicked hefting one. "They have weight behind them."

"Hmm." He shrugged. "I'm more of a long sword man myself. They're easier to handle on dragonback. But I have noticed a certain preference for axes around here."

"'Course," Stoick cut in. "We've only just started training dragons. Axes worked better when we were fighting them."

Astrid nodded. "That's true. There have been a lot more swords since the armory…" she quieted as if she realized that this wasn't the best incident to mention, but she still finished, "uh, exploded."

He raised an eyebrow. "Was it dragon gas? I believe you call them Zipplebacks."

Hiccup answered for her. "Yes — that's what they're called — but no. It was linseed oil."

Hopefully he wouldn't ask further. The last thing she wanted to tell him about was Mildew's sabotage. Thankfully, he simply nodded, probably assuming it was an accident.

"I see. I did notice you have more weapons then people, and if this is after most were destroyed, well . . . You're having outside troubles, aren't you?"

"We do have some neighbors, yes," Stoick said.

"Some who aren't happy about our dragons," Hiccup added. Her dad glanced a scowl at her, as if she'd said too much.

"Ah. That's a situation we know well." Kiefer turned to Astrid again, earning her another sidelong glare from Hiccup. "I suppose you train to defend against your neighbors now, Astrid?"

"I guess." She shrugged. "It's more about training dragons now, and only sometimes how to fight with dragons by our side."

She looked at Hiccup, as if to offer her a chance to step in. Hiccup looked away to hide her glare, suddenly aware that she was jealous. The realization filled her with shame. Astrid was a good friend, it didn't matter that she was garnering the attention of someone so handsome. Astrid was good looking. And strong. And a better fit — she mentally slapped herself. She needed to stop thinking like that.

"But yeah, I suppose," Astrid continued when Hiccup didn't pick up what she tossed her. "The last time Alvin attacked I was entrusted with one of the few weapons we had left."

"They attacked after the explosion?" Kiefer sat forward and clasped his hands together. "That's concerning."

"It was poor timing," Astrid said, "but we managed to drive off the Outcasts. We didn't even use our dragons."

"Kiefer," Hiccup interrupted. "Will you be staying for the Bork Week Festival?"

He met her eye. "I've heard people mentioning that. What is it?"

"Bork was one of our greatest dragon researchers," Hiccup said while Kiefer took another bite of chicken. "He wrote the original Book of Dragons. We've added to it over the generations but his information was invaluable; it saved a lot of lives during the dragon raids. We still use it when we train."

"So you celebrate a man of learning. I like that." He took a moment to finish some chicken. "I've seen many villages that celebrate their greatest dragon hunters, or the men who saved the whole village by killing a dozen 'Death Drums' or whatever. They sometimes have trouble with the transition. I take it the festival is soon?"

"Next week." Hiccup noted to herself that they may want to reconsider the Hairy Hrothgar feast next month. "It starts on Monday, but it will run the entire week. We plan on having a dragon parade to open it."

"Hmm. Sounds fun. I shall have to attend. My plan, as I've told your father, is to stay three weeks. Learning, discussing, negotiating. Then I shall return to give my report to the Queen. Of course, your father has graciously agreed," he gave Stoick a small bow, "which I greatly appreciate, Chief Stoick."

Her dad nodded back.

Kiefer set down his fork. "Your culture is what I am most interested in. With that, I'd like to ask: How did you start training dragons?"

Hiccup looked at Astrid, then her dad. She took a breath, and started the story.