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Chapter 04: Caged
(Hiccup)
"Fishlegs Ingerman!" The voice of Gobber the Belch thundered in the tunnels.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry... I-"
"Who let ya in?" The man asked imperiously.
"N-no one?" Fishlegs sputtered in response, his face a reflection of worry and shame. He was not the kind of boy who enjoyed getting in trouble. In fact, Fishlegs was probably the most obedient of all the youths on Berk, something that would have made him the main target of mockery among the kids, were it not for his size, and for the fact that Hiccup was there instead.
"Then get out of 'ere before I tell the chief!" The blacksmith shouted. There was no anger in his voice. It was clear that he was only trying to scare the boy.
He clearly succeeded, for Fishlegs ran like a frightened, overweight rabbit, blurting a hasty "Yes! Thank you!" that Hiccup would have found comical in any other situation.
With Fishlegs gone, Gobber stepped before Hiccup's cell, muttering to himself: "Damn Bucket. I told him again and again, it's not troll season yet."
The blacksmith sighed. He laid a cloth-covered bowl on the floor, then diligently lit another torch, which he had been carrying under his armpit, before carefully placing both of them in the cast iron sconces on each side of the cell, warming the cave with firelight. The man finally turned his attention to his young apprentice.
Hiccup averted his eyes from his mentor. How was he supposed to confront him after lying to his face?
"So," Gobber said as he sat on the floor, crossing his one leg with his wooden stump. He put his good hand on his side and scratched his shaved chin with his hook. "I'm kind of disappointed, I must say. I mean, there I was, thinking ya were on some hill, finally giving Astrid a green gown."
Hiccup frowned cluelessly.
"Ya know... sheathing the sword? Burying the bone? Giving the beast a second back…?"
At that, Hiccup's face warmed uncomfortably, and he looked away.
"And then, what do I hear? Ya're in the woods, mounting an actual beast instead!" Gobber chuckled heartily. "A Night Fury too! Who would've thought, aye?"
Hiccup wanted to scowl at the tease, but, for once, he replied to the man with a relieved smile. The blacksmith could take nothing too seriously, and this always made Hiccup feel at ease around him.
"Although…" the man continued, "I'm not sure which of the two 's more dangerous: Astrid, or the offspring of lightning and death itself."
Hiccup finally found the courage to speak: "I think I know the answer to that one."
They both laughed, though Hiccup's strained attempt at a chuckle was much more short-lived.
A heavy silence fell between them. Then, Hiccup spoke again: "So, aren't you going to scold me or anything?"
"Scold ya?" Gobber replied casually. "I only do it when ya mess up my forge, when ya leave my hammers out of place, when ya don't wash the whetstones after use, when ya take my good steel to make springs for yer contr-"
"Alright, I get it," Hiccup cut in.
Gobber sighed. "No, scolding ain't my job here, lad," he admitted.
"Are you here to replace Bucket?"
"Aye, I'll have to look into that. Who knows where he's wandered off again," the blacksmith said. "But, no. For now, I just came to bring yer food, and see if ya need anything."
"Oh," Hiccup shifted awkwardly. "In that case… uhhh... Can I… Can I go to the outhouse? I've been here since midday."
"Ya mean get out? Unfamiliar with captivity, huh? Sorry lad." Gobber shrugged helplessly. "Can't let ya out. Chief's orders. Besides, if we were to take each prisoner in shackles to the privy every time, it would be an all-day job."
"But there are no other prisoners!" Hiccup complained. "And I really have to… you know…" he only murmured the last few words, but his voice trailed off anyway.
"So what? Ya've got yer outhouse right there," the man said, gesturing to a place beside the entrance of the cell.
"What? Where?" Hiccup asked with a grimace, looking for an unseen door, an alcove perhaps. Could he have missed it? Of course not, there was nothing around him but stone walls and iron bars.
"The bucket." Gobber said matter-of-factly, raising the arm that still had fingers, and pointing towards the floor, where the two buckets lay; one was wooden and filled with water, which Hiccup had drunk moments before, the other was empty and made of iron. "The iron one," the blacksmith added. "Easier to clean, ya see."
"What..." Hiccup murmured, beginning to understand.
Gobber offered him only an obvious look, implying what any other prisoner would have already figured out, or any other villager for that matter, people who couldn't contemplate luxuries and privacy such as those afforded by a chief's overly-sheltered first son.
"Here?! Oh, come on," Hiccup moaned.
"Consider yerself lucky. Have I told ya about the time I was caught by Outcasts for five days?" The blacksmith asked the question with an eager twinkle in his eye, which usually signaled the beginning of one of his colorful stories, and there had been plenty of those when they worked at the forge. Hiccup had heard that particularly disgusting story far too many times for his liking.
"Alright, fine." Hiccup said hastily, preventing the man from recounting his unsavory experience. He grabbed the bucket from the handle, before retreating to the darker corner of his cage. Gobber did not move from his spot on the floor.
"Uhmm…" Hiccup began, but hoped he needn't continue.
"What?"
"Could you… you know... turn around?"
The man looked confused for a moment. Then, he understood, and grinned. "Shy, are ya?" He asked teasingly.
"I'm not shy," Hiccup squealed; it sounded like blatant denial, and it was.
"No? Then what are ya hiding?" Gobber asked with a lopsided smirk.
"Nothing. I just… can't… if someone's looking."
Hiccup only whispered the last few words in a half-hearted attempt to not reveal this embarrassingly strange affliction of his; he was already strange enough. Still, he preferred revealing this, rather than admitting that he was, in fact, extremely shy, a trait considered unworthy of a man, particularly among the brave, bold Vikings of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.
"Huh," the blacksmith said, but complied with the request and turned around to face the tunnel's wall. "So… no particular fierce maiden's bite marks on yer prick?"
"Gobber..." Hiccup whined. His burning ears meant he still wasn't used to his mentor's crude humor after all, especially when private areas were concerned, or girls. All topics with which Hiccup was respectively very uncomfortable, and shamefully unfamiliar, even for his age.
"Fine, fine. I'm only torturing the prisoner a little. That's what prison's all about, isn't it? In fact, have I ever told ya about that time when me and yer father were taken by-"
"Gobber!" Hiccup protested again, this time more firmly. "Can you please stop talking?"
"Oh. Right, right. Sorry," Gobber pouted jokingly. Then, as if obeying an order, he added: "Shutting up."
It took an unnaturally long while before Hiccup could relax enough to relieve his bursting bladder. When he was done, he left the makeshift chamber-pot on the farthest side of his cell, and moved to the opposite side, fighting back the feeling of humiliation. He was willing to bet that it had been his father's plan all along to make him feel that way, by locking him in the prison.
Hiccup resumed his sitting position with his back to the wall and his fingers nested in his grubby hair. He had skipped washing day that week, and, with everything that had been going on, perhaps even the week before that. Such things mattered little now. He exhaled heavily.
"I can't do it, Gobber."
"What? Still? Ya need me to leave?"
"Not that. I mean I can't... kill Toothless. I know it sounds crazy, but he really is my friend. What am I going to do?"
Still sitting, the blacksmith spun around to face him, and grabbed the cloth-covered bowl that was lying on the ground. "Well, ya could start by eating something," he said, pushing the bowl through an opening in the iron bars by the floor. "Bread, and two slices of dried meat."
Hiccup considered the food. His mind had no appetite, but his stomach disagreed, grumbling. "That's what we feed prisoners?" He asked. "I guess I've been a prisoner my whole life then. Makes sense."
After dipping a slice of meat in the water to soften it, Hiccup began with a few small bites, afraid he was going to be sick from sheer distress.
"True, the food's the same as home," Gobber agreed, "but here ya ain't free to do as ya please."
"Sounds just like home to me," Hiccup grumbled as he attempted to rip a piece of hard meat with a frustrated bite, holding onto the sliver with both hands.
"Listen, Hiccup. I know it may not look like it, I know ya may not believe it, but ya have to understand, yer father really cares for ya."
"You are right," Hiccup swallowed, "I don't believe that. That's because it can't be true. Not after what he said. Not when you've been a better father to me than he ever was."
Hiccup confessed this in anger, yet it hurt to realize how true the statement felt.
"Me?" Gobber sounded surprised. Hiccup could have sworn he saw his mentor's cheeks flush; it was a rare sight. "No, I don't think so, lad. I'm no father material." The man chuckled uneasily.
"Why not? I'm sure you'd make a great dad."
Hiccup had never questioned his mentor's lack of family before, perhaps because he had always liked to consider himself as the only member of Gobber's family. Selfish as it was, Hiccup had never liked to contemplate the idea of Gobber having another home somewhere else, a home he couldn't be a part of. After all, the forge had always been where Hiccup felt most at home, at least before meeting Toothless.
"I know I never asked you, but... why didn't you ever marry? I mean, you are…" Hiccup looked up, searching for an appropriate attribute for the man. He finally settled on "strong," which was incredibly true, even with a missing arm and leg. He would have said handsome, but that was too much of a stretch for a crippled man with an oversized steel tooth. Luckily for Gobber, being handsome was not an important prerequisite for drawing a Viking woman's attention. As far as Hiccup knew, strength and valiance were the only fundamental conditions necessary for getting a girlfriend on Berk. An achievement the scrawny little Hiccup could only dream of, and very often did.
The blacksmith took a deep breath, then hummed absently. "Well… not many people know, but I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell ya now, right? Considering..." It seemed as if he was talking to himself.
Hiccup's curiosity grew, and he abandoned his tasteless meal. "What do you mean?"
"How can I put this..." Gobber cleared his throat, "I ain't the 'marrying kind', ya know?"
Hiccup gave him only a puzzled look in return, so Gobber tried again.
"Well, not everyone's axe swings the same way... if ya catch my drift."
"What are you talking about?" Hiccup asked, trying to decipher yet another one of Gobber's euphemisms. "Wait. You mean…" He considered the words again, and failed to suppress a gasp, letting out an "Oooh..." His heart skipped at the sudden realization.
Not that Hiccup held any prejudice on such matters of intimacy, but this had never crossed his mind before. People talked about this sort of thing, often in a scornful way, but Hiccup had never had to truly consider it, up until today. Yet, it all made sense now.
"I'm sorry," he said, though he couldn't tell why. Perhaps because he had been oblivious to it all this time. Still, when the blacksmith asked: "What are you sorry for?" Hiccup only mumbled timidly, scratching his cheek: "No- nothing, I guess. It's just... I didn't know. Must be hard."
"Not as hard as being a dragon lover, I can tell ya that." Gobber pointed out in jest.
Hiccup exhaled a sarcastic chuckle at that, but the thankful smile on his lips was sincere. Gobber was a real Viking, and, as such, he did not appreciate being pitied, yet only Gobber would have used that as an occasion to make light of the situation for the sake of improving Hiccup's mood.
"Thank you, Gobber. For trusting me, I mean."
"Eh!" Gobber shrugged. "It's not like ya'll tell anyone else."
"I could tell Toothless," Hiccup said jokingly, "but he can't speak, so your secret's safe with him. Maybe he can tell the other dragons. Who knows, he could even find a nice dragon-partner for you too. How about an attractive Gronckle?"
Gobber dismissed the proposition with a casual wave of his good hand. "Nah. I'd rather not give the lizards even those parts of my handsome young body. They've had enough of me already." He raised his missing leg and arm; dragons had bitten off both limbs during past raids.
Like the last ray of sunlight before nightfall, Hiccup's mirth flickered out, and he once again lost the courage to look at his mentor's eyes. "You must really hate me now, for becoming friends with one of them."
Gobber took some time to think, gazing at the cavernous ceiling. "That depends," he finally admitted. The man turned suddenly serious as he asked the question: "Do you regret doing it?"
Without so much as a faint vocal shift, Gobber's presence had transformed. Hiccup felt a chill run through him, and found himself under some unexpected pressure as he considered the question. Even if his conscience knew that, by all Viking standards, he had to rue his actions, Hiccup found he didn't. He couldn't possibly regret flying, and he could never regret meeting his best friend, though he did not have the heart nor the guts to tell Gobber, who had lost so much to those creatures.
Hiccup's long, troubled silence seemed to count as a reply.
"Then it's fine," Gobber conceded proudly.
"What?"
"Gotta respect a man that stands by what he does. It's a fine way to live, ya know: without regrets."
The intimidating tone, which Hiccup had never thought his mentor capable of, had dissipated, and was already becoming a feeble, uncertain memory. Hiccup, however, was still too bewildered by the quick acceptance.
"But… but-" he mumbled.
"No buts. If ya still stand by what ya did, then I won't hold it against ya. Ya might even be onto something about what ya said in the arena, about some dragons being better than others and whatnot. I don't know about such things. I don't know the reason for this war, or why the dragons raid us. I'm sure they have their motives, just as we have ours. No one remembers where it all began. Maybe one day we can stop fighting like ya said, but I'm just a simple blacksmith, Hiccup. Complicated explanations for the ways of the world I'd much rather leave to skinny toothpicks with smart mouths."
Hiccup could feel tears begin to sting his eyes. He fought them back with a smile as the blacksmith went on: "So, maybe ya can't lift a hammer, or carry an axe, or throw a bola, but whatever happens tomorrow, keep fighting yer fight, Hiccup; even in yer weird, Hiccupy way."
Hiccup tried to collect himself, but stuttered nonetheless: "I- I'll try, but, without Toothless..." he wanted to cry again as he spoke. Even knowing he still had Gobber's trust, without his scaly friend, it all felt meaningless. "I was actually planning on leaving with him today, you know? I even prepared a basket with all my stuff. Well… some of my stuff. You can have it if you want. I guess it's still in the forest border, towards Raven Point, where I told Toothless to wait for me. I don't know if father will let me take anything with me anyway..." a sigh of resignation escaped him, "...when I'm banished tomorrow."
Gobber studied Hiccup's face. "So ya're not goin' to do it. Ya won't kill the Night Fury."
The reply came out easily: "No."
"Even if it would keep ya on Berk? Even if someone else kills it in yer stead?"
"In the name of all the gods, I'm not going to be the person who kills Toothless. I'll never betray him." Hiccup tried to sound solemn with his vow, and probably failed, but he had meant the words nonetheless.
"Ya truly care for that Night Fury."
Hiccup nodded, wiping the corners of eyes with his sleeves. "More than anything."
"Ya sure the beast cares for ya as well?"
"I... think so. Yes. You saw it too: he came to save me in the arena. But still, he can't fly without my help, so even if he doesn't care for me, he needs me." As Hiccup spoke, he realized how glad he was to have such a connection with someone, to be needed by someone, even if that someone was a dragon. He had never thought of it like that.
"Ah yes, the tail. Should 'ave known." Gobber nodded to himself. "Fine work, by the way. Nobody else seemed to notice it. Very Hiccup-like. Guess yer weird toys have some use after all."
Hiccup smiled at the first actual compliment on his original smithing work.
"Well!" The blacksmith suddenly exclaimed, clapping his only hand on his thigh, cheerful as ever. "Time for me to go and let ya rest. Guess I've got things to prepare for the morrow." He got up, but didn't turn away. Instead, he asked: "Why 'Toothless'?"
"You mean his name?"
Gobber nodded. There was an honest, childlike curiosity in his eyes.
"Because he retracts his teeth... when he smiles."
Hiccup smiled himself at the mental image of the Night Fury's toothless grin. "He does this funny face where he puts hih lips ang hih gums like thih ang…" He tried to imitate the dragon's grin, stretching his mouth with his fingers. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" He asked, realizing how silly he must have looked.
Gobber only smiled at him, the way adults usually smile at children. Hiccup could not tell whether his interpretation of Toothless grinning was being mocked or appreciated, but he was glad for the affectionate gesture nonetheless.
"Goodnight Hiccup," the blacksmith said. Then, he left, walking out of the tunnel, and then the caves, leisurely singing all the while, as was his habit. This time, however, it was one of Berk's more unusual tunes:
"Bork, oh Bork! We sing your song.
The man who studied dragons long.
Without your work, there'd be no Berk.
We rue the day you went berserk…"
The last echo of Gobber's voice faded. Hiccup expected no more visitors after that. Even so, he was sure he was not going to sleep that night, in that ugly, damp cage of his. He feared that the silence and solitude were going to rekindle his dread for the following morning.
Fortunately, his exhaustion from that terrible day got the best of him, and, soon enough, Hiccup dropped into a fitful, uneasy slumber.
AN: I've assumed as canon for Gobber's sexual preferences the kind inferred by most from his much-disputed remark in the second movie. I think, even retrospectively, it fits the character quite nicely.
